#tiny luke because hes fun to draw

[lukeskywormie]

no background, i got bored

[incognit0slut]

Champagne Kisses

A night involving champagne gives you the perfect excuse to end up naked after weeks of harmless flirting. Spencer thinks one night isn’t enough.

category: smut, fluff word count: around 8k content: softdom!spencer, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (but no creampie he’s testing his pull-out game), alcohol consumption, food play (more like drink play), and i wanna say spit kink but they’re using champagne instead so does that count? a/n: merry 2025 please tell me you remember me or else i might actually cry

You’re doing it again.

You’ve been clawing at his face for the past hour, stealing fleeting glances and looking away just as quickly, because every time you do, you find the same thing.

Brown eyes. Chocolate, marbled in hazel with tiny golden speckles. Pinning you in place. Dismantling you layer by layer. And somewhere in the quiet heat behind them, in the barely-there twitch of his jaw, you’re pretty sure he’s already mapping out the fastest way to get you out of your clothes.

It’s nerve-racking. Smart Spencer you can handle, awkward Spencer you can charm. But flirtatious Spencer? Flirtatious Spencer is dangerous.

Even more so when you’re squashed between Penelope and Luke at the overcrowded booth of O'Keefe's, who are mid-argument over something you can’t even muster the energy to care. Not when long legs stretch in front of you, and strips of neon lights slice across the table in a glow that crosses his form, curving around handsome features that make him look far too inviting.

Because that’s what your mind keeps drifting to. Taking him back to your place, where the only thing glowing would be the dim light of your bedroom.

Or maybe the pale light from the hallway.

Perhaps the soft flicker of the lamp in your living room.

Either way, your mind is already drawing images of him doing whatever it is he’s picturing in his own head. The location doesn’t matter.

“Don’t you agree?”

Your gaze fall over him once more before you force yourself to look away, catching Penelope staring at you expectantly. “Agree to what?”

“That margaritas are objectively the most fun drink and clearly better than boring beer.”

This is the argument they’ve been debating for the last five minutes?

Luke scoffs from your left. He doesn’t look angry though, his expression is more amused than irritated, lips formed in a cheeky smirk. “I can tolerate margaritas if we’re on a beach. But beers are solid all year round, pop a cap and you're good to go."

“You’re such a guy."

“I'm telling you, you don't need fancy ingredients or a blender. No little umbrellas."

“Literally proving my point. Beer has no personality.”

“Are you saying I have no personality?”

Bright pink-framed glasses shift as Penelope tips her head. “If the shoe fits.”

You’re at the point where you’re no longer surprised by their arguments. Loud and pointless, is how you'd describe them. You suspect Luke does it to get a reaction, and normally you’d add fuel to the fire, because Penelope is a pretty fire-cracker when her nostrils flare in absolute indignation. But your attention is elsewhere tonight.

Knees brushing yours under the table. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips. Deep set of eyes dragging over your face, your neck, the spot between your collarbone and shoulder where the pulse of your heartbeat seems to echo louder each second.

You slide with your back against the chair, thighs clamping shut. 

You feel him imprinted on you, heated gaze traveling beneath your skin. You wonder if he realizes what he’s doing, if he’s even aware of the effect all the time his eyes fall on you. Since the moment he walked in the room, since he took that seat directly across from you, and if you’re being completely honest, that glint in his eyes has been there probably for weeks now. The when of it all is a bit fuzzy.

Tonight feels adamantly different though, and you feel like you might just need a little extra something to quiet the nervous hum beneath your ribs.

But you’re not entirely sure whether it’s nerves or something far more indulgent that has your mind secretly leading you to a very unholy place. A place where you wonder if the rough, scruffy drag of his jaw feels the same below his navel.

You’re a hundred percent certain that it does.

“You know what’s a better drink?” your voice cracks, desperately needing that extra little something. “Champagne.”

Penelope’s head whips toward you. “Champagne? Here?”

You glance around the bar and raise a hand, trying to flag down the bartender.

The wood-paneled walls are covered with vintage beer advertisements, and the sticky floor is dotted with peanut shells from the complimentary bowls on every table. It’s the kind of place where the closest thing to champagne is probably prosecco poured into a plastic flute for a wedding after-party.

“What’s wrong with champagne? It’s a classic drink, great for celebration.” You order a bottle and four tall glasses before fixing her with a look. “It’s the New Year.”

She snorts. “We’re already halfway through January.”

“Penelope, we had to work on Christmas and New Year’s. We finally have this night to breathe, let me have this.”

There’s a beat of silence before she sighs dramatically. “Fine. But it still feels weird drinking champagne in a bar where the most sophisticated cocktail is a rum and coke.”

“Which is exactly why we’re elevating the night,” you reply, watching as the bartender sets the bottle down with (thank god) proper crystal flutes. You pour the first glass, the golden bubbles racing upward like tiny fireworks as you pass it to her.

Luke accepts the next glass without the same hesitation, but when you offer one to Spencer, the curly-haired man shakes his head.

“Right. I forgot you don’t really drink alcohol.”

The faintest smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t have anything against alcohol, just not in large amounts.” His gaze shifts to the bottle on the table. “I also happen not to like champagne.”

Penelope looks mildly offended. “Why not?”

“Because the carbonation overpowers the flavor. It’s hard to enjoy a drink when it’s constantly popping on your tongue.” You stifle a laugh before you can stop yourself. He looks at you. “What?”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” you reply with a grin. “Here, maybe this will change your mind.”

You pour him a glass and nudge it toward him. He simply looks from the glass to you.

“Come on,” you coax. “We’re celebrating the New Year.”

“Seventeen days late."

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"Do not ruin the fun. We’re still celebrating, and you can’t toast with water. That’s practically begging for bad luck.”

He exhales sharply, lips twitching in what might be defeat or mild amusement, before reaching across the table. Everyone raises their glasses. The instant the bubbles hit his tongue, his nose scrunches in subtle distaste, and the sound of your laughter flies through the small space.

“It’s not that bad,” you insist.

“I still don’t understand the appeal.”

Champagne isn’t exactly your first choice either. You’ve always been more of a wine person. A good wine. A rich Burgundy that makes you close your eyes on the first sip to taste the faint of autumn in a glass. But champagne feels right for the occasion.

This taste blooms on your tongue, crisp and bright with hints of green apple and citrus and that faint yeasty richness at back of your throat. They dance across your palate, leaving a lingering sweetness through your veins that doesn’t soothe your nerves so much as ignite something beneath them, something warmer, deeper, curling into your bloodstream.

It makes you very bold.

Bold enough to hold his gaze without flinching. Bold enough to let your tongue flick across your lips. Bold enough to let your foot glide slowly up the length of his long, long leg.

You’ll have him taste his own medicine.

You, too, can play with fire.

“Maybe you’re drinking it wrong,” you hum, feeling him tense for the briefest, tiniest moment before he relaxes. “There’s another way to make champagne better.”

He grips the stem of his glass. “Something tells me you have a suggestion.”

“I do.”

He tilts his head. The din of conversation around you slowly fades into a muffled hum, the clinking of glasses and Penelope’s laughter barely registering as you notice the curve of his smile, the question lingering in his eyes.

Will you show me?

And that’s how you find yourself naked between his thighs two hours later.

It started innocently enough—or at least that’s the lie you fed yourself when you watched Penelope and Luke stumble their way to the dance floor, giggling as they poured yet another round of sparkling wine. But the champagne didn’t keep your attention for long. A few more stolen glances later, you found your hand wrapping around his arm, the other clutching a half-full bottle of champagne like some reckless lifeline.

It is reckless. Even you can’t deny that. You’ve always been cautious when it comes to bringing a man home. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Spencer. Someone who already knows too many pieces of you, someone who doesn’t need to be deciphered or explained.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging him out of the bar.

The ride in the stuffy cab felt like an eternity and a blink at the same time that the moment your apartment door clicked shut behind you, his mouth was already on yours. You barely had time to process how surprisingly good he tasted before your clothes started to disappear.

It’s a dizzying rush of hands and heat, and you’re now standing over him, knees brushing his as he sinks into your couch.

Yes, your couch. The soft, slate-blue one you’ve spent countless evenings curled up on, legs tucked under a blanket, flipping through books or half-watching shows you never finish. But now it cradles a completely different weight—the heavy heat of him radiating with tension-laced curiosity and a barely contained lust that seems to bleed right into the fabric.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you,” he mutters dazedly, trailing his lips along your jaw with a hand resting on your naked back.

“I can’t believe you can unhook my bra that fast.”

He catches the sheer black fabric now hanging haphazardly over your lamp where he’d tossed it aside moments ago. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Should I be concerned about how much practice you’ve had?”

“Not really. I’m a fast learner.”

That, you believe. But you’re not entirely sure if it’s his innate skill or the way your body seems to respond to him so effortlessly that leaves your lungs feeling like they’ve forgotten how to work. Breathing is no longer instinctive now. It’s a function you have to remind yourself to do as his tongue dances along the curve of your breast, and by the time he takes the achingly hard tip into his mouth, your chest tightens.

You suck in a desperate need of oxygen while he sucks the last thread of composure from you.

“Sweet.”

“Huh?”

“You—” He pulls back just enough to let his teeth graze the delicate skin before soothing it with a slow drag of his tongue, “taste sweet.”

Your hand slides to the back of his neck with a sigh. “You’re exaggerating.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bodies don’t taste like anything, it’s skin.”

Spencer shakes his head as he cups the weight of your other breast with the same care you’ve come to expect from him. Taut nipple rolls under his thumb. “How do you explain this then?”

You don’t respond. Not with words, anyway. Your body speaks first as you arch into his touch, chasing the warmth of his hands before you can form any thoughts.

“How do you explain,” he continues, his lips trailing down the slope of your stomach, “why I can’t get enough of how sweet you taste?”

Your mind finally catches up, and the words settle over you like honey itself.

“You think so?”

“It’s not a thought, it’s a fact.” He presses a kiss to the soft skin just below your navel. “I don’t know how you can taste better than this.”

Your laugh is breathless, barely steady enough to be called one. “You’re laying it on thick now.”

“I’m just being honest.”

It’s cute how he says it with such conviction, like it’s the simplest truth in the world and not a line that’s turning your legs to liquid. Your knees threaten to buckle as you step away, reaching for the half-empty champagne bottle perched on the coffee table. The glass feels cool against your overheated skin as you twist the cork free.

“What are you doing?”

“Considering your words.” You hold up the bottle, the champagne fizzing invitingly at its neck. “What do you say we make this even sweeter?”

His eyes light up with interest. “Is this where you show me the right way to drink champagne?”

You nod and sink back between his thighs. “I know you’re not big on sharing food, but I think you’re gonna like this.”

“You do realize I’ll share anything with you.”

Your lips curl into a soft smile. You’ve already learned that kissing Spencer feels deliciously messy. It’s sloppy in the way passion tends to be when control is the last thing on either of your minds, with tongues and teeth colliding in an unpolished rhythm that’s as raw as it is consuming. Adding champagne to the equation doesn’t feel like much of a stretch.

You step forward at the same time his hands fall to your hips. “There’s a trick to drinking champagne.”

“I’m listening.”

The bottle’s rim grazes your lips as you take in his appearance. His shirt is wrinkled, hanging just a little more loosely around his chest with two buttons undone. He’s the very definition of disheveled that’s entirely your doing. He looks absolutely irresistible.

“You need to linger on the taste,” you start, your voice dipping into something softer as your eyes meet his again. “Be patient. Let it sit and overwhelm your senses before you swallow.”

“You mean marinate it in my mouth?”

A giggle burst out of you. “Exactly. The longer you let it linger, the more it softens, and the sweeter it gets.”

You tilt the bottle to your lips. The sweetness starts to bloom on your tongue, subtle at first, but then richer, fuller against the roof of your mouth. There's a flicker of recognition in his eyes when you pull him closer by the nape of his neck, the exact moment he realizes what you’re about to do.

Your lips meld seamlessly with his as the Champagne slips from your mouth.

His lashes flutter briefly. There’s a soft flush spreading across his pale cheeks, and you feel the faint hum of pleasure, vibrating against the delicate curve of his skin as a liquid thread drips down your chin.

And then you’re kissing him. Or he’s kissing you. It’s hard to tell who moved first, but it doesn’t matter. His lips part further, and you swear you can taste every nuance of the champagne in a way you've never experienced before. Sharp citrus, a whisper of honeyed sweetness, and beneath it all, something clean and cool that reminds you of first snowfalls.

His lips are swollen and wet and perfectly shiny when you finally pull back.

“What do you think?”

“I think we should drink champagne every day.”

Your hand drifts to the side of his neck with a smile, thumb brushing lightly against his pulse. “Even when we’re working?”

“Especially when we’re working,” he counters, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, tasting what’s left of you. His gaze flickers to the bottle in your hand. “Can I try it?”

You pass it to him, your eyes fixed on the way he tilts it to his mouth. You’re sure the bubbles in your system aren’t the reason your pulse races as he sets the bottle aside and rises to his feet. You’re also sure that no amount of champagne is responsible for the way your lips part eagerly when his hands cradle your cheeks.

There it is again—that sweetness. It hits you the moment his mouth captures yours, but it fully overwhelms you when he tilts his head and gently coaxes the champagne from his lips to yours.

You’re not surprised at how quickly he picks this up. It’s common knowledge that he’s a very diligent person, but it’s still a bit astonishing how he’s taken to playing with a drink he supposedly doesn’t even like. This is nothing like solving cases or flexing his impossibly sharp brain, nor the crosswords you’re used to seeing him hunched over at his desk at lunch.

This requires a different kind of finesse that involves his lips and tongue rather than a pen and paper.

It also seems like he might be enjoying this even more. He leans back just enough to let his tongue sweep across the seam of your lips, collecting the last trace of sweetness clinging to you.

A thumb swipes over the wet trail under chin. “I could get used to this.”

“Champagne or me?”

“Both.”

Satisfied with his answer, your fingers trail down to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. “Do you wanna try something else?”

He quirks an eyebrow as you push down the fabric down his shoulders. You don’t say anything all the while you start to unbuckle his belt, peeling every layer of his clothing until you’ve stripped him completely bare—and would you look at that? The faint trail of hair down his belly matches the scruff shadowing his jaw.

There’s a brief pause as your eyes travel down his body, lingering on his surprisingly impressive size, and a comment sits at the edge of your tongue. You decide to let your actions speak for you.

Your delicate fingers wrap around his delicious thickness. You swipe the first signs of precum glistening over his tip with your thumb, and a low sound of pleasure rumbles in his chest.

“Is this what you had in mind?”

He sounds like he’s in pain, and you shake your head with a playful smile curling at your lips. “Sit back on the couch.”

Spencer sinks into the cushion.

“This might get a little messy.”

His brow furrows slightly, and for a moment, he looks genuinely intrigued. What he doesn’t expect is the way you slowly pour the remaining liquid down your chest. His mouth parts in surprise, and then his gaze follows every single drop like it’s gravity itself pulling him in.

You’re mesmerizing. Always have been, actually. There is no doubt in Spencer’s mind that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met in his life. Your mind is brilliant. Your heart is kind. But watching the champagne mix with the sheen of sweat on your skin, you’re something else entirely. You look lethal. A different kind of captivating.

He’s already pulling you by the waist, and you’re a mass of giggles as you twist out of his grip to set the bottle safely aside. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Can you blame me?”

Honestly, you can’t. If the roles were reversed, you’d probably look at him the same way.

When his hands finally find your hips again, there’s no point in pretending you don’t want to be caught. You bend your knees and shift on the couch. He helps you swing your thigh over his own and deposits you in his lap.

Desperate is a good enough word to depict for him because as soon as you're close enough, he’s tasting you all over again. His tongue drags slow over the curve of your shoulder, across the hollow of your throat, and down to the soft swell of your breasts. Goosebumps ripple across your skin with every pass, every flick of his tongue, his touch leaving a trail of heat that you swear you can feel seeping into your bones.

You don’t even realize when you start to move until you feel the slow, unintentional rock of your hips into him. His cock fits snugly between your folds that you start grinding as the words fall from your lips without much thought, “What do you think of sex without a condom?”

His pupils dilated, lips parting, but no sound comes out right away.

"Spence?"

His gaze flickers to where your wet bodies are pressed together. Damp moisture from his tip smeared erotically between puffy lips, clear liquid coating his hard length.

“I think… it’s very intimate."

“Too intimate?”

"No." His fingers trail along your skin before his thumb settles just under your breast, in the delicate curve where your rib meets, and finally looks at you. "Is that what you want?"

You're bobbing your head up and down.

“Then I'd really, really like that.”

You shift your weight on your knees. “So you trust me?"

"More than anyone."

“I trust you too,” you say, your voice dipping low as your fingers wrap around his cock, guiding him to your entrance. “Can I request something, though?"

"Anything."

You pause just long enough for your words to land. “I don’t want you to come inside me.”

He exhales a soft laugh. “That can be arranged.”

His answer makes your lips twitch, but as you start to sink down, your body seems to have other ideas. There’s a resistance you didn’t expect, a sudden tautness that refuses to give.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

Oh my.

“What’s wrong?”

When you first wrapped your hand around him and took in the full reality of his size, you’d been impressed. Now you wonder if maybe you underestimated just how much he has to offer.

You bite the insides of your cheeks and try again.

“It’s been a while,” you confess quietly. You can’t even recall the last time you were this intimate with someone that the hesitation feels foreign, like a hiccup in a moment you’ve been eagerly anticipating.

And you are eager. Maybe a little too much. It feels almost ironic, considering how much you’ve thought about this, how your imagination has filled in the blanks a hundred times over. Now that it’s real, your body seems to be having second thoughts your mind absolutely isn’t entertaining.

You shift your hips, determination flaring as you take a slow breath. Left, right, up, down. But then a sharp sting shoots through you. Your face quickly twists into a grimace.

"Hey,” he calls gently, thumbs brushing gentle circles against your hip. “We can stop. You don’t have to push yourself.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You want him to push past whatever invisible barrier your body is putting up. The idea of stopping now feels more unbearable than the sting itself.

Your lips press into a stubborn frown. “No,” you say firmly. “We are not stopping.”

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm. I think my body's just being weird. I'm sorry."

His brows knits together almost immediately. “I should be the one apologizing.”

Frustration suddenly wells up in your chest, and this time your teeth sinks into your lip, unsure whether it’s the tension in the muscles between your legs or the ache of wanting him that feels stronger.

And you want him. So fucking bad.

“You need to relax,” he soothes, running his hands up your waist, past your ribs, across your back.

“I am relaxed,” you huff.

“I don’t think you’re relaxed enough.”

Before you can respond, he carefully lifts you from his lap and settles you back onto the couch. The cushions dips under your weight, and you barely have time to process the change before he gracefully drops to the floor.

“Should we move to your bed?”

He grips one of your ankles, his thumb brushing along the soft curve of your bone before he leans down, pressing warm lips to the skin above it.

“After this,” you reply, glancing at the sticky champagne trail still glistening faintly on your skin. “Don’t want my sheets getting sticky.”

There’s a flicker of amusement on his handsome face. “After this?”

“Did you think we’d be stopping after one round?”

His laughter vibrates against your calf. “How many times are we talking then?”

“Until I can’t feel my legs.”

