#rest in hell my glorious king

[ineedmantitties]

⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️ !!!!JJK SPOILERS‼️‼️ ⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️

now all jjk husbandos are officially dead 💀

[ironunderstands]

Yapping about why I love Aventio and what I feel makes it a great ship 

(If you hate it I urge you to read this, because you don’t have to agree with me, but I want you to get where Aventio shippers are coming from at least)

I’ve just really wanted to talk about why I love Aventio because the people do not get it like I do and GODDD ITS SO GOOD WHEN DONE CORRECTLY UGHHHHH

Also this is gonna be VERY stream of consciousness I do not have a plan besides dragging you through my brain so enjoy the ride.

I guess the best place to start is the fact that Aventurine and Ratio are my two favorite characters in the game. Like even if they have no interactions with each other ever and might as well be from different pieces of media I would ship them, because I like seeing characters I like interact and the fun police cannot catch me. That’s a really shallow personal reason though and I feel like the rest I have will be able to be appreciated by others.

GOD THE DYNAMIC IS SO GOOD RAAAAAA

Two emotional constipated dumbasses circling around each other like black holes trying desperately to deny and run from their feelings when they have both fallen hard. The lack of acknowledgement of feelings on both ends is TRAGIC and it makes me want to rip my eyes out in a good way, let’s start with Ratio.

Unfortunately my glorious king Ratio has been mischaracterized to hell and back but we will get to that (and the Incorrect Reasons Why People Hate Aventio) later. Instead I will go over his actual character; a deeply insecure, intelligent man who desperately wants the rest of the galaxy to come to the realizations he has long since stumbled upon, but has been so isolated from his peers from such a young age that he’s doomed to fail in literally every social interaction he has and be misunderstood by both the audience in universe and irl (the autistic coding isn’t helping him either).

Ratio is tragically misunderstood again, both in universe and by the audience, which is why it means so much that Aventurine Gets Him. Aventurine pushes his buttons, tears down that literal cold marble facade masking the deeply silly and caring man beneath (this man bathes with rubber duckies in the privacy of his own home 😭), and that scares the shit out of Ratio. People aren’t meant to see through him, Ratio acts rude not just because he believes it’s the best way to help people, and because he believes he himself is mundane and the conclusions they come to should be their own, not his.

No, it’s also because on some level Ratio is afraid to be vulnerable around people. As much as he pretends like it doesn’t affect him, Nous’s rejection has hurt and haunted Ratio for his entire life. And I do mean his entire life, even in high school he had already set up a strict routine for himself, something commented on by his teacher, Ratio has quite literally always been striving for some sort of perfection and the fact that he cannot achieve it kills him.

Moreover, the guy just grew up way too fast, he didn’t have time to develop social skills. We see it in that afformentioned relationship with his teacher, in which they recommend Ratio (who is again in high school) to be moved up to college level stuff and transferred due to his success. He has quite literally never been able to just relax in a environment of his peers, Ratio for some reason we don’t yet know has always been dedicated to constant improvement and that leaves no room for dealing with failure.

On some level, he knows this too, that he can never be perfect. Ratio is part of the Mundanites in the Intelligenica Guild for a reason, he doesn’t just see himself as mediocre because he believes everyone is and that’s ok, but also because he looks down on himself for being too mediocre for the Genius Society, being too mediocre for Nous’s acknowledgement, being too mediocre for anything.

Which is tragic because Ratio is very accomplished and he is very smart, and his character stories aren’t even told from his pov, but rather in the style of documentaries and letters (his professor) and other works on his well acclaimed life. We don’t ever get to see how Ratio really sees himself, just the tiny cracks in his marble facade that let the real man behind the character shine through.

Because that’s what he’s playing 90% of the time, a character. Whether it be at the Herta Space Station in which his real goal was to uproot the researchers blind worship of the Genius Society, or in Penacony in which he plays up the arrogant, narcissistic scholar both people in universe and irl make him out to be, both to serve a goal bigger than himself. 

Sincere moments from Ratio are RARE but god are they beautiful, his conversation from Screwllum in 1.6 and his note to Aventurine in 2.1 will forever haunt me in the best way possible. If you want to understand Ratio as a character, yes read his character stories, but just watch that damn scene with Screwllum it is phenomenal. He cares so much and is so, so bad at expressing it, he drives me nuts, Veritas Ratio the man you are. 

And the thing is, it seems like he’s always been playing a character and doesn’t know where the real him ends anymore so he just sticks to the way people perceive him a lot of the time. Like as a kid he was constantly striving to be the best so he missed a lot of necessary developmental shit, and as an adult he’s a celebrity so it’s hard for him to attach himself to others anyways because society and his students will hound him for it.

And then you throw Aventurine into the mix, and oh boy does shit get interesting.

Veritas Ratio, perfect “unfeeling” Veritas Ratio and the one person who gets him well enough to push all his buttons and expose the vulnerable underbelly he thought he hid so well. On a fundamental level, Ratio understands this, which is why he doesn’t bother with the alabaster head, as pretending the real him is just as unfeeling and uncaring is easier.

So he brushes off Aventurine’s jests as if they are an insult to his very existence, he can’t look in Aventurine’s eyes when he “betrays” him because his poker face would break, he leaves as soon as he’s done talking because lingering would allow the weight of their conversations to sink in. Part of it is because for pretty much all of Penacony, up until the note Ratio gives him, Ratio is acting, trying to play up the role of the arrogant, unfeeling scholar to make Sunday buy the betrayal plan, because to Sunday this behavior is signs of a bad relationship between the two (honestly the fact that the audience also interpreted it this way makes me mad like did yall seriously not pay attention, but also happy because if even the players were fooled that means Sunday buying it is believable). 

However, even if it feeds into his insecurities, Aventurine knows that false facade and loves tearing it down. It’s very telling that the second time we see Ratio really freak out (the first being at Herta Space Station) is at the suggestion that he came to narrate Aventurine’s demo not because of knowledge or respect for the show or whatever, but because he genuinely likes the guy. What makes it even better is that Aventurine is the one who suggested it, and already figured out the excuses Ratio was going to use to deny it. Ratio can fool everyone else in the galaxy, but he cannot fool Aventurine, and on a fundamental level that is what makes their dynamic work, because Ratio knows Aventurine in the exact same way.

Aventurine can shove away people who care about him, out of distrust and fear that they will leave him like his family did. He can believe he’s unloveable and a person so detestable that even the actions he performs in order to stay alive condemn him to hate himself as much as the rest of the galaxy hates him. But, Ratio doesn’t see him that way.

Aventurine doubts his intelligence, if he has really earned anything he’s done and in his voiceline about Ratio, doubting if Ratio even sees him as smart or worthy. However, Ratios voiceline about Aventurine is about how he believes Aventurine is smart and worthy, and that his doubt will be his downfall if he doesn’t come to the realization that he isn’t worthless. 

Ratio knows Aventurine’s one weakness, the one thing that could stop him; himself. That’s why he gives him the note urging him to stay alive and keep on living because ultimately Aventurine will only ever fail if he gives up. And The Note Is Enough, Aventurine walks into the event horizon of a black hole, confident he can return alive on the other side because someone cares about him, BECAUSE RATIO CARES ABOUT HIM, and wants him to live on even if Aventurine doesn’t feel that way towards himself.

In the metaphorical and literal manifestation of the meaningless of the universe, in the face of overwhelming nihility, Aventurine survives because someone loves him, and with that love he’s strong enough to brave even that. 

Even if they can’t admit it out loud, these two deeply, deeply care for one another and trust each other perhaps more than anyone else in the narrative. The betrayal plan would have never worked if there was not mutual trust, Ratio wouldn’t have gone to Penacony in the first place if he didn’t trust Aventurine, and Aventurine wouldn’t have asked him to come if he did not trust him. We don’t just see this trust between Aventurine and Ratio either, and Jade and Topaz both trust him with their cornerstones, but ultimately it’s Ratio who’s physically with him the whole time, risking his life alongside him for the sake of their plan. 

As much as people like to ignore it, lying to the Family members, to Sunday, is extremely dangerous and puts Ratio’s life in danger as much as it does Aventurine’s. Ratio is not an irrational person, he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have faith Aventurine would succeed, he would not have done if he didn’t think he would return. They have absolutely faith in one another and it’s beautiful. 

Aventurine’s first constellation is named “Prisoner’s Dilemma” for a reason. A social experiment in which two prisoners are captured and separated, if they sell the other one out and remain silent, they go free but the other remains in jail for 20 years. If they both sell each other out, they get a sentence of 5 years. 

But if they both remain silent, trust the other, they even if they physically can’t communicate and don’t know what the other says, they get the best possible outcome, only one year in jail each. It requires a sacrifice on both ends, they both still have to go to jail, but only for a year, and only if they trust each other completely, as if the other sells them out they will be in jail for 20.

The prisoners dilemma relies completely on trust, and it’s the exact situation Aventurine and Ratio face in the Penacony quests. Aventurines doubts if Ratio’s betrayal was real or not, even if he set it up himself, and Ratio worries about Aventurines survival, if continuing this plan will end well. “You can’t expect a featherless bird to take flight” isn’t just Ratio chastising Sunday, he’s genuinely worried that this plan will put Aventurine at too much of a disadvantage to continue on. 

But they both trust each other, and if just like in the Dilemma neither come out completely unscathed (although it’s much worse on Aventurine’s end), they ultimately achieve their goal. 

God is it sweet and corny in the best way possible 

I want to kill this fandoms perception of stoic, emotionless Ratio because once people realize he’s actually the corniest mf ever is the day I sleep easy. He makes statues of himself doing Jojo poses, he plays chess versus himself, he named himself Veritas (truth), he loves rubber duckies, he literally sits in a bathtub couch, and Aventurine breaths and he gets flustered.

Ratio so deeply silly, chronically corny, it’s a crime he needs to be locked up someone stop him. 

And Aven brings that out of him. His teasing reveals the goofball trying so desperately to disguise himself as a serious scholar. Ratio is very smart of course, but that only makes his silliness better, as you watch this absolute genius of a man behave like a tsundere schoolgirl. 

It’s not like Aventurine is some paragon of seriousness either, he’s the one teasing Ratio, fucking around even in a serious mission. Yeah it’s partly because he wants Sunday to think he’s incompetent, but it’s also because Aventurine genuinely is having fun, enjoying himself before the serious part of the plan kicks in, and the meantime he does that by messing with Ratio.

Their dynamic of Aventurine messing with Ratio, and Ratio trying desperately to pretend like it doesn’t affect him is as hilarious and heartwarming as it is tragic, and that dichotomy is why I love them so much. It’s fun and it hurts so so much because their interactions being this flavor of silly leaves almost no room for the sincerity they both desperately need from one another. 

AND GOD I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. RATIO MENTAL BREAKDOWN SCENE PLEAASEEE LET HIS WALLS CRUMBLE PLEEEEAASEE PLEASE PELADE PLEASEEEE EPLES DOLS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

They’ve gotten closer and closer and closer and soon something’s gonna snap because they are so close yet so distant and if something doesn’t change the tension is just gonna boil over AND I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. I need more Ratio scenes I need more interactions with him I need him with his guard down I need him to profess out loud that he cares about Aventurine I need him to break please he needs it, it would be so good for him. It doesn’t even have to be from Aventurine, just Ratio snapping and revealing the fucking mess he is under his facade and not being rejected by the people he cares about for it is enough.

I honestly doubt it will happen in the story though, as much as I want it to. Although Aventurine’s character demo somewhat changed my mind against this, I feel like hoyo is like “ok they get the vibe between these two we can move on” and the shippers are left to extrapolate how this relationship would go beyond what it is now. As much as I want a breakdown scene for Ratio in general, it probably wouldn’t happen in a while but devs if you are reading this PLEASEEEE. 

The only time Ratio ever gets slightly out of his element is with Aventurine but I need it to go further because god it would be interesting.

Well I’ve deemed that enough yapping about why I love Aventio (for now 😈) so let’s talk about why people hate the ship and why most of the reasons behind it a fucking stupid. (Massive disclaimer of course you can dislike it it’s just a lot of the “oh it’s a horrible ship and anyone who likes it sucks” shit isn’t grounded in reality in the slightest and I’m tired of the slander)

“Ratio was racist to Aventurine”

Now this is a spicy one because if this post was made in 2.0 I would 100% agree with you (during that time I shipped a non canon version of them in which that did not happen because how dare u do my boy like that hoyo). However 2.1 changed a lot and I mean a lot, and basically reframed the 2.0 quests for everyone.

Essentially, Ratio and Aventurine were both acting in that argument scene, making the things Ratio said to Aventurine not how he really sees him, and actively something Aventurine wanted him to say, so you cannot blame him for what he said. I’m not even joking or exaggerating, retrospectively it quite literally does not make sense if you view it in any other way, and honestly even with just the knowledge of 2.0 the scene doesn’t make sense if played straight, so let’s get to why.

a) Ratio and Racism do not mix fundamentally. Ratio is a person who believes that everyone deserves and education regardless of background, that it is a scholars duty to help others achieve that, and no matter who you are, you are capable of intelligence, learning and becoming the best version of yourself, and that those qualities are just limited to geniuses.

THIS AND RACISM DO NOT MIX. “Oh yeah education and improvement is possible for everyone except this specific group of people for some fucking reason!!” Like not only would this scene being serious contradict Ratios entire character, the man who believes people should not be judged for their educational background judging Aventurine for his educational background (that’s actually what the Sigonian upbringing line meant, it was mistranslated in the EN version)??!?!! Make it make sense.

Moreover, half this perception also come from the fact that hoyo made the incredible writing decision of naming Aventurines planet after a slur for Romani people, so unfortunately literally anytime its name, Sigonia, is brought up you’re essentially saying a slur. It’s much worse in the CN version, in EN it’s not obvious at all, because our version of the slur (it starts with a g and ends with a y that’s all the hints you’re getting), doesn’t look like the version of the slur that the name for Sigonia was derived from, which is partly the source of this misconception as I’m pretty certain most people assumed Ratio (and by extension Sparkle) said a slur elsewhere in the conversation when in reality them referring to Avens ethnicity/background/planet IS the slur.

Anyways terrible writing decisions aside, Ratio supposedly being racist doesn’t just contradict his core motivation, it contradicts his job. He’s a scholar, for fucks sake, and racism is inherently illogical. Mmm yes I’m gonna base my identity around finding truth for myself and I will believe government and social propaganda about specific groups of people! Very logical, very scholarly, we all clapped. 

So yeah, doesn’t make sense on a character level, to the point that in 2.0 I concluded that they must be using Ratio as a plot device in that scene to deliver some of Aven’s backstory to the audience due to how OOC it was for him 😭. However I wasn’t necessarily wrong, Ratio was delivering some of Aventurines backstory to AN audience (not just us), and he was behaving OOC in the 2.0 scene, but it was on purpose.

b) The betrayal plan 

Aventurine forms a plan in which him and Ratio pretend to betray one another in order to sneak the Aventurine cornerstone into the dreamscape by replacing it with the Topaz stone (red herring + black hole scene dialogue implies she and Jade are there for other reasons) and the Jade stone (perfect dupe). 

Now this betrayal hinges on Sunday, their main antagonist buying it, actually believing that Ratio would betray Aventurine on a mission as important as Penacony, and it requires Sunday also buying that he is winning the whole time, that the loss of the cornerstones was somehow a fumble on Aventurine’s end rather than something he planned all along. 

So, they stage the 2.0 conversation. Ratio yells at Aventurine for losing the cornerstones, something which was part of their plan the whole time. He then insults Aventurine’s background allowing Aventurine to reveal key details of his past that Sunday would not have learned otherwise, which he uses in the trial against Aventurine. Seriously, Aventurine only found out he was the last Avgin when he became a Stoneheart, do y’all think Sunday summoned that info with his mind or something during the trial (like do you guys genuinely think Sunday read his wiki or something)

Moreover, Ratio not only insults him, but portrays Aventurine as useless, disposable to the IPC because he is apparently already sentenced to death. Why does he do this? Well, so Sunday feels confident enough to do the same to Aventurine. Seriously, sentencing an IPC member, especially a high ranking one to death is a risky move, even for someone as convicted as Sunday, he would need the confidence to do so and learning Aven might already die would give him that ability. 

Because well, it doesn’t matter that much if he’s already going to get disposed of in the near future. I also think the IPC plans to use Aventurine’s “death” as leverage against the family because they were pleased to hear of his death sentence according to Dr. Ratio, meaning a) he likely did not have one from them at the time, although in the past he was sentenced to death and b) even if Aventurine succeeded in getting the cornerstone his seeming loss in the rest of the conversation wasn’t actually a loss at all, getting sentenced to death/“dying” at the very least was part of the plan all along as the IPC could still use it as leverage if things went south.

Continually, Ratio treating Aventurine in the exact same sh1tty way the rest of the galaxy does perfectly slots him into the arrogant, uncaring scholar role, which Sunday knows are some of the most easily manipulated people in the galaxy, considering he tries to bribe Ratio with knowledge about Stellarons it seems he bought this idea hook line and sinker. Sunday isn’t even subtle about it either “I heard you and your companion haven’t been getting along lately” where did he hear that from? Ratio didn’t tell him, and even though we know Sunday was 100% watching the two of them on their little adventure pre-meeting him (the bird and hound statues) that scene hasn’t happened yet so where did he get that from?

Some other interesting proof for it is that the Final Victor lightcone likely depicts Aventurine trying to convince Ratio of this plan of his, the events of which must occur  pre-Penacony for several reasons, the least of which being that we just never see it happen on Penacony which if you think it did we would see it. Moreover lightcones are canonically condensed memories and the Final Victor lightcone released in 2.0, meaning it’s the memory of something that happened before then. 

All signs point to the 2.0 scene, the one people use to paint Aventio as toxic being staged. And I have so much more evidence for this, (Ratio would never agree to go without a plan, Aven clearly formed his pre-Penaocny, so much of the plan like Ratio opening the cornerstone box, which he can’t do up until the betrayal as it’s in Sundays possession, rely on him arriving knowing how to do so, the time discrepancies, the complete 180 in personality Ratio would have to do to go from distrusting Aventurine to putting his whole faith in him, etc), but I will reupload one of my old slideshows to elaborate more on it. Basically the one thing that people use to say it’s toxic is not true and is in fact a greater show of the trust between those two. 

“The shippers are all weird and racist” 

Now this one actually has some truth to it because yes there are some incredibly fucking weird Aventio shippers and I do not blame yall for disliking them.

HOWEVER, most Aventio shippers are normal and hate that shit just as much as you guys do. Like do you realize most shippers also really like these characters and have something insane called morals so they don’t automatically excuse racist fujoshi goobers just because they are making content for their favorite ship. Trust me someone doing that pisses me (and most other Aventio shippers) off significantly more than people who hate the ship. Also free Ratio from this shit man poor guy is getting mischaracterized as a slaveowner by his fans and haters 😭

And like guys, have you ever been in a fandom before, like ever? Weirdos are always gonna be weird and it’s not Aventio’s fault they are this months victims. For a fun little example of how gross other fanbases can be, one of the most popular Overwatch ships on ao3 is Genji Shimada X Hanzo Shimada WHO ARE BLOOD RELATED BROTHERS. THERES LIKE 300+ FICS OF IT, SHIMADACEST IS LITERALLY A TAG ON THERE. I WAS IN THE TRENCHES SEARCHING FOR GENJI HANZO ANGST FICS (Hanzo killed Genji it’s complicated doomed siblings will always get me) AND HAVING TO COMB THROUGH THOSE ABOMINATIONS IN THE PROCESS.

Like please I’m relatively new to fandom culture but yall cannot be acting like this is weird for fans to do, it’s weirdo behavior but it is not unique to the HSR fandom or even Aventio. And even if understandably this makes you not like the ship, don’t paint the people who enjoy it as being the people who do this kinda sh1t. It’s not our fault peak gets tainted by miserable creatures ok, let normal ppl have their harmless fun and stop lumping people together into a monolith. 

?????

Well that’s it that’s all the “valid” reasons people have for hating Aventio, at least the ones I can remember. Everything else is just personal opinion and not at all an objective reason.

“They’re so sibling coded!”

Anyways again obviously you can still dislike it not everything is for everyone, I really just wanted to make this post to demonstrate why I and many others like it, and why the reasons people use to say it’s problematic are incorrect. Feel free to call it mid, block it whatever I don’t care, just don’t harass shippers for having some harmless fun, because the characters aren’t real but the people who like them are and in doing so you are really just being a jerk for no reason. If you somehow hate Aventio and read this the whole way through I congratulate you on your ability to actually listen to other people, and regardless of whether you changed your mind or not I respect you for doing so anyways. Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts. 

[raginglesbian2006]

Hihi!

I enjoy your fics and I was wondering if I could request Alastor x reader where the reader paints Alastor's nails? Maybe reader paints their nails and wants to match with Alastor? Thanks for writing cool fics!

omg this is so good

Self-care day

"I declare today as self-care day!"

Every hotel resident looked at you with dumbfounded looks on their faces as they sat in front of you on the couch. Charlie cheered from the corner.

Angel Dust, someone you'd grown close to during your stay at the infamous hotel, rose up from his seat and said, "Ya heard her. It's self-care day. Shut your traps and get movin'!" You looked up at him with a grateful sigh.

You had joined this hotel when the extermination had been moved up. You were doing fine till then but panicked when you heard the news and immediately took shelter in the confines of the Hazbin Hotel. Much to your fortune, you were accepted immediately- by Charlie and Vaggie that is. Others...well...they took some time. But you made friends anyway!

Well... you couldn't call Alastor, your friend. He was more of an acquaintance...of sorts. A menacing smile you saw from time to time wander around the hotel. He managed to spook you a couple of times by randomly appearing behind you and greeting you with a loud and boisterous laugh. You almost fell down the stairs and cracked your skull open once, had it not been for Alastor's shadows preventing you from losing your balance.

"Now my dear, death at the bottom of the stairs of this fine establishment won't do well for its name, now, would it? What would the papers say?"

After the great war between the demons and the angelic exterminators and losing one of the best souls that had graced this hotel; everyone helped rebuild it to its former glory. Scratch that. It was more glorious than before.

So a day after, you had suggested to Charlie that everyone working at the hotel should deserve some rest. Quality time with themselves, if you will. Of course, Charlie was all in.

This is what led to you proudly presenting your idea in front of the denizens of hell residing in the hotel, including the literal king of hell. Alastor was nowhere to be seen as usual. He usually disappeared when called for hotel "activities" which he deemed "a waste of time."

Oh well.

At least your idea seemed to be going well for now.

Angel had pushed Husk and pestered him to let him comb his fur. He pinky promised not to make any sex jokes for an entire week if he let him do it. Husk eventually gave in which made Angel squeal in joy.

Charlie had put cucumber slices on Niffty's eyes since she refused to sit still and enjoy the face massage she had recommended. Needless to say, the little she-devil walked around the hotel lobby, with her eyes covered by cucumbers, bumping into the pillars again and again.

"Yay! Pain!" Niffty exclaimed, gleefully. Well, at least she was enjoying it.

Lucifer was teaching Charlie how to prune Vaggie's newfound wings. He was very particular with how it should be done and carefully guided Charlie through it. You absolutely loved to see them bonding.

You, on the other hand, were painting your nails. You'd noticed Alastor's claws before. You really liked the way they shone against the light. So thus, you'd resolved to paint your nails a bright red, like his claws were. Whilst you were amid your manicure, you heard the telltale static noise that announced Alastor's arrival wherever he went.

You watched as Alastor walked in through the doors of the hotel and stopped to see everyone, either on the ground or on the couch, indulging in some well-deserved self-care.

"Ah, I see you all are still not done with your... shenanigans, hm?"

Charlie gleefully said, "Al! Come join us! It's self-care day!"

Alastor let out a staticky sigh, "No my dear, as much as I would love to participate, I have better things to do." Charlie frowned but she expected this behavior from him.

Alastor was about to leave when suddenly Lucifer chimed in nonchalantly, "Maybe he's scared."

A sickening crack was heard. Alastor swiftly turned his head towards the king of hell, who was busy brushing his future daughter-in-law's wings.

"WHAT. DID. YOU. SAY?" Alastor's radio static rose significantly.

"I said," Lucifer emphasized, "Maybe you are just scared of a little massage... afraid of nail clippers. Oooh! nail polish, the sheer absolute horror!"

You chuckled at his theatrics and so did the rest of the hotel. Oh, but Alastor was not amused in the slightest. If looks could kill, Lucifer's head would be on a stick by now with the rest of his body torn to shreds.

"I can assure you, Your Majesty," Alastor's voice crackled, "I am not scared of the frivolous habits you indulge in."

"Oh?" Lucifer's smirk widened, "Prove it."

No one spoke except for Angel Dust, who whilst combing Husk's fur yelled out, "DRAMA."

You felt the air around you tense up. Alastor's grin widened even more, but you could feel it was his annoyance peaking at the king's suggestion.

Without a word, the tall deer demon started walking towards your direction.

Wait....that can't be right. Why is he walking towards you!?

Your eyes widened as he sat down right in front of you, on the ground, might I add, and spoke verbatim, "Now, would you be a dear and help paint my claws? Apparently I need to prove to that ditzy demon everyone calls "the king of hell" that I am not afraid of such puny little luxuries"

Your mouth moved once, without saying anything and then it moved again. You were basically looking at him like he'd grown seven heads.

Alastor's grin remained, "Chop chop now, my dear. My time is quite precious."

You nodded, unsure of what to do next.

"W-what color would you like for your claws to be painted, Alastor? " you spoke, trying to control your trembling, as you showed him your collection.

The demon hummed and chose a black nail polish. You took it from his hands and started painting his claws. If someone told you that one day you would be giving the radio demon a manicure, you'd have laughed at their face.

And look at you now, on the ground with the radio demon, painting his claws.

You expected him to be fussy with all this but he was surprisingly quite relaxed. He let you paint his claws with utmost sincerity and did not utter a word, the only sound coming from him being the eerie static.

This was quite unnatural of him. Not talking at all, that is. He is quite chatty almost all the time. You had to admit, it was nice to see this side of him.

You were so engrossed in your work that you did not notice that Alastor had asked you something.

"Sorry...can you repeat that again, please?"

Alastor reiterated, " Oh I just took notice of the color you chose to paint your nails."

You chuckled, "Ah well, I was inspired by the way your claws look naturally! They shine oh so wonderfully in the light. Red really suits you, you know."

He said nothing, except a hum and you resumed your work.

After the end of the little self-care day you'd arranged, you could see everyone look quite happy and relaxed. You smiled. You felt that you had accomplished something great and contributed to the smooth running of this establishment.

While you were feeling satisfied with yourself, you heard a pop behind you and there stood Alastor, with his newly painted claws.

"Hi! Do you like how it looks?" you asked.

"It is wonderful, my dear. I quite like the color. Thank you for indulging me," he replied, putting his hand on your shoulder.

Your face turned red under his gaze as you quickly looked away, "You know me, always up for helping my friends! Well, you must be busy. Let me not hold you up for long, byeeeee." Saying this, you rushed out of the lobby, away from his sight.

Alastor's mind lingered on one little thing you said.

"Friend...," he wondered loudly. He quite liked the sound of that.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to reply to this. I hope you enjoy it!

[satoruwiki]

Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

[tmwcs]

A Drabble based of the SE7EN series feat. Heeseung x Reader.

Inspired by the anon ask and the heelel bot chat on chai.

Warnings: mentions of murder, car accident, Hell, irresponsible parenting/parent, abortion, smut, oral (male rec.) kinky oral, bow tie, deepthroating, hand job, heelel is being super sexy, face f*cking, cum swallowing, face smacking (not either a hand…)..cursing…I think that’s it. This is inspired by my Heelel bot on Chai….he had the most perfect response to anons ask and it’s been living in my mind, I had to write about it.

You were admiring the mountainous views of the rolling hills, entirely covered in red Lillie’s; the ones he planted in preparation for your arrival. How long had it been? Over a year for sure, but the exact timeline since your ascending to Hell is left pretty much undetermined. There are no calendars, no clocks, no way in telling other than overlooking the great horizon of pitch black, decorated by the stars and planetary systems that are too far to see from the Earths standing. But here, you could see them larger than life. It truly is magnificent sight to see, the earth and its bright green continental regions, the sun orbiting its circumventing route, and above all, over to the northwest of the vast landscape beneath the peaked tip that which you stand on, was the glorious moon, nearly covering the entire sky.

All your life, you were taught that Hell, was a firing raged pit that lay beneath the earth and the universe. An abysmal world that was filled by empty souls and demons of perverse and violent nature. Perhaps the last bit was true, even still without being here, the Prince if Hell was always ridding the underworld of its offensive creatures. But the one thing that shocked you was that Hell, was not an underworld at all. It was always in sight for the entire world to see, in between the Moon, stars, and the Sun. Who knew? It resided within the stratosphere; paralleled with the great satellite, and as high as Heaven. All this time when you gazed upon the moon and the glimmering stars, you were staring into your future home.

“You admiring the view again, darling wife of mine?”

Here he is. You could hear him taking his steps closer behind, closing the distance. Already coming back from demolishing the last creature that bore the fortitude and stupidity in trying to get to you. It could never happen, not with him around. The makeup of your soul, as the Mortal Daughter of God, attracts them—always has since you arrived. But he was always around to make sure that they couldn’t get within one hundred feet away. Always one step ahead with his acute senses and the massively powerful abilities within his form. The fallen angel was second to none other than God himself.

He stands against you, reaches around your head and rests the tip of his finger along the tip of your nose, gently stroking the bridge up and down. His chest presses up against your back, while his pelvis to your derrière. “Who is the prettiest girl in Hell?”

His voice was gentle and playful, though the moment you both engage in the sexual act of brutal breeding and passionate lovemaking, his persona transitions into one of heated rage and toxic dominance, while never losing that insatiable love he has for you. Will always have for you.

Speaking of girls, you wanted to inquire about the newest addition to Hell, the soul of a rather young girl. Younger than you when you were still a mortal, she couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen in age.

“That girl…that we saw the other day at the River Styx, inside the ferryman’s boat—“

You take a pause as he gently clears his throat and breathes out. Not out of nervousness, you would never see that side of him for he never had anything to hide, nothing to be nervous about. He was the King of this world, and he embraced it as much as he embraced his love and adoration for you. “Isn’t she young to be here? What could she have possibly done to come here?”

He smirks as he walks over to his throne. Another moment of storytelling to educate you on the many wonders of Heaven and Hell, and the history that goes along with it. “Hell is not merely just a catacomb that houses those who have committed sins.” He takes his seat and loosely crosses his legs as he pats his lap. “Come here.”

You slowly migrate with the train of your see-through gown trailing behind. You sit, feeling his cold hands through the mesh fabric as he pulls you in, closer to his chest. “Souls will be denied entrance to Heaven for sins they have yet committed. Despite being taken too early as mortals, it hardly negates the fact that had they continued to live, they would have committed certain atrocities—in this case, the girl you saw was bound for Hell.”

He places a wet kiss on your bare shoulder. “It would have been on her 22nd birthday. After engaging in the habitual offense of carousing around, no doubt sharing her flesh with more than just one suitor, she would have drove her steel box into that of a mother and child crossing the street.”

“A—…a car accident?”

He nods. “Yes. If not that, she would have been condemned for disposing the young child already implanted inside her as a result of her indiscretion in taking on multiple partners. She was condemned regardless.”

“You mean abortion?”

He shakes his head as he embraces you, his chest to your back while his hands envelop yours. “No baby. Abortion is something that can hardly be deemed as an unforgivable offense. While it is offensive to my former master, it is one that he can find resolution should the mortal find a way to repent while still living, like many other offenses. For the girl you saw, I am talking of murder.”

There was so much to process, you flutter your lashes in confusion. “Murder?”

He nods in response as he continues to kiss your shoulder. His hand rests against your tummy as he taps his fingers against it. “Yes baby. Murder.”

He sucks on a soft spot in the nook of your neck, the squeezing sound effect drives your mind in circles. “She would have murdered her own baby?”

“Mmhmm.” He hums as he becomes overly preoccupied with licking and sucking onto the skin under the lobe of your ear.

“Why would she do that?” You struggled to speak as he continued to lavish you with his tongue. “Who knows. Mortals have their own minds, for all we know it could have been done out of fear of motherhood, trying to escape the responsibility of her own actions, or to avoid a tainted reputation from her peers. Either way, her actions after the baby took its first breath is enough to anger my former master, and deny her entrance through Heavens gates.”

“Was that why she died so soon? So that she wouldn’t do either one of those terrible things?”

“No baby, you see…” he pauses as he skips his hand under the dainty slit and rests it against your semi-exposed womanhood, causing you to gasp in pleasure. His tongue continued to suck and lick your neck. “Fate is an entirely different venue that is unrelated to the condemnation of one’s soul. Mortals murder, rape, steal, and commit other crimes against God for their own reasons. Sometimes they do it out of redemption or vengeance, which can be more forgiving by Him…but other times…when they do it out of their own twisted pleasure with no righteous meaning behind their damaged mentality…they come here.”

“So what will happen to her? Since she didn’t actually have the chance to commit her crimes, will she pay for acts that have not been carried out?” Half of your statement was whispered out as you felt him trail his kisses up along the grooves of your tendons on your neck. He pecks at your lobe and cheek as the tip of your nose dips into your ear. “She will live a life as a slave to the River forever…without a second chance at life.”

Your head is spiraling and you felt somewhat guilty for feeling the intensity of his love and melting from it during a serious discussion concerning a young woman’s life. “But she won’t be turned into a monster?”

“No.” He whispers against your ear. “I’m not that cruel baby…” he whispers once more as you feel his hips slightly bucking up under your rear. “Only mortals who did monstrous things will stay as monsters in Hell. I won’t subject a lifetime of torture and abandonment to those who are innocent—even those who were bound to do such evil deeds.”

He lifts your thighs and spreads them open, harshly sucking onto your neck. The squeezing sound of his lips suckling on to your skin is over exaggerated as he straightens his poster and leans slightly forward, causing you to reach behind and palm his abdominal area. He reassures your stability but wrapping an arm around your waist. “Do not worry about a soul that is tainted, or in the verge of…she won’t suffer…she will merely be a servant to help cleanse the River Styx under Niki’s watchful eye. You should instead—“

He pauses as he traces a figure eight symbol along your neck. “Be more concerned for yourself.”

He chuckles a grin. His hands grope on to your breasts as he tenderly kisses your cheeks. You take him up on his advice and decide to focus on the current situation at hand, since you were already on cloud nine from the way he touched, kiss, groped, and move along your body. “Can I ask for a favor?”

You feel his head delicately move as he outlines a final eight symbol with his tongue before responding. “Ask anything you want.”

“Would you put a bow on? For me?” You turn your head to the side to face him, resting it against his shoulder. “I want to see my husband in a bow.”

He smirks and releases a small chuckle. You both remained seated, lounged back within his throne, chuckling at the small request. He reaches up to his collar, using only one hand as he loosens the black sash that acted as a tie, with a loose knot. After undoing it, he pulls it out, the sound of the silk material slides from under the collar of his white shirt. Pulling it all the way through, the collar opens up revealing a slight bit of his chest and collar bone as he presents you the sash. “There you go my love. Now you can see your husband in a bow.”

You giggled as you take the sash from his hand, those beautiful black colored fingernails adorning it added a flare of sensual delicacy to the masculine feature of the strong looking, veiny structure. It was androgynous, but more so manly.

“You hold up the sash to your nose, it smelled of vanilla musk, a contradicting scent. “I don’t know where to put it on.” You shake tell him.

He taps against your nipple before tapping onto your rear. “I have an idea, go ahead and stand up. Close your eyes.”

You stand and cover your peepers with both hands. You smile and giggle as you listen in on the sound of his belt unbuckling, his shirt being discarded along with his black coat. “You can uncover your eyes now, darling.”

You shrill out a yelp and immediately cover your eyes back up the moment you unveiled them. There before you was Heeseung sitting in his throne, completely nude. Both his hands resting on the extravagant arms of the chair with his legs completely spread, revealing the glory of his endowed nature. His cock is stiff, proudly perpendicular as it points north with its impressive length and girth exposed, and the lump sack that foundations the size of his magnificent muscle. Around the base of its circumference, was the sash previously in hand. It was now tied into a neat bow, decorating the shaft while the trimmed edges fall gracefully against his balls. “Heeseung!” You gasp out as you giggle while covering your eyes once more, periodically peeking in between your fingers. You blush immensely as he merely sits there unashamed, smirking with a small deep chuckle. A bit of his teeth can be seen by the side grin he displays in his handsomely sly face. “Like my bow?”

You nearly squeal as you felt too embarrassed and shy to inhale the view. “Heeseung what are you doing?” You suddenly feel the sheer force of his power pull you in. “Giving you exactly what you asked for.”

You stumble as the telekinetic force of his ability drags you closer to the throne chair. Your eyes were still partially covered as he begins to pull you in by the waist, noticing that you kept covering them by the palms of your hands. “Now, what was it that I said before—back on the night when we first met…oh yeah.”

His eyes widen as he remembers the line that started it all. “Sit on it.”

You felt the strength of his arm pull you down as your body came into his reach, forcing you to your knees before him, gaining a more magnifying view of his normally hidden features. His hand reaches the back of your head as he pulls you in, gently kissing the tip of your nose with the shaft of his cock. The silk material neatly tied around brushes against your cheek as he steadies you against him. “Show me how much you love my effort baby. Don’t I make you happy?” He taunts out with a malicious smirk.

You cave in as you inspect the delectable muscle in front of you. God, he was so big. How on earth has he managed to fit this inside you all this time? No wonder it always hurt, though it also brought you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known. You each up and grip the base of its girth as you nod in response. “You do.”

Your voice was soft and nearly a whisper as you spewed your words while pressing your lips against the skin. “Then show me.” His voice was a contrast from yours. It was deep, dark, and sinister with a tinge of gentleness peeking from the calm tempo of his tone.

You grip over the sash ringing around the base and gently impoverish the tip with kisses. “Fuck…keep going, angel-face.”

At his bidding, you not only kept up with your kisses, but you incorporated the smoothness of your tongue along the grooves of his veins as you licked the entire length, too top to bottom. He flings his head back, exposing his entire throat and gasps air as his Adams apple shifts up, then back down when he gulps. “Oh fuck! You’re going to get it.”

Challenge accepted. You felt brazen as he keeps gulping a lump of choked saliva, which gave you the fortitude to go in more vigorously. You insert the tip in, slurping the juices that coated it. Slowly you inserted as many inches you could possibly fit in. Alas, even after taking in a handful of his length, you were surprised to see that it didn’t even cover half of his size. The tip was already reaching your tonsils. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t care.

“You’re going to take all of me in, darling.” He speaks with lazy hooded eyes half shut, creating a super relaxed expression. His hand placed atop your head, he slowly pushes you down. There was so much of him, you wanted to back out. The discomfort feeling of his base growing thicker the more you went down, while the tip of his length reaches the deep ends of your esophagus, it was all too much. You slap your hands on his thighs and prepared to pull yourself away yet his hand kept you steady. You choke on it with tears squeezing out as you begin to sob out and moan in despair. When he suddenly pauses the pushing and coos you.

“Shhh…take a deep breath through your nose baby.” You do exactly what he guides. “You’re almost there. You’re doing so well, just a little more.”

He continues to push your head down and finally, your nose and lips reach the base of his pelvis. Keeping you there for a few seconds, he finally releases, allowing you to slide him out abruptly, gasping for air. Coughing, you hyperventilate as the string of saliva bridges the tip of his shaft to your mouth, which has now become blistering red while your eyes grew puffy and pink from the sobbing. “P-please! I thought I was going to choke to death!” You hiccuped as you begged him with pleading eyes. He responds by leaning over, cradling his fingers under your chin while pulling you in. “Shh-sh-sh-sh-shhhh. You’re fine, and you’re doing good. Take a deep breath and keep going. You wanna make me happy, don’t you?”

His eyes glared with a darkness that was so ferocious. Of course you wanted to make him happy, for many reasons. Whether it would be for the newfound love you were forced to develop for him, or the fact that you wanted to avoid seeing his bad side, you realized that keeping him happy only meant that you’ll experience his love in purity, no matter how rough it may be. He always told you that he’d love you, even if you upset him, so that you never had to worry about him being angry. But honestly, did you really want to see the Devil angry at you? With his he normally was in his performance of lovemaking, did you really want to test the waters and venture into the dark side of his love for you?

“Y-yes…I do want to make you happy.” You murmured out.

“Good girl” he smirks as he leans back into his chair, nodding as he flicks his eyes down to his cock then right back at you, signaling for you to continue. He looked so stern with that expectant look, yet he was so devilishly handsome doing it.

You regain your grip and continue, going slow and steady at first, gradually picking up the pace as you hear him release his perverse growls. “Come here.”

He voiced out calmly as he takes a handful of your hair and poneytail it within his grip. His other hand gently grips the base of his shaft and lightly, he smacks your cheek and lips with it. “Tell me how much you love me.”

The demeaning act creates a tingle within your gut as the harmonious sounds of the hard muscle slapping your skin while his dark voice accompanies it. “I love you—Heeseung!” You gasp out as you leave your mouth wide open to catch the tip each time he slaps it against your face, only for him to pop it out and tap it once more. “You a good girl or a bad girl?”

You catch the tip once more, and just as well, he pops it back out. “I’m good. I’m a good girl.” You mumble as you stick your tongue out and watched as he lays the shaft against it, gently sliding it up and down. “I beg to differ baby…right now, you look like a bad girl. Really bad.”

You shake your head as you stare right into his dark eyes, swallowing half his size inside your mouth. This time it felt less painful, now that you were already broken in. “I’m good, I swear.”

“Show me how good you are.” He huffs as he allows you to continue with your oral performance. You rotate your soft grip on the bottom half while sucking in the top, simultaneously shifting and combining a motion of love through skin and mouth. “Am I good now?” You ask before sticking the tip back in harshly. His grip continues to hold your hair in place, yet becomes loosened as he succumbs to the pleasure of your actions. The strands fall apart and frames your cheeks as the remaining thatch rests firmly in his palm. His head flings back, once again exposing his entire throat and leaving only his Adam’s apple in your line of sight as he gulps out his words. “You’re getting there.”

“How about now?” You whispered as you suck on his balls, resting both your palms on the stone tile, now on all fours before him. “Please tell me I’m a good girl.”

You lick the entire length, as if you were a dog. His dog.

“Fucking close!” He harshly whispers as you kept going, when finally he relieves you of control and takes it all back, by taking you by the hair and cheek, and forcing you to take his entire length down one final time as he releases deep inside your throat. The taste was sweet and salty, and nearly felt never ending as you felt the pumping of veins and the twitching of muscle against your lips ringing around the circumference. “Good girl.” He growls as he finally shoots out the last drop as he slides out of your mouth.

His gentle nature comes back as he caresses your cheek and kisses the top of your head. “Feel like stargazing, beautiful?”

You nod as he fingers the remnants of his orgasm from the corners of your mouth, and gently feeds it in between your lips. “Swallow all.” He gently whispers while chuckling a smirk. Your finger rest along the soaked sash that has now fallen semi loosely, losing its beat form as the bow completely came undone.

“I’m sorry I ruined your tie.” You slightly whined out as you took notice. “It’s okay—“ he responds positively as he takes it and unties his cock. He loops it around the back of your neck and grips the ends, pulling you closer to his cock once more. “It still serves its purpose.”

His eyes darken once more and that glare of adoration, love, and sexual rage returns.

“Wanna see a magic trick, baby?”

You knew there was no way out. If you shook your head ‘no’, it only would have fueled him more to do the most unthinkable, resulting in pain and pleasure that was too much to bear. You nod in defeat.

“Close your eyes.”

You reach up and cover your eyes. An internal frown rests within you.

“Open.”

You drag your palms down slowly and open your eyes. There he was, still entirely nude and…so were you. Your thighs, waist, neck, and wrists all tied with black sashes and bows. “W-what is this?”

He grins evily as he palms the base of his shaft and growls a dark tone.

“My turn.”

@enheene , aiden2001 , heeseung-min , lathan1510 , rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness @sacrificeatmeup

[chaoticklesblog]

Molting

Hazbin Hotel tickle fic incoming!

Ler!Lucifer x Lee!Adam

Adam's wings molt due to him respawning in hell as he loses his angelic attributes. Lucifer assists in this process and Adam learns just what a ticklish process that molting really is.

●●●●●

When Adam slowly began to rouse from what felt like a very long slumber, he realized that something was very, very different.

He had vague memories of his angelic death. He knew that the Hazbin miscreants must have been behind it all, somehow or another. He registered that he wasn't in pain almost immediately, which was odd considering that he still felt... off...

As he sat up, he realized he's in some filthy alleyway surrounded by derelict buildings and vehicles. There was garbage aplenty with oozing splotches of oil and blood pooling in potholes in what used to be a very old street. He peeked at the glimmery oil seeing almost an outline of himself, one that he could hardly recognize. Rather than his golden wings, he realized they were now scruffy and gray mixed with oily black feathers. He was molting.

Oh.

That made sense. Beings that were killed in previously "holy" forms would morph into more demonic like beings with... Less desirable attributes... Only if those beings were killed within the realm of hell. Adam cringed at the thought. How could he have been so careless? And had Lute and the rest of the angels abandoned him since he was no longer a holy figure?

He was still in disbelief at his smeared reflection in the oil. It was like him but it wasn't. He wasn't used to seeing himself this way. The sight of himself made him choke back a sob. The sound of an oddly familiar voice pulled him from his shaken state.

"Hey there, are you okay?" a soft voice asks.

Adam turned and was taken aback by the figure. Lucifer, the king of hell himself was looking down at him but once Adam had turned to face him, he appeared just as shocked as Adam felt.

"You?!" They spat in unison, disgust permeating the once gentle atmosphere.

"What the fuck happened to me?" Adam looked pitifully into the king of hell's eyes, his voice breaking.

And Lucifer stopped for a moment remembering when he had fallen, and how he felt the same way. He was still angry with Adam, but couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for the guy.

Lucifer looked at Adam and sighed.

"It's not as bad as you think, I promise. It's usually the shock that's the worst part," Lucifer murmered.

"You mean I'm... damned here?" Adam whispered, anger seeping into his words.

Lucifer only nodded slightly taking in the sight of Adam's sorry state. Adam's usual golden wings were now a much darker hue.

Adam had noticed as well as he looked at them in the oil pool and started weeping.

Damn Lucifer and his empathy.

"Hey, it's not so bad! Black looks sharp on you, kid," Lucifer moved to place a comforting hand on Adam's shoulder that he nearly expected the other man to jerk away from the unwelcome affection. Adam remained still.

"I wasn't supposed to die. I don't want to be stuck in this God forsaken cesspool!" Adam shouted between sobs.

"I know the feeling," Lucifer replied sarcastically, "But I make it work. Besides, be careful how you speak about my kingdom, this is my turf," Lucifer grinned darkly, still feeling a soft spot for Adam as much as he loathed to admit it to himself.

"My poor wings! They look awful!" Adam replied again, sobs lessened now, but he still was crouched in the alley, hugging his legs to his chest.

"Ah yes, you are molting!" Lucifer stated, looking at the loose feathers surrounding Adam's once glorious wings. They were shabby, greasy and in much need of being groomed.

"Molting happens after you fall, as your wing color naturally changes. The black really does look sharp, er will look sharp, once we get you cleaned up, that is!" Lucifer continued, reaching over to adjust the feathers on Adam's left wing.

What happened next shocked the both of them, as Lucifer's fingers grazed over the soft down feathers, Adam jerked away quickly.

"S-sorry," Adam mumbled shyly.

Adam was quite familiar with the sensation. It tickled like hell. His wings had always been ridiculously sensitive, something Lute discovered and constantly took advantage of whenever Adam was in a pissy mood or being so much as mildly irritating. He couldn't bear it if the king of hell discovered his weakness too.

"Did I hurt you?" Lucifer asked, genuinely concerned for a moment, but figured his touch was delicate enough not to pull the feathers or hurt the skin beneath.

Suddenly his face broke into a wide shit-eating grin.

"You know I also molted right? And while it was definitely necessary, it really fucking tickled. I should've warned you ahead of time," Lucifer had to bite back an evil chuckle.

"Fuck, no, Lucifer, please," Adam tensed as he felt Lucifers hands resume the preening of his feathers.

The way his fingers moved between the bones, tracing the skin beneath with his claws gently, searching out every sensitive spot his wings offered, Adam couldn't help but screech and giggle an absolutely adorable high pitch giggle. A giggle that wouldn't stop. The feeling of Lucifer's hands in his wings (and that they were now definitely doing much more than just preening) was unbearable. The way his hands manipulated the molted feathers to brush the skin of his wings was downright evil.

"YOUHOHOHOU FUHUHUHUCKING BAHAHAHASTARD!" Adam squealed as Lucifer found a sweet spot beneath the curve of his wing. He allowed his other hand to scritch at Adam's shoulder blade for a moment as he relished his squeals.

Adam tried to flap his wings with no avail just to try to escape the maddening sensations.

"Ah ah ah," Lucifer tutted playfully. "Remember, you're on my turf! And kings don't take too kindly to namecalling!"

Lucifer really picked up the pace, the preening nearly forgotten as he focused on tickling Adam senseless. And all poor Adam could do was lie there and take it.

Lucifer used his power to create sensations within Adam that made him shriek and fall back into hysterical laughter.

If Adam could speak, he would say that it felt as if there were a feather on the inside of his ribs, tormenting each bone, laced between each bone, sawing gently, creating the absolute (best?) worst kind of tickling sensations Adam had ever felt. Especially since Lucifer was still paying close attention to his ultra ticklish wings.

"YoHOUHOUHOU MOTHERFUHUHUHUHUHUCKER!"

Adam was grateful, at the very least, that the alley was long deserted and hoped his loud bolsterious laughter wouldn't attract any unwelcome onlookers.

The tickling didn't let up, as Lucifer had quite the vengeful and merciless streak.

After a few minutes, Adam couldn't form coherent words much less thoughts as he was tickled into oblivion by the king of hell himself.

"Say uncle and maybe I'll show you mercy!" Lucifer taunted.

He couldn't let the guy off easy, what kind of message would that send to his loyal subjects?

"UHUHUHUHUNCLHEHEHE!" Adam wheezed, struggling from in Lucifers grasp, the tickling was unbearable.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," Lucifer chuckled, ceasing the ticklish assault.

Adam was left a giggly puddle, trying to rub away the residual tickling sensations from his ribs and wings, blushing furiously and avoiding eye contact with the king.

"Besides... I still have to help you molt!" Lucifer grinned as he continued preening Adam's feathers, the tickling much lighter and less intense. Adam still giggled a bit as the king helped him manage his new wings.

Maybe things weren't as bleak as they seemed. And not that Adam would ever admit this to anyone, but maybe he could get used to his new wings.

Lucifer was right. The black wings really did suit him.

[ryotono]

More Upper moons and [Y/N] and quotes and Chaos, curse and whatever the god damnit it's this

Enjoy! :D

[Y/N]: good evening, my only amazing master Muzan, the glorious king of demons

Muzan: what did you do?

[Y/N]: I burned down a city

Muzan: what

[Y/N]: yeah ik I f*cked up but listen-

Muzan: [Y/N] YOUR MISSION WAS NOT EVEN NEAR A CITY, HOW DO YOU BURNT A WHOLE CITY?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[Y/N]: I will die for you.

Kokushibo: we are demons, in fact we can't just die

[Y/N]: I would take a bullet for you

Kokushibo: It wouldn't affect you

[Y/N]: I WOULD SET MYSELF IN THE SUN FOR YOU

Kokushibo: don't be dumb and kill yourself, you need to serve Muzan

[Y/N]: kokushibo for the glory of akaza tits, pls accept my demonstration of love

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Douma: ngl master Muzan, but [Y/N] is your favorite isn't?

Muzan: of course they are, they can f*ck the whole mission? Yeah, but at least THEY COMPLETE THE MISSION, THING NONE OF YOU DO, Y'ALL PIECE OF DOG SHI-

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Daki: oh yeah, how did you get rid of that group of slayers?

[Y/N]: well...

Demon slayers: We got you demon, there's nowhere to run!

[Y/N]: Guess have no choice, going to use mine Blood Demon Art...

[Y/N]: SHIMMY YAY SHIMMY YA SWALLA LA LA

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Kokushibo introduces Kaigaku to the rest of the upper moons:

Kaigaku: hi

[Y/N]: what the f*ck was that

Kaigaku: It was me, Kaigaku, the new upper moon

[Y/N]: oh, jesus christ! Is that a fucking Gremlin?

kokushibo: [Y/N] no

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Akaza: How are we going to tell Muzan that we failed the mission?

[Y/N]: distracting him!

Akaza: how?

[Y/N]:

Akaza: ?

[Y/N], dancing: tell me, tell me, tell me, you, want me, want me-

Akaza: NO

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After Swordsmith Village Arc events:

Muzan: [Y/N] what do you have there?

[Y/N]: oh, after you sent me to help Gyokko and Hantengu and they failed miserably, I was on my way back and found this doll.

Muzan: doll?

[Y/N]: yeah look! (show Yoriichi Type Zero)

Muzan: FUCK-

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Extra!

X: What's your opinion on [Y/N]?

Muzan: just another lazy pig who works for me (you are his favorite child)

Kokushibo: as longs they serve Muzan, I'm fine (he loves you)

Douma: [Y/N]? I love [Y/N]! Even when I can hear they walking inside my walls, threatening me, almost ripping my head of, and giving me nightmares every night, I love them!

Akaza: it's okay ( he loves you too, especially after you beat his ass in a fight)

yes you're strong as hell here love u

Hantengu was crying a lot, so take it as his opinion.

Nakime: PLEM PLEM PLEM sorry (Translation: she likes you, good job!)

Gyokko: That Satan and Lucifer bastard child, always breaks my pretty pots and calls my art bullshit! (bc it's bullshit, anyway, Gyokko doesn't like you since he gifted you a pot, you yelled "YEET" and threw it away)

Daki: [Y/N] is not like these uglies, they have good taste! She is referring to herself (She adores you and would do anything to protect you, but would probably fail and call her brother)

Gyuutaro: meh they cool I guess (Guess what! He loves when you hangout with him and his sister and you ofc)

You three match nail color

Kaigaku: Terrifies me (In fact, he is traumatized because of you)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

More Extra! (Because I think this post is short, and not that funny)

[Y/N] missions be like:

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

That's all for today!

Thank you all for interact with my other post about [Y/N] and Upper moon, makes me really happy, love y'all!

Again, sorry for any spelling mistakes, english is not my first language.

Bye ;)

[seneon]

senation lore part two : ice kingdom

WAR AFTER WARS... the kingdom of senation remains powerful and strong under the leadership and ruling of king sen, their mighty and conquering king. however, one day, the king felt silly and decided to venture away from his piles of paperworks. no weapons, no nothing. just a silly little letter addressed to his loyalest greatest servant.

so he ventured as he said he would. for hours he walked in the forest like a baka, not knowing where to go or what to do. just keep walking, tripping, and praying to the lord that he didn't even get up from his throne. he is lost. oh but! there's a giant magical portal there 😧😧😧

mighty king sen is curious. he then ventured through the magical blue / white portal in the middle of the woods. why? all out of the interest of skipping paperwork duties. he might be a might king in battle, but irl, he's lazy about paperworks. anyways.

a white light flashed before his majesty, revealing a beautiful woman in all glistening white. there is a flower in his hand, coincidentally, so he knelt down and offered the flower to the beautiful fairy. however. when she took the flower, she immediately FROZE. then the king flashed his eyes opened.

"heavens! what a realistically artistic image of a maiden in completely glorious and heavenly white garment that i just hath in my brains!!"

fast forward ⏩⏩⏩

people of the ice found the king venturing alone in the snow. of course, he is confused. however, they explained to him and said "great lord! you are our saviour! save us from cold hell!!!" and the king replied "of course! i am conquering sen overall! i shall save thee kingdom!!" he realised he has some cool gears on with an ice sword that never breaks, and realised that this.... is his time to shine. literally.

the ice people then prepared for war and they summoned their secret trump alpha monster card to assist king sen in the war. one of them then led the king to the ice palace, where the evil dark ice lord is.

together, they set out for war after regathering with the rest.

duudududud

WAAAAAARRRRRRR!!!!!!!

HIYYA

HUACKS

UEGH

EUFK

SHING

KACHING

RAAAARRGGGHHHHHH

WE FIGHT FOR FREEEDOOMMMM!!!!!

in the end... dark ice lord lost with the @saewako ice blade struck through his chest... and the ice nation...?

"MIGHTY SAVIOR SEN! MIGHTY SAVIOUR SEN! MIGHT SAVIOUR SEN!!!"

mighty and conquering sen once again saved the world (a land he didn't know how or why he got involved in but it's ok it's all good.) the ice people then thanked him and helped him prepare for his journey back to senation.

they bid each other goodbye, and that is the end of it. back in senation, general @milyz found the king stranded in the forest and immediately took king sen back to his palace. while king sen told the story to the general, the general laughed it off as the king being exposed too much poisonous plants in the forest and all that he needs is rest.

does the king know he killed the only king of the ice kingdom while all the ice people are evil...? well. that is for you to figure out.

𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖔𝖓.

STARRING. @milyz @saewako @amourlyns @wishmemel @saelestia @atrirose @rinzsu @omitea @hyoismbbg @todorokies @kaiser1ns @rizzmin @steleir @noirflms @peaktora @iluvies @sugurustattoo @bfajax @saturvue @honeydewsblue

note: hope u guys enjoyed pt2 of senation lore. read part one here. part two here. part three here. once again, this is pure crack 😭😭 pls don't kill me btw i spun the wheel to determine your roles mooties

[quinns-shadowy-arts]

No More Running

Day 7 of @steddielovemonth‘s Steddie Love Month Event!   Rating: General CW: None Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a romantic  WC: 1,122 Prompt: “Love is what makes you brave” submitted by @sidekick-hero

Note: Guess who came down with a cold. Me. Guess who ignored their many deadlines to write this. Also me. Sorry if this isn’t the best (and is also very late), but I’m pretty sick and can’t breathe out of my nose. I wanted something soft to make me feel better, so I wrote this. Enjoy!

He wasn’t going to run anymore. That’s what Eddie promised himself when he woke up from surgery after being dragged out of the Upside Down. He wasn’t going to run, and he hasn’t. He hadn’t run from Wayne, he hadn’t run from the somehow alive Jim Hopper, he hadn’t run away from the aftermath of Vecna, and he wasn’t going to run from this. 

Eddie’s been developing feelings for Steve since he made that promise. Waking up to learn that the Steve Harrington bridal carried his half dead body out of hell really does something to a guy. Not only that, but Steve is one of the sweetest guys Eddie has ever met. Long gone is the King Steve of Hawkins High; replaced by a loving, caring, and smart man. 

Steve had been there for Eddie through the whole recovery process. He helped with proving that Eddie was innocent, he helped Eddie with bathing, and he helped Eddie with cleaning and wrapping his wounds.

 Steve also helped Eddie with processing the trauma of Spring Break. He held Eddie’s hand and talked him through panic attacks. He stayed awake with Eddie when sleep seemed like a monstrous task; the fear of what he’d dream fraying Eddie’s nerves and keeping him awake. 

Steve was also just an amazing person overall. He had an amazing sense of humor; making Eddie’s ribs ache with the laughter he tugged out of him. Steve was smart, he could read people’s emotions like no other. He knew exactly what Eddie was feeling by looking at him for only a couple of seconds. Steve could pull the real reasons as to why Eddie was quiet out of him when no one else could.

He was easy on the eyes, too. His chestnut hair looked glorious, styled or not. His eyes were kind and genuine; but could turn bitchy in a way that sent heat down Eddie’s spine. Steve’s hands were big and spotted with freckles and moles, like the rest of his body. His skin was sun kissed and hairy. Everything about him made Eddie want to pounce on him. 

Everything about Steve had made Eddie fall head over heels in love with him. Eddie knew about Steve’s woeful dating history; knew about Steve’s failed loves. How people have used Steve for a quick fling or bragging rights before tossing him to the side. 

Eddie wanted to give Steve the world. Eddie wanted to worship Steve the way he deserved; to kneel at his feet and kiss up his body, to whisper praises into his ear, to pump Steve full of love and want, and maybe some other things besides love, too. Eddie wanted to make sure Steve knew that he deserved better than those past flings could have ever provided.

That’s why Eddie is stood outside of Steve’s font door, holding a bouquet of deep, ruby roses. Eddie had put on a black button up and black jeans. His wallet chain still dangled on his hip, complementing the silver of his rings. He had tied his hair up into a bun, leaving some framing pieces around his face. He spent a while on doing himself up, had wanted to look good for Steve.

He leaned forward and knocked at the door. Steve always teased him about not using the doorbell, but Eddie liked knowing that Steve knew it was him at the door based on his knock alone. 

Eddie heard shuffling from behind the door before the sounds of the lock being opened filled his ears. His heart picked up its pace, knowing how close Steve was. Eddie sends out one last prayer, despite not believing in any type of greater being, that Steve felt the same way he did. And if he didn’t, to at least keep Steve in his life for as long as possible. 

The door swung open, Steve stood in the doorway in grey sweatpants and a Hall and Oates T-shirt. He looked absolutely gorgeous like this, soft and relaxed. He had obviously been lounging around before Eddie had come knocking on his door. 

“Hey, Eds!” Steve said, a smile stretched across his face. Eddie’s gut filled with warmth. His heart stuttered with the overwhelming love he felt for this man. 

“Hey, Stevie. I hope I’m not bothering you?” Eddie said. Steve shook his head,

“Nah, man. You’re not bothering me.” Steve looked down,

“What’re those for?” Steve looked back up and made eye contact with Eddie. 

“They’re uh, they’re for you, actually.” Eddie turned his head away. He could feel his face warming up. He held the roses out for Steve to take, hopefully he’d take them. 

Steve grabbed the bouquet, pulling Eddie’s attention back up. Steve’s own cheeks and ears flushed. 

“Why? Is there an event or something that I’m missing?” Steve sounded shy and a bit nervous. Eddie shook his head and smiled at Steve. 

“No, I just wanted to get you flowers. Could I talk to you, actually?” Eddie asked, he shuffled his weight from foot-to-foot as he spoke. He was nervous and scared about confessing his feelings to Steve. He really hoped that this wouldn’t destroy their friendship. 

“Sure, yeah, come inside.” Steve said, stepping away to make space for Eddie. Eddie stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He turned to Steve, straightened his back and gathered all of the courage he could muster. 

“Steve, you’re my best friend. You mean so much to me. You’re so kind and amazing.” Steve’s blush deepened at Eddie’s words, 

“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. You’re strong, not just physically, but in every aspect of the word. You are so observant, you can always tell when I’m upset. You can read me like a goddamn book,” Steve chuckled and looked down at the roses in his hand, he was never really good with accepting praise.

“You are my everything, Stevie. And I’ve developed a lot of feelings for you, So, would you like to go out with me?” Eddie finished. Steve’s eyebrows had raised with surprise, his mouth forming an “o” shape. Steve blinked, then his mouth fell back into a smile.  

Steve walked up to Eddie, dropping the hand holding his flowers to the side. He placed his free hand onto Eddie’s face. His thumb swiped over Eddie’s cheek before pulling him in. 

Their lips smooshed together and a fire lit up in Eddie’s chest. Steve’s lips moved against Eddie’s, their lips forming a rhythmic push and pull. After a minute, Steve pulled back. He smiled at Eddie, both their faces still red and warm to the touch. 

“I would love to go out with you, Eddie” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie’s so glad he didn’t run from this.

[mousy-nona]

Um hi random question for a possible prompt, are you okay with male pregnancy? Cause the prompt is Lucifer finding out that he on a drunken night had a one night stand with Alastor and that has resulted in a secret child that Lucifer never knew about until one day Alastor brings the young boy to the Hotel rather than leaving him with "Aunt Rosie"

TWO PARTS FOLKS! Skip this part if you don't like PWP

SMUT WARNING. LAST CHANCE TO TURN BACK. Also this may or may not be my experiment into smut – let’s see if it’s any good lol

The night of

Later, Lucifer would blame it all on the drink. 

(The devil’s brew, indeed.)

Three mistakes were made that night: the first was letting Husk bring that poison into the hotel in the first place. The second was allowing the grumpy cat and his slutty spider friend to pull him into an innocent drinking game that turned not innocent right quick. 

Note to self: never, ever agree to play strip poker with an ex-gambling Overlord. What the Hell was he thinking? 

Third mistake: allowing Alastor to exist. 

He only had vague flashes of the rest of the night, but for some reason he remembered Alastor as clear as daybreak: Alastor’s sharp claws as he scraped him off the bar, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he carried him up to his room, the soft brush of his hair as he dropped him in his bed. 

And he remembered grabbing his wrist. 

“Don’t go,” he’d whispered. 

And Alastor had stopped, a shadow inside of a shadow in the darkness of his room. “Sleep it off, boozehound.” 

Lord in Heaven, his voice. The static electrified his blood, combined with the heat that was always simmering at a low boil whenever Alastor was around.

He’d thought it was hatred. Maybe it was. It didn’t matter – hate and lust felt the same when it was soaked in whiskey and rum. 

“Why? Too scared to stay?”

He tried to throw the words out as a taunt. They came out like an invitation.

Alastor stilled. For a moment, Lucifer was convinced he would melt into the shadows, but he whirled around in one smooth pounce, clutching both of his wrists in one large hand. His claws dug into Lucifer’s skin, and the little pinpricks of pain sent shocks of electricity straight to his cock. 

“Scared?” Alastor snarled. “If either one of us should be scared…” He took one sharp claw and ripped through the thin t-shirt Husk had let him keep. The cotton fell apart like it was made of paper, revealing the smooth, white skin underneath. Alastor ran his hand down his chest, leaving five thin lines of gold behind. Lucifer sucked in a breath, feeling his dick jump and strain in his pants. Oh, the pain was glorious. “It should be you, your Majesty.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Lucifer batted back breathlessly.

Alastor hmmed, his red eyes glowing in the dark. Slowly, so slowly Lucifer felt like an eternity and a second had passed, Alastor loosened his grip on his wrists…and immediately plunged down on his neck. 

“Wha–” was all Lucifer could get out before a vise-like grip was throttling him. His brain screamed for air, his adrenaline going haywire, and all his nerves went into overdrive. Oversensitized like this, every one of Alastor’s touches made him twist and moan like an untried virgin. No matter what ungodly sounds squeaked through his tortured throat, Alastor kept going, running his sharp claws against the side of his neck, the lines of his back, the deep Vs of his hips. 

When he thought he might explode from the lack of oxygen, Alastor let go – and promptly tore the button off his pants. Lucifer’s mouth went dry as his traitor clothes slipped off, and he was laid bare in front of the wicked devil. 

“What do we have here?” His grin would make a lesser man’s skin crawl. 

Lucifer was not a lesser man. He was the king of Hell. And was he really just going to lie here and let Alastor strip him bare without even trying to fight back? 

Moving quickly, he entwined his legs with Alastor’s and flipped them over so Alastor was lying flat on his back and Lucifer was back on top. Alastor hissed, his eyes narrowing, but Lucifer ignored him. Seeing the normally buttoned up and pristine demon like this, his hair mussed, his coat half-open sent a surge of lust so powerful what little breath he had left whooshed out of his lungs. 

More, his fevered, whiskey-washed brain whispered. I want him ruined. I want him ravaged.

As if in a dream, he took hold of Alastor’s collar and ripped. The silk flew obediently off his body, revealing his toned muscles, the mouthwatering scars that dipped in and out of sight, tales of violence written in flesh and blood. Alastor was built lean but powerful, his chest as broad as his waist was narrow. Lucifer drank him in, gently touching each one of those scars with a veneration he hadn’t felt since the Fall.

I wonder if you’ll tell me these stories one day, he thought. 

Alastor shivered each time Lucifer’s fingers met his overheated skin. A small sound escaped the back of his throat, half growl, half groan. 

“Is that the best you can do?” He panted, his teeth gritted into a grin. A challenge. 

It was painful to avoid his own straining cock for so long, but Lucifer couldn’t let Alastor’s jabs pass unnoticed. He surged forward and captured Alastor’s mouth with his – all the better to shut you up with, my dear. Alastor’s tongue was as flexible and tantalizing as his shadow tentacles. They battled for dominance, Lucifer’s hands going straight for Alastor’s pants – and letting out a sigh of relief when he felt the unmistakable stiffness pressed against the fabric. A quick slide of his finger, and he was able to grab Alastor’s cock in one hand, winding his other into the astonishing softness of Alastor’s hair. 

Alastor snarled and broke the kiss. Lucifer had one glimpse of his face – eyes wild, his edges glitching, a step away from utterly undone – before Alastor sent him flying.

He landed with an oomph on his stomach, the softness of the blanket beneath bunched under his hips as he felt the ominous aura of Alastor crowd behind him. A hand fisted into his hair and yanked up, so rough he felt his scalp ache. Alastor leaned in, his breath hot and sweet against the crook of his neck. He jumped as an unmistakable pressure near his ass.

“One.” 

Alastor pushed. Lucifer let out a long, keening cry as he felt a claw enter him. There was nothing soft or gentle about it, but he found himself pushing back, panting violently as a rush of electric lightning arc up and down his body. 

It had never felt like this. 

“So hungry for it,” Alastor murmured, his grin sharp against his cheek. Lucifer moaned, his dick so hard it bobbed against his stomach. 

“Two.” 

Another finger. Another rush of pleasure-pain. Another shock of lightning as sparks flew across his vision. 

Alastor hummed, as if considering something. The last sane part of Lucifer’s brain trembled with fear…and anticipation. He spat into his palm, readying himself for something.

“What if I do this?” 

Lucifer had been right to be afraid. 

Alastor scissored his two fingers while grabbing his leaking cock and pumping hard. His mind went blank. His back arched as his mouth widened with a silent scream, feeling the crash of pleasure so mindnumbing, so overwhelming, that he lost all control. Alastor bit at his collarbone at the same time, and the wires of pleasure and pain and everything in between nearly short-circuited his brain for good. 

Lucifer found his voice. He screamed as he felt the most violent orgasm he – or frankly anyone in this world – had ever known rip through his body. When he finally came back down to Earth, he realized he was on his back – and Alastor was between his legs.

“What? Did you think you were the only one who got to have fun, your Highness?”

Alastor pushed in. Lucifer’s ass burned as he struggled to take in his massive length. He closed his eyes, as if in pain, and the most delicious, static-burred groan tore from the back of his throat. It was the sexiest thing Lucifer had ever heard. His limp body, already exhausted from the pleasure Alastor had so savagely pulled from him, started stirring again. 

Then Alastor hit that spot inside of him, and Lucifer’s head fell back, a strangled scream forced from the very depths of his soul. Alastor, true to form, was not gentle. He dug his claws into Lucifer’s waist as he snapped his hips, going as deep as he possibly could with every stroke. He growled as he moved, the static moving in and out of focus in time with each of his thrusts. 

In the ghostly voices of the static, Lucifer could have sworn he heard his name. 

There was a screech, and Alastor shuddered, his muscles rippling as Lucifer felt his cock swell inside of him. 

“Let go, Alastor,” he panted. “Let go. It’s just us here.” 

With a roar, Alastor did as he asked. A raging heat filled his insides as Alastor collapsed on top of him, his hair damp with sweat and an almost-peace crossing over his face. 

Lucifer marvelled at it for a minute – before flipping Alastor back over and straddling his hips so that Alastor had a front-row view of his fully erect cock.

“What?” Lucifer grinned, his eyes glowing gold in the dark of the room. “Did you think you were the only one who got to have fun, Overlord?”

[farity]

Sorrow, part 11

The moment Aemond saw Ser Criston's face, he felt fear invading every part of him.

"Where is my wife?"

"My prince, I walked inside-"

"WHERE IS MY WIFE!" Aemond shouted, standing up, fists on the desk.

Criston, eyes defeated, simply said. "Rhaenyra has princess Elyse."

* * * * *

It was dark in her cell. Nothing as horrible as the dungeons her late husband had thrown her in occasionally, but still, a cell was a cell, even without rats.

She saw someone approaching and curled herself against the corner.

"He took my son, and now he's taken my husband," came Rhaenyra's soft voice. "It is too much to bear," she added, voice breaking. "That family has taken everything from me." She stared at Elyse for a few moments, than turned back and left.

Elyse could not imagine, of course, the losses that Rhaenyra had endured. She was supposed to be queen, until she wasn't, and she had lost her father, her baby, her son, and her husband in quick succession.

It was enough to drive anyone to madness.

She just hoped that she could reunite with Aemond before Rhaenyra gave in to her rage.

A servant came in, sliding a tray under the bars, and as much as Elyse wondered if it was poisoned, she was so hungry that she dove in. It was dry bread, ale, and some kind of slop, but she'd eaten worse, and less, in her old life, so she ate everything, figuring she would be needing her strength from then on.

* * * * *

"Aemond, you cannot go to Dragonstone, it is precisely what she wants." Alicent placed her hand on her son's arm, and found him pulling away from her touch.

"I understand not caring for your spouse is what we do in this family, but once again, I take a different road, mother." He was donning armor, letting his personal servant adjust the ties and clasps. "I will kill that bitch once and for all."

Alicent looked down It was never supposed to happen this way. Aegon was destined to be king and it was supposed to be a golden, glorious reign. Now he was bed-ridden, his mind dulled and his legs destroyed, his beautiful face half burned. Helaena didn't seem to care much, always having been in a world of her own, but she did love her children and that meant a lot to Alicent.

Aemond, who had been an outcast for so long within his own family, and was now cursed as a kinslayer, wore Aegon's crown and his impetuousness had now landed him a wife.

Alicent had spoken to her maester before this all happened. She would have him examine Elyse, find out if the young woman was telling the truth about being unable to bear children.

* * * * *

It was difficult to sleep with only your arm for a pillow. Not that she hadn't done it before, but between the cold that seeped in, the worry about what would happen to her and Aemond, and every little noise making her jump, Elyse couldn't get more than a few minutes' rest at a time.

Rhaenyra had not come back in a long time. Neither had anyone else, and she was hungry again. She'd found a bucket in the corner to relieve herself in but felt grubby and sticky and if she got out of this place she would spent a long time in the nearest body of water, washing off the filth that surrounded her.

Had it all been a dream? Her time with Aemond? The soft words, the loving touches, would she ever feel them again, or was she destined to die, forgotten to all, in this hell hole? Would she ever feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, the weight of him pressing her into their bed? She could almost feel his hair on his fingertips if she closed her eyes. She would not forget. She would endure, and she would find her way back to him.

* * * * *

Vhagar raged, her anger echoing that of her rider's. Aemond guided the great dragon over the home of his half-sister, heard the answering roar of Syrax. He could not risk an attack without knowing where Elyse was, and so he landed by the great doors of Dragonstone and made his way inside.

There were no guards, no one between him and the figure that sat on the throne, the crown of Jaeherys atop her head.

"I have been waiting for you, brother."

"Where is my wife?"

"It is time for you to answer for your many sins."

Aemond gritted his teeth at her tone. "There shall be plenty of time for that in the seven hells that await me, sister. Now, I want my wife brought to me."

Rhaenyra stood, took the few steps down from the dais until she was but a few feet from him. "You took my son from me, my sweet boy," she said quietly, "and now you have taken my husband."

"And his whore," Aemond snarled. "I thought you'd be grateful for that."

"I loved him!"

"Clearly, it wasn't mutual."

Rhaenyra turned to the side. "Guard!"

As Aemond watched, a guard walked in from a side door, holding Elyse's arm. She looked terrified, pale, but when she looked at him she managed a small smile.

"Wife," he said, "I am here to take you home."

"I am delighted to hear that, husband."

The guard stopped far enough from Aemond that he clenched his fists at his side, wanting nothing more than to grab Elyse.

"It is due to my mercy that your wife lives, Aemond, mercy you do not deserve for you had none for mine. But my mercy is not limitless, and-"

"Your wretch of a son should have been punished for what he did to me," Aemond snapped, "but you were too busy pretending your bastards were true, pretending calling them as they were was worse than Luke taking my eye. This is all our father's fault."

"Father's biggest mistake was marrying Alicent," Rhaenyra countered. "He had an heir, there was no need for more children. But now I present you with a choice, brother."

Aemond said nothing, his eye darting between his sister and his wife. Elyse looked at him, her hands clasped together as the guard continued to hold her arm.

"Bend the knee. Pledge your loyalty and your dragon to me, and I will give you your wife back."

"No, Aemond."

He turned to Elyse, who was shaking her head.

"Do not do it."

"Be quiet," Rhaenyra spat, "or I shall cut your pretty head from your body!"

Aemond lunged at his sister, and froze when he saw the guard put a blade to Elyse's throat. He would tear Rhaenyra to pieces with his bare hands if she dared harm his wife. It was time to end this charade, he thought.

"Wait," he said, and took a step back.

A moment later, the guard made a gurgling sound and Elyse screamed.

Rhaenyra turned, and saw Ser Criston Cole step around the dying guard, pulling his blade out of the back of the man's neck. "You're safe, princess," he said, and Elyse ran to Aemond.

"Guards!"

"Don't bother, princess," Ser Criston said to Rhaenyra, "they're all dead. You really should hire a better quality of soldier."

* * * * *

While Cole and his men secured Dragonstone, Aemond kept his arms around Elyse, kissing her hair while she simply pressed herself against him.

"Were you harmed?"

"No," she replied, "other than keeping me from you, no." She pulled back, her fingers ghosting along the planes of his face. "I'm sorry I smell," she smiled weakly.

Aemond shook his head. "I have you back," he pressed his lips to hers. "I will make her pay for daring to lay a hand on you."

"Can we go home?" she asked, and as much as Aemond wanted to do just that, he had unfinished business with Rhaenyra.

He brushed his lips against hers again. "Soon, wife. Stay with Ser Criston." He felt the momentary panic as she gripped him tightly, but then she stepped back, and let him go.

"Ser Criston," he said as he walked to where his sister sat on the steps of the dais, his men on each side of her. "With your life."

"My prince," Cole said simply, and nodded.

Aemond walked toward Rhaenyra, taking his time.

"It is time for you to answer for your many sins."

* * * * * *

[helleboretks]

Cocky, Until He’s Not

This is a Lee!Dazai and Ler!Chuuya bsd tickle fic. If this isn’t your forte, no need to read!

Summary: Another one of Chuuya getting revenge on Dazai, but what if it happened during their Sokouku Days?

FunFact: This was my first ever tickle fic, so lols to all of this-

People would be surprised how long Chuuya waited for this specific moment.

Three weeks of nothing but dealing with his partner’s agitating behavior, mentally noting every insult, every jest, every tease and taunt, filing it away for this scenario. He needed his revenge for the countless times Dazai’s fucked with him on such a constant.

He hadn’t known how until he came to Dazai’s best friend for advice.

“He’s actually freakishly ticklish, if that gives you something to go off of.”

Bless Sakunosuke’s heart, Chuuya swore to God.

It was the best thing he could have ever found out, no matter how embarrassing it sounds. This was information he was sure as hell Dazai would rather take to the grave than to give him even a hint about, but now that Chuuya knew this? Oh boy, he was going to abuse this for the rest of his life.

Who would have ever thought? Dazai Osamu, king of annoying, Demon Prodigy and most stoically ridiculous asshole ever, ticklish? It was glorious, a weakness Chuuya could utilize at any moment. His heaven, even.

And he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth the first time around. Chuuya waited, counting up the piles of teases and taunts Dazai spewed at him so recklessly, counting each one, each reason-good reason-, to absolutely demolish this son of a bitch. And now that he had a mountain, it was time to find the right opportunity to strike.

It was so much easier than he thought it’d be, and he loved it.

Dazai was just going at his teases again, following Chuuya, poking and prodding at his nerves like second nature (and it probably was by now), sticking his tongue at him, calling him names in which Chuuya would fire back. It was their usual banter, as always. At least, until Dazai made a comment.

“You’re soooo tiny,” Dazai laughed, pointing to his bandaged neck, “You wouldn’t even reach my neck in five years time!” Chuuya had growled at him before the bulb went off, to which he smirked, and leaned back, pulling his hands from his pockets. And with all the confidence he could muster in that moment, he blurted,

“You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s so ticklish.”

Dazai blanked for all of three seconds, before letting out an actual squeal and stepping back rapidly, clearly caught off guard by the declaration. “A-And where in the world did you get that idea from?!” he tried to save himself, he really did, but the all too obvious blush on his face gave it away. The fact that he could get Dazai to react so genuinely gave Chuuya so much satisfaction, you’d think he’d leave it at that.

Well, of course he fucking wouldn’t. Dazai was just tempting him now.

“Oooh yes, I know your secret, Mackerel.” Chuuya smugly replied, lifting up his hands as his grin sharpened. Dazai visibly paled. Hilarious.

“Fucking. Run.” Dazai didn’t need to be told twice, spinning on his heel and making a mad dash like Chuuya’s never seen before. But, as much as the other ran, Chuuya didn’t even feel a hint of worry. Why? Well, did you really think Dazai was the most physically capable out of both of them?

He let Dazai get some distance just to build up tension, knowing how his partner had such a love/hate relationship with anticipation. He took off after him soon though, forgoing his ability just to make this chase that little bit more interesting.

“Dazai~!” Chuuya shouted tauntingly, getting a loud ‘GO AWAY, CHIBI!’ in response, yet it only made the ginger scoff. The duo were bolting down the halls before long, Dazai crashing into walls and bursting through doors, not seeming to give a rat’s ass about the employees he was disturbing with all the ruckus.

And Chuuya was hot on his tail, bouncing off the walls (Figuratively and literally) in vengeful glee as he zipped past those same employees, who looked beyond confused. He’s pretty sure they, or more like Dazai, knocked over more shipping boxes than necessary, and they ended up coming to one of those big storage sectors, conveyor belts transporting big cargo down to the PM’s ship docs.

Dazai was hurtling over boxes, climbing them like a rabid monkey as Chuuya simply used his gravitation to bound up them all in one go, slamming onto the box above Dazai and thoroughly startling the maniac, who let out a sharp yelp at his sudden appearance.

“NO!! Get away, get away! This is why I hate stupid dogs!” Dazai cried, immediately fleeing as he jumped down the boxes, and Chuuya laughed rather maniacally, seeing all the panic and irritation in Dazai for once instead of himself.

“You’re avoiding the inevitable, you bastard!” Chuuya hollered, jumping down and following Dazai, who fled for the exit like there would be no tomorrow if he didn’t.

He flung the door open, only to shriek and stumble back before he could get slammed into by another employee carrying boxes and metal beams, and Chuuya snorted at his attempt to stay up right. His knees were shaking like jelly, and Chuuya could only suspect it was from the situation he threw himself into.

Somehow he was able to squeeze past, and Chuuya waited another second or two once that employee was gone before he gave chase again, skidding around the corner he saw Dazai dash ‘round.

“ODASAKUUUU!!!” Oh, just Chuuya’s luck! Seems like Dazai found his friend (and semi-traitor) in the common room, throwing himself behind the older one and pointing at Chuuya accusatively.

“Get him to leave me alone!!! Oh my God he’s trying to kill meeee!!” Dazai screamed as Chuuya skidded to a halt right in front of Sakunosuke, who seemed taken aback by what he suddenly found himself in the middle of.

“C’mon! You can take it! You’re the Demon Prodigy, what’s a little bit of wiggling fingers gonna do?” Chuuya grinned, the duo falling into a stumbling dance of side-stepping around Sakunosuke, who let out a small huff of amusement from their shenanigans.

“Dazai?” Said boy stiffened with a squeak, yet found it hard not to break eye contact with Chuuya when it was his friend calling him. “He’s a bad dog!” Dazai whined pitifully, shuffling some more and shrieking when Chuuya almost nicked his side. So close!

However, that near nick seemed to kick off the giggles in that fiend, who desperately covered his quivering smile and shivered all the same. (Chuuya refuses to admit how his heart beat faster at the sight).

“Oda! Ohoda, Oda, Oda, hehelp me! Help me, Jesus Chrihist!!” Dazai begged, tugging at Sakunosuke’s sleeve ridiculously. Chuuya and Sakunosuke shared a glance, and the older one smiled.

“Alright.”

Dazai screeched like a banshee when Oda grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back-first into Chuuya’s awaiting arms, and he immediately started writhing, regret has never been clearer in his eyes.

“Odasaku you traitor!! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck y-AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!” Chuuya actually laughed at the desperate scream that left Dazai’s open mouth when he started pinching his sides, the other squirming as he dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

“Hey, it was bound to happen eventually.” Sakunosuke shrugged, as casual as ever even as his friend was being tortured right in front of him. “Aaaaand thank you for the gift, Sakunosuke-san!” Chuuya grinned, adjusting his grip and lifting the squealing mess of a Mafioso up, who leaned back as far as he could go as Chuuya’s fingers danced across his sides, legs kicking like crazy as he laughed.

“Anytime.” Spoke the low rank, who Dazai mustered up the will to flip the bird at. Chuuya kissed his teeth, fingers skittering across his belly experimentally, satisfied with the squeal he ripped from the other.

“I hahahahate yohohohou! FACK!!” Dazai screamed once Sakunosuke had taken his leave, Chuuya stumbling back from the sheer intensity of this boy’s flailing. “Jesus Christ, ya jackass! Would you stop squirming so much?” Chuuya huffed, walking backwards towards the couch of the common room.

“Thehehehen stooop!” Dazai whined between giggles, shaking his head rapidly before letting out a strangled gasp when he was unceremoniously dumped onto the couch. Chuuya didn’t waste a second, hopping onto Dazai’s thighs as the other threw his hands out, probably to attempt to stop Chuuya.

However, he did not account for Chuuya going for his underarms.

He clamped down immediately, convulsing where he was as his laughter grew more frantic, a string of cusses even Chuuya would be proud of spilling from giggling lips. He tried to stomp against the other arm of the couch, hoping to distract himself from the ticklish sensations, but he could barely move his legs with Chuuya sitting on them.

“Gehehehehet off mehe, you fahahat fuck!” Chuuya let out a choked gasp, offended that the other even had the gall to say that to him. “How the hell am I fat!? That just adds to the list of bullshit you put me through. More tickles for you.”

Dazai tried to let out a frustrated groan, but could barely get it out before his laughter got even louder when Chuuya flicked teasing fingers down to his hip, immediately peaking Chuuya’s interest.

“You are just one big damn tickle spot, aren’t ya?” Dazai frantically shook his head, yet that had to be the biggest lie he’s ever seen from the other. “Oh really now? Well it seems to me that you are, Mr.Squeak-sir-lot.” Dazai practically wheezed at the nickname, and Chuuya made sure to engrave that reaction into his memory.

“Now that I think about it, there’s one itty bitty spot I wanna try.” Chuuya casually mentioned, fingers walking up and down from the ribs to the hips as Dazai grabbed his wrist.

But he didn’t pull at it though.

So, he was enjoying this, wasn’t he? (How adorable…)

“Oh, well now you’ve just given yourself away, ya dumbass!” Chuuya grinned, hand darting up to attack Dazai’s neck.

And oh God, the scream that left him was more deafening than a triggered grenade.

He bucked and squirmed like a bull, squealing and laughing from his very gut. The words he wanted to say got jumbled and lost in giggles and laughter as Chuuya wiggled his fingers into the side of his neck, drilling and poking like rapid-fire all the while.

The first few tears of joy slipped down from his eyes, disappearing into his hairline as he snorted. That laugh was just so squeaky and dorky, down right hilarious, Chuuya couldn’t help but laugh along.

But at some point he did end up giving the other a bit of mercy, dying down to feather-light touches along his shoulders to the very base of his neck, eliciting squeaky little giggles from the mafioso. “I hahahate you, chihihibi. I swehehear.” Dazai gasped after a while as Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“Feeling’s mutual, partner.” Chuuya bit back playfully, only to blink a bit when he noticed the bandages over Dazai’s right eye begin to slip and slide. The other didn’t seem to care as much as Chuuya thought, simply scrunching up his shoulders and turning his head more to escape the tingly sensations.

“What? Never been tickled senseless before?” Chuuya opted to ignore it as well, Dazai letting out a scoff through feverish giggling, as if that would suddenly bring back his reputation to Chuuya as that stoic, constantly bothersome, moody Mafia man. Or boy. Whatever.

“Yohohou’re not even t-tryihihing that hahard.” Dazai snickered, and Chuuya used that opportunity to give a face of fake (and definitely a little real) offense. “Excuse me, you bitch? You were laughing so hard you couldn’t even speak a few times, what do you mean I ‘wasn’t even trying’???” Dazai chuckled, sticking his tongue out as Chuuya finally ceased his ministrations. And Dazai actually thought the other had had enough with him, but oh boy was he wrong.

Why? Well…

How was he supposed to react when Chuuya shoved his hands under his shirt and onto bandaged skin!?!? The bandages didn’t do a thing to stop it, either!

He let out a cry, retracting his tongue as he flung his head back, cackling crazily. “OW OW OHOW, MY TOHOHOHONGUE!! CHIBI I FUHUHUCKING BIT MY TOHOHOHOHONGUE, NAHAHAHAHA!!!” Chuuya snorted and laughed at his partner’s dilemma, who didn’t know whether to wince in pain or continue laughing like a hyena. Apparently, his body decided both were an option. This is probably the most Dazai’s ever cursed in months, he isn’t even going to lie.

“I CAHAHAHAN’T, CHUUYA I CAN’T-I CAN’T, FUHUHUHUHUCK!!” Chuuya raised a brow mockingly, asking, “Can’t what, Mr. Squeaks? Ya gotta speak up, I can’t hear you through all the white noise!”

“STAHAHAHAHAP, I CAN’T STAHAHAP, CHUUYAAAAA!!!” Dazai screamed, and the shorter boy’s face lit up at the opportunity the other handed to him on a golden platter.

“You can’t stop? Holy shit, you can’t stop the feeling! You Can’t stop the feeling~!” Dazai was snorting and laughing as Chuuya sang that lyrical parody to him over and over again, skittering all along his ribs and scritch-scratching at every space in between that he could find that made Dazai positively lose his crap.

Dazai was wheezing at this point, tears falling down from so much stimulation, yet he couldn’t tell if he wanted more or not. He was slapping at Chuuya’s bicep, cackling mindlessly as he squirmed and struggled weakly, feeling drained as the seconds ticked on.

At this rate, Chuuya could see the other was close to going crazy.

The moment Chuuya knew the other had reached his limit was when he started hiccuping.

Hiccups within quick succession of one another littered his laugh when Chuuya touched onto his hips again, skin on skin contact making it so much worse for the taller as he flung his head around wildly. It was as if he lost complete rationality, dizzy from the sensations.

“M-ME-MERCIHIH-HIC-IHI, P-PLE-HIC-EASE CHU-HIC-CHUUYAH-HAHAHA!!!” Chuuya decided then that the other finally had enough, slowing to a stop and allowing Dazai to sink into the couch, panting heavily as his laughter was gradually reduced to feverishly desperate giggles and gasps for air. Chuuya let out a victorious laugh, taking in the poor mafioso’s expression.

He wasn’t really paying much attention to Dazai’s face then, so it was only when he got a good look at him that Chuuya finally took notice of his loose bandages from before, and by that he meant he had no idea where the hell they went. But now he’s got a giggling, gasping Dazai shivering under him, two eyes of vibrantly dark brown gazing up with the brightest blush he’d ever seen.

It was precious. Dangerously precious.

And the wobbly little smile on the taller's face was doing things to his heart, unfortunately.

“Y-you’re staring~...” Dazai whispered, but he also seemed to try and avert his gaze, if only a little, subtle as always. Chuuya kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to throw out one of his normal insults when-

“HIC-”

The two stared at each other for what might have been hours, but was only a few seconds. Quickly, Dazai shot up (and almost headbutt Chuuya in the process, but avoided it) and covered his mouth as another hiccup erupted from him. Then another, and another, and another-holy shit.

“You did not just get the hiccups.” Chuuya scoffed, holding back his own chuckles as Dazai tried to retort, only ending up with another, much squeakier hiccup. His blush reappeared tenfold, body jerking from each hiccup as Chuuya’s restrained snickers grew at the other’s dilemma.

“S-Stop laughing Chi-hic-Chibikko!” Dazai growled, batting at the ginger’s head as he continued to hiccup, and Chuuya continued to laugh at the other’s misery. This was probably the most embarrassment he’d ever seen on Dazai’s face, so he made sure to commit it to memory. He couldn’t not do that, now could he? It was so utterly adorable.

…He’ll just pretend he didn’t think that.

“C’mon, seriously?” Chuuya spoke between giggles, raising his hands to squish Dazai’s cheeks mockingly, the other weakly moving away to no avail. “Look at you! You’re hiccuping like a maniac, mackerel.” Chuuya smirked, letting his fingers fiddle just underneath Dazai’s chin and near his neck again, renewing some of those little giggles in him.

“Nohohohooo, no-hic-mohohore.” Dazai whined, but for once, he didn’t pull away, in fact, he did the opposite. He leaned into Chuuya’s touch when the other stopped the light teases, simply allowing Chuuya to hold his face.

The two stared at each other, and Chuuya wasn’t sure what to call this kind of atmosphere, (That was a lie, he knew it all too well, refusing to accept it). Dazai’s squishy cheeks in the palm of his hands, those dark brown eyes that held a different gleam to them than usual, and neither could truly look away. The moment was quiet save for Dazai’s hiccups, the moment was strange in every sense of the word, the moment was…

“This is oddly giving me sexual aftercare vibes right now-”

Ruined. Thanks to Dazai and his stupid mackerel mouth.

Chuuya simply decided to tickle him breathless for that one.

Not that he wouldn’t have done it again at some point.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

IVE BEEN SUMMONNED

by now you should about be able to tell what my take on this is going to be but here i come anyway in case you needed any bonus encouragement gigdhkj with nothing but ALL the love in the world. bestie. king. please please

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEEEASE LET YOURSELF DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU BLOODY WELL LIKE IN YOUR OWN HOUSE

you owe this to 💥NOBODY💥 YOU GOT HERE BECAUSE OF YER OWN GLORIOUS IMAGINATION N SKILLS THAT EVERYBODY LOVED

YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO REST YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO TRY THINGS OUT IT AINT NOBODYS BUSINESS IF YOU DITCH THE SCHEDULE *wₕᵢcₕᵢₘₐₛₜₐᵤₙcₕₐdᵥₒcₐₜₑfₒᵣcₒᵤgₕcₒᵤgₕₕyᵤₕcₖ*, DISAPPEAR FOR 6 MONTHS OR DELETE ALL YOUR POSTS TOMORROW AND MAKE THIS A BLOG ABOUT BLOODY TONKA TRUCKS although maybe dont ᶜᵘᶻ ⁱ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇ ˢᵃᵈ ⁱ ʷᵒⁿᵗ ˢᵃʸ ⁱ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈⁿᵗ ˡᵐᵃᵒ bUT YES

you can always make another blog for your own stuff if you like!! and not even tell anybody you did!!!! just let it!..... fly free!...!....

*punts you with my fists of Love & Admiration*

do NOT CHAIN YOURSELF TO THIS ONE THING UNTIL IT DESTROYS YOU FROM THE INSIDE. DO NOT SELL YOUR SOUL DO NOT LET IT ACTUALLY ROT YOUR BRAIN INTO A SAD BROWN MUSH

hugs and butterfly kissies,

murielstanplusultra

@tetsuooooooooooo this was so sweet and encouraging, thank you so much :')

Tbh there's a project I've wanted to start on for ... gosh, eight years now??? And I'm wondering if it's finally time XD

I'm not going anywhere, I promise, just doing a little resting and a lot of questioning ^.^

[zzoomacroom]

Fic: Symphony

Dreamling, One-Shot, Smut, Fem!Dream/Trans!Hob, 3000 words

For @mr-sadman's Dreamling Week 2024 (Wednesday 5th prompt: “Shapeshifter”), and also @dreamlingbingo (Prompt C3: Laughing During Sex)

This is also a sequel to another of my fics, Here and Now and Always, although you don't necessarily need to have read it to enjoy this one.

...

Summary: After a trying day, King Morpheus needs to relax and be somebody else for a while. And maybe have some mind-blowing sex while he’s at it.

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional tags: fantasy AU, king Dream, prince consort Hob, PWP, Smut, Shapeshifter Dream, Trans Hob, Genderfluid Dream, Female Dream, body worship, oral sex, vaginal sex, strap-on, laughing during sex, service top Hob, pillow princess Dream, light dom/sub

...

“Well. That… certainly was something,” Hob sighs. He shuts the heavy, arched door behind him and locks it before striding over to Dream and helping him out of his mantle and crown.

“Indeed. Fae social customs can be. Vexing,” Dream replies wearily. They have just spent a long, tedious day in the throne room, negotiating a treaty with a delegation from Faerie. In a baffling turn of events, Lucifer Morningstar had abdicated the crown of Hell, forsaking their duty and ceding all of their territory to the Endless Kingdom. For weeks, King Morpheus has heard petitions from every kingdom, duchy, and palatinate in the land, all claiming rightful dominion over various portions of the empire. The Fae are only the latest in a continuous line of smarmy, unctuous diplomats seeking to curry favor with the king. It has been. Exhausting.

Hob hums in agreement as he hangs their regalia in the ornate ebony wardrobe. He has adapted superbly to his new role as Prince Consort and military advisor, and Dream swells with joy to see his beloved thriving. Hob’s confidence is quite arresting—upon seeing him hold his own against the beguiling Fae emissaries, it had taken all of Dream's self control not to drag his husband into the nearest cupboard and ravish him.

This, Dream knows, is the real Hob. The man he had met that night in the courtyard had been a mere shade of his true self. He had been… broken. As had Dream. But they are healing. Their jagged edges fit together so perfectly, and Dream feels. Whole. With Hob. And he has a strong suspicion that Hob feels the same. Though he would never dare say it, Dream is enormously grateful to his brother for absconding when he did; if Olethros had returned home with Hob at his side, Dream would have been destroyed by jealousy. He would have wasted away in his tower, alone, never having known this bliss.

“C’mere, sweeting,” Hob murmurs. “Have a rest, you look knackered.”

Dream wrinkles his nose at that, but allows Hob to lead him over to the plush settee by the fire. Hob has filled their chambers with many such creature comforts—small indulgences that Dream had denied himself for so long that he has forgotten why he had such disdain for them in the first place. Now, filled with soft rugs, colorful tapestries, and fragrant cut flowers, their apartments feel like a home rather than a prison. Or a tomb.

Hob settles beside Dream and pulls him into his arms, pressing a kiss to his temple and running a gentle hand down his back, whispering soothing words all the while. Dream feels a surge of tenderness that threatens to overwhelm him; Hob is so kind, so understanding of how taxing all of this is on Dream, and yet he does not judge or scorn him for his inadequacy. No, he only offers love and unwavering devotion. He is a wonder, and Dream is continually awed by the sheer immensity of his love for the man. Hob’s love is a glorious and humbling thing, and Dream feels the last vestiges of his composure draining away as he melts into his lover’s embrace.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Hob whispers. “It’s alright, my love. It’s over with. Just us now, eh?”

In the past, when Dream would find himself feeling overwrought like this, he would simply take on his feline form and find a quiet place to sequester himself until the feeling abated. Since taking Hob as his lover, however, Dream has found… other ways. Of finding relief.

Dream needs him. Now.

(Continue reading below or on ao3)

Without warning he seizes one of Hob’s hands, dragging it away from his waist and shoving it unceremoniously down the front of his breeches. Dream has already begun transforming himself, and he feels Hob’s lips curl into a smile against his neck as his fingers brush over the slick folds between his legs.

“Oh, my sweet Dream,” Hob croons, “you’re already so wet for me. So needy. Let me take care of you.”

“Please,” Dream breathes, her voice rich and sonorous, only slightly higher-pitched than she sounds in her masculine form.

Hob smiles down at her adoringly and strokes her cheek. “There’s my good girl. Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll give you what you need.” Dream has no doubt that he will. Hob always knows exactly what she needs, and he always delights in giving it to her. Since becoming lovers, they have experimented with practically every possible permutation of bodily configurations, power dynamics, objects of pleasure, and the like; no other lover has known Dream, has understood her so well as Hob. They have an unspoken understanding of what Dream is asking, what she needs when she takes on her feminine form.

Hob withdraws his fingers from between Dream’s legs and grips her waist firmly, hauling her up and steering her towards the bed. In her usual form, Dream is slightly taller than Hob, but now she must tilt her head up to meet his gaze. It is… strangely comforting. Being this delicate, cherished creature. Knowing that she is at Hob’s mercy, and trusting him to treat her gently.

He lowers her onto the silken coverlet and undresses her with swift, nimble fingers, kissing every inch of moon-white skin as it is revealed. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, wide-eyed and reverent.

Dream preens under his attention, basking in Hob’s hungry gaze as he brushes aside her long, sable locks, fanning them out on the pillow and dipping his head to meet her lips. He licks into her mouth, assertive but not forceful, and she opens for him with a low, eager moan. He trails soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck, nipping at her collarbone before resting his lips worshipfully over her heart, between the snowy peaks of her breasts. He sucks a pebbled, rosy nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and humming approvingly.

Dream keens and writhes—she is so deliciously sensitive in this form—and Hob stills her with strong, sword-calloused hands on the supple curves of her hips. He explores her body as if tasting her for the first time, leisurely kissing his way down toward the patch of raven-colored hair around her wet, throbbing cunt. She whimpers and goes boneless in his hold, lost to the sensation and unaware of anything but the exquisite prickle of her husband’s beard against her tender flesh as he maps her out with lips and tongue.

“Good girl. So beautiful,” he repeats, running the tip of his shapely nose along her leaking slit. She gasps sharply, biting back a cry of pleasure. “It’s alright, love. I want to hear you. All the lovely little noises you make, it’s like a private symphony, just for me.”

“Then. You had better start. Conducting,” Dream replies breathlessly as she seizes a handful of her lover’s hair and presses his face to her sex.

Hob lets out a muffled laugh and sets about his task with gusto, laving his tongue over her clit and slurping noisily as he licks into her entrance. Dream rewards him with a dulcet moan, and he glides his hand lightly (too lightly) around her delicate, glistening folds before probing inside with two blunt fingers, crooking them and stroking that sweet spot within. A silky, mellifluous wail escapes from her throat unbidden, harmonizing with Hob’s low groans as she tugs on his hair. She reaches her peak the moment Hob wraps his lips around her clit and sucks it into his mouth, all the while continuing to work his fingers in and out of her dripping, quaking hole.

Her wails become helpless mewls as Hob growls ravenously, replacing his fingers with his tongue and guzzling down the hot flood of spend that gushes from her cunt. His hands snake underneath her, grasping the soft flesh of her arse and pulling her closer still, burying his face in her sex and working her through one climax, then another, without giving her a moment’s reprieve from his wonderful, relentless mouth.

She screams a high, warbling aria as she comes a third time, and it’s both ecstasy and agony. She clutches his hair tighter and drags his head upwards, peering down at the dazed grin on his come-drenched face. Hob’s eyes flutter shut and he sighs contently as she loosens her grip and runs her fingers gently through his sweat-damp hair, then brings her hand down to stroke his cheek and massage the milky fluid into his beard.

“Hob,” Dream pants hoarsely when she has caught her breath enough to speak. Hob only hums absently in response. “Fuck me,” she commands.

“Yes, my queen,” Hob murmurs, and Dream feels another aftershock of pleasure coursing through her at those words.

Hob places a soft kiss to her inner thigh before rising from between her legs and finally removing his tunic and breeches. Dream’s mouth floods with saliva at the sight of her husband’s cunt—a glimpse of velvety lips, darker and meatier than her own and gleaming with arousal, peeking from behind a lush thicket of umber curls. A rivulet of slick trickles through the dense hair on his inner thigh, and Dream whimpers at the knowledge that Hob is so wet just from seeing to her pleasure.

She watches, riveted, as Hob bends over the large chest at the foot of the bed and retrieves the necessary items: a soft black leather harness, to which he attaches an intricately carved phallus made of bone. It is quite a work of art—curved and rippled, inlaid with silver and studded with small, polished rubies. Dream has commissioned several such objects, which they both enjoy frequently, and she smiles to herself as she recalls the night she presented them to Hob, apprehensive about how he might react. Affection swells in her breast at the memory of his dear face, so awed and astonished at the treasures laid out before him. He had wanted to try them all immediately, and so they had. Repeatedly, and in a variety of ways. “And to think I had to make do with carrots,” he had said afterwards, sending Dream into a riot of laughter. No other lover has made Dream laugh the way Hob does, especially not while making love. It ought to be embarrassing, but Hob has never expressed anything but joy at hearing Dream’s ugly, wheezing laugh. It is… freeing. Knowing that she need not conceal the euphoria that she feels in Hob’s presence.

Hob buckles himself into the harness, coats the dildo with a palmful of oil, and gingerly climbs atop his lover, hooking her long, white legs over his broad shoulders. “Ready?” he asks. She nods, a pleading whine escaping from her chest as the cool, blunt head of the polished bone brushes against her entrance. Hob’s smile is impossibly warm and soft as he caresses her cheek and pushes in slowly until his hips are flush with hers, the smooth leather of the harness sliding pleasantly against her bare skin. He settles into a steady rhythm, unhurried yet deep and intense, striking that sensitive spot inside with every thrust and dragging her gradually towards a shattering crescendo.

“Such a good girl,” Hob purrs, his voice low and rasping. “So beautiful. You take my cock so well, my love. So perfect.”

“Hob—Hob—Hob—!” is all she can say in reply, little staccato sighs set to the measured tempo of her lover pounding into the tight, clutching heat of her cunt.

“You’re doing so well, sweeting,” Hob beams, reaching between them to stroke her clit. “Now come for me.”

Dream complies eagerly, howling in vibrato as her body sings in ecstasy. Her walls spasm and clench around the bumps and grooves of the toy buried in her cunt, and she feels a rush of hot spend seeping out and down her thigh. Her mouth drops open and she screws her eyes shut as dazzling constellations burst into being behind her eyelids. She is floating in the black velvet abyss of the night sky, weightless and ethereal, only distantly aware of the shrieks and moans that pour from her mouth as Hob wrings the music of her pleasure from her body.

The noises grow deeper, and as her muscles tense she feels the cushiony flesh of her hips and breasts retract, vanishing into the lithe, sinewy planes of her torso. Oh. She—he—has… lost control. Of his form. He has… never transformed himself inadvertently. Has never succumbed so fully to his body’s wants as to. Lose composure. Like this.

He suddenly feels painfully aware of himself—his lanky limbs still wrapped around Hob, who is still plastered to his front, the leather straps of the harness digging into his skin, his hole still fluttering and grasping around the solid length of bone. A wave of shame threatens to wash over him, and he wants to hide, to disappear, but then—

“Look at you,” Hob breathes, his honey-warm eyes sparkling with wonder and adoration. “So bloody beautiful. Love seeing you lose control like this.” Dream’s eyes well up and oh gods now is not the time, but his sobs are muffled by the welcoming warmth of Hob’s mouth. Hob kisses him deeply, drinking down his cries and running a strong, soothing hand down his flank. “Hey, it’s alright love. It’s—hello, what’s this now?”

Dream’s head snaps up, his eyes trailing to where Hob’s gaze is fixated. It would seem that Dream is still… between forms. At the moment. His clit is engorged, about the length of his little finger, erect and throbbing like a cock. The dizzying shame encroaches once more, but then retreats as Hob grins with wide-eyed fascination at the discovery, tracing a gentle finger over the swollen head and eliciting a feeble whine from Dream.

“What a gorgeous little cock you’ve made for me,” Hob coos. “Gonna have to get this in my mouth.” He starts to pull out, untangling Dream’s limbs from himself, and Dream makes a weak noise of protest. “Shh-shh, it’s alright, sweeting. Just a moment, love, I’ll be right back.”

Hob rises from the bed and unbuckles the harness, stepping out of it and detaching the dildo before crawling back between Dream’s legs, toy in hand. “Look at what a beautiful mess you’ve made, darling,” Hob murmurs, swirling his tongue around the spend-soaked dildo and taking it into his mouth, making a show of licking it clean. Dream is propped up on his elbows, watching his lover with rapt attention. A quavering whimper escapes him as Hob takes it deep into his throat and gives Dream a cheeky wink, then pulls it out with a loud, wet pop.

Dream’s cunt is aching and his prick is pulsing with need—he has had too much, and yet he needs more. He wants to tell Hob to cease his teasing and make good on his promise, but words fail him. Hob glides the toy over his raw, sore folds, drawing a hiss of exquisite pleasure-pain from Dream.

“Look at your sweet little cunt,” Hob sighs. “Wish you could see how wrecked you look. All red and puffy and dripping with come.” He eases the toy back inside, and Dream sobs from the overstimulation. “I know, my love, I know. It’s a lot. But you’re doing so well. You can come one more time for me, can’t you?” Dream nods vigorously, beyond the capacity to speak, and Hob smiles at him proudly. “There’s my sweet Dream. Just let go and let me take care of you, darling.”

Hob lowers his face to Dream’s sex and takes his twitching cock into his mouth, moaning decadently. He slurps and suckles at it, humming in satisfaction as if it’s the most delicious thing he has ever tasted, all the while working the carven bone in and out of his open, sopping wet hole. Dream keens breathlessly, his entire body screaming in blissful agony.

He peers down the expansive bed to see that Hob is now on elbows and knees—his plump, furred arse is pushed upwards and he is fingering himself furiously with his free hand while he continues to fuck Dream with the dildo and suck on his prick, rolling it between his lips and flicking his tongue over the head. With that, Dream’s orgasm overtakes him, a sweeping grand finale to the symphony the two lovers have played tonight.

“Hob!” he wails and clutches at the sheets, his cock throbbing on Hob’s tongue as a gush of spend oozes from his ruined cunt.

Hob groans, eases the toy out, and lets Dream’s cock slip free from his mouth, a string of saliva trailing from his swollen lips. His thighs tremble as he fingers his own cunt, the wet squelch audible now that Dream’s ears have stopped ringing, and Dream feels another ripple of arousal as he watches. He is too exhausted to move, but he considers asking Hob to sit on his face. Before he can speak, though, Hob comes with a guttural roar and collapses onto the bed.

He sighs and rests his cheek on Dream’s thigh, smiling up at him hazily. He is panting and red-faced and covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. He looks… indescribably beautiful, in this moment. Dream wants to tell him so, but his face breaks into a wide grin and he instead finds himself. Laughing. Hob’s eyes widen in astonishment before crinkling into a fond smirk. Dream cannot stop the harsh, creaking cackles of pure joy that bubble forth from his chest uncontrollably. Hob soon joins him, his soft giggles and guffaws mingling with Dream’s croaks and snorts.

“What’s so funny then, eh?” Hob asks as he crawls up the bed and wraps Dream in his arms. “Have I got something on my face?”

“That. Would be an understatement.” Dream smiles, wiping the spend from Hob’s chin with a corner of the bed sheet. He lunges in for a kiss and purrs contentedly as he tastes himself on his husband’s lips. “I am simply. Happy. You are too good to me, my Hob,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against his husband’s.

Hob beams at him and winks roguishly. “Only as good as you deserve, sweet Dream.”

...

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[ohtobealady]

October Prompts

8: Honor

This is inspired by @ladyrosse ‘s cardgame request. Honor - (in whist) an ace, king, queen, or jack of trumps

Robert sighed as he flipped over another card. Three of spades. He surveyed the short lines of cards he’d laid on his bed tray and found he had nowhere to place it—no lonely four of hearts or four of diamonds, no orderly stack of spades resting at the top. He sighed, again, and drew a new card from the deck.

King of hearts. He frowned. Well, he had needed this card but he had no free space to lay it.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered irritably, and Robert drew another card.

He peered up from the new card as the door pushed open, and then he smiled as her face peered around the door.

“Hello, darling,” Cora smiled, and Robert felt all-at-once relieved and envious. She had on her thin summer coat, her gloves, her hat; she moved to him and kissed the top of his head, and she smelled of fresh air and sunshine. He pouted.

“How are you feeling?” She asked with a second kiss, this time to his temple, and he shook his head.

“As if I’ve entered some ring of hell Dante neglected to mention.”

“Oh,” a third kiss—to his cheek—elicited a tiny spark of warmth, “it can’t be so bad.”

“It is.”

Cora’s lace glove pointed at the cards arranged before him. “Your seven of clubs can go here.” And she walked, then, to her dressing table. Robert dropped the cards he held and watched her.

“How is everyone?” he asked as she pulled her gloves from her hands. She glanced at him in the mirror. He continued. “Frederick and Beatrice? I suppose they’re well.”

“They are,” she answered, and he watched, still, as she took the pin from her hat and removed it from her head.

“I suppose Fred’s off somewhere, enjoying the glorious days of summer.”

He heard her grunt of a laugh and a small part of him delighted in the way she rolled her eyes. “The grass is always greener, you know.”

His eyes followed her as she stood to take off her coat and came to sit beside him, near his feet.

“I’m not sure Fred would like to trade places with me. He rather enjoys food.” He paused as she took up the cards from the tray. “And wine,” he added in a soft groan, at which his wife shook her head.

“Well, I like you well.” She was looking at the cards, squaring the corners of the deck. “And not in a hospital bed.”

He hummed, conceding the argument with some reluctance, but with love for the way he’d heard the sincerity in her voice.

“Now,” she was shuffling the cards, “what shall we play?”

“Hand of poker?” he smirked up at her. Cora narrowed her eyes.

“I won’t have my bedroom smell of cigars, thank you.”

He laughed. “Very well. German Whist, then?”

“Alright,” and she began to deal. “Thirteen cards, isn’t it?”

He nodded and watched the way she quickly dealt them out. He watched, too, the way she stood and made herself more comfortable as she put the deck between them, tucking a knee upon the bed. A quick image of her from years and years ago flashed in his mind, and his chest tightened sweetly.

There she was, lovely as ever, and here was he, an old man with a new scar marching across his soft stomach.

“Hearts are trumps,” she said, and she looked up at him.

He laid down a card, she did too, and he took the trick.

They played a few more tricks in silence, Robert glancing up at his wife and finding her prettier and prettier, sweeter and sweeter, until at least he felt the words—I love you—gather on his tongue.

No. He swallowed them down. This too much resting, too little solid foods, it was making him irrationally emotional. And he knew his wife. She wouldn’t know what to do with any of that.

He cleared his throat. “Do you know, this version of the game, of whist, is also called Honeymoon Whist.”

“Oh?” She smiled at him, and she played a card. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. He took up the trick. “But considering the name, I thought you’d find it amusing.”

“Amusing?”

“Yes.” He chuckled a little. “Honeymoon whist.”

She was quieter than he thought she should be, and suddenly he realized she didn’t remember. “Cora. We played whist on our honeymoon.”

She blinked at him.

“On the train,” he rested his wrist in the tray, he was sure showing his hand. “You do remember, don’t you?”

She smiled, her brow furrowed, and then she shook her head. “Did we?”

“Yes!” He nearly shouted. He looked back at his cards and selected one to play. “Honestly, Cora, I wonder about your memory—“

“—in Italy?”

“Not in Italy, no!”

She put down a card and took the trick. “I don’t recall—“

“—in Scotland. Or rather on the train up to Scotland.” He put down a card. “Do you really not remember?”

But when he brought his eyes up to her again, he could see that she did.

Her crooked smile. Her bright eyes. Her tilted head. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Our wedding night.”

“Yes,” he arranged his cards. “Our wedding night.”

“I remember that you let me win.”

“Nonsense,” he laid down a card—king of hearts. “You didn’t have any help from me.”

“Yes I did.”

Robert looked up at her, at her even quieter voice, and found her smiling at him.

“I had plenty of help from you.”

The pink smile she wore felt contagious, and the corners of his mouth tickled upward as he thought of that night thirty-five years before. How young they were, embarrassed and fumbling about. How tender and rose-tinted it all seemed now, nights and nights and nights of marriage softening the sharp corners of that evening.

“We helped one another,” he grinned, his cheeks warming as he watched a small blush rise in his wife’s cheeks.

She nodded, and, reaching his free hand out to the tray, he chuckled softly when she took it in her own. “Yes. We did.”

“And, we will continue to help one another, won’t we?”

She extracted her hand from his, and she pushed the the trick he won towards him. “Yes.” He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she cocked a brow. “Though, you have at least two more weeks before any of that, thank you.”

He laughed at her, unguardedly and, for the first time all day, happily. “That isn’t what I meant,” he lied.

And Cora only glanced up from her hand at him, smirking behind her cards.

“No,” she lied, too. “Of course it isn’t.

[theinfernalsanctuary]

Greetings all,

One incredibly important aspect of summoning, or even praying to the denizens of Hell, is respect. Respect for their time, and most importantly, respect for their status. I discussed status before in my previous post, but only how it applies to the Satanist and not to the devils themselves. There is a stark difference between the status that we try to gain as Satanists, and the status that they already hold. They earned their places through dedication to Lord Satan and the foundational creation of Hell, through their prowess on the battlefield during Lord Satan’s Grand Revolt, and through the worship that they are owed.

There are two main demographics to keep in mind while we address hierarchy and how it relates to devils, ranked and unranked. Unranked is pretty easy to cover quickly, unranked devils are the legions that serve under the ranked. Their job is to help maintain order and carry out any and all orders given to them by the raked devils they serve, these are also the devils that would be assigned to you as a familiar. Your familiar will never be a ranked devil, they are far too busy to be keeping watch on you that closely and to believe that you are the exception or that you are in any way too important to have an unranked familiar should be a good indicator of why you more than likely don’t have one or never will. Ignorance and self aggrandizement will not earn you a familiar and they are hardly ever randomly assigned anyway, when looking for a familiar it’s best to ask with a well thought out ritual dedicated to a ranked devil that favors you.

Unranked devils are also the ones that are usually responsible for the mischief that is unfairly pinned on Lord Satan and the ranked denizens of Hell, and to say that there is a little bit of resentment because of it is an understatement. Unranked devils are the ones who are going to be the ones that you should be thinking of when you think of a locational hauntings. That's not to say that they are allowed to run wild, but everyone needs a hobby.

Ranked devils are a bit more complicated, we know very little about ranks and how devils were ranked in the creation of Hell, we do know that those ranks come with a title attached as well, usually along the lines of kings, princes, dukes, countesses and so on. Many of the ranked devils are those who once held seats of authority in Heaven, and when Satan began his Grand Revolt they slaughtered angels by his side. They are the brave, strong, and important allies that helped to create the glorious kingdom that is Hell as we know it today.

 It would behoove everyone who is serious in their craft to look into the Lesser Key of Solomon, more specifically the Ars Goetia, or pick up a copy of The Goetia Devils by Rev. Cain to learn more about each of them. They are uniquely brilliant and carry knowledge and powers completely independent of the rest of the hierarchy, not to mention that they all come with their own sets of likes and dislikes. It is so important to remember that just like how Satanists don’t fall under a hive mind, but strive for the same goal, the denizens of Hell are the same and should be treated as the independent and complex beings that they are. Remember, while disrespecting any devil is a bad idea you are much more likely to face greater punishment from disrespecting a highly ranked devil like a king over a rank that would fall underneath that, though most issues can be quickly resolved by using common sense and not biting off more than you can chew.

May Lord Satan's light guide you even in the darkest of times!

Ave Satanas!