#scorpion skull tattoo

[tyforthevnm]

frankieromustdie: #sweatylotionpinacoladabodyshots #humanbirdbath #fountainofyuck

[July 21, 2018]

[czarnoxiestwo]

Horned&spiky edgy things gotta be one of my three favourite aesthetics (next to the dark romantic fantasy and psychodelic acid fantasy).

Also, tattooing tanned skin is always kinda bad experience. Just try not to get tanned before your tattoo appointment. guys. (It's NOT about someone's natural skin tone but about skin that was damaged by the overexposure to the sunlight).

[death-crusade]

ig: thulsa_doom

[100percentdirtball]

hey you!

tell me what they are in the tags if u want i wanna hear about the zoos on your body

[1vital]

Lámina de ❤️‍🔥❤️valen valen Tin..❤️❤️‍🔥 🎐Diseños disponibles 🤓🎐 Inbox 📨 📨📨📨📨 #ink #tattoo #flashtattoo #tradicionaltattoo #panthertattoo #skulltattoo #flowers #flowertattoo #rose #rosetattoo #scorpion #swallowtattoo #heart #hearttattoo #skull #skulltattoo #jhonnyvital #cali (at Cali, Colombia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Con9FuQjgbd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ne0ncowb0y]

hyenas are the transest of animals. And so are snakes.

[joseperezjrtattoos]

Happy Wednesday! Half way through the work week! Keep up the #hustle  Not quite done, needs the white highlights but can’t wait to see how it comes out!  Here is another #skulltattoo  Booking quite fast so make sure to book your appointments. Visit 👉🏽 www.jpjtattoos.com/book  👈🏽 

[writemekpop]

Anti Hero | Nakamoto Yuta

Summary: Mafia boss Yuta thinks that your body belongs to him. He shows up one night, demanding to be let in. Can you resist him?

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, toxic relationship

Word Count: 2.1k

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

It was 10PM. Who was calling so late? 

When you saw who was outside the door, your heart skipped a beat.

"Yuta," you gasped. 

Yuta was leaning against the door frame, arms folded. His dark hair was scraped back into a top knot, and his powerful arms swelled with new definition in his leather jacket. There was a fresh scar on his jaw and an inky black dragon tattoo curled around his neck.  

Yuta didn’t bother to hide the gun in his trousers. Maybe he wanted you to see it – to remind you of how many people he’d killed. 

Yuta’s razor stare scraped up and down your body, making you feel naked in your silk nightdress.

"Hey, mama," Yuta purred. "It's been a while."

Yuta walked forwards, but before he could come inside, you slammed your hand across the door, blocking his entrance. 

Yuta glared at your arm. Trembling, you fought the instinctive urge to move your hand away. 

 “You don't get to walk back into my life like that,” you hissed. 

You were about to slam the door in his face, but something stopped you. It was the squeal of your five-year-old son Kenji. 

"Daddy!" Kenji shrieked. He was running towards the door, chubby arms outstretched. 

Yuta's scowl transformed into a dazzling smile. You were almost blown away by his handsomeness. 

Yuta pulled his son into his arms and twirled him in the air. Kenji’s body swung in Yuta’s strong arms like a doll. He placed a kiss on his son's cheek, earning another happy squeal from the boy.  

"Why you no come inside, daddy?" Kenji asked, running his curious fingers across the thick silver chain that hung around Yuta's neck. 

"Don't worry, son. Daddy's home now." 

Yuta pushed past you, son in his arms, and made his way into the apartment. As he passed, a knife glinted in Yuta’s back pocket. 

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. You didn't want to make a scene in front of your son. Kenji still idolised his father, even though Yuta only bothered to show up once every few months. 

You were the one who read Kenji bedtime stories every night, the one who helped him with his homework, the one who looked after him when he got sick. But none of that mattered when Yuta came home. He’d bring sweets and baby Balenciaga outfits, and would instantly become the favourite parent. 

You bristled with anger as you watched Yuta put Kenji to bed.  

Yuta handled your son with such care, he brushed his hair gently and smiled softly – you couldn’t recognise him. The Yuta you knew only used kisses to hurt you; he only used smiles to taunt you.

You couldn't do anything but watch, paralysed by fear or anger, you weren’t sure. 

Once Kenji was asleep, Yuta came into the living room. 

"It's nice to be home,” he said, stretching his arms. Beneath his vest, his taut brown muscles bore new tattoos - flames, a skull, a scorpion.

"Why the hell are you here?  You were gone for three months. I thought you were dead.” You didn’t add that you desperately wished he was dead, too.

Yuta shrugged noncommittally. "It’s my house." 

You scowled. Yuta hadn’t asked how you were, or how you’d been coping whilst he completed yet another mission for the mafia. 

Yuta poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it.

You eyed the clock. It was almost midnight. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. 

You glanced down at what you were wearing - a silk nightdress that barely hid anything. You pulled on one sleeve of your cardigan. 

"Don't."

Yuta's voice stopped you in your tracks. You dropped the cardigan, trembling. 

"You look better without it," Yuta said, stalking across the room towards you. 

You stepped back, instinctively, but Yuta kept walking closer. Soon your back was pressed against the wall, and you had nowhere to move. 

Yuta's brown eyes bore into yours. 

- Six months ago- 

You stumbled through the front door, head spinning from that fourth cocktail. 

Yuta was sitting on the sofa in the pitch-black living room. He was gripping his whiskey glass so tightly that his knuckles had turned pale. 

"Where have you been?” he asked. 

"I told you! Girls' night."

Yuta stood up, glaring. "Wearing that?" He gestured to your purple sparkly mini dress. 

"Yes..." You pulled up one of the straps that had fallen off your shoulder. The warm buzz of the tequila was fading fast. 

"I don't believe you," Yuta hissed. "I think you’re fucking someone behind my back.”

You gasped. "No!"

Yuta stormed towards you and pushed you against the wall. He wrapped his hand around your throat and forced you to look him in the eye.

"What have I told you about dressing like that?" He yelled. 

"Shh! You'll... wake Kenji!" 

You tried to pull his hand away from your throat, but he wouldn't budge.

"Let... me... go!" You said between gasps. 

"Should I let my men have their way with you? You'd like that wouldn't you, slut?" 

You flinched. Tears ran down your cheeks, smudging your mascara.

Yuta finally let go of your throat. You dropped to the floor, knees smacking against the wood. You struggled to catch your breath. 

Yuta stood watching you as your breaths slowed to normal. 

He held out his hand for you. "Don't cry," he said, voice slick. 

Trembling, you took his hand. You had no other choice.  

--- 

"I missed you," Yuta said. He ran his finger down your jaw. 

"I want you gone," you spat. 

Yuta chucked. "We all want things we can't have, darling."

 You raised your hand, aiming to slap his cheek. 

You brought your hand down, but Yuta caught your wrist before you could touch his cheek.

“You’re going to pay for that," He hissed. 

Your heart started to race.  

Before you could protest, Yuta leant forwards and kissed you on the mouth. He pressed his whole body against yours, trapping you against the wall.  

Pushing him off was futile. Your strength was nothing in comparison to Yuta’s.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the bedroom. 

--- 

The alarm clock read 3AM. 

You were lying in bed, paralysed, unable to get to sleep. 

Yuta was lying on his front, turned away from you. You watched the slow rise and fall of his naked chest. 

When you were sure he was deep in sleep, you slipped out of the bed. 

You tiptoed out of the room, biting your lip so hard you could taste blood. Yuta was a light sleeper, and any noise would wake him up.

You squinted as you navigated towards the living room, not daring to turn the lights on. 

You spotted Yuta’s cargo bag in the corner. Your heart surged as you rushed towards it. 

Hands trembling, you unzipped the bag and rummaged through it, searching for the stacks of dollar bills – but touched something cold and heavy instead. 

You pulled it out. It was Yuta’s gun. 

You dropped it instinctively, your breath tightening. But then you thought about your situation, about how dangerous Yuta was, and you willed yourself to pull it out of the bag.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to remember that one night, years ago, when you and Yuta were on a beach in Nagasaki. You were both drunk on pina coladas, and he’d taught you how to shoot a gun. 

“So this is how you turn it on…”said Yuta, sliding the safety off.

“I thought you had to rub it to turn it on?” you chuckled.

You’d made love on the sand that night, with the sea breeze caressing your naked bodies, high off the power of wielding that gun. The Yuta you knew now was so different. What had you become? 

Forcing your hands to stop trembling, you clicked off the safety. 

There was a creak behind you.

“What are you doing?” 

It was Yuta. 

You spun around, pointing the gun. 

Yuta was standing at the door, staring at you. Your blood ran cold. 

“Do you really hate me that much? You don’t know how lucky you are.” Yuta took a step towards you. 

“Don’t come any closer!” you shouted, pointing the gun in his face.

Yuta threw his head back and laughed wildly. 

You stood there frozen, watching him. Your arms ached from holding the gun, which suddenly felt like it weighed a tonne. 

When he stopped laughing, the look he gave you was so sinister that the hairs on the back of your neck literally stood on edge. 

“You want to shoot me, bitch? Do it.” 

You gulped, unmoving. 

“Do it!” he shouted. 

Your entire body was on fire, every muscle begging you to pull the trigger. You willed yourself to squeeze. All it would take was one small click…

But, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

You lowered the gun slowly. Tears trickled down your cheeks. 

His face curled into a snarl. “I knew you couldn’t.”

Yuta lunged towards you, arms outstretched. 

He closed the gap between you in less than a second. Yuta’s hands closed around the gun, pulling it out of your grasp. 

You yelled. 

BANG! 

There was a ringing in your ears, then everything faded into silence. The smell of smoke flooded your senses, and something else too - rusty, organic, human. 

In that moment, your whole relationship with Yuta flashed before your eyes - every teary night, every lazy morning, every fight, every kiss…

It was almost funny. You always knew Yuta would be the end of you, but you didn't think you'd go quite like this - shot down by the only man you’d ever loved. 

You looked down at your chest for the bullet wound, but all you saw was untainted silk. 

You frowned. Where was the blood? 

You looked up at Yuta. 

Then you saw it. 

Yuta was clutching his chest, face contorted in agony. Fresh blood was pouring out from under where his hand was clamped. 

He staggered backwards. 

You gasped. 

“Y/n…. you!” Yuta tried to speak, but his light was fading fast. 

You dropped the gun, hands shaking. 

Yuta slumped down onto the floor.

"Mommy?"

The sound of your five-year-old made you gasp.

You turned to the door to see your son, Kenji. His face was puffy with sleep, and his black hair was stuck up in all directions. He was clutching his hello kitty plushie to his chest. 

"Honey, close your eyes!” You said a little too loudly. “Let's… play hide and seek!"

You prayed Kenji hadn't noticed his father’s body on the floor. 

The little boy obediently pressed his palms against his eyes and started counting. 

The pool of blood by Yuta’s body had grown. His face was pale, drained of colour. He had gone completely still. 

You allowed yourself a sigh. He was gone. You were free. 

You pulled the blanket off the couch and threw it over Yuta's body. Then you ran to your son, who's eyes were still closed, and picked him up. 

You rummaged under the cupboard under the sink for the backpack of essentials you'd hidden in case you ever needed to escape. 

Then, with Kenji tucked firmly into your arms, you left. 

The cold air was biting, but right now, it felt like heaven. Despite your tears, despite the fact that you couldn’t stop shivering, despite the strange feeling that you’d lost a part of you… you were happy.

You sat on a bench as Kenji slept on your lap. 

You pulled out your phone and dialled a number, the only one you’d memorised, apart from Yuta’s.

It was the number of your childhood friend, who worked in a cafe across town. He was cocky and a little too loud, but he was sweet, and most importantly, he was trustworthy. 

 It rang twice before picking up. 

A sleepy voice grumbled across the phone. "Y/n? Is everything okay?"

"Haechan? Can you come get me? I’ll… explain later."

There was silence. "Is it... him?"

You smiled, even though you knew he couldn't see you. "He's gone."

Haechan let out a relieved sigh. "I'm on my way.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[cod-fishing]

Ghost went very Batman-style when it came to dealing with his fears. I mean, the skull mask is a reminder of not only his tortures with roba but also his traumatic childhood. He adopted the skull mask, so why would he stop there?

Ghost who’s tattooed up and down with scorpions and snakes. Arched, venom-dripping stingers wrap around his biceps. Sharp claws and beady eyes grace his forearms, row after row of smooth scales coil around joints and over muscles. Hooded snakes, rattlesnakes, boa constrictors, and every other manner of deadly serpent. Desert scorpions and jungle scorpions, jet black and milky pale. When he gets bored of those, he starts getting rows and rows of tombstones inked in the spaces in between. In the rare moment he catches himself in the mirror after a shower, 3 weeks of mission grime washed down the drain, it makes looking at himself a little easier. Makes his body his own, when so many people had tried to make it theirs.

Soap snickers a little bit, the first time he sees them, but he���s quick to reassure. “Si, you know I love your dramatics. Now get over here, let me look at them proper. Wanna get my tongue on ‘em.”

[theoxenfree]

also, howdy, I shouldn't be but I'm back on my tattoo kick. getting a tat done by my apprentice tomorrow afternoon.

[artnevoa]

I would like to beg for a tattoo refrence for Yaz? :,] pleeaaaseee??

I am struggling Q-Q

This is the best that I have at the moment 😭 I haven’t finished it yet, but if it helps I’ll list off her tattoos:

-Snake on her right arm that is also a flail, something like this

- grasshopper on her right forearm

- centipede on her left arm

- quail on her left arm

- scorpion on her left forearm

- knife on her left arm

- tooth with an eye and dragonfly wings just above her left elbow (tooth fairy)

- severed fish head on her left forearm

- cicada on her left forearm

- possum skull on her upper back

- dead sparrow in the middle of her back

- tramp stamp

- moth with flowers on her sternum

- Beetle on her chest

- rosemary sprigs on her collar bones

- sphinx cat on her left thigh

- dissected frog on her right thigh

- collection of swords above her right knee

-piranha on her right shin

- rat with a pocket knife strapped to it on her right shin

- Minotaur on the back of her left calf

- catfish on the back/side of her right thigh

- anchor on her right hip

- dagger on the side of her left leg

- inhaler on her left leg

- teeth on her knuckles

Sorry that’s a lot. :,) I will make a better layout one day!

[conchiferrous]

roommates who hit each other

[ID: A lineup of 4 different cartoon characters. All of them are standing upright and looking towards the viewer. The first one from the left (Azalea) is a tall chubby biracial (Dominican + Irish) woman with a large triangular nose that juts out of her face drawn similarly to a simplistically drawn snout. She's looking towards the viewer curiously and her mouth isn't shown. She has long coily brown hair with a blonde streak hung up in a round shaped ponytail with a scrunchie with a stray hair sticking up from the top of her head. She has red glasses with a red chain, a black sweater, a long orange skirt with a large graphic of a purple flower on the side, large black shoes with short heels with black pantyhose, and small pearl earrings that the dangle down. She's holding her hands together over her waist. The second character (Veronica) is a black woman with a dark purple scorpion tail and a dark heart shaped cat nose. She's smiling and her mouth is drawn like a cat's mouth. Her dark hair is shoulder length and is drawn in simplified blocky lumps. She’s wearing a black sweat shirt with a graphic of an orange centipede wrapping around the shirt. Her pants are white with a dark purple belt. She is also wearing black boots, upside down cross earrings, and one purple fingerless glove on her left hand that she’s holding up near her face. The glove has a graphic of a skull and crossbones on the back. Her other arm is down, and her right hand is missing the ring finger. The third character (Daisy) is a minotaur with a completely black furred cow head, neck, and legs, but a tan skinned human abdomen and arms. She's looking down towards the viewer with a neutral expression and is standing completely rigid with her fists clenched. She's loosely modeled after a highland cow and has a thick dark green mane of hair with a blue nose and small pink eyes. Her right arm has a square spiral tattoo running down it. She's wearing a light purple unbuttoned shirt with white spiral shells and stars lining the edge of the sleeves and the bottom of the shirt. Her undershirt is light yellow with sweat stains on the stomach and underboobs. Her jean shorts are a dull green and the sleeves are jagged at the ends. She is wearing no shoes, showing her dull green hooves. She's also wearing a watch on her left arm, a dog tag necklace, a yellow nose ring, and a faded pink ribbon is tied around her right horn. The last character (Trixie) is a pale skinned short, fat woman with thick pink curly shoulder length hair covering one eye and a large round nose. She looks uninterested and tired, and her mouth isn't shown. She is wearing a dark turquoise jacket with a blue heart on the right shoulder with a green T-shirt with the NFPA 704 diamond symbol on it where instead of numbers the quadrants say "X, Y, A, B", similar to the layout of a video game controller. She is also wearing a blue long skirt with a lighter blue and a white stripe and blue bottlenose dolphin slippers. The background are two different photographs of the inside of a house, heavily edited to have entirely orange and green color palettes. The one on the left is of a kitchen, and the one on the right is of a living room. /END ID]

[5bi5]

Okay so obviously adult Nat should have had a full tattoo sleeve (moth, scorpion, skull, maybe some song lyrics) but what do we think about the other yellowjackets having tattoos? Personally I think Van would have one or two pop culturey ones (I'm a snoopy tattoo truther) and Lottie would have something spiritual or bee related (maybe a flower design with bees in it). Misty feels like she wouldn't be into tattoos, and Tai wouldn't get one because she doesn't want to jeopardize her career (but she thinks Van's tat is super hot). Jackie would have gotten one if she'd lived until college (something small and cute on her ankle or her wrist) but she's too squeamish to get a stick-and-poke and anyways her parents would kill her if they noticed. Shauna would have been into the idea of tattoos as a teenager but wouldn't actually end up getting one until she turns forty and decides she needs to do something to feel rebellious and alive, at which point she gets a little rabbit on her ankle and feels more dead inside than ever.

[vitimoretti]

(ZOEY DEUTCH, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER) Oh, is that VITTORIA ‘VITI’ MORETTI? I heard the TWENTY-SEVEN year old is FREE-SPIRITED. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also IRREVERENT. Makes sense seeing how they are a DIRTY civilian who works as a TATTOO ARTIST. (stephy, 21+, est, they/them)

Name: Vittoria "Viti" Moretti

Age: 27

Birthday: November 17

Occupation: Tattoo Artist

Gender: Cis female

Sexuality: Bisexual

About

The youngest Moretti child

Grew up in extreme wealth but rejects materialism and her family’s ambitions. Prefers quick cash from cons and hustles to power or legacy.

She was never academically inclined and solved problems with her fists. As such, Viti got into trouble a lot growing up.

Barely graduated high school and never applied to college.

Has mommy and daddy issues since she never was the apple of either's eye. Relationship with her siblings tbd.

She'd rather run her own small-time grifts and side hustles than get wrapped up in the serpents. She dislikes the gang’s rigid structure and avoids entangling herself in their schemes too much. But being a Moretti it's hard to avoid which is why she's a dirty civilian.

Personality

Chaotic dumbass™ energy

Would sell your soul for a Klondike bar.

Deeply unserious. Very flippant, sarcastic, blunt, but also good-humored, chill, and adventurous.

She’d literally rather you see her naked than see her cry. She hates feeling emotionally vulnerable. Refuses to submit to the terrifying ordeal of being known.

Emotions make her feel gross. So she’s always the type to crack a joke at an inappropriate moment to avoid talking about serious topics. She's always been this way.

Loyal to a fault! You could hit someone with your car and she’d help you hide the body. But her loyalty is earned, not blindly given.

Headcanons

Juggles multiple side hustles, including selling Adderall, doing stick-and-poke tattoos, reselling vintage items, and making fake IDs.

Has a million shitty tattoos. Behind her ear: a knife. Arms: an eight ball, a heart in flames, a cherry, a scorpion, "Go Giants". By her elbow: a stick-and-poke smiley face. Inner wrist (right): a skull. Hand: a heart. Fingers: A snake on her left middle finger, "69" on her right ring finger. Torso: an angel, a moon, a rose, a heart with the phrase "Natural Born Loser." Ankles: a rainbow, daisies, a ghost.

She's a graffiti artist.

Has gotten arrested a few times for drunk and disorderly, shoplifting, and vandalism. But her last name keeps her out of real trouble.

more tba

[bearlytolerant]

Tagged by @fangbangerghoul (thank you) and I’m tagging whoever sees this and wants to share.

Going below a cut because it’s smut and I literally just wrote it up so it’s subject to change but I’m tired of having nothing to share lmao so here goes:

Fingers curling under his shirt, she pushes it up his chest, unhurried and almost chaste. He raises his arms and she slips it all the way off, bringing her fingers back down to graze his skin. She dances them along the scars of his shoulder and traces the black lines of the skull on his chest, tapping the tail of the scorpion in the mouth of the skull just once before studying every detail of the half sleeve of varied tattoos on his right arm.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Taking my time. Is that a problem?”

“No.” He snatches up her wrist and she balls her hand into a fist with a gasp. He draws her knuckles up to his lips and kisses them gently. “It is perfect.” She shudders involuntarily with the way perfect rolls off his tongue and he chuckles at her. “I am starting to prefer it this way.”

“Hopefully not too much.”

His other hand slips between her shirt and smooths along the skin of her back. There’s an ache in her belly with his touch. An ache everywhere really.

“Don’t worry. I still like the feel of your ass under my hands and the way your cheeks blossom pink with pretty artwork.”

It’s stupid the way she blushes so brightly at the comment and she crawls her hands up into his hair, tugging as she presses her lips against his to disperse his knowing smirk. Takes back control with the snake of her tongue, intertwining with his. Grinding into his lap, he groans and praises her with a curse in Spanish. One hand leaves his hair to grasp at the back of his neck and she slants her lips, taking more of his kisses and pressing herself against his chest. She’s always wanted Delgado but taking him like this—she dispels the thought of love and futures, drowning the thoughts with her own sighs of pleasure from the way he cups her breast and then thumbs at her taut nipple.

[obey-moi]

Nearly forgot I have art of my MC, Herbert. Here are his “pact outfits”, which I was inspired by a friend.

Since Herb loves tattoos, I decided to give him specialized tattoos instead of sigils, along with their sin symbols. Like, sigils all over the back are sexy as hell, but it just ain’t Herbie. I headcanon that you can only use one of the pact powers at a time, for a limited time. But you can summon the outfit whenever lol. (I enlisted the help of Shoplook to create these outfits)

Lucifer: A peacock feather on the back of his neck. Being “stiff-necked” means being stubborn or too prideful about something. The special power he gets is the resistance to weak curses. After activating the pact, the curse can be dispelled. If it’s too powerful for him to dispel, he’ll have to go to Lucifer or even Diavolo.

The outfit is supposed to be professional and give Herbert a sense of confidence.

Mammon: A crow with a glittering marble in its beak, on the palm of his right (dominant) hand. You’re likely to grab things with your dominant palm. It’s canon that all pact-holders with Mammon have incredible luck. But I also think that he’s got increased skill in sleight of hand. DEX +5 lol.

Every bit of this outfit should exude luxury and wealth. Herb is also wearing the special earring Mammon gives in that one Devilgram.

Leviathan: A white and peach-coloured snake, crawling through the ear and to the eye. Things we see, and things we hear, we often experience envy. Envy clouds our judgment and twists our perception. With Levi’s pact power, Herbert can summon a weak, mini Lotan (Levi calls him “Chibitan”), who does all the water magic for him. Chibitan can’t flood an area like the main Lotan can do, but he can create water out of the vapors in the air, boil water, freeze water....... If you know anything about D&D, Chibitan knows all the water/ice-based cantrips and level 1 spells. (I like to think that if it’s a spell in D&D, it’s a spell in Obey Me lol).

I wanted to give Herbert a cosplay-look to him, something Levi would fawn over, lol.

Satan: A unicorn surrounded by thorny roses, on the back of his right (dominant) hand. When you strike someone, you usually punch or backhand them (ignore open-palm smacks). His pact power utilizes strong emotions to buff him in different ways (think MP100, where you experience 100% sadness, or 100% happiness, etc). Happiness bolsters his offensive magical ability, sadness makes his curses stronger, anger boosts his speed and physical strength, fear gives him a higher constitution and defense, and love gives him the ability to heal.

I honestly didn’t know what to do here. Satan has no style, but he has the grace to make up for it. I think when I imagine wrath, I imagine the punk movement. Does that make sense?

Asmodeus: A scorpion surrounded by pink roses, on his left hip/thigh. Hahahahaha it’s on his most sensitive area lmao. (Asmo hates that it’s a scorpion hhhhhh bugs!) This pact grants him the ability to charm anyone and anything (to an extent). He isn’t as good as Asmo, but Herb can at least calm others’ emotions and befriend them. Herb would most likely use this on animals.

SEX APPEAL SEX APPEAL SEX APPEAL. At first, Herb just feels so exposed in this fit, but he kind of gets used to it over time. Kind of.

Beelzebub: A lion skull framed with triangles and teeth, in between his ribcage. Pretty obvious why I put it there. This pact makes Herbert the APEX PREDATOR. He can amplify his senses, speed, strength, and endurance. The pact can also give him the ability to see in the dark and reduce any brightness around him. He can’t eat like Beel, but he can fucking HUNT. Also, thanks to the canonical fact that Beel’s pact gives MC the ability to “conjure large gusts of wind”, Herb can use that to hide his scent.

Something sporty and energetic. Not exactly hunting attire, but this is “Fantasy Demon Land”, let me dress him in something a lil’ slutty okay...?

Belphegor: A fox sleeping in its den beneath a tree, on his left shin/ankle. When you’re being slothful, you’re fairly immobilized, so you don’t really get up and walk around. Herbert can use this pact to create a “telepathic” bond with someone he’s familiar with from far distances, in a similar sense to Beel and Bel’s twin telepathy, where instead of reading minds, he can feel another person’s emotional and physical experiences. He can also send similar feelings to others he’s bonded with, which is handy whenever he’s in danger.

Silk, plush, baggy, everything to make him comfy. Sometimes he wears these as regular PJs for when he wants to sleep in.