The smile he gives you is slow and warm. It curves one corner of his mouth first, almost shy, before spreading fully, lighting up his face in a way that steals the breath right from your lungs.

“You’d let me have my way with you all night?”

“I’d probably let you have me anytime you want.”

His grin is almost blinding that you can’t help but give him a pleased smile of your own.

“Let’s focus on tonight first.” He moves to your other the leg. Delicate bone and tendon brushes against his lips. “I need to get you ready for me. Would you let me do that?"

Words fail you as his mouth moves closer, and the heat of his breath against your skin makes your entire body tense in anticipation. He presses another open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

"You're still tense."

Kiss. Kiss.

“Really need you to relax.”

You try, but then again, it's impossible when his lips are so close, yet still not where you need them the most.

His name slips in a desperate whisper.

"Hm?"

"Stop teasing."

His lips quirk in response, but he doesn't argue.

He dips his head and finally— finally! —drags his tongue along your achingly wet folds. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.

"Better?"

The question is entirely rhetorical.

You don’t bother answering. Words seem sparse when his actions are spelling out everything you need to know in bold, underlined strokes. His touch is distinctly different from the playful, champagne-dampened kisses he had gifted your skin.

Now he’s utterly focused. He’s researching, and it appears his diligence isn’t confined to his academic when the same focus he applies to his studies is translated so flawlessly into reading your body like a favorite book. One he’s intent on memorizing every line of, delighting in every pause and whisper between the chapters of your sighs.

It’s this thought that tickles the back of your mind when he slips a finger in. He’s always been about comprehensive understanding, and well, you’re all about empirical evidence. Right now is proof of a hypothesis you’re too pleased to confirm that Spencer Reid might just be a genius in more ways than one.

Especially in how his steady thrust of his finger syncs perfectly with the hot, wet pull of his mouth, scratching such a carnal itch that it resonates deep in your brain. You sigh in pleasure when he adds another finger, and he lifts his head then, lips shiny and pink from his ministration.

"Do you think you can take a third?"

Your heart gives a few extra thuds in your chest cavity. “Please, please.”

Look at you, reducing yourself into begging, but really, how could you resist? Who could withstand the intensity of his gaze, the way his voice dips low like velvet wrapping around your senses?

Your head tips back against the couch, a soft whimper lashing out as he adds that third finger. The stretch is almost overwhelming but oh so good.

"Does it hurt?"

You let out a loud exhale. "No."

"Tell me if it hurts."

"Feels good." Your legs fall apart even further. "Don't stop."

He smiles, and then he's doing things to your body that have you questioning how you're even still breathing. The wet, sticky slosh of your arousal fills the room, a sound so explicit it should mortify you. But then three knuckles press deeper, stroking against that rougher patch of nerves and all rational thought dissolves.

A sound you didn't even know you could make escapes your throat. You're gasping, moaning, a little bit squealing as his free hand slides up your plush thigh before finding your puffy clit. And dear god, you’re choking on the breath that lodges in your throat. You're so close it's almost unbearable. A hand shoots out, and you’re gripping his forearm with a desperation you can't even pretend to hide.

You need him inside you.

“I'm ready," you gasp harshly, your lips parting in quick, desperate puffs. "I'm ready. I’m ready.”

He has the audacity to shake his head.

"I'll decide when you're ready."

Your breath stutters even more.

Why does that sound so hot? Why does that simple, infuriatingly calm statement make your thighs clench, your pulse race, and a fresh wave of heat roll through your body?

Before you know it, he’s coaxing your orgasm from you with just the right pressure, and every movement feels like it’s designed to bring you right to the edge. You’re not surprised by how wet you are, you’ve been dripping for what feels like hours. But what does surprise you is just how much your body can take. The intensity that doesn’t wane, that keeps pushing you higher, drawing out gasp after gasp until hot syrup gushes out of you in long, sticky droplets that pool on his fingers, down to the couch.

It’s endless, relentless, and you can’t even tell where one orgasm ends and the next begins. Your hand claw at his wrist.

“Spencer,” you whine, your voice breaking on the syllables. “Sensitive.”

He stops immediately, his fingers still inside you, his other hand slipping from your clit to rest on your thigh. “Too much?”

“A little,” you smile breathlessly. “C’mere.”

He crawls towards you as you lay on your back, relaxing your thighs.

His eyes trail over you, scanning your sweat-slicked skin, lingering on your perky breasts, moving down to where your legs are fallen apart, waiting for him. The sight is so overwhelmingly enticing that he finds himself wrapping a hand around his cock, muttering a low praise under his breath, “I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes flick downward, and a spark of confidence—or maybe pure desperation—pushes your reply out without hesitation.

“Tell me again while you fuck me.”

You’re so blunt and shameless that a part of you might have blushed if you weren’t so far gone. Spencer doesn’t seem fazed, though. If anything, his eyes flash with a knowing sparkle that only deepens as he presses his bulbous head right at the shy of your entrance.

“I think I’m going to enjoy telling you,” he muses.

And Spencer is one to keep his promises.

He thinks you’re devastatingly pretty when he’s sinking into you. There’s a dazed look in your glossy eyes, and the sweetest sound coming from your lips as he stretches you in a way that leaves no part of you untouched.

He sings praises under his breath when the heavy weight of him finally settles deep inside your body. He patiently waits as your walls flutter around him, all the while his lips brushes the delicate curve of your collarbone, between low, broken whispers of how perfect you are.

Although perfection might not even capture the essence of what he sees in you at this moment. You’re a breathtaking array of contradictions. Powerful and vulnerable, fierce yet tender. You’re nothing short of divine as he gives another smooth, long thrust that pulls a sound from your lips that he knows will echo in his mind long after.

The heat of you surrounds him completely, and he swears he feels every pulse of your body welcoming him deeper. You’re slathering his entire cock with your slippery slick, and the dampness imprinting against his pelvis only seems to spur him on. He moves in steady, languid strokes, and your toes curl at the sensation burning in your belly.

He’s hitting you so good your ankles find themselves running down his back.

“Spence,” your voice is raspy and wet. “Fuck me harder.”

His quiet groan harmonizes with the rhythm of your heart. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t—”

You stop, and he looks through the mist of bliss you've shrouded him in. Your face twists, eyes going wide, lips parted to take in sharp breaths. He panics for a moment.

“You’re in pain,” he decides, reading the way your brows knit together, the way your breath stutters in your chest. It seems the most logical conclusion—until he realizes how wrong he is.

Because you’re writhing under his weight when he pushes in deeper, and your mouth trembles, not with discomfort, but with something devastatingly good.

“Oh,” he exhales. His smile is uncharacteristically smug. “It’s not pain, is it?”

You shake your head.

“You want it rough.”

It’s more of a statement than it is a question, but you’re nodding vigorously.

His restraint snaps like a frayed thread.

The next thrust is sharper, it pounds into you with enough force to shift your body slightly back against the cushions. Your lips mouth around another shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

Still. Not. Enough.

“Harder,” you slur against his tongue.

What’s a hot-blooded man to do when asked so sweetly? He answers in the only way he can.

A hand curls around the back of your knee to pull you open just enough for him to drive deeper. The angle makes you feel impossibly full, how the folds of your vulva hugs around his shaft greedily, letting him claim all the space you didn’t even know existed. You can even feel the wet drag of his cock against your swollen clit with each hard thrust, a sensation so piercing it rips a gasp from your throat and a plethora of groans wailing from the couch.

“Like this?”

The relentless thwack-thwack-thwack of skins colliding is making you delirious.

“Yes,” you cry out. “Fuck—Yes. Yes.”

Your vision blurs as you blink, and—god, you think you might actually cry. And honestly, with how full you feel, with how every nerve is sparking to life under his loud rhythm, it wouldn’t even surprise you.

Your lashes feel wet as you squeeze your eyes shut, but you force them back open, unwilling to miss the way he looks above you. Jaw tight, sweat beading at his temples, eyes locked on you like nothing else exists.

Nothing probably does, not when he moves with a rhythm that feels both gentle and crude, like he’s savoring every second so sweetly while simultaneously chasing the most carnal kind of pleasure known to mankind.

Pleasure that has you melting, pleasure that has your body fully acclimating to his size. And now you’re teetering on the edge of another intense orgasm that begins its ascent from the tips of your toes and fingertips, spiraling a tingling rush up through your legs and arms, gathering force at the pit of your stomach, and exploding into the point where you’re intimately connected.

It happens all at once.

You’re trembling.

You’re shattering.

You’re pathetically whining.

Euphoria floods every inch of your body until you’re drowning in it. A liquid fire in your veins. Your cunt clenches around him, so tight you swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as keeps pressing you into the couch. Again and again and again, until you’re nothing but an incoherent mess, your words blabbered in a breathless rush of pleasure-induced nonsense.

One heartbeat stretches into two, then the muscles in his arms flexes as his pace falters. He’s shaking now, his pelvis moving in hurried, shallow thrusts as though he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach before the heat of him presses into you one last time.

He abruptly pulls out, his cock visibly pulsing in his hand and strokes himself with a stuttering groan as thick, pearly ropes splutters across your stomach. His fingers dig deeper into the back of your thigh while he continues to paint your skin in messy streaks, and you watch in fascination the moment his head tilts back in pure, unfiltered pleasure.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him quite this beautiful.

His brows pinches in concentration for a few more seconds before his gaze slowly meets yours again, and a faint, blissful pink colors his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, looking a little out of breath. Devastatingly handsome and sweaty. Flustered in the best way.

You brush the damp hair sticking to his skin with a small, satisfied smile. “Are you kidding? That was extremely hot.”

His laughter fills every corner in the room. Then his hand drift down a comforting path down your thigh as he leans to capture the giggle tumbling from your lips with his own. It’s then you realize that kissing Spencer isn’t just enjoyable, it’s downright addictive.

You’re beginning to think he’s just as addicted to you too, because when he pulls away, it’s reluctant, his lips leaving yours with a faint, wet sound that lingers as sweetly as the kiss itself.

“Will you really let me have my way with you all night?” he asks gently, and you can’t help but wonder why he even feels the need to ask.

“Was I not obvious enough?”

You feel his smile before you see it. “Bedroom now?”

To tangle your naked limbs with his again sounds pretty close to heaven. Absolute, indulgent heaven, except for the distinct stickiness of champagne, sweat, and a cocktail of other body fluids clinging to your skin. The thought of sinking into cool clean sheets in this state makes your nose scrunch.

“We need to make a stop to the bathroom first,” you say, running a hand up his arm to squeeze his bicep. “Have you ever tried shower sex?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he admits truthfully.

You make a sound of disapproval.

“We definitely need to change that.”

-

Spencer realizes a lot of things can change in one night.

He also discovers how much he’s capable of learning in such a short period of time. Granted, he’s always been a quick study, but this is different. The hours between midnight and sunrise completely upend his understanding of things he’d only ever read about—sex, intimacy, the intricacies of how touch can feel as much like a language as words.

But beyond the newfound knowledge (and let’s face it, an entirely new appreciation for his muscles), there’s something else. Something that surprises him even more.

He likes waking up with another warm body beside him. More than likes it. There’s a strange kind of peace in the way your leg drapes over his, your hair a tousled mess against the pillow. Peace that makes him wonder if this, too, is something he could get used to.

Even if you’re hogging the blanket. He can feel the cool air on his back while you’re wrapped in most of the covers, leaving him to soak up whatever body heat he can steal by staying pressed against you. Not that he’s complaining. He’d happily stay like this for hours, but the sun is already creeping higher through your window, and your phone has been vibrating nonstop ever since he opened his eyes.

The sheets rustle as he shifts closer, mouth puffing warmly on your cheek with a breath of your name folding into your skin. You blink through heavy eyelids, and Spencer thinks you look adorable all wrapped up like a cocoon in the tangled linens.

“Hey," you croak, then clear your throat. “Morning.”

The soft rasp of your voice is even as endearing as the sight of you.

“I think we’ve already passed morning,” he says, slipping a hand under the covers, finding the goosebumps prickling on your upper arm.

“We slept in?”

“My guess is it’s almost noon.” There’s another buzz vibrating from the bedside table that stops him from pressing you against his chest. “Someone keeps calling you.”

He wonders if you can sense the slight annoyance in his voice. He wonders if he even has the right to be annoyed. It's Saturday. You clearly have plans—or at least someone thinks you do based on how persistent they've been.

If you catch the flicker of irritation in his voice, you don’t acknowledge it. You stretch lazily for your phone instead, and his attention is momentarily snagged by the way the sheet slips down your shoulder, revealing the constellation of freckles and moles he’s spent the entire night memorizing with his lips.

"Nobody’s calling.” Your thumb scrolls through the notifications. "Penelope just doesn't understand the concept of personal space when she texts."

Spencer feels the tightness in his shoulders ease, though he doesn't miss the way your eyes narrow into sleepy slits at the screen.

"Oh."

That one syllable is enough to set his mind buzzing.

"What?"

"Um."

It’s the subtle crack in your voice that hooks him. He’s never been good at sitting with unanswered questions, especially not when your expression shifts just enough to make him wonder what could possibly warrant that little noise.

He finally curls an arm around your waist, and the faint trace of your scent fills his lungs as he gently draws you back against his chest. A relentless stream of messages glares up at him over your shoulder.

Penelope [Sent 23:37]: Where are you?? Penelope [Sent 23:45]: Is reid with you? Penelope [Sent 00:05]: Did you leave? WITH HIM?? Penelope [Sent 00:17]: You did, didn't you? Penelope [Sent 00:33]: You can’t just vanish like this, you know I have questions!!!

Spencer barely registers the way his hand drifts down to rest against your stomach. He pulls you in unconsciously as his eyes scan over the flood of texts that started piling up this morning.

Penelope [Sent 09:19]: Good morning. Penelope [Sent 09:25]: Answer me. Penelope [Sent 10:24]: Seriously, are you alive? Penelope [Sent 10:39]: YOU OWE ME DETAILS. Penelope [Sent 10:48]: Last chance. Calling you in ten.

"I think she's onto us."

It’s not so much a matter of thought as it is a fact. Your words are less a theory and more a confirmation of reality, as undeniable as the relentless stream of texts lighting up your phone.

"What should I tell her?"

Spencer leans in closer. The soft scent of your shampoo drifts up, clean and faintly sweet, wrapping itself around him in a way that makes his chest ache, though he’s not sure why. He’s inhaling everything—your warmth, the curve of your shoulder brushing his chest, the way your voice carries an edge of hesitation that feels so out of place for someone like you.

And that’s what truly catches him off guard. Not the fact that Penelope is practically banging on a metaphorical door with her texts, but that you’re hesitating. You, who rarely second-guess yourself, now unsure about sharing the details of last night with one of closest people in your life.

Or maybe the surprise lies closer to home. How easily the words form in his own mind, bypassing the overthinking that usually rules him.

He has ten minutes to think before Penelope supposedly calls, but he doesn’t need ten minutes, or even ten seconds, because the answer is already there, so obvious it practically tumbles out of him.

"The truth," he hums against the crown of your hair. "You should tell her the truth."

You’re quiet for a while.

“Are you sure?"

For someone who invited him into your home, who let him press you into the couch cushions, spread you out on the cool tiles of the bathroom, and pull every sound he wanted from you on the soft give of your mattress—on your back, your front, even sideways—you seem awfully uncertain now. Very out of character.

So what’s changed this morning? Is it the stale morning breath he’s sure he hasn’t fixed yet? The mess of his curls sticking up in every direction from a night spent pressed into your pillows?

Or is it something much deeper that he hasn’t quite put his finger on?

The thought clings to him as his thumb brushes your stomach. "I’m sure," he says. "Are you?"

You hesitate for a beat too long, and that tiny pause lands heavy on his chest.

"This is going to change everything," you finally say, sounding somewhat like a warning.

He frowns. "Didn’t you want it to?"

"I did. I do." You pull in a breath that shakes on the way out. "Maybe we should discuss this before we say anything to anyone."

Your phone slips quietly onto the bed as you twist in his arms. Face to face.

"Do you like me?"

What kind of question is that?

"Did I seem not to like you last night?"

"No, Spencer, I need to hear it. Do you like me?"

He studies the delicate fold between your brows. He watches the quiver on your parted lips. And your eyes—watery and glossy and wide. Soft lashes framing the quiet expanse of irises that shimmer like glass.

He knows what you need. Spencer has spent most of his entire life reading people, pulling truths out of their silences and decoding what they can’t (or won’t) say. And even though he hates applying that skill to you, he knows this isn’t just about reassurance. You’re not only questioning what happened between you last night. You’re questioning what comes next.

The time glares from your phone over your shoulder: six minutes. That’s all he has to convince you that his feelings go far beyond fleeting lust or the heady haze of alcohol. Six minutes before Penelope inevitably interrupts.

But he’s not the greatest with words, is he?

Sure, he’s read more books than most people will touch in a lifetime. He can recite Edgar Allan Poe by heart and dissect layers of meaning in Dostoevsky’s prose like it’s second nature. But his own feelings don’t come wrapped in poetic declarations. That’s not who he is.

What he can do, though, is tell you the truth.

“You know how you told me I could have you anytime I want?”

A strand of hair brushes against your cheek as you nod.

“You’ve already had me from the very beginning.”

Your gaze softens, then you sigh sweetly, and he knows without a doubt that the truth is exactly what you need. “Before all the sex?”

“Before we even kissed.”

The distance between you slowly becomes nonexistent. You slot your knee between his thighs, a lick of smile curling at the corner of your lips.

“So… when I ran my foot up your leg?”

His lopsided smile is no different from yours. “No.”

“Last week when I wore your cardigan because the AC got too cold?”

“You looked really pretty in it, but no.”

“Last month?”

“Even before that.”

You click your tongue. “Give me a clue. A hint.”

But you don’t need clues. Clues are for puzzles, for cases that demand solving. This has never been a mystery. He’s known it for longer than he cares to admit, and he wonders if you’re asking because you genuinely don’t see it or because you just want to hear him say it.

Either way, he’ll happily say the truth as plainly as it exists in his mind.

“From the moment you joined the team.” You pause for just a heartbeat, and he reaches out to brush away the stray of hair slipping down into your eyes. “You probably didn't notice, but I couldn't stop staring at you.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse softly.

“I’m a terrible liar.”

He watches as you mull over his words. He knows you’re trying to decide whether to believe him, though he doesn’t think it’s really a question of if. You already know he’s telling the truth.

Your voice is awfully quiet that he has to perk his ears for it.

“What took you so long then?”

Because while he’s a terrible liar, he’s always been painfully good at keeping his heart to himself. Years of compartmentalizing, of burying emotions under layers of logic and detachment, have made it almost second nature. And maybe that’s why it took him so long.

That, and bad timing.

Countless abductions.

A never-ending chase after unsubs.

Death of a team mate.

And prison.

God, prison.

He wonders if these are valid reasons or just excuses. Had there ever been a perfect moment? Or had he let his fears and the chaotic nature of his job push his personal happiness to the sidelines too often?

The words knot in his throat, and in the end, all he can muster is an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

For waiting so long.

For not saying this sooner.

For only finding the courage to make a move under the guise of flirtation and champagne.

He’s selfish. He is. Because he's reaching for you based on his time, his terms, waiting until he was ready to fit you neatly into his schedule. But you simply shake your head. Because that's what you are, isn't it?

You’re selfless, and so profoundly lovely that you offered yourself to him last night without reservation. And now you’re even more radiant, wrapped in the soft light of vulnerability, tinged with doubt, yet always so giving. Pulling him closer to your chest with a hand on his back. Fingers splay across his skin, nails dragging idly along his spine.

“Don’t be,” you reply, feeling his body expand and deflate under your palm when he breathes. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

See? Selfless. The least he can do now is give you back the words you need to hear, the assurance you deserve to hear. Your foreheads press together, and he reverently lays his hand on your cheek, spreading lean fingers into your hair.

“If you must know, I do like you.”

But the word feels so inadequate for what he’s finally trying to tell you. Like doesn't even scratch the surface of how much space you take up in his mind.

"I more than like you,” he decides to add.

It doesn’t take long before you kiss him. Soft petals bloom warmly against his mouth, puffing humid breath he tastes on his tongue. A blissful moan he swallows greedily, lets it settle deep in his chest, his bones, his veins, filling every corner of him with the sweetest weight of you.

A flutter of lashes skims against his cheekbone when you tilt your head, pulling back by the barest inch. “You’ve made a huge mistake, by the way.”

The pad of his fingers presses gently on your scalp. “Why?”

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

His thumb moves against your hairline as he takes in your words. For a moment, all he can do is absorb them, replay them, savor them. Then his eyes soften, the corners crinkling with genuine delight, and he lets out a soft huff of laughter that melts right into the narrow space between you.

He scoots impossibly closer, hoping your skin will somehow mold with his. Because after all the surprisingly creative positions he discovered with you last night, it’s the only conclusion he can come to: you fit into him. Perfectly. Soft curves finding their place against the lines of his frame, every piece of you adhering like glue to his skin.

Chest to chest, nose to nose, and lips so maddeningly close to yours that he can still taste the warmth of your breath, sweet and intoxicating in its nearness. It’s enough to drive him a little insane, though he’d argue he’s always been slightly off-center where you’re concerned.

His fingers twitch, ready to close that infinitesimal gap when the sharp buzz of your phone suddenly slices through the moment.

Six minutes.

That’s all the time the universe has granted him, and it’s woefully too short.

"Might need to block her number," you mutter under your breath as you shift slightly to reach for your phone. He watches the way your fingers fly over the screen rapidly before placing the device back on the side table.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth." Then you drop on him like a dead weight, limbs tangling in the most inconvenient ways until your head is tucked in the crook of his neck. "Also sent her an eggplant and water emoji.”

A crease forms between his brows. “What does that mean?”

You fail to keep in your laughter. “You don’t want to know.”

He’s fairly certain he does want to know. In fact, he’s starting to realize he wants to know everything about you now that you’ve given him the chance. Beyond the pull of bodies and the way they slot together so seamlessly, beyond the electricity of skin against skin.

Though he can’t deny his curiosity at one precise moment, the way you’d slightly gasped when his fingers accidentally brush around the base of your throat. He wouldn’t mind knowing what that meant for you, and, surprisingly, what that even implied for himself.

But as intriguing as that is, it’s not what lingers the most. It’s the subtleties he wants to unravel, the pieces of you he hadn’t even realized he’d been aching to explore.

Your wit, your thoughts, your mind—that lovely, intricate thing he’s admired for so long. Full of nuances and depths he hadn’t even realized he’d only been skimming the surface of. He’s sure there’s something far greater than even his endless mind could have imagined that ties to the beautiful shape of you.

And you’re so beautiful. He’s known that for years, but mere hours ago, he learned it in an entirely new language. Even when he understands seven different ways the world chooses to communicate and speaks four fluently, yours is his favorite.

Yours doesn’t need words or perfect pronunciation. It’s instinctive and warm, written in every sigh, every glance, every unspoken verse that linger in the subtle shift of your body. In every nuance of your taste.

God, your taste.

He knows you’re right, skin can’t be sweet. The dichotomy isn’t lost in him. Yet it doesn’t matter, because not even the crisp, effervescent bite of champagne compares to the warmth of you. Not even sugar, and he basically lives on sugar. In chocolate-sprinkled donuts that he grabs on the way to work, in the endless cups of coffee that fuel his day.

You’re something else entirely, beyond comprehension.

And if one night was enough to saccharine his senses with you, he can only imagine what forever could do.

[devildomwriter]

They Go With You When You Need to Get Your Blood Drawn: Headcanons

“Hey, I have to get some blood drawn at the doctor’s and it makes me really uncomfortable, any chance you can please come with me?”

Lucifer

• “Yes of course.”

• Holds your hand and gives you reassuring looks the whole time. Has to stop from chuckling when you laugh nervously or get chilled by the alcoholic wipes.

• He gently holds you afterward and buys you a treat as a reward for bravery.

Mammon

• “Yikes, that sucks. Sure thing!”

• He ends up fainting and you laugh so hard you don’t even notice the blood draw until it’s already over.

• You have to take him home and he’s so embarrassed you agree not to mention it if he buys you a treat and he happily agrees (he loves spoiling you)

Leviathan

• “Big oof. But yeah I’ll come.”

• You watch him play with his handheld to avoid looking at any needles.

• He’s still very nervous for you and after is over he looks at your blood in the vials and somehow feels jealous so decides to spoil you as a result and buy you dinner.

Satan

• “Of course I’ll come along.”

• He plays you cat videos to distract you and pass the time.

• He tells you how brave you are and how calm—as he himself hates needles and appointments

• He takes you out for food afterward, no matter what it is you want.

Asmodeus

• “Eek! You poor dear! Of course, I’ll come support you!”

• He’s a tiny psychopath but regardless blood still freaks him out, at least when it’s yours so he nearly faints.

• You get poked by the needle because everyone is too busy watching him so to make it up to you he takes you to the spa for some rejuvenation.

Beelzebub

• “Blood…umm, sure.”

• He can’t look at the blood either or he starts to drool so he’s in the corner of the room stuffing burgers in his mouth (which is against the no-food rule but they allow him just this once)

• He takes you out to eat afterwards, he needs meat but you can get whatever you want on him.

Belphegor

• “Yeah I don’t mind. Do I need to stay awake?”

• He falls asleep so quickly that the doctors are more concerned about him and you’re so amused watching them that you don’t even realize they’ve finished up.

• You drive him home and he feels bad he fell asleep so will find a way to make it up to you.

Solomon

• “Why certainly. When and where?”

• He puts a spell on you for you to avoid feeling pain or discomfort and he holds your hand for the duration.

• He’s very proud of his apprentice for handling themselves in such an uncomfortable situation.

Simeon

• “Oh dear, of course, I’ll come with you.”

• He gives you an angelic blessing so you’ll be completely calm and he silently hums and rubs your hand to distract you.

• Simeon heals the tiny wound immediately afterward and thanks the staff as he takes you home to relax while he makes you some cake.

Luke

• “B-B-B-Blood!? Y-Yes of course I won’t let you go alone!”

• Luke’s freaked out by the whole process and his reactions are so over the top you don’t even react yourself.

• You buy him ice cream later because he’s so woozy from watching that. He later returns the favor by making you something sweet to eat (with no red dye)

Raphael

• “You owe them blood? Do they need to be dealt with?”

• After explaining what the blood draw was and why you needed it he went with you but was on guard around the needles and watching the doctors very closely.

• He doesn’t know what else to do so he hums to help sooth your worry.

Michael

• “Certainly dear, you have nothing to fear.”

• He gives you a blessing as well as all the doctors to ensure everything goes perfectly. He keeps you distracted by asking about Lucifer and his brothers.

• He’s in a good mood from the new information he’s obtained on Lucifer and his brother’s antics so he’ll grant any request you make of him.

Thirteen

• “Gross, humans need to give blood? Sure thing though, you can count on me.”

• You watch her amused as she fiddles with a project the whole time, apparently it’s supposed to be a more fun way to draw blood so you’re more worried about that than the needle in your arm.

• She later tries to show you how her new device works so you have to warn Solomon.

Mephistopheles

• “I can get you a better doctor.”

• After getting him to go to your doctor with you he keeps a skeptical eye on everything, mildly impressed with human technology.

• He talks your ear off about the most recent scoop he’s investigating for the RAD Newspaper as a means to distract you.

• He takes you somewhere extravagant afterward to make you forget about the unnerving medical appointment earlier.

Barbatos

• “As you wish. I’ll ensure you don’t feel a thing.”

• Barbatos lovingly stays glued to your side, very watchful of everyone. He gives you a tea beforehand that makes you dull to pain and discomfort so you fall asleep on the ride home, never bothered by the blood and needles.

Diavolo

• “Oh no! Yes, I’ll be right there with you! We can get ice cream after.”

• Diavolo is worried for you but he’s hiding it and making you laugh by laughing at ridiculous things (his laugh is very contagious)

• True to his word he buys you ice cream or whatever you want after and tells you how proud he is of you and how brave you are.

[johnbrand]

Fathering Normality

“And then I just shoved it right in!”

Luke grunted as he thrust forward, drawing a laugh out of his friend Colton. Luke had been recounting the entire night before to him, going over every detail. How it started as a boner, how that boner led him to a bar, how that bar led him to rubbing up against some girl, and how that girl led him to shooting multiple loads directly into her tight pussy.

“It was exhilarating!” Luke recalled, the natural masculinity giving his voice a gruff, dense texture. “And all I can think about now is…doing it again…and again!”

Luke thrusted once more, trying to relieve the pressure building up in his thick cock. Colton could not help but happily smile along with his friend, very familiar with the experience of breeding a woman himself. In fact, his girlfriend had recently found out she was pregnant. When Colton had first received the news, he had been ecstatic. When Luke had received the news from Colton days later, he had not been.

Just a week ago, Colton and Luke had been in the same positions; Luke dramatically recounting some tale while Colton laid back and listened. Although, that time had been more violent. “What do you mean she’s pregnant?” Luke cried. “What are you two going to do? You’re too young, neither of you have secured jobs. We all just barely graduated from college a few years ago!”

Argument after argument flew by, but eventually Colton could not handle it anymore. His friend was supposed to be supportive, happy for the couple as they were with the situation. Then a strange thought came to Colton’s head–maybe Luke would be more supportive if he was able to see his side of things. 

Colton had shot the bullet directly into Luke’s head without hesitation. There was no way his gay friend could have understood the joy of breeding, fertilizing, and bearing fruit other than by being converted to try it himself. Of course, Luke did not remember the sound of the gun firing, dropping to the floor, or his limp body being handed over to local enforcement. Colton did not even think Luke remembered the past version of himself. And now that Colton had met the new model, he hoped he would soon forget too.

Gay Luke had been fun. A little bit on the shorter, skinnier side, but still a ball of energy. He always had a theatrical flair, and he kept himself well-maintained, but he had commitment issues and terrible spending habits. This Straight Luke though, had nearly made the equally heterosexual Colton blush. He was now much taller, more muscular, with that ball of energy transformed into sheer masculine confidence. Luke still held that capacity to put on a performance, but now it was powerful and captivating. 

Colton had contacted Luke at the end of the incubation period, not knowing what to expect. Yet he would have never predicted the stacked body-builder in a plain, short-sleeved button-up and dirty jeans appearing at his door. Sure, there were some things Colton felt a little guilty about. Luke’s former luscious locks had thinned out and shortened into a tiny quiff afflicted by male pattern baldness. His hygiene had definitely taken a hit; Colton had smelt the new funk as soon as those massive shoes had come off at the door. But the conversion affected everyone differently, so because Luke appeared obliviously overjoyed with heterosexuality, Colton felt that he could be too.

“So I just started countin’ as I rammed in. ‘One, two,’” Luke continually thrusted to display his point. “And eventually, it had to be like on 15 or 16, I felt that first burst of ecstasy. After that I lost count, I just went into hyper-mode.”

Colton chuckled, getting up to grab us some beers. He tossed one to Luke.

“Thanks bro,” Luke cracked his cold one open. “By the way, what did you call me over for anyway?”

“Oh man, I thought I already told you,” Colton half-lied. “My girl’s pregnant: I’m gonna be a dad.”

Luke’s eyes lit up, “DUDE! That’s awesome! Congratulations!! God, if only I could be so lucky, right?” 

Colton cheered to that, smirking at the possibility. He had been right when he had chosen to father normality. Thanks to him, one could metaphorically say he would soon be fathering twice the amount of children as a result of Luke’s conversion.

[capquinn]

daydreaming about this scenario with dad quinn😭😭 bug as bluey https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMkHYJN9T/

Bug being a Bluey fan is canon so this is exactly how last Halloween went plus some more dad!quinn x Bug Bluey fun 😭 this goes out to all my aussie quinny girls <3

It started innocently enough — just an episode or two of Bluey during snack time after pre-school or when you and Quinn were making dinner. But then Bug became obsessed, and a full-blown Bluey fever hit the Hughes household like a tidal wave.

Before anyone knew it, she was quoting episodes word-for-word, calling Quinn "dad" with a suspiciously Aussie twang, drawing out the "ah" like she’d grown up in Brisbane instead of Vancouver and Michigan. She'd try to turn every mundane activity into an elaborate, imaginative game just like Bluey and Bingo, and quickly enough, you and Quinn figured out how to harness her endless energy on the nights she seemed like she might bounce off the walls with a round of 'Keepy Uppy.'

“Why does she keep saying ‘ta’?” Quinn asked one day, confused when Bug thanked him for her water bottle.''

“She’s bilingual now,” you teased, suppressing a laugh, “thanks to Bluey.”

The first time she called Cub a “little cheeky sausage,” Quinn almost choked on his drink from laughing so hard.

“Where does she get this stuff?” he asked you, wiping tears from his eyes.

It got to the point where her speech was this hilarious hybrid of accents. Words like "no" came out as an exaggerated "naur," but then she’d say something as typically Canadian as "about" right after. When she was really into the Bluey vibe, she'd call Luke "Uncle Stripe," who had no idea what she was referencing, and Quinn just about lost it.

Bug’s Aussie twang was such a hit that the family started joking about it at every gathering. “Bug, say ‘tomato,’” Luke would prompt, and she’d reply, “to-mah-to, Uncle Stripe!” with the biggest grin, making everyone burst out laughing.

So by Halloween, Bug had decided the whole family had to dress as the Heeler family. No arguments, no negotiation.

Quinn, begrudgingly, became Bandit — complete with a makeshift tail and ears — and you were Chilli, naturally. Cub had no choice in the matter and was dressed as Bingo, and Bug, of course, was Bluey herself, running around in her costume like it was the greatest day of her life.

The chaos kicked off in the living room before anyone even made it to the trick-or-treating part. Bug insisted that the night wasn’t official until the family danced to the Bluey theme song, just like in the show. She set the scene by pointing to Quinn and saying, “Bandit, you go first!”

Quinn groaned dramatically, but the tiny, expectant face staring up at him made him cave instantly. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, shaking his head but smiling.

And so, Bandit Quinn hit the center of the living room, doing his best to imitate whatever goofy, flailing moves he thought would make Bug laugh the hardest. She lost it, giggling so hard she had to clutch her sides.

“Your turn, Bingo!” Bug declared, pointing at Cub, who was already distracted and reaching for Quinn's tail.

Finally, it was Bug’s turn. “Here I go!” she announced, her little hands on her hips as she got into position.

She twirled, jumped, and did a dramatic slide across the floor on her knees like she was performing for a stadium. Quinn immediately started clapping, letting out a loud, “Go, Bluey!” as you tried to record the whole thing without laughing so hard the video shook.

By the time you all stepped outside for trick-or-treating, Bug was practically vibrating with excitement. Her Bluey costume was slightly askew from all the dancing, her tail bouncing behind her as she led the charge down the sidewalk. She’d insisted on carrying the biggest candy bag you had, which now dragged along the ground a little because, of course, it was comically oversized for her tiny frame.

“G’day!” she chirped at every house, holding out her bag with the brightest smile. Every person at the door melted instantly at her enthusiasm, slipping her extra candy “for being so adorable.”

“Bug, say thank you,” you prompted gently from behind.

“Thanks for the lollies,” she said, doubling down on the Aussie accent, which made the homeowners laugh every time.

Quinn, standing a few paces back with his hands shoved into his pockets, couldn’t help but laugh. “Lollies, huh?” he muttered under his breath to you. “Next thing you know, she’ll be calling me ‘mate.’”

“She already does sometimes,” you whispered back, grinning.

By the time the night wound down, Bug’s candy bag was practically overflowing, dragging behind her with both hands as her steps grew slower and smaller, the adrenaline of the evening finally wearing off. Her floppy Bluey ears were slightly askew, and there was a faint blue smudge of face paint on her cheek where she’d wiped at her nose.

“Need a hand, Bluey?” Quinn asked, crouching down in front of her. She nodded sleepily, dropping the bag with a soft thunk on the sidewalk. He scooped her up in one arm and grabbed the candy bag with the other.

As they walked home, the night air crisp and quiet, Bug tucked her head into Quinn’s shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. “I’m gonna eat so much candy tomorrow,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to take over.

Quinn chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You did good tonight, Bug,” he murmured, his voice low and full of warmth.

“Yeah, daddy,” she whispered back, barely awake now. “You too.”

His steps slowed, and he looked down at her for a moment, her face peaceful and her little hands clutching at his shirt like it was her anchor. And right then, Quinn thought, there’s nothing better than this. Even if he was dressed as a giant cartoon dog, his Bandit ears flopping awkwardly with every step and his back already aching from carrying her and her candy bag the last several blocks. None of it mattered. Bug was tucked safely in his arms and the world felt perfect in that moment.

[frost-queen]

Dragon’s bond (Daughter!R x Rhaenyra & Daemon)

Requested by: anon; Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernam,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​​

Rhaenyra picked up the dragon egg with gentle care. Her expression full of sorrow and concern. Daemon came to her side, drawing her attention to him. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as Rhaenyra showed him the dragon egg. Daemon batted his gaze down, knowing what it meant. He took the unhatched egg from her. Rhaenyra took a deep shivering breath, stroking over her stomach to smoothen herself in another role. With a new plastered expression bend she over the crib. Picking up the baby laying inside. 

Little head resting on her shoulder, she started rocking. – “My little Y/n.” – she whispered. – “It will all be alright…” – she left a few kisses against your head. Daemon stroking his hand down her back while with his other hand he brushed against your cheek. – “She will be fine… even without a dragon.” – Daemon reassured her. He brought his head closer, kissing his wife’s forehead. – “She will be just fine…”

“Y/n! hold up!” – Jacaerys called out running after you. Guards barely turned a glance at you running and giggling through the corridors at Dragonstone. Your tiny feet moving faster then you could keep up. – “Y/n!” – Jacaerys your eldest brother shouted. You stopped and turned at the end of the corridor, Jacaerys taking a hold. He exhaled loud, thinking you had given up the chance. You thought otherwise. Sticking your tongue out to him, you mocked him for not catching you. – “Y/n! You must get dressed!” – he reminded you, gesturing at your nightdress you were still wearing. 

Giggling childishly, you took a run for it. – “Catch me Jace!” – you laughed out, taunting him. Jacaerys groaned getting back in motion to chase you. Lucerys opened a door, coming into the corridor, startled. He jumped back at you running past him, he barely noticed what it was. A blur of a little person. – “Luke!” – Jacaerys breathed out, huffing, and puffing already. Lucerys quirked his eyebrow up at his brother’s approach. – “Y/n!... catch her…” – he made clear, pointing exhaustingly. Lucerys’s eyes widened figuring out it was you that almost ran him over. – “Y/n!” – Lucerys called out loud joining the chase. Now both your oldest brothers were chasing you, simply because you refused to get dressed.

“Y/n please!” – Luke called out. You ignored them, being in your stubborn stage of any five year old. You ran around Dragonstone to avoid your brothers. If they caught you, the fun would be over. Jacaerys and Lucerys gasped loud when they saw which way you were going. – “Y/n! No!” – Jacaerys yelled, hand stretched out in an attempt to stop you. – “Y/n! stop! No!” – Lucerys yelled between Jacaerys’s words in equal panic. You laughed loud, pushing the doors open. You ran inside, your laughter quickly dying as several serious heads turned your way. Swallowing nervously, you didn’t find it so funny anymore.

“Y/n?” – Rhaenyra said tilting her head a bit to the side. Mother sitting at a long table. Father at her right. Several other lords occupying any other seat. All looking curious and serious your way. Daemon chuckled silently, rubbing his finger over his lip. – “Are… are you still not dressed?” – Rhaenyra asked loudly. Her comment making every lord look away. Some looked up to the ceiling as others looked down at their own hands or the wall. You sheepishly smiled as Lucerys and Jacaerys came walking into the meeting room as well. – “Forgive us your grace.” – Jacaerys said taking a bow with his brother. Lucerys approached you, squeezing your shoulder firm.

“We will make sure she is presentable right away.” – Jacaerys added, hearing Daemon chuckle loudly now. His chuckling making Rhaenyra and the lords look his way. – “This is funny to you. Our daughter barging into a meeting room with barely nothing on.” – she asked him. – “Yes!” – Daemon responded loudly. Seeing Rhaenyra’s scowl made him sigh with a roll of his eyes. – “You are all too stiff to even form a laugh.” – he mumbled bothered. – “Sorry mommy…” – you said after Lucerys whispered to you to apologize. – “Sorry, your grace.” – you blurted out after receiving a hard nudge from your brother. 

You attempted to curtsy but almost stumbled forwards at a loss of balance. Rhaenyra smiling politely. - "That is alright my child." - she responded. Daemon sighed loud, shoving his chair back. – “Come say bye to daddy, Y/n.” – he said, not caring if anyone would not approve. It was after all his keep and his daughter. Smiling, you ran up to him. Arms wide open, he wrapped them around you, lifting you up with a grunt of pleasure. 

He gave you a big kiss before setting you back down. – “Now go get dressed Y/n.” – he said with a stern finger. You nodded. Daemon leaned closer whispering. – “Or mommy will scowl at me later.” – you held your hand for your mouth, chuckling. He spun you around, giving your bottom a pat to set you off. You ran back to your brother’s, taking Lucerys’s hand. Jacaerys bowed his head, hoping he wouldn’t receive a lecture about it later.

The three of you left the meeting. Lucerys exhaling relieved. – “Now come along Y/n!” – Jacaerys insisted tugging firm at your hand. You followed obedient. Your brothers remained in your room wanting to make sure you were properly dressed by your maid before you could escape her clutches again. Finally presentable, they left, leaving you alone. You remained in your room to play till you got bored and wanted to explore. Hopping whilst humming a hymn, you were followed by one of your personal guards. 

Staying close to you, but not too close to ruin your own game. Touching the walls, you hopped further down the hallway. – “Princess.” – Lords said bowing when passing you. Barely giving them a glance, you were so invested in your own imaginary game. More people started to pass through the corridor, carrying items for an upcoming banquet. You were so little; you could easily disappear. – “Princess?” – your guard called out in a slight panic. He pushed some ladies aside who carried fruit baskets. – “Princess!” – He repeated louder, shoving more people away that were blocking his view on you. 

You carelessly went your way, not knowing he wasn’t following anymore. Walking underneath iron plates that carried shot wildlife. You came at the end of the corridor, taking an unusual turn, you had never taken. Wondering where it would lead you. – “Princess!” – your guard panicked, fear clear in his tone. He got to the end of the corridor to a crossway, looking both ways. Sadly there was no sign of you. – “Princess!” – he shouted looking around to which way you might have gone.

There came no response as he started sweating. No other option then to tell your parents that he lost track of you. Swallowing nervously, he turned on his heel, heading for the throne room. You found yourself in a dark corridor where the air was damp. It was a bit chilly, but you kept going. Coming to some stone steps that lead you down. The closer you got, the warmer it suddenly became. Entering an open space down below ground, you stared in shock and awe. A low rumbling sound startled you. Despite it, you went further down. Chains rattled over the ground as something heavy moved. A heat coming off of it. 

You approached, making out vaguely a shape. A sharp nail slid your way, lighted up by the light coming from the torches. – “Puppy?” – you called out. The dragon Vermithor roared deep from below his stomach, lifting his head. You had a smile on your face, running up to the dragon. Vermithor watched you with a close eye, bringing his head closer to you. The exhale from his nose, blowing your hair back. You laughed as it tickled. – “Silly dragon puppy.” – you said waving your hand. 

Vermithor looked down as you ran up to his scaly body. The dragon sitting down, having barely moved. It tilted his head slightly as you laid down against it. Your body moving with his breathing motions. You hummed satisfied letting your small hand run over his scales. Gasping loud, you removed yourself from his body. Vermithor roared, shaking his head.

He turned his head sharply your way, feeling a tug on his body. He snarled angrily, bringing his head closer to his wing. He stopped snarling when his wing got lifted up a bit, revealing you. – “Boo.” – you said laughingly. You lowered the wing once more, hiding underneath it. Lifting it up once more, you revealed yourself to the dragon. Playing peek a boo with his wing. Vermithor’s tail swished over the ground as a playful sign. His wing went higher as you couldn’t reach it anymore. It almost made you cry as you were enjoying that. 

Then Vermithor dropped his wing, dropping it’s weight on you. You fell to the ground from the weight, laying flat down. Vermithor lifted his wing back up, surprised for a moment you weren’t there. Till it heard you laugh loud, laying down on your stomach. The dragon flapped his tail on the ground in delight. You got up, laying down by his warm belly. Snuggling against his scaly skin. Vermithor moving his head closer, giving you a little nudge with his nose.

“Your grace!” – The guard said, barging into the room. Rhaenyra slowly turning her head to him. Daemon revealing himself more, leaning closer to look behind his wife. – “Yes.” – she calmly said. – “It is the princess… I…I lost her.” – the guard openly confessed with a bow. – “What?” – Daemon called out, slamming his fist on the table. – “How can you loose a literal child! Have you perhaps gone blind? Should I poke an eye out or two for you to finally open your f*cking eyes!” – Daemon scolded, standing up with a knife pointed at the guard. 

Rhaenyra brought her hand down to calm him. Daemon settled back down with much complaining. – “Where did you last saw her.” – Rhaenyra asked. The guard told them where. Both pushed their chairs back, getting up in a haste. Rhaenyra and Daemon running over to where you were last seen. They searched every way, asking around if they had seen you. When all was lost, came a concerned thought to Daemon’s mind. 

“You don’t think…” – he started, looking concerned at Rhaenyra. She looked equally terrified. They both started running needing to look for themselves. Hoping they wouldn’t find your burned corpse. Running for their lives to the dragon’s pit. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Rhaenyra shouted, running down the stone steps. Daemon right behind her.

You lifted your head up, hearing your name. – “Y/n!” – Rhaenyra screamed with panic. Vermithor lifted his head roaring in their direction, putting them to a stop. Rhaenyra and Daemon staring in shock at the large dragon. – “Y/n. Y/n come slowly my way.” – Daemon told you, keeping a close eye on the dragon. – “Y/n please… slowly… don’t look at the dragon… look at me.” – Rhaenyra said motioning for you to come. She took one step, stopping at Vermithor snapping his jaw her way. Not letting them come any closer 

“Mommy, Daddy look at my puppy dragon.” – you exclaimed, pointing at the dragon’s head. Vermithor lowered his head to you. You wrapping your hands around his nose. Rhaenyra stared in shock at you. Daemon suddenly laughing. – “She’s got a dragon!” – he cheered, arms raised. – “Our daughter tamed a dragon at this age!” – he couldn’t be more proud. Rhaenyra chuckled once, finding some fun in it eventually. How was it that the smallest of Targaryen tamed a large dragon at such an age. Daemon knelt as you ran over to him. He picked you up, twirling with joy. – “You got yourself a dragon Y/n.” – he told you, resting his forehead against you. Rhaenyra joining to give you a kiss.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[simpingland]

Hiii I love your writing and I would love to request a Jace fic!! Tbh I don’t really have anything super specific in mind (I’ll literally take anything at this point, the jacaerys tags are so dead). Maybe something with a shy!jacaerys? Idk honestly whatever you want!!!!

Giants and other tiny things.// Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader.

When an invitation arrives from Casterly Rock, Jace will need the help of Daemon's ward. The lady, much more sociable and simple, will accept, despite (or precisely because) she is in love with him.

A/N: thank you for reaching me!!!! I loved to write this, specially making Jace shy, cuz it makes a lot of sense to me that he can be a bit of a cinnamon roll whenever he's far from his duties. Hope you like it❤️

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Jacaerys Velaryon went down in history as a prince of great skill and talent for alliances. A dark-haired Targaryen who made his mother proud. Even in his own time, the lords of Westeros heard these rumours of his honour and talent. And it was true that he had a hand at diplomacy, but he was not so brave with people his own age. And when Prince Daemon took a ward to Dragonstone, the young lady was surprised to see a Jace with a facility for blushing, but difficulty crossing glances or even speaking without stuttering And the young lady never missed an opportunity to tease him.

In the lessons you shared together, you didn't hesitate to ask him the same question over and over again, as if you didn't quite understand what the patient Prince was explaining. The smile you and Luke exchanged when he practised his Valyrian made him even more awkward. He would sometimes 'slap' you with a piece of paper, making you laugh and ultimately dismissed from the class. And later in the day, Jace would quietly pass you his notes, feeling guilty. You liked to sit too close to him, putting your arm over his books to watch him move slyly, trying not to get a reprimand from the Septa for making too much physical contact. And when no one was looking, you would write absurd phrases and drawings in his notes and watch him shake his head, hiding a shy smile. Rarely, too afraid to be seen, Jace would write back, but not on your notes, but on your hand. Words like "tosser," "arse," and always, always, he would leave a heart so badly done that the insult was ridiculous and childish. Your soul fell a little bit out of you every time you had to erase it. Already in the first months as a ward, you had felt too much attracted to the prince. A terrible mistake, for he would be betrothed to some important lady, and your House was not big enough to negotiate a marriage.

Besides, Jace would never want you that way. Your nature was totally contrary to his. So you thought that teasing him on a daily basis would be a good way to change his image in your own mind. But it ended up having the opposite result. When you felt his gaze from afar, you needed to be prepared to look back at him, for those eyes would stay with you for nights on end. And when you looked back at him, you always ended up daring him to go on. He, of course, never did, immediately averting his eyes. His flushed cheeks when at dinner Luke would mention how clumsy he'd been during training were so cute...and you couldn't help but peek in during those training sessions, where he'd show up in confidence with his little brother. He handled the sword like a toy, making clacking noises and trying to keep it in his palm with balance. And that smile... the one that always followed with a little laugh.

He was always good to you. As soon as you arrived, Rhaena and Luke welcomed you with confidence, too much perhaps. There were three ways to hang out with them, goofing around and joking together (and Jace was always the main target), putting up with their childish and not-so-childish fights (as they were both looking forward to getting married in the future) or putting up with their honeyed and romantic words. And the fights were fun for you, not so much for Jace. It was the latter that was unbearable. You were a total outcast, and Jace would then let you sit with him wherever he was. You could tell when you were bored because you'd start to be forcibly nice for the first ten minutes. Then Jace would say something that was worthy of mockery like he was so well trained with his sword that he could kill a giant right then and there. And he could see your sweet, sympathetic girl side disappear as you laughed at his exaggerated self-confidence.

"I was joking, clearly," he tried to correct himself.

"Yeah, clearly..." you kept laughing, resting your hand on his shoulder without realising it. "A little confidence is, fine, but you mustn't overdo it."

"I was joking, ok? Giants don't even exist."

"They do exist." You said it with such sudden seriousness that Jace was a little startled and stifled a smile.

"No. They don't exist."

"They do exist, and they're on the other side of the wall."

"Have you even seen them?" He raised an eyebrow, a crooked grin. But you were wiser.

"No, but I haven't been to the other side of The Wall either. And I don't know anyone who has, so I won't accept any empty assertions. Have you been to the other side of The Wall?" You folded your arms. And Jace's little laugh echoed through your head for the rest of the day.

The prince shook his head and pushed you aside affectionately. And you spent the afternoon talking about various creatures that Jace could never compare to his beloved dragons.

Jason Lannister's first male grandson would celebrate his name day in a small but important ceremony. As the future heir to the richest house in the Seven Kingdoms after the Velaryons, they wished for Rhaenyra to go. The Princess declined, and with an excuse, asked Jace to go in her place. After all, the grandson was closer in age to Jace than to her, and having suffered enough with the Lannisters, her son must begin to see what lay ahead. Of course, to his mother, Jace said only that he would do so without protest, but in the privacy of the young friends feeding the dragons, he begged Luke to join him.

"No way. If it seems boring to you, the most 'proper' person I know, then I can't imagine what kind of nightmare you want to drag me into."

"It doesn't have to be boring. I just don't want to go alone... I don't know what to prepare for, it's a..."

"Party?" Rhaena finished for him.

"Yes... Please, Luke, come with me, you know how to make friends better than I do." Jace was about to get down on his knees with his begging.

"That's true, but I don't want to. Lannisters don't make good friends. Besides, you should learn these things on your own. We shouldn't be your only friends."

"Do you have other friends?" He asked him wryly. When you and Rhaena laughed, Jace turned to you both and then you immediately knew you'd made a mistake.

"What about you, ladies? Please...maybe you meet a nobleman of your liking..."

"I'm already betrothed!" Rhaena quickly excused herself, leaving you all alone.

"I can't, I have to..." as you made up an excuse, Jace's eyes narrowed on you. He seemed to be bracing himself for another refusal and his expression made him even more handsome. "...Alright."

It would be a lie if you said you weren't nervous. Not only did you have to choose an appropriate dress, you also had to fly with Jace to get there. Either that or spend a week in a carriage. That second option, as much as you shouldn't, was the one you wanted most. But Rhaenyra wanted the Lannisters not to forget that dragons still existed and that their future king was a good rider. When you mounted Vermax, Jace seemed more nervous than you. Luke, Daemon and Rhaenyra had already let you fly with them on their dragons, and the feeling was fantastic, and you didn't expect any different now. Of course, being so close to Jace was something that seemed to make him uncomfortable, and you tried not to tighten your grip too much. The ride was short, and the skies were calm, so you both enjoyed spectacular views, his speed allowing you to keep your hands loosely on his shoulders. You let Jace tell you everything he had studied about the places you were gazing at, and there was a moment when he fell completely silent.

"Jace?" You asked. "Have you seen anything?"

"No, I just...I thought you weren't listening." He tilted his head a little to try to look at you.

"Well, I am. So go on."

You saw a smile appear as he looked straight ahead again, and continued with his stories. The stories could be boring, they were always about offended men killing other offended men and marrying their orphaned daughters. But Jace told them with such devotion that it was much better than when the Maester sat you down to write such stories. And though you knew most of them already, Jace made new sense of it all.

The young Lannister invited a few more young men, and you were struck by the "austerity" of the dinner. Few were the lords of their houses, for they were all about as young as you and Jace. Of course, the most important guest was Jace, and to your chagrin, there was only one other woman. Beside you stood the young hair of House Tully, as tall as he was dull, and the boy of House Tarth, as short as he was annoying. You could see Jace's face with that serious expression he wore when he tried to be diplomatic, but the Lannister's stupid, disinterested tone made him look out of place. You couldn't help him in the conversation because the heir of Tarth kept making noise, fiddling with his knife as he epically narrated his way of cutting the steak. Jace saw your irritation and sent you a sympathetic glance. You made a not-so-disguised mimicry with your knife as if you now wanted to stick the knife into the boy. The poor prince opened his eyes wide, fearing you had been seen.

"Will you be quiet now, Lord Bryndemere?" The voice of the young Lady Glover rang out loudly, startling everyone. Her dark dress full of leathers and metals gave her a more dignified air than many of the other men there. Of course, the boy stopped and you saw how he was almost on the verge of tears, but you felt no pity at all. And from the smiles of the guests, you were not the only one who was grateful. When the music began, you lost all faith that you could hear Jace's conversation, and when the young Lannister yawned undisguised, the Prince's disappointment broke your heart.

Since you were both bored, you decided to entertain yourself as you did at home. Under the table, your foot slyly groped the floor until you found one of Jace's feet and stepped on it. You didn't hurt him, but he gave you a furtive glance as he quickly moved his feet away. You just smiled at him and shrugged. You did it again, and then again, until Jace couldn't help but retaliate, and wanted to step on you again. Of course, he was more brutish, and when he stepped on you, your smile disappeared as you held back a whimper. Jace panicked for a second, but when you stomped him back, all his pity disappeared.

"Is something wrong, my Prince?" the Lannister asked.

"What? No, no." Jace blushed. He was about to let you win. He didn't. He threw his foot against yours again, but you got lucky.

"What in the seven hells?" Lord Tully snapped angrily. They all turned to him. Jace went white, and before he had to have an even worse time, you decided to lie.

"A rat!"

And you sowed panic with your lie. Everyone rose from their chairs, the braver ones keeping their distance from the table as you scanned the floor for the rodent. The not-so-brave climbed into their chairs, and those in question were little Bryndemere of Tarth and the Lannister himself. Lady Glover picked up her knife confidently, and approached you.

"Where has it gone?" she asked you. For a moment you found it hard to continue the lie, too pleased with the result. But acting was also fun for you.

"I don't know, I just saw it running around!" Your exaggerated tone was more than familiar to Jace and you watched as he tried to pretend he was looking for the rat when in truth he was chuckling under his breath.

The dinner ended there and then, partly because of the rat and partly (and largely) because of the host's embarrassment. You retired to the room that had been prepared for you, and alone you laughed at the events. There were two beds, and the room itself looked like a small house that no peasant could afford. And while Jace was taking off his boots, you were taking off your troublesome dress in your room.

"I have to admit, little Lord Tarth has given me some pity," Jace said from his bed.

"That's because you haven't had him beside you. Lady Glover is my new heroine. I'll compose odes to her." Your response made him laugh.

"You're way too dramatic."

You walked out of the room, your hair already down. And you watched as Jace had also settled in, sitting on his bed and somewhat surprised to see you for the first time with your hair just the way it was.

"I may be too dramatic, in fact, it is a talent, but I've saved you from making a very awkward apology, Jacaerys." You put your hands on your waist, feigning offense.

"You're right." He rose from the bed. "Thank you."

He was back to that diplomatic tone.

"Oh, Jace, it was nothing. It's been fun, we should lie more often. Now do me a favour and help me get the sleeves off my dress."

You turned away, hiding your own blush. You didn't want to call a maid for something as simple as undoing buttons, but you already knew your arms wouldn't reach and you weren't smart enough to think of another dress. Besides, that one looked spectacular on you. You felt Jace come up behind you, and by the way he hesitated before putting his hands behind your back you knew he was nervous too.

"I wasn't talking about the rat..." his fingers were precise, not clumsy at all, and he paid attention to what he was doing, carefully releasing your sleeves. "Thank you for making this fun. Sometimes I'm too serious...but you're not. And I don't- I don't mean that offensively, I mean...you're fun, and young and light. And I feel like you rub off on me, and that with you I'm a version of me where everything is easier."

He finished undoing each button and didn't pull away. You turned to look at him and watched as his eyes travelled from the floor to your eyes. You couldn't help but touch him, your hand seemed to travel to his face on its own, and your fingers caressed his cheek, so clean-shaven and with those pronounced cheekbones. Who could deny the authenticity of Jace "Targaryen"? No one who had seen him in person, of course.

"The politics make men old and ugly, I'm just looking out for your good looks..." you joked, and felt his dimple in your hand. "I know you have too much pressure on you. We all know that, and forgive me if Luke and I ever go too far."

"Easy...I like your jokes. They make me feel smart when the maesters tell you off. I like every little thing you say to me and every idea you have in that weird but strangely beautiful mind of yours."

Okay, this was a little payback from Jace. For it was you now who wanted to pull away and push him away, unable to contain your blushes and wanting to scream at his words. And he could see it, because Jace was smart and attentive, but he didn't expect your reaction. You quickly pulled your hand away from his face, but no one could wipe the smile off your face.

"Wow..." was all you could think of.

"I've never seen you at a loss for words before," he joked.

"I'm not used to so much...appreciation."

"But...you like this 'appreciation'?"

"Yes...I liked it. And I'm not as good with words as you."

Jace took your hand and looked at it, carefully touching the rings that decorated it.

"Well, one thing I've always admired about you is that you always come up with something without needing to use too many words."

And then he looked into your eyes with all the confidence he had always lacked. And your body and mind stopped struggling to get that one thing you had always dreamed of and had forbidden yourself. You threw yourself to his lips, and you felt Jace release your hand to pull your body closer, holding your waist. His lips were so full that it felt so much better than you had imagined, and Jace was slow, enjoying the quietness of the room. When you pulled apart, Jace seemed to realise what had just happened, and you immediately felt terrible. After all, you weren't his fiancée.

"I'm sorry..." you said, pulling away.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked, searching for your face.

"Yes! Yes, I liked it..." you reassured him. "I just don't want to get my hopes up."

"Get your hopes up?"

"I've dreamed of this kiss since the day I met you. But even then I knew someone like you wouldn't marry me. I'd probably marry some common lord like little Bryndemere. And you know, no matter what, I'll be happy as long as I don't get to marry a Tully. He'll bore me to death."

You laughed to yourself, trying to hide the true sorrow you felt at your own reality. This kiss would be one of many that Jace would receive from multiple ladies, when you were already far away, locked in some castle and married to someone other than him. You had already gotten used to the idea, and that kiss was at once as broad and grand as it was scant and short. Now it was Jace who caressed your face.

"I will not allow you to marry Bryndemere. I couldn't bear to live out my days knowing you were away, trying to stab a child. And I won't let you marry a Tully, either, because I know you'd be kicked out of the castle on the third day. I think you'd better stay by my side."

Then he kissed you again, stroking your hair and pulling you even closer that before. You slept in his bed, where you spent the night talking about things that didn't matter, and about things that did. Morning came and you found yourself alone in the bed, Jace was up early and when you came down to say goodbye, he was already waiting for you outside. Before you left, Lady Glover stopped you in the middle of your way.

"Are you the girl who likes giants so much?" she asked you, frowning but in a much kinder tone than you had heard her the night before.

"Yes, you could say they intrigue me..." that was the most correct answer.

"Well, just so you know, my father and Lord Stark travelled to the wall a few years ago. And my father brought home a giant skull. Giants are hard to kill, but they're not immortal...my mother hates to see it in the living room, but I like it, it's creepy." She sniffed air and waited for you to react. When you gawked she gave you a dirty look.

"Giants do exist?"

"Are you deaf? I just told you they do."

"I'm sorry, it's just that... you just made me so happy. I just won so many arguments, my lady." If you could have, you would have hugged her, but the girl wasn't very encouraging.

"Well... now I understand why the Prince asked me to tell you. Anyway, you southern people are so cynical. You can come to see the skull any time, but I warn you, there might be rats in the castle as well."

And she left. When you arrived at Vermax the Prince had already mounted and was smiling at you expectantly. He helped you up and this time you were not afraid to cling to his back, your hands on his chest and your face between his neck and shoulder.

"If Princess Rhaenyra does not let me marry you, Jacaerys Velaryon, I will become the most hateful and irritating lady in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Rest assured, the Princess will not let the heir of Tarth be in danger."

And with a gentle punch on the shoulder, Jace laughed and turned to kiss you sweetly on the lips before ordering Vermax to rise.

[bvckbiter]

as the ta server well knows, ive been obsessed lately with the concept of TA animalsonas (technically could be shifter/hybrid AUs too, though the animals are more for vibes than any actual plotline atm) so i thought i’d share some ideas here! yay 💃🏻👯🪩

luke - white king cobra: has gold markings on his crown and one golden eye (in lukronos mode); venomous; retains the slit snake eyes and fangs as human

chris - brown bighorn ram: one horn broken off post-labyrinth, matching with clarisse’s (boar) one broken tusk; retains the horns and the tail as human

silena - pink sparrow: VERY TINY!!; song can enchant like charmspeak but more hypnotic; retains forehead and shoulder plummage as human, like natural accessories/costume; loves flying with beckendorf (black-necked crane)

ethan - swan: no he does not have his eyepatch in swan form, it’s just closed shut; retains plummage around his neck, almost like a collar and also the same black facial markings as a swan, extending from the outer corners of his eyes down to the point of his nose

al - brown greyhound: very lanky and twiggy; retains dog ears and tail in human form; retains ridiculous radium eyes in dog form; is all outfitted (collar etc) by his mom lmao

only sharing luke’s because the rest are so messy tbh HABJENDJS DISASTER!!!… but mostly because theyre concept drafts mainly to help me visualize these things. i do wanna draw stuff like comics etc with these its so fun (ta server has given me so many ideas about crane!beckendorf and swan!ethan just thrashing the absolute shit out of snake!luke)

[clavissionary-position]

CLAVIS × READER, Waltzhectica

N O T E S This is a suuuper-old fic I wrote over a year ago but never posted, long before I read Clavis' route. So his characterization here is based on how shady he seemed before we discovered who he really is. I also added some tiny edits. I remember I was inspired by the writings of gilbertvonobsidian and ndoandou <3

Clavis Lelouch has hands for tuning traps.

Clavis Lelouch has hands for placing pitfalls on roads he's paved, pebble by rigged pebble.

Clavis Lelouch has hands for forgeries and framing friends.

Clavis Lelouch has hands for betrayal.

So why do you take his hand when he asks for a dance?

His approach is preceded by a prance of bergamot, a jaunt of peony, and it sends your heart hammering.

You'd asked Rio to leave the small thank-you in Chevalier's faction office, a week ago. It wasn't much, and you'd rather not have gifted Clavis anything at all for fear of further entangling yourself in his plots.

And yet it seems now that you've done precisely that.

A young, merry couple cuts across his path, but the thread between him and you only cinches ever-taut. You are the rabbit in his prowling gaze. He is the hedonistic hellcat in yours.

His elegant, ambling strides carry him to tower and tantalize before you. His bewitching expression glitters under chandelier-light.

A man so gorgeous yet so wicked should not exist. But Clavis Lelouch defies expectation and common sense.

He bows and holds out that portentous hand, asking you to see the gentleman and not the beast.

Strangely, you see neither. Strangely, you almost see humility.

Clavis Lelouch is no stranger to masks. You know this as well as you know your own heart.

But tonight both those certainties come into question. You take the devil's hand, scared, but above all intrigued.

He yanks you into his arms and sweeps you into pandemonium. Into the maw of the ballroom, where grace promptly dies and something that could never be called a dance spirals into unholy existence.

Clavis Lelouch reigns as crooked king over the lawless land in his head. And for three weird minutes on this alluring night, he ferries you, flailing limbs and panicked gasps, into his private underworld.

"Take care to hold on," chuckles your ferryman, knowing full-well that you are holding on for dear life.

He tests your spine as the top of your head grazes a tray of appetizers. Luke's bear key-chain finds a new home between your teeth. You catch morsels of political discourse as you are hurtled above Chevalier and his audience.

But somehow you escape death (and even injury) because somehow Clavis catches you every time, with heedless but confident hands, and with such mirth dancing in his eyes.

The string ensemble has capsized, the guests watch in horror, and Clavis―Clavis laughs.

A hearty laugh that thrums in your veins and sets your skin tingling.

You don't know if you're having fun exactly, but whatever this is, it is rare and unforgettable.

And as he draws you into a grand and terrible finale, as he shushes you with only an exquisite finger separating his sylphlike lips from yours, and as he disappears into the astonished crowd, you're left thinking that "rare" and "unforgettable" is exactly how you'd describe Clavis Lelouch.

--- Thank you for reading!

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Hellsing Rewatch: Episode Two Thoughts

(Picking this up a full year later)

Why is Van Helsing German 😭 In the novel he also throws in random German phrases. Sir you are Dutch??

Forever a funny choice to give Alucard a black coat in the flashback and Van Helsing the red coat. Alucard wants to be him so bad

Love that Van Helsing looks like an amalgamation of Integra (eye color), Arthur (the hair), and Anderson (the general shape of the lower half of his face

We went off topic for a bit thinking about a btvs and Hellsing crossover, and how much Integra and Buffy would dislike each other. Also my one and only Hellsing face cast opinion is that Seras would look like a young Sarah Michelle Gellar so that would be funny. Also the entire Zorin fight would be so so devastating to see her act out.

Joshua!!!!

The way the front of the Hellsing estate looks so dry and withered. I like to think that’s Alucard’s impact.

Jan is so annoying jesus

Is… is the mist in the Hellsing hallway always there?

How exactly does Integra guess that they have a security leak? Anyway rip rip her going from “We have a security leak” to talking to Walter in the same breath

Or like the spears in the painting, is that just a trap they always have set up? How many soldiers and like random staff have these people accidentally killed because the manor is so full of dumb traps

There are SO MANY paintings in the hallways. Integra will not furnish her home but by god she will decorate the walls.

Jesus even in the conference room. I wonder how much tax evasion is happening with those paintings

“I don’t know who armed and trained these creatures” SURE YOU DON’T WALTER

Luke choosing to dramatically break down the door instead of just… opening it?

Rip Alucard just sitting in the dark like a fucking weirdo.

The way he has NOTHING in his gloomy ass basement room. Just a single chair and a tiny side table. He truly gets no enrichment in his enclosure. No wonder he’s so unwell

WALTER CUM DORNEZ

Walter is basically just evil Giles, yes?

I forgot how horny this show is for guns holy shit

The falling wine glass is a very fun visual to highlight how quickly they draw and shoot their respective weapons

LOLLL Alucard laughing and the Luke starting up a couple seconds later because he doesn’t want to be left out

::shuddering:: Jan’s arm comes off so easily

Still really pissed that they took out the “Welcome to Hellsing”

Alucard’s so gross 💖💖💖 all the centipedes and the eyes and the baby screaming sound effects!!!

It’s also genuinely such a fun choice to have his head and hands fall away like that, it really gives the impression that they’re like just for show.

He’s so excited to be fighting with someone, and then like so genuinely mad and disappointed when Luke isn’t up to par lmao

The way he keeps calling Luke a punk in the subtitle translation 😭😭

Love that he apparently knows that the rest of the gang are struggling against Jan upstairs but he still chooses to do nothing

The cooldown hug 💖💖💖

I like to think that Walter is so defensive of Islands blaming Integra for everyone in the manor dying (lmao) because it was his fault. He’s like hey she couldn’t have foreseen this!

I do think it’s still absolutely ludicrous that no one survived sjdjdhdfs

The way Integra’s never fucking heard of Star Wars. God I wish that were me

[burnwater13]

Image depicts two Stormtroopers looking in cloth bag as they discuss the bag's contents. Caption reads: What is that thing, anyway? - Trooper 2, Uh, I don't know. Maybe Moff wants to eat it. I don't ask questions. - Trooper 1. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 8, Redemption. Calendar by DateWorks.

What in the galaxy can Grogu tell you about Stormtroopers that you don’t already know? They all seem to be humans? Uff. They are mostly male? Who cares! They have lousy armor? Everyone knows that, including them. They have lousy aim? See above, lousy armor. It was so frustrating. 

He wanted to tell you something new. Something interesting. Something even a tiny bit funny. But there was nothing funny about a bunch of bullies wearing armor and punching people who were just minding their own business. If you need a guide, the use of the words ‘bullies’ and ‘punching’ are the ones that eliminated them from being funny in any real sense. 

It was really too bad that those people didn’t have something better to do. Somewhere better to be. Something, almost anything, better to say. What if, instead of being the people warlords used to compel other people to behave in certain ways, they were just a bunch of creative folks who played dress up and helped the communities they lived in? Now, that would be cool.

Imagine a whole bunch of people who just liked making stuff, and armor is stuff, and since it’s pretty easy to get the drawings and specifications of Imperial Stormtrooper armor, that’s what they make. Then maybe they get together a couple of times per cycle and pretend that they are Stormtroopers, but everyone knows that they aren’t. So it’s fun. 

You could do skits and pretend that Darth Vader is coming to visit your school, but really it’s just a joke so the new kid gets introduced to their class and they all have fun? How would people know it’s a joke? Because new kid ‘Darth Vader’ is only 1.2 meters tall! And they say, “Hi, my name is Dalli and I just moved here from Corellia.” Or words to that effect. 

Or you have another kid pretend to be Master Luke. They are all dressed in black (which is still silly from Grogu’s perspective) and they have a fake lightsaber and challenge the fake Stormtroopers to a battle and the fake Stormtroopers all just lay down on the ground as if they were just overwhelmed by the mere presence of a Jedi. Cool, huh?

Yes, there is a non-zero risk of one of those people, playing Vader or Luke actually having some ability to use the Force, but everyone would figure that out real quick and take action. Like throwing water balloons! Grogu had never met a Sith who could handle being peppered with a hundred water balloons. 

Even if you didn’t do stuff like that, which would be a pity because Grogu really wanted to see someone in a ‘Trooper costume that was painted like a star field, or the ocean, or a mythosaur (which would very clearly indicate that they weren’t real Stormtroopers), you could muster out and find a different path. 

Stormtroopers must have had some transferable skills. The Tie-Fighter pilots could just fly other ships. Goods traveled all over the galaxy. All those ships couldn’t just be automated. Some of them probably needed pilots. Certainly the tourist trade had improved since the Empire fell. They could take groups of tourists around… or maybe not. You really don’t want to take tourists to Jakku if that’s where most of the people you know ended up crashing into the planet… hmmm.

Maybe they could be crossing guards at the schools that were popping up all around the galaxy. Helping the children and their parents be safe while getting to and from school. Of course schools didn’t really need a lot of crossing guards. Usually they just had a protocol droid handle the problem. 

Wow. Was that why they continued doing the work they had done before? They didn’t know what else to do? They were used to people just doing what they were told to do and if they weren’t a Stormtrooper anymore that wouldn’t happen? That seemed pretty silly. Lots of people were trained to do one thing and ended up having to do other things to survive. 

Grogu had planned on following the path of the Jedi and becoming someone’s padawan (he really wanted to be Obi-Wan’s padawan) and then eventually a Knight and then he’d take over the library or the Arboretum and make sure that the knowledge of the Jedi was preserved or at least the last scraps of nature on Coruscant were preserver for future generations. 

He had imagined taking trips around the galaxy to collect specimens of plants and learn the customs and myths of all the various tribes that filled the galaxy and bringing that all back to the temple so other Jedi, younglings, padawans, and Knights, could learn from it. He’d learn new languages, make friends everywhere, and help people however he could while he was there. 

Unfortunately, the guy who decided to replace the Clones with Stormtroopers had ruined that path for him. He had to leave Coruscant, hide from the Empire, not use the Force, and be very, very careful about making friends. Even after that guy was gone, Grogu still had to be careful because folks who refused to take off their white armor were still trying to find him, and even when they didn’t know who he was, they were still trying to push him around. Why anyone chose the path of ‘bully’ still baffled him. 

Oh well. You all know how that ended. Those particular bullies ended up finding out the hard way that IG-11 took its path very seriously. The droid was programmed to protect Grogu and that’s what it did. If Grogu had thought about it for a moment he could have collected their helmets. He’d always wanted a set of bongos. Dank Farrik.

[sinfulskywalker]

Dinluke ask:

Din waking to find his ad'ika and c'yare gone from bed. He is worried and searches the temple, finding the two Jedi dancing in the morning rain

Luke, a child who seldom knew rain hearing pitter patter on the roof and smells something earthy, fresh and wet; goes outside to investigate because he cannot fall back asleep. Grogu a youngling who knows rain bring frogs and puddles to jump in whining with tiny arms to be held and carried. He wants to go too.

The scene is magnificent to the two Jedi as they stretch up into the heavens above, Luke in pure wonder and amazement and Grogu in good fun.

Din snorts himself awake, wondering why he's up early and notices the crib and his lover's side of the bed empty. Panicking slightly he searches the house and when he's drawing a blank he catches the eye of a blonde mop running in the backyard.

No way.

Yes. There they are. His husband and Ad'ika playing in the rain. So innocently and just enjoying themselves.

Din may or may not have snapped a few holos for safe keeping of this memory before calling them both in before they got sick.

[devildomwriter]

Secret Santa Skit

Diavolo: “Okay everyone. Last year we did a secret gift exchange and…there were some interesting results…”

Luke: “I ended up with silky red thongs!”

Asmodeus: “If you didn’t like it you could’ve just given them to me!”

Luke: “No!”

Diavolo: “Anyway…this year we are playing a different kind of gifting game. MC, take it away!”

MC: “What? I was supposed to explain?”

Diavolo: “Yes!”

MC: “Okay-Uh…We will be doing a fun game called secret Santa. In this version, you know who you’ll be getting a gift for, but they don’t know who their Santa is, that’s why it’s called secret Santa.”

Luke: “Can we choose who we get?”

MC: “Nope. You draw names out of a hat and there’s usually a money limit and we should probably do that because some of us aren’t rich and don’t want to give lousy presents in comparison to whatever the hell Diavolo might get you.”

Mammon: “So what’s the limit, then?”

Diavolo: “Hm…does a million grim sound okay?”

MC: “Hell no, that’s almost ten thousand dollars worth?”

Diavolo: “How much grim do you have then?”

MC: “…”

MC: “Like a dollar’s worth…so about 100 grim….”

Everyone: “…”

Lucifer: “Mammon what’d you do?”

Mammon: “Huh!? Nothing!”

MC: “I may have gotten carried away last time I went shopping….it’s okay…I’ll just work again…”

Barbatos: “Yes, I’d advise that…”

MC: “Right…anyway by Christmas I should have about 20,000 grim if I work hard enough…but maybe 2,000 grim would be enough.”

Satan: “Can you even buy something decent with that?”

MC: “Yes!”

Diavolo: “Alright then. How about we just don’t stress our bank accounts?”

MC: “No! I’m gonna feel bad when one of you ends up with something lame and everyone else gets a diamond necklace or something?”

Diavolo: “If I’m not the person you’re gifting then you can ask me for help, I’m sure Lucifer would do the same.”

MC: “Well then I’m gonna feel bad about spending your money???”

Simeon: “How about you make them something. A handmade gift speaks volumes.”

MC: “Hm…I guess that could work…but I still feel there should be some kind of rule.”

Lucifer: “I think the only rule should be obvious. That we get what that person wants and not something we’d like so they can just return it to you like last year.”

Simeon: “I really liked my gift last year though.”

Diavolo: “Me too, but…some people, like Luke…ended up with silk thongs…”

Simeon: “That wasn’t even a thong it was a piece of string.”

Mammon: “Ahahaha. It was really funny watching Luke’s face though.”

Belphegor: “Pfft—hehehe, it was.

Lucifer: “Anyway…I support this idea. People are more likely to be satisfied with their gifts if the gifter knows who’s receiving it.”

Barbatos: “Yes. That way we can avoid getting our own gifts, unfortunate scandals with an angel child, and the unfortunate beef situation.”

Satan: “I thought we agreed to never talk about the beef situation.”

Barbatos: “I agreed to no such thing.”

Satan: “Gr…”

MC: “Uh, why don’t I know about this?”

Satan: “Because we don’t speak of it!”

Everyone: “…”

Solomon: “…right…are we going to be choosing our gift receiver from a hat then?”

Barbatos: “I’ve prepared this bucket. All of your names have been put in and you mustn’t look at the bucket while choosing.”

Solomon: “Of course.”

Diavolo: “And if you get your own name just put it back.”

Satan: “That’s just common sense.”

Belphegor: “No…I’m pretty sure if Mammon got his own name he wouldn’t put it back.”

Asmodeus: “Yeah probably not.”

Mammon: “Hey! I feel like I’m being insulted.”

Lucifer: “To some degree you are. Now then, MC, why don’t you draw first.”

MC: “Yeah, okay.”

You fiddled with the papers inside the hat for an annoyingly long time before picking one you felt must be right.

You opened the tiny slip of paper to see the name written across—Barbatos.

Everyone noticed the puzzled look on your face as you struggled to think of something more meaningful than silverware to buy.

You stuffed it in your pocket before anyone could peek and stepped to the side next to Lucifer who drew a name and instantly scowled which indicated it was probably Mammon.

Satan chuckled at his reaction and drew a name next to which he also looked disgusted and asked to draw again. Barbatos refused and he sulked as he walked back to the line.

Mammon trotted up confidently but stiffened up when he saw the name.

Mammon: “Dammit, not the puppy!”

Lucifer: “Really Mammon!”

Belphegor: “It was a secret dumbass!”

Mammon shrunk in on himself and Luke glared at him and huffed, certain he wouldn’t be getting a good gift.

Levi drew a name next and immediately cringed.

Diavolo was trying not to laugh at everyone’s reactions as this time Asmo drew a name and glared.

Asmodeus: “Uck, really?”

Diavolo covered his mouth as he snorted and Barbatos couldn’t help but turn his head and cover his mouth as he chuckled.

Lucifer glared at the both of them but they didn’t care. Diavolo seemed to really be enjoying himself.

The others drew names, occasionally scowling or looking confused. Diavolo and Barbatos drew last. Diavolo seemed pleasantly surprised and Barbatos looked thoroughly confused and showed the name to Diavolo, who also displayed confusion.

Diavolo seemed to be thinking back on something and shrugged. Lucifer looked curious about their conversation and stayed behind with them afterwards.

Diavolo and Barbatos started laughing so you assumed Lucifer did not get either of them.

Mammon immediately linked his arm through yours and pulled you to the side.

Mammon: “Hey, who’d ya get?”

MC: “I don’t know if I should tell you considering you gave away yours.”

Mammon covered his mouth and gave a mischievous laugh.

Mammon: “Heh, that’s what you think. I wanted to add a dramatic flair to throw my giftee off my tracks.”

MC: “Is that so?”

Mammon: “Yeah, see.”

Mammon showed you the slip of paper with Beel’s name written on it.

MC: “Huh. Who knew.”

Mammon: “What is that supposed to mean? I’ve got great ideas Y’know?”

MC: “Okay sure. Why are you showing me anyway?”

Mammon: “Cause you gotta help me find stuff—“

Luke: “Mammon!”

Mammon: “Huh?”

Luke: “Since it’s obvious you’re my secret Santa I need a word with you okay?”

Mammon: “Wha? Nah I think I’ve got this figured out.”

Luke: “You ruined my surprise so you’re gonna listen to me, got that, demon?”

Mammon: “Hey!”

MC: “Sorry Mammon, but Lucifer is calling me.”

Mammon: “No he ain’t!”

You sped walked away in the direction of Lucifer, Barbatos, and Diavolo who stopped talking when you came into earshot.

Diavolo: “Why hello, MC. Are you excited?”

MC: “Most definitely. Also, I’m being nosy, so what are you laughing about?”

They gave each other a look and chuckled.

Lucifer: “We think Mammon may have put on a little performance.”

MC: “Oh, that? Yeah, he told me in like five seconds.”

Lucifer: “Of course he did…we just found it surprisingly tactful of him. Did he show you who he got?”

MC: “Beel.”

Lucifer: “Ah. I assumed he must’ve gotten you based on his reaction, I suppose he was just being dramatic.”

MC: “Now he’s got Luke following him around.”

Lucifer: “Hahahaha. Does he? That should be fun to watch.”

Diavolo: “Barbatos and I worried we may have written Luke’s name twice when Barbatos drew his name.”

Simeon: “Oh, you did?”

Lucifer: “Simeon. You here to tell us what he wants?”

Simeon: “I’m certain Mammon could do a better job of that. I’m here to request a quick visit to the celestial realm. I have an idea of something for Levi but it’s back home.”

Diavolo: “Is that so? Why I wouldn’t mind at all. Please do send Michael my regards and wish him a merry Christmas.”

Simeon: “I shall. I’m also certain he’ll be quite confused.”

The men chuckled and you stood there feeling a little left out. You needed to ask Lucifer about things Barbatos liked other than tea and cooking. He dedicated his entire life and personality to Diavolo—

That was it!

Diavolo! What would Barbatos want for Diavolo?

You suddenly smiled wickedly and the men stared at you in concern as you laughed to yourself and walked away, heading home to do some research.

Diavolo: “Should…should we be concerned?”

Lucifer: “Maybe. I’ll deal with it when I get home.”

After returning home, long after his brothers, Lucifer made his way to your room where he found you cross-legged on the bed staring at your laptop.

Lucifer: “MC?”

MC: “Uh-Huh?”

Lucifer: “What are you planning?”

MC: “A gift for Barbatos.”

Lucifer: “Do you need advice-“

MC: “Nope. You had your chance and I thought of something better. Need anything else?”

Lucifer: “Not really…but do you mind spying on Satan for me?”

MC: “Huh? Why?”

Lucifer: “Report every action to me and I’ll lend you the money for Barbatos’s gift.”

MC: “You got yourself a deal.”

The next day you wrapped yourself in a scarf and snuck out the door. You stayed about a hundred feet from Satan at all times and did your best to remain inconspicuous. When he went into a shop, you would go into the shop across the street and wait inside, watching to see when Satan would leave.

You were used to Satan’s routine so you found it very suspicious when he weaved in and out of music shops. It wasn’t his style and you had an inkling of an idea of who’s gift he was looking for and it caused you to laugh hard enough Satan noticed you from across the street.

You could barely contain yourself and were crying through laughter when Satan came to help you to your feet.

Satan: “What in the devildom, are you alright?”

MC: “Y-You got Lucifer, didn’t you!? Ahahahahaha!”

Satan: “Oh, be quiet, I didn’t want to!”

After you caught your breath you felt tremendous pride that Satan was making an effort to get his brother a gift.

Satan: “Just why are you grinning like that? It’s embarrassing me.”

MC: “Haha, is it? I’m sorry. I just can’t believe you’re really getting him something. Can I help?”

Satan blushed and shook his head but asked you a familiar question.

Satan: “Could you spy on him for me? Maybe learn something I don’t know about his usual routines?”

You agreed and linked your arm through his, smiling brightly. This way Satan would ask you to stay and you’d be less suspicious for shopping with him.

Occasionally Satan would pull treats from his pocket and leave them in the alley. You watched as cats came running to him.

He excitedly introduced one cat in particular to you. A gray cat you saw around the streets quite often. You recalled all the times you’d seen Satan fretting as he watched the cat cross the street or how he’d tense when he heard a cat fight and would walk in the direction to break it up.

There was likely no convincing Lucifer to get Satan a cat. Only a highly trained dog like Cerberus, or an animal who could be enclosed like a snake or a fish was acceptable to him. He’d hinted at a past incident where Satan had been allowed one cat but the flashbacks gave him a haunted look like he was remembering the great celestial war so you didn’t question it further.

After a few hours with Satan, you wanted nothing more than to go home when you saw Mammon looking pissed and noticed Luke following close behind, with Solomon following behind him.

Satan laughed and parted from you to go home as you decided to save Mammon and question the others about their luck with shopping.

MC: “Mammon! Hey!”

Mammon: “MC! My savior! Help me!”

Mammon nearly leaped into your arms he wrapped his arms around you and cried into your shoulder while Luke tapped his foot irritably.

Solomon finally caught up to Luke and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Mammon: *sob* “Make it—make it stooooop!” *sob*

Solomon: “Luke, maybe we should stop berating Mammon for once?”

Luke: “But—“

Solomon: “To me, it almost sounds like you’re being greedy? Just like Mammon don’t you think?”

Luke: “Ack! No! Never!”

Solomon: “Mammon, why don’t you go home for now?”

MC: “I’m gonna talk with Solomon and Luke, Satan is around the corner if you want to cry to him, okay?”

Mammon: “He’s gonna be meeeeeaaaaaan!”

MC: “Mammon, I love you sweetie, but please….”

Mammon nodded and sniffed, he turned around to glare at Luke before he sprinted home.

MC: “Geez, angle boy, what’d you do to him?”

Solomon: “Luke moved on from asking for cookbooks to asking for Mammon to change his behavior.”

MC: “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Sorry, Luke.”

Luke: “Hmph!”

MC: “So, Solomon, Luke, you wanna tell me who you got?”

Solomon: “I don’t mind. I’ve gotten Belphegor. I’m sure a pillow will suffice, right?”

MC: “Maybe you should be more meaningful?’

Solomon: “I’m not sure Belphie really cares…”

MC: “Probably not but I’m sure his brothers will just get him pillows for Christmas anyway.”

Solomon: “Hm. That’s true…I’d hate to lack in originality. Luke and I were going to look around Majolish, would you like to join? Maybe you can find your giftee something nice?”

MC: “My gift is actually ready to pick up at the book store.”

Solomon: “Really? What about?”

MC: “Trust me, you’ll find out. It’s sure to get a reaction…hehehe.”

Luke: “MC you’re doing the scary laugh thing again.”

MC: “Oops, my bad. So, who’d you get Luke?”

Luke: “Diavolo! Can you believe it! He has everything and he can just get whatever he wants, what am I supposed to get him?”

MC: “For his birthday, Mammon and I got him joke gifts. You could try that.”

Luke: “No. Even if it’s a demon, it’s a Christmas gift and it needs to be sincere.”

MC: “I recall not long ago you’d have never said anything nice about a demon or do anything nice for them. You even said Michael was wrong for thinking we should all be friends.”

Luke: “Huh! I-I said no such thing-“

Solomon: “No, I remember that too.”

Luke: “Wha? W-well…”

Luke looked upset at the mentions of his past harsh judgment. He curled his fists in balls and proudly declared his idea.

Luke: “I’m going to write him a letter! Bye Solomon, I’ve gotta go now before I forget what I’m saying in my head!”

Solomon: “I- okay…?”

MC: “Well I guess that leaves just the two of us.”

Solomon: “Yes, how nice—“

Asmodeus: “Don’t go leaving me out of this!”

Salomon: “Oh my…”

MC: “There goes any semblance of peace.”

Asmodeus: “You guys I found the perfect gift.”

Asmodeus excitedly pulled a receipt out of his bag as soon as he’d caught up to you. The three of you stood at the corner of the sidewalk and read what the receipt was for. Solomon laughed and you withdrew, both in shock.

MC: “Uh….so just who is that for…”

Asmodeus: “Isn’t it obvious?”

MC: “Thankfully not…”

Asmodeus: “Mammon! Do you have any idea how much he used to jerk-“

MC: “Okay, I’ve heard enough!”

Solomon: “MC, just how do you live with seven demon men and not have these conversations every day?”

MC: “I make a point to avoid them and Levi and Lucifer always shut it down.”

Asmodeus: “Prudes. We’re brothers, who cares if we brag about our sex lives! Besides that, I give great advice.”

Solomon: “I recall the last advice you gave me not going too well…”

Asmodeus: “That’s because you did it wrong!”

MC: “You too Solomon?”

Solomon: “Well not anymore. There are certain things only Asmo can pull off…”

Asmodeus: “Aw, how sweet of you!”

MC: “Delightful…anyway…Asmo you have your present, Simeon has his, Luke is making his, Lucifer and Satan are hopeless, I know what I’m getting…I wonder what Beel and Belphie are up to.”

Asmodeus: “Well…Belphie is hopeless too. He’s decided to find every picture in existence of Lucifer and put it together in an album. He’ll probably fall asleep through his project.”

Solomon: “I might be able to help him with that. I can probably collect valuable information too.”

MC: “About what Belphie needs?”

Solomon: “…”

Solomon: “…”

Solomon: “Okay.”

MC: “Huh? Aren’t we going to Majolish-“

Solomon: “Not anymore. Have a good time with that one, MC.”

MC: “What? I feel like I’ve circled the block the past ten minutes and that’s it? First was stalking Satan for hours on end, then I was walking with him, then he took off cause I saw Solomon and Luke, then Luke took off, and now I’m here!”

Asmodeus: “Sounds like fun! Wanna talk about it?”

MC: “No.”

Asmodeus: “Wanna go home?”

MC: “Yes! Wait, dammit! I have to pick up a book!”

Asmodeus: “About what?”

MC: “You’ll know.”

Asmodeus: “Ooooh, that sounds like fun! Does that mean you got me?”

MC: “No. I actually have no idea who has you.”

Asmodeus: “Suuuure, okay. Well, I guess I’ll just take my things home and you can stop by my room and wrap things with me.”

MC: “Sounds good.”

Finally alone again you caught your breath after being so turned around the past half hour. You made a straight line to the bookstore and took off your scarf once in the warm air. The bookstore was unusually busy. Diavolo had truly popularized Christmas so it was likely a holiday rush.

You decided to search the shelves for personal interests when you bumped into someone, causing them to drop their large stack of books.

MC: “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

You bent down to help the hooded man and quickly closed the opened books when they realized they were hardcore hentai books.

???: “Th-thanks.”

The man mumbled but his voice caught your ear and as the hooded man turned to leave you pulled off his hood and the man panicked.

The familiar flushed face of Levi whipped around snatched the hood back, humiliated.

You just gave him a deadpan look while he tried explaining himself.

Leviathan: “Um-Um! I can-I can explain! I-Uh-“

MC: “Dude, to each their own-“

Leviathan: “No! You don’t get it! I had to shop for Asmo. Asmo likes dirty stuff and I don’t want to go out and buy weird normie things and stuff so I thought this would be best!”

MC: “Stick to what you know.”

Leviathan: “Exactly! Wait a second—“

You snickered and walked away to the pick-up desk as Levi followed shouting about accidentally discovering doujinshi and a myriad of other excuses while you calmly waited in line for Barbatos’s book.

Leviathan: “So-so you get it now, right?”

MC: “Yep.”

Leviathan: “Oh thank goodness!”

Leviathan: “…”

Leviathan: “Wait! You’re lying to me, aren’t you!? Are you even listening, MC?”

You kept laughing and walked home with Leviathan where Lucifer stood staring out the window at you.

Leviathan: “Yikes! What’d we do?”

MC: “Oh. I’m just supposed to report back to him on my findings.”

Leviathan: “Of what?”

MC: “That’s a secret.”

Leviathan: “Huh? Does it have to do with me!? He doesn’t think I’m buying these for pleasure right? Did he text you!?”

MC: “Bro, chill. He just wants to talk to me.”

Levi blushed and quickly stuffed the books into his hoodie and made a mad dash to his room before anyone could stop him. Lucifer followed him with his eyes until Levi was out of sight and he turned back you, smiling.

Lucifer: “Well, then. Have you found anything useful for me?”

MC: “Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it.”

Lucifer: “Go on?”

MC: “I’ve got one word for you.”

MC: “Cat.”

Lucifer: “No.”

MC: “Then you’re on your own, I’m gonna go wrap my gift with Asmo.”

Lucifer: “Now hold on a second!”

MC: “I followed him for hours and all he did was go to the alleys and feed the cats, especially that gray one he always sneaks in the house.”

Lucifer: “Dammit, is it back here again?”

MC: “No, but I think he’s worried about its safety since Diavolo has changed the weather to be cold this week.”

Lucifer: “Hm…yes, Diavolo does seem to disrupt the entire ecosystem doesn’t he?”

MC: “That’s not the point. Good night, Lucifer, and good luck.”

Lucifer huffed and watch you leave to your room, the book tucked under your arm.

You knocked on Asmo’s door and it flew open. He pulled you inside by your scarf and twirled you to the center of his room where he plopped down surrounded by wrapping paper and bows.

Asmodeus: “I’m so glad you’re here! Can I see the book?”

Asmodeus: “….Pft!”

Asmodeus: “Oh no! This is amazing, I can’t wait to see how he reacts…ahahahaha. MC you’re a genius.”

MC: “Thank you, I know.”

Asmodeus: “Now, you can choose any paper you want! Barbatos will be really surprised if you hand him a glittery pink gift box, won’t he? Hehehe. I can imagine his surprised look.”

MC: “Ha! I can see it. It’s that look he gets when you say something completely out of character, like when Beel doesn’t want to eat.”

Asmodeus: “Yeah, haha! There isn’t much that throws him off guard even a little.”

MC: “Sure, I’ll use the pinky pie wrapping paper with some glittery pink ribbon please.”

Asmodeus: “Here you go—“

Mammon: “Asmo, ya got wrapping paper—oh hey MC.”

Asmodeus: “Mammon, you idiot! You scared me to death! Don’t just barge in here.”

Mammon: “I need some advice-“

Asmodeus: “One person at a time, goodbye!”

Mammon: “Hey! Don’t just shove me out the door! I need help-“

Asmodeus managed to shut and lock the door behind Mammon who angrily pounded on the door for a few minutes before groaning loudly and leaving.

Asmodeus breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down with you.

Asmodeus: “It’s a good thing I’d already wrapped his gift.”

MC: “So you’re giving him the receipt or something? He could just return it and get the money.”

Asmodeus: “No. The magazine subscription came with the first box, no extra charge.”

You avoided looking Asmo in the eye, feeling overheated from the implications of Mammon’s gift and Asmo’s familiarity with it.

MC: “So is there a reason you always call him a pervert?”

Asmodeus: “Ha!”

Asmodeus: “Oh goodness, yes! He’d just throw his used tissues next to the bed and let them pile up, it was so gross!”

MC: “Tissues…”

Asmodeus: “You know, to clean up the—“

MC: “Yeah, okay never mind, I got it!”

Asmodeus: “Pft—MC you crack me up. There’s really no reason to feel embarrassed hearing such things.”

MC: “Yeah but I also don’t think Mammon would be okay with us talking about him doing those things.”

Asmodeus: “You’re right. That’s what makes it gossip.”

MC: “For goodness sake…can you hand me a piece of tape, please?”

Asmodeus: “Of course.”

Asmo’s head whipped around angrily when they heard a light knock on his door.

Asmodeus: “Mammon, I told you to get lost!”

Belphegor: “It’s just me.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, okay, my bad Belphie, come on in.”

Belphegor: “Thanks.”

Asmodeus: “What do you need?”

Belphegor: “I don’t like glittery crafting type things and you do, so do you mind putting the craft book together for me? Also, do you have any pictures of Lucifer around?”

Asmodeus: “Of course I do, and I’ll help with your scrapbook but I’m not going to make it.”

Belphegor: “Why not? You look like you’re already done with yours?”

Asmodeus: “Yes, and now I get to relax and enjoy hot cocoa and snuggle with MC because they’re done too.”

Belphegor: “Ugh. Why couldn’t I have gotten someone easy to shop for like Beel. I hope his secret Santa knows how much he wants premium raw behemoth meat right now.”

MC: “In that case, you should go tell Mammon. He’s Beel’s Santa.”

Belphegor & Asmodeus: “Huh?”

Belphegor: “Isn’t he Luke’s?”

MC: “No he just pretended so it’d be a bigger surprise. Or maybe he’s actually getting something thoughtful and doesn’t want you to know.”

Asmodeus: “Pft! Thoughtful? Mammon? Those two words don’t go together, dear.”

MC: “Actually they do. He might act scummy in front of you and behind your backs but he also looks out for you guys.”

Asmodeus: “I’d like one example.”

MC: “I can give you one hundred and ninety-one examples that I’ve kept track of in my phone but right now I just wanna wrap stuff, it’s my favorite!”

Belphegor: “If you like wrapping stuff you’ll love making a scrapbook-“

MC: “No. I’m already double-booked.”

Asmodeus: “What does that mean?”

MC: “I’m a double agent between a certain pair of brothers in this house right now and it’s taking up all my time. You have no idea how hard it is to spy on those two, for heaven’s sake.”

Belphegor: “Cool. Well, when you’re done you can put it together, I’ll just leave it in your room.”

MC: “What? No.”

Belphegor: “K, thanks MC, bye Asmo.”

MC: “He just-“

Asmodeus: “Yeah, that’s Belphie for you. Do you need anything else MC? If not we can do some cuddling—“

Mammon: “Asmo! Seriously let me in, I need help!”

Asmodeus: “Ugh! I told you no!”

You ended up mediating the situation between the two and Mammon was crying trying to figure out how to hide a gift from Beel who could track down a single chicken nugget across the devildom in his sleep.

Asmodeus: “Well what kind of meat is it? Is it easy to hide?”

Mammon: “Hell no! It’s an entire freaking rib cage of that premium raw behemoth meat he’s been wanting for months.”

Asmodeus: “…”

Asmodeus: “…”

Asmodeus: “Did Belphie tell you that?”

Mammon: “What? No. He talks about it at lunch and when he walks by the butcher’s shop and sometimes in his sleep. Seriously how could you not notice?”

Asmodeus: “…”

Asmodeus: “Fine. I’ll help you.”

Mammon: “Awesome! Thanks!”

You finally saw their chance to leave and took the present to their room.

You hid it in the closet and got ready for the night, feigning sleep before anyone else could disturb your day.

Three days past and things seemed to be going smoothly except for with Satan and Lucifer.

Lucifer praised you on their techniques of retrieving information just by being friendly with Satan and how inconspicuous you were being. Meanwhile, Satan said the same things, neither of them knowing you were just reporting information you already knew and your secretly interrogative discussions were just reporting missions back and forth.

It was draining and you still couldn’t get Lucifer to agree on letting Satan take in the cat.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to suggest just another old record for Lucifer. To you, that seemed too obvious, and you were hoping everyone would get something meaningful and not something expected.

MC: “Flowers.”

Satan: “Huh?”

MC: “He really likes flowers.”

Satan: “Pft! Lucifer? Lucifer likes flowers?”

MC: “Last Christmas his exchange gift was a rose breed that he created. Last month Mammon was beaten to a pulp for accidentally crushing a rose blossom Lucifer was growing on his desk. Lucifer was extremely angry when Mammon took the roses from the garden to give to me as a bouquet on my birthday, and lastly, he considered the disappearance of the endangered rose species in the primeval forest to be more important than when asteroids nearly struck the demon lord’s castle.”

MC: “The guy. Really. Really. Really. Likes. Roses!”

Satan: “U-Uh…okay. Yes, I see your point….I suppose we do have a lot of potted plants and such around the house. I never pay attention to it.”

MC: “But it stays alive and beautiful because Lucifer is always taking care of it.”

Satan: “Hm. Well, what am I supposed to do with that information? Just buy him a bouquet?”

MC: “There’s like a million online subscriptions for everything in the world. Is there one that sends packets of seeds every month or something?”

Satan: “…! MC, you’re a genius!”

MC: “So I’ve been told…you know I might not be paying but I know for a fact at least four presents in this secret Santa exchange are my idea! Not to mention Belphie made me make his scrapbook!”

Satan: “He didn’t make you.”

MC: “Well, no. But I couldn’t let Simeon receive an unfinished gift, now could I? You can’t leave out the angel on Christmas, even if he can be a sneaky brat.”

Satan: “Pht! Did you just call Simeon a sneaky brat?”

MC: “That man is always scheming and not even Diavolo can tell what he’s thinking.”

Satan: “Hm…hehe, I suppose if Simeon were a demon he’d be the avatar of scheming or something like that don’t you think?”

MC: “Probably. Anyway, back on topic, you go find something to do with roses and I’m going to make sure everyone is ready for the exchange. It’s midnight right now so technically Christmas is tomorrow already.”

Satan: “Right, thanks again. Hey, do you know who Lucifer is getting a gift for, he seems pretty stressed lately?”

MC: “Diavolo, I think.”

Satan: “That makes sense. That man has everything, not even Lucifer will be able to figure out what he really wants.”

You nodded and left Satan’s room on your way to Lucifer’s for the ninth time that day.

Lucifer: “Any news? New interests? Does he have plans this weekend, where to?”

MC: “No. You are noticeably stressed out and you need to just calm down. You already know the answer. It’s up to you what to do with it. If you really hate the idea of a cat so much then donate to an animal charity in Satan’s name or something. Better yet, do both. That man could use a cat, they are very therapeutic, especially the ones who don’t eat everything in their sight.”

Lucifer: “MC…”

MC: “Y-Yeah?”

Lucifer: “Meet me here tomor—…tonight—at eight PM sharp. Understand?”

MC: “Sure. But I’m done spying and I mean it. I just wanna watch some Christmas movies and relax.”

Lucifer: “Hm…I’ll allow it. I suppose you do deserve a break.”

MC: “Excuse me? I worked my ass off for you, you better give me more than unnecessary permission and recognition of my time wasted telling you the same thing hundreds of times. You may not be my secret Santa, but dammit I deserve a reward for this.”

Lucifer: “Yes, MC. I apologize. I’m a bit…stressed…as you’ve said you can tell.”

MC: “Yep. And I’m a lot stressed. Bye-bye.”

You closed the door loudly and sighed exasperatedly. When would that man learn? It only got worse during the holidays because he felt responsible for everything.

Only half-jokingly you shot Satan a message to just buy Lucifer weed and you made your way to the twin’s room to confirm they had things ready.

You walked into Belphegor bound in ribbon from some inexplicable wrapping mishap as Beel ate the wrapping paper while staring into space thinking about God only knows what.

MC: “Uh….bad time?”

Belphegor: “MC, please help me!”

MC: “Okay….so what’s up with Beel?”

Belphegor: “He’s realized his gift idea may have been a horrible life-endangering decision.”

MC: “What? What does that mean, what the hell did he do?”

Belphegor: “Solomon can’t cook to save his life. So Beel thought, ‘hey why not get the man a cookbook and he can learn something. Not bad right? Until you realize the man doesn’t follow rules and even if he did he’d need to actually cook the dishes and have someone determine if he’s doing it right.”

MC: “Well shit… Solomon will probably like it but…there will indeed be a sacrifice.”

Belphegor: “Good thing the angels live with him and not us.”

MC: “For now. But when I’m back in the human world I’m the one that has to spend time with him as his apprentice.”

Belphegor: “Yikes. Well…just think of it as building your immunity to poison and unfathomably terrible sickness.”

MC: “That helped nothing….I just wanted to make sure everyone is ready. Less than twenty-four hours until it’s Christmas Morning.”

Belphegor: “Dammit, don’t remind me. Mammon is gonna wake us up early, I just know it.”

MC: “Yes. Yes, he will. And you are not going to kill him, that’s an order.”

Belphegor: “Aw….the one thing I was looking forward to doing…”

You left the twins knowing one was done with his preparations and the other may have given the gift of a new plague all to make one sorcerer happy.

You confirmed that Satan had something in mind he’d run out to get last minute; Mammon had hidden the meat in a freezer at the demon lord’s castle; Asmo had everything wrapped and was ready to record Mammon’s reaction; Levi had wrapped his presents too but was having a crisis because everyone would figure out he was the secret Santa and that he knew about “dirty manga”; Simeon had returned with his gift for Levi; Luke had finished a letter so touching that it brought Simeon to tears and Solomon had found something he thought would be nice for Belphegor.

After confirming everything would turn out well you realized their secret Santa could only be one person.

Since Barbatos mentioned drawing Luke’s name, and you knew everyone else…that meant Diavolo was your secret Santa.

Knowing he strongly opposed the price limit, you felt your heart beat in anticipation of what he might have gotten you, though you forced yourself not to get too worked up over it, in case he’d decided to stick with it after all.

You knew for a fact that Mammon, Asmodeus, and Leviathan had gone over the spending limit so it was highly likely that Diavolo would do the same. But who knows? He might just have Barbatos pick something out but you had known the prince long enough to know Diavolo wasn’t that kind of person.

You could barely sleep that night. You were too excited to see what Diavolo had gotten you for tomorrow and were noticeably cheerier which brightened everyone’s mood.

Satan came home early in the morning from finishing his shopping but he had a worried look on his face as he trudged up to his room.

You frowned and followed him upstairs but Satan refused to answer his door.

Lucifer: “Is something wrong MC? It’s not eight, yet.”

MC: “Satan is really upset about something, even I can’t get through to him.”

Lucifer: “Oh? Is that all?”

MC: “Seriously? You haven’t even gotten the man a gift yet and now you don’t give a crap on why he’s so depressed on Christmas Eve of all days?!”

Lucifer: “Actually I have gotten him something.”

MC: “Oh really?”

Lucifer: “Yes. I have a plan actually. And part of it involves Satan getting depressed.”

MC: “Great idea. Wonderful gift. Depression is a blessing. Said no one ever!? Ugh! This is why I’m glad I ended up involved with everyone’s gifts. They might’ve done something as stupid as giving their brother the gift of depression.”

Lucifer: “…”

Lucifer: “Can I finish explaining, or do you need more time to salt all that sarcasm you’re spewing nonsensically.”

MC: “Maybe!”

Lucifer: “Right….”

Lucifer: *sigh*

Lucifer: “I suppose it can’t be helped. I just didn’t want to burden Barbatos more than necessary.”

MC: “What did you do….”

Lucifer: “Follow me. I’ll show you my present. Be prepared to take back everything you just said.”

MC: “Trust me, I’m counting on it.”

Lucifer nodded and put on his coat. He wrapped a scarf around you and pulled you behind him as he strode into town.

You became more and more confused as Lucifer walked you both through alleys and behind stores instead of into the stores.

MC: “Are you looking for trash? I guess that’s an upgrade from depression.”

Lucifer: *sigh*

MC: “Great way to strengthen your relationship. Never would’ve thought he loved trash-bags.”

Lucifer: “Oh, quiet, you. No, I’m looking for the gray cat he likes.”

MC: “Seriously!?”

Lucifer: “What? Is there something wrong with that?”

MC: “Aaaawwwww, Luci! You do have a heart!”

MC: “…so then why is your first step making Satan sad?”

Lucifer: “Don’t call me Luci! I told the cat that he’ll get to live with Satan if he disappeared for that day.”

MC: “When did you get the time to do that?”

Lucifer: “After you stormed out of my room.”

MC: “Oh, yay! So, I convinced you then?”

Lucifer: “No. I just wasn’t given any better options. I’ve been stressing all week making preparations for the damn cat, not because I didn’t have a gift in mind. I may not act like it MC but I do care for my brothers.”

MC: “Hehe. You’re so sweet sometimes, why do you do everything in your power to seem like an asshole instead?”

Lucifer: “I beg pard—“

MC: “Oh! It’s the cat!”

Lucifer: “Hm? Ah, there you are.”

Cat: “Mrow.”

Lucifer: “I’m sorry you missed your breakfast routine but it’s for a good reason, okay?”

Cat: “Meooooow.”

Lucifer: “No you cannot invite your clan.”

Cat: “Mew…”

MC: “You made him sad.”

Lucifer: “Be quiet. He’s fooling you.”

MC: “Okay. Well…we gave Satan anxiety and now we’re talking to a cat in an alleyway, what’s your next step?”

Lucifer: “Take him to the vet, get him neutered so he doesn’t father a million kittens, then we give him to Barbatos. I already bought its things, Barbatos has a room for him. I wasn’t going to do anything until later tonight so Barbatos didn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on the cat.”

MC: “Oh. Well…despite your weird method of getting Satan to be even happier with your present, you really gave him the best gift he could ask for.”

Lucifer: “Don’t get me wrong. This will be beneficial for me as well.”

MC: “I’m afraid to ask why, but I have to.”

Lucifer: “Simply put—This cat comes with conditions and if he doesn’t follow them I’m taking it away.”

MC: “You can’t bribe someone with the life of an animal.”

Lucifer: “Watch me.”

MC: “No!”

Lucifer: “Relax, MC. My conditions are he doesn’t get another cat like last time or keep sneaking them in overnight.”

MC: “Let me guess…he filled the house with cats last time?”

Lucifer: “Unfortunately.”

MC: “Honestly I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

Lucifer: “They were more expensive to feed than Beelzebub, there are still stains we can’t remove even with magic, and you could not even see the ground. If you fell on your back, too bad, that was it, you were flooded by cats and there was no surviving.”

MC: “Well okay then……”

After the bustle of Christmas morning, the long-awaited Secret Santa event at Diavolo’s castle began.

You’d already eaten and Beel was positive he smelled what he’d asked for and asked everyone to hurry up in a somewhat threatening manner.

Dressed for comfort, you and the boys formed a half-assed circle in front of Diavolo’s titan tree.

Barbatos disappeared for a moment but returned with a box, furiously shaking.

Mammon: “Okay I thought we agreed Solomon wouldn’t be cooking!”

Solomon: “Hm? I don’t remember making anything.”

Barbatos: “Ah, I don’t recommend trying to cook this present lest you befall the wrath of hell.”

Luke: “Eek! What is it!”

Barbatos: “It belongs to Satan.”

Satan: “What? I’m going first then? Okay give it here—“

Cat: “Mrow!”

Luke: “Aaaah! It’s attacking him!”

Asmodeus: “Is that a—“

Mammon: “Cat!?”

Belphegor: “Lucifer isn’t gonna let you keep that.”

Satan: “…unless…”

Lucifer: *trying his best not to blush*

Satan: “Um…thank you Lucifer…I really mean that.”

*click*

Lucifer & Satan: “Delete that picture or I’ll kill you.”

Asmodeus: “Eek! Can’t I just get a cute photo of you acting like family for once?”

Lucifer & Satan: “No.”

MC: *mumbling* “Like father like son.”

Lucifer & Satan: “Excuse me!?”

MC: “Shit—“

Diavolo: “Right then! Moving along, shall we? Barbatos why don’t you bring Lucifer’s gift?”

Barbatos: “Yes My Lord.”

Lucifer: “Seed packets…?”

Satan: “Actually it’s a monthly subscription to a gardening warehouse. Every month you’ll get a new box with seeds that are best planted the month received. Mostly it’s flowers but sometimes there are bushes too, it’s supposed to be rarer fauna too.”

Diavolo: “Well I guess it’s no secret who your Santa is?”

Lucifer: “…thank you….”

Satan: “…yeah…”

Everyone: “…”

MC: “Wow, this is so rare that no one knows what to do…”

Diavolo: “Yes. Thank you for breaking the silence I was a bit lost there….Barbatos why don’t we give Mammon his gift?”

Mammon: “Sweet gimme gimme!”

Asmo took out his phone and secretly began recording while stifling laughter.

Mammon: “Sweet! I got—oh shit!”

Mammon stuffed it back into the box before anyone could see and his face was bright red.

Asmodeus: “Mammooooon, why don’t you show us all what you got, hm?”

Mammon: “D-Dammit Asmo, this was definitely you! I haven’t needed these things since I met MC!”

Asmodeus: “…”

MC: “…”

Asmodeus: “Mammon, dear….”

Mammon: “What!?”

Asmodeus: “MC knows what I got you…”

Mammon: “…well…I’ll just go feed myself to Cerberus.”

Mammon actually got up and left. He started sprinting when he was far away enough, clutching his gift to his chest so no one bothered checking what he got.

Satan: “What’d you…”

Asmodeus: “A monthly subscription to Seduce Me Succubus.”

Leviathan: “Bahahahahahahaha!”

Lucifer: “Oh dear.”

Satan: “Isn’t that…”

Belphegor: “Yep. Porno mags.”

Luke: “What’s that?”

Everyone: “…”

MC: “Okay. No one discusses that Mammon just admitted to thinking about me instead of his magazines.”

Leviathan: “You did, just now.”

MC: “Shoosh, I process my thoughts better out loud.”

Lucifer: “That’s certainly not a good thing.”

MC: “Yes, I know.”

Simeon: “You know what? Luke, why don’t we open your gift?”

Luke: “Hmph. It was Mammon anyway, so I don’t expect—“

Luke: “…Huh? A personal cookbook…Barbatos? These are your recipes. I can really make these?”

Barbatos: “Why of course. Just keep them to yourself.”

Luke: “Did Mammon ask you to?”

Barbatos: “No. Mammon lied about getting you to throw his true recipient off course—“

Beelzebub: “I want my present now! I can smell it!”

Lucifer: “Beel, please calm down—“

Barbatos: “Please wait a moment Beel, I’ll bring it right to you.”

Beelzebub: “Hmmmmmmm….”

Belphegor: “Shh…it’s okay Beel. You’re okay…just a minute.”

Beelzebub: “Mmmmmm….”

Luke: “I feel like I’m in danger…”

Simeon: “Don’t worry Luke, I’m right here.”

Luke: “Heh? Well, I’m not scared or anything!”

Barbatos: “Beel, I believe this is-“

Beelzebub: “My behemoth!”

Beelzebub leaped onto the giant slab of meat Barbatos had wheeled out and broke the cart as he landed on it and began tearing into the meat.

You watched in horror as it dawned on you how obsessively hungry Beel could become.

MC: “Okay now I feel like I’m in danger…”

Beelzebub: “Thanks Belphie!”

Belphegor: “Hm? I didn’t get that for you.”

Beelzebub: “Huh? But you’re the only one I told about it.”

Belphegor: “No. apparently while he’s busy snooping around like the scum he is, our dear big brother likes to eavesdrop and happened to know you wanted it.”

Diavolo: “Does no one understand the term secret Santa?”

Beelzebub: “Huh? That’s sweet of him.”

Lucifer: “Yes…how very strange.”

Leviathan: “I guess I’ll go next then…hm…”

Leviathan: “I-Is this!? No! It couldn’t be, there’s no way! S-Simeon!”

Simeon: “Hm? What makes you think it’s from me?”

Luke: “You’re being really obvious, Simeon.”

Simeon: “Oh? My mistake.”

Leviathan: *clutching the box to his chest and sobbing*

Lucifer: “…Simeon. What exactly did you get him?”

Simeon: “The very first printed TSL book. Normally I’d keep the firsts but Levi knows the books even better than I do and I know he’ll take good care of it.”

Leviathan: “With my life!”

Leviathan: *sobbing*

Asmodeus: “Wow, Simeon! That’s so sweet of you!”

Luke: “Of course it is, he’s an Angel.”

Solomon: “Hn…how lucky.”

MC: “Aw, is someone jealous?”

Solomon: “I didn’t say that, now did I? Anyway if it’s alright by the rest of you, I’d like to open my gift.”

Barbatos: “Here is yours, Solomon.”

Beelzebub suddenly looked pale and became nauseous at the idea of Solomon incorrectly using the gift. Solomon tore the paper off and flipped the book right side up, smiling brightly.

Solomon: “How thoughtful! A cooking book!”

Lucifer: “Whoever gave Solomon more ideas to cook will be hanging from my chandelier until they decompose!”

Satan: “Yikes.”

MC: “Should we call Mammon back.”

Lucifer: “He’s been back, he’s just hiding behind the tree.”

Satan: “Huh? I didn’t see him come in.”

Lucifer: “Yes. Most people don’t, that’s why he always gets away with stealing.”

Mammon: “Shut up, I’m not here!”

Simeon: “How nice, a talking tree.”

Mammon: “Hey! I’m not some tree!”

MC: “So then you admit to being there?”

Mammon: “Dammit just shaddup.”

Diavolo: “Okay, who hasn’t opened their gifts yet? Barbatos, myself, MC, Asmodeus, Simeon, aaand…Belphie.”

Belphegor: “Don’t call me Belphie.”

Diavolo: “I’m just reading the name on the gift.” *pouting*

Belphegor: “I’ll go next then.”

Belphegor refused to move from his spot so Diavolo handed it to him.

Diavolo: “Here you go.”

Belphegor: “Yep…”

Belphegor: “An eye mask?”

MC: *mumbling* “Very original Solomon.”

Solomon: “MC.”

MC: “Whoops.”

Lucifer: “Secret isn’t in your dictionary is it, MC?”

MC: “Pft— excuse me? I was playing spy for you AND Satan and I already knew half the gifts in this room. I know how to keep a damn secret.”

Belphegor: “Yeah. Remember how they lied to you for months about not knowing I was being held prisoner in the attack?”

Everyone: “…”

Solomon: “…anyway. This eye mask is special! It has magical qualities that will induce REM sleep and prevent nightmares.”

Belphegor: “Really?”

Solomon: “Mhm.”

Belphegor: “Thank you, Solomon. I don’t think I’ve had a good dream in a long time…”

MC: “Now I feel bad…”

Diavolo: “Okay then. Simeon, how about you open your gift next?”

Simeon: “I’d love to.”

Simeon took the paper off slowly, he didn’t seem to like to tear it when it had such cute snowmen designs.

Mammon: “Bro, that’s not how you unwrap presents.”

Simeon: “This is how I unwrap presents, it doesn’t matter anyway I’ve already finished.”

Simeon: “Oh? A scrapbook….”

Simeon: “Pft— ahahahahaha. Oh, Belphegor. Thank you very much—ahahahahahaha. This—this is truly a gift to the whole of the celestial realm. Ahahahaha!”

Everyone seemed taken aback. No one had heard Simeon laugh like that before.

Lucifer: “Now what did he—“

Simeon: “It’s a secret!”

Lucifer: “Give it here, let me see!”

Simeon: “Pft! No! Ahahahaha, this is mine!”

Lucifer: “Why won’t you let me see!?”

MC: “Lucifer please get off of Simeon. I can tell you later if you want.”

Lucifer frowned and looked very annoyed with Simeon, he was even in his demon form, black feathers fluffing up in agitation while Diavolo laughed at him.

You knew that if Lucifer discovered Simeon now had a scrapbook comprised completely of pictures secretly taken of him throughout his life in the devildom then he’d flip out and cancel Christmas.

The mischievous gleam in Simeon’s eyes made it apparent he was going to show the entire realm. It was a gift that wouldn’t stop giving.

MC: “Oh boy…well hopefully these next presents will be…normal? I hope…Also, Mammon come out from behind the damn tree and sit your ass in the circle!”

Mammon: “Eep! Okay, okay.”

Mammon trudged over, still redder than a beat, and sat in between Asmodeus and you.

Satan: “Should we even let Asmodeus open his gift here? Or at least take Luke out of the room?”

Asmodeus: “Oh? Do you know what I’m getting?”

Satan: “No, but I can only assume it’s not appropriate…”

Asmodeus: “Oo, I hope so!”

Simeon: “Oh dear…”

Lucifer: “Who got Asmodeus?”

Diavolo: “Don’t answer him, this is secret Santa.”

Lucifer: “Name one gift that’s been given whom we don’t know bought it.”

Diavolo: “…”

Lucifer: “Right, so—“

Belphegor: “Why does it matter?”

Lucifer: “So we know whether or not to send the angels and MC out of the room.”

MC: “Why me? I’ve seen some freaky shit with you guys around.”

Diavolo: “Lucifer, what sort of things have you and your brothers done in front of MC?”

MC: “Too many things…”

Diavolo: “…”

Asmodeus: “Oh! This looks nice!”

Lucifer: “I didn’t say you could open it-“

Asmodeus: “I didn’t ask.”

Asmodeus: “Hehehe…Levi, this must be from you?”

Levi pulled his pajama hoodie over his head and buried his face between his knees.

Belphegor: “Haha! Levi’s the worst person to shop for Asmo. Asmo show us what you got!”

Luke: “No, don’t!”

Asmodeus: “Oh calm down. It’s Levi’s version of porn-“

Leviathan: “Huh?!”

Luke: “Of what?”

Mammon: “Asmo, lemme see.”

Mammon: “Pft. Hehehe. I’ve seen some of these, they aren’t too bad. Not all of Levi’s stuff is lame.”

Beelzebub: “Hm? I wanna see…oh…”

Beelzebub turned pink and sat back down. Lucifer beckoned him over to tell him what Asmo got and Lucifer laughed.

Lucifer: “I suppose those two do have one interest in common…”

Leviathan: “D-D-D-Don’t say that! W-w-we don’t have anything in common! Not at all!”

Asmodeus: “I’m gonna get a kick out of these. Levi, why don’t we have a chat later?”

Leviathan: “Absolutely not!”

Luke: “What’s happening?”

Simeon: “I’m not sure…”

Satan’s cat leapt from his arms and began playing with the glittery bow on Barbatos’s gift.

Diavolo: “I believe the cat has chosen you, Barbatos-“

MC: “Wait no!”

Diavolo: “Is something wrong?”

Lucifer: “Why is it wrapped in pink pony paper…that’s a disgusting sentence I just uttered…”

MC: “For personal amusement, just like everything I do.”

Diavolo: “That is quite funny, I never imagined Barbatos unwrapping something so glittery. Here you—“

MC: “No, no, no! Barbatos only open yours after I’ve opened mine!”

Barbatos: “Hm? That’s fine with me but is something wrong?”

MC: “My not-so-secret Santa isn’t going to want to give me a gift if he sees what you got first…”

Diavolo: “What? Did I give it away?”

MC: “Just now, yes. But I knew everyone’s secret Santa so you were the only conclusion.”

Diavolo: “Aww…what a shame, it was meant to be a surprise.”

Barbatos: “If you don’t mind me saying so my lord, it’s quite obvious you were the gift giver.”

Diavolo: “Is it?”

Lucifer & Barbatos: *sigh* “Yes…”

Diavolo: “Hm?”

Luke: “W-Well then I guess Diavolo should open his gift next then.”

Luke took a letter from his jacket and handed it to Diavolo and ran back to his spot, pink in the face and partially hiding behind Simeon.

Diavolo: “Oh? Why thank you, Luke. I’m interested to see what you’ve gotten me.”

Luke turned a darker shade of pink and nodded while Simeon laughed at him.

Diavolo: “A letter? ‘Dear Diavolo’—“

Luke: “DON’T READ IT OUT LOUD!”

Simeon: “Luke, my ears—“

Diavolo: “Hehe…okay then. Hmm….”

Diavolo sat in silence as everyone watched his expressions change from confused to surprised to joy.

Lucifer: “Diavolo are you alright—“

Diavolo: *trying not to cry* “I’m fine…”

Mammon: “Luke what the heck did you do?”

Lucifer: “What in the devildom did you do to make him like that?”

Lucifer looked at Luke, accusatorially, while pointing a finger at Diavolo sniffing back tears and burying his face in the note, as Barbatos patted his back.

MC: “Diavolo, are you okay? Luke, what did you do?”

Luke: “Nothing!”

Diavolo: “No.”

Everyone: “Hm?”

Diavolo: “Luke, this is not nothing…this is confirmation of my greatest dream come to light…thank you so very much, Luke, from the bottom of my heart, I mean that. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Diavolo smiled, eyes watering as Luke blushed and hid in his hat.

Luke: “G-good. I’m glad you like it then…”

Diavolo: “Barbatos, please have this framed immediately—“

Luke: “Huh! N-no that’s personal! I don’t want anyone else reading it!”

Simeon: “But I read it too, it was beautiful. It moved me to tears.”

Diavolo: “That does seem to be the prevailing effect.”

Diavolo stood up and walked over to Luke who looked worried but then screamed and tried to run as Diavolo scooped him into his arms and bear-hugged him.

Luke: “C-Can’t…Breathe…”

Simeon: “Oh dear. Diavolo—“

Diavolo: “Oh no, I’m sorry, Luke. Hehe…here you go…”

Diavolo handed Luke’s partially limp body to Simeon as Luke caught his breath.

MC: “You nearly killed an Angel on Christmas Day…”

Barbatos: “That’s how we used to celebrate.”

Everyone: “…”

Diavolo: “Yes…but not anymore, obviously….so I guess this means it’s MC’s turn to unwrap their gift!”

Your eyes widened in excitement and you tore open the box and held up a pair of keys.

MC: “D-Did you buy me a car!? I said there should be a spending limit—“

Diavolo: “I didn’t, but I could if you’d like.”

MC: “Th-then what are these for? A house?”

Diavolo: “Sort of!”

Mammon: “Ya got them a damn house!? I’ve known you for millennia, where’s my house?”

Lucifer: “Mammon, shut up!”

Mammon: “Huh? What about your house then, ya guys are practically—“

Satan slammed a hand over Mammon’s mouth.

Lucifer: “Thank you, Satan.”

Satan: “I didn’t do it for you. No one likes listening to him talk.”

Mammon: *muffled* “HEY!”

Diavolo: “Here’s your second gift, MC!”

Beelzebub: “Two gifts…”

Diavolo: “Technically it’s the same gift, just different parts.”

You opened the box and found a photo album of a cute island, and cozy huts on the beach. The photos included rare animals, beautiful scenery, and secret coves on the island, and then it clicked in your head.

MC: “Wait, what the fuck! Did you! Did you buy me an island!”

You thought you’d go into shock and fell back into Mammon’s side.

Diavolo chuckled as Barbatos and Lucifer sighed.

MC: “Wh…Huh…b-but….”

Asmodeus: “Guess there really wasn’t a spending limit after all?”

Diavolo: “On the contrary, Asmodeus, this cost me exactly zero Grimm.”

MC: “Wha?”

Diavolo: “Hehe. Don’t worry MC I followed your game rules. I didn’t buy any of this, I just made it—“

MC: “You made it!?”

Diavolo: “Yes, precisely. I can’t wait to show you around, those pictures aren’t even the half of it.”

MC: “wh…wh…how am I supposed to pay you back…”

Diavolo: “it was free.”

MC: “But…I can’t possibly accept this…can I?”

Diavolo: “Oh? Should I give it away—“

MC: “Hell no!”

Diavolo: “?”

Asmodeus: “Pft!”

MC: “S-sorry! I mean…I have no idea how to put into words how happy and grateful I am…I can’t believe you really did this…”

Diavolo: “Is it too much?”

Lucifer & Barbatos: “Yes.”

Diavolo: “Hehe…maybe? But you’ve done so much for us MC. I even tailored the island to your personal tastes! For example, there isn’t any sand in the ocean water because I know you hate that. The sand is soft and doesn’t burn your feet. Many of the fauna and animals and secret coves, caves, and creeks are just like pictures you’ve saved or liked on your social media!”

Leviathan: “Verging into creepy a little bit….”

Lucifer: “Levi, quiet!”

Leviathan: “Am I wrong?”

Levi gave a confused look to Mammon who shook his head, agreeing with Levi. You agreed too but didn’t care.

With all this fuss you nearly forgot Barbatos had yet to open his gift and your heart sank.

MC: “Umm…Diavolo…I love you very much so….please don’t hate me when Barbatos opens his gift….”

Diavolo: “Why would I hate you?”

MC: “Ummm….well…you’ll see…”

Diavolo: “Barbatos, open your gift.”

Everyone crowded closer to Barbatos to see what your problem was. Barbatos took extra care not to get glitter from the string and bow onto his uniform and took the wrapping paper off without tearing it.

Simeon: “See, I’m not the only one who does that.”

Mammon rolled his eyes at the Angel and Barbatos chuckled at them.

Barbatos looked a bit nervous with everyone crowding him so Lucifer “suggested” they give him space.

Barbatos opened the box and his eyes lit up in surprise and amusement and he began to laugh. He covered his mouth trying to remain professional but he had to turn away for a moment to recover.

Barbatos: “Hehehe…thank you very much, I’m certainly going to be using this.”

Mammon: “C’mon what is it?”

Barbatos: “Why it’s a lovely cooking book…”

Satan: “Pft—“

Lucifer: “Oh dear…”

Mammon: “Ahahahaha!”

Belphegor: “Hehehehe—”

Solomon: “MC, you didn’t!”

Diavolo: “M-MC, you traitor! How could you do this to me!?”

MC: “My bad…”

Beelzebub: “I don’t get it? What’s wrong with a book of pickle recipes?”

[padawansuggest]

AU where either Alderaan or just Bail and Breha survived where Obi-Wan doesnt die on the Death Star and the three of them are able to sit the twins down and explain about their parents and the Jedi and how they need training and stuff, but either way, Obi-Wan is still dying from being on the edge of his abilities (a mixture of bad health from living in the desert and force drain from his bond with Vader and other stuff just pulling him too fast to the edge) and Bail immediately goes to fuss over the man while the kids look concerned. Bail explains to them that he’s over ten years older than Obi-Wan, that Ben shouldn’t be aging and failing this fast, and it’s called force drain, which is why the three of them are taking the kids on a road trip (yes this includes Han, who’s mildly force sensitive and Chewie, who is rather invested but determined to go where Han is going) to a swamp plant to meet Master Yoda and get trained in a moldy bog while Bail and Breha go fuck things up for the empire to draw attention away from them.

Basically. What I want is old Ben sitting in Yoda’s little hut and Legit just forgetting that he’s an old man because!!!! That’s master Yoda!!!! Is Master Yoda here to teach them about fun force stuff???? And Yoda is all ‘well. To humor my senile grandpadawan, we will have to speed run the creche lessons’ and proceeds to teach them all about force stuff while Ben goes senile and asks for cookies and if it’s naptime yet because he thinks he’s a wee bit tired.

Also he later on tells Luke and Leia stories about how tiny Anakin was when he first came to him, how little and sweet and cuddly he was, how he’d curl up in his arms in bed and ask for creche stories.

Basically. It’s babysitter Yoda and Chewbacca having to coral three adult force sensitives and one senile old master.

Ben is wary when Bail and Breha come back cause he doesn’t REALLY remember them, but Bail is just sensitive enough to reach out for Ben in the force and Ben is all ‘!!! Hey!!! I recognize that one!’ And goes with Bail while Breha takes the rest of them off to fight the empire. Road trip with mom!

Yoda probably ends up going with Ben tho let’s be honest lmao. He’s worried about his kid and he’s dying too so let’s get that bread and go with Bail where he can cuddle his most senile kid and wait for the end. Bail is not really ready to let go of either of them but knows the war took too much out of both of them to keep going.

Much sads but they make it to the end of the empire at least. They meet Ani in the force, all young and healthy and ready to gossip with Bail over tea soon.

[journey-to-the-attic]

so you said that about ik's kidification you might end up writing the side characters in the future, and in the meantime, im here to share my headcanons bc its been engulfing my thoughts for days.

i personally think luke's reaction would be pretty funny because now ik, the only person in the devildom his size, is now Smol and Tiny and also very Babey. he is bluescreening, he does not know what to do. doesnt know how to answer her kid questions, so he'll pass her off to simeon.

simeon is signing adoption papers as we speak. he is like asmo in that he internally bluescreens so hard when he sees her. also takes her kid questions very seriously, and will carry her just about anywhere.

solomon is gonna be that fun uncle that lets you do stupid stuff and eat dirt or whatever, and just laughs in the face of chaos. (lucifer is losing his sanity). solomon responds in the most chaotic and nonsensical way to her questions, or he gets a mad scientist look in his eyes and is like "lets find out" (lucifer has now banned him from interacting with kid ik unsupervised. doesn't stop the man in the slightest. also dont tell anyone but he'd also put on magic shows for ik and would be a total show-off about it to her. anyone who finds out suddenly and mysteriously disappears)

i'll be sure to do some notes for the side characters with kidified ik, since it was so fun to write the brothers! since it'll probably be a week or two before then, though, allow me to address your own hcs real quick:

luke: definitely blue screens so hard as soon as he realises what's going on, but also would be v happy to like play and draw with ik!!also the more innocent of her kid questions he can manage, it's once she starts heading into either absurd or dread-inducing territory that he goes 'uuhhh actuALLY I THINK YOU SHOULD GO SEE SIMEON'. he bakes so many things for her and she says she loves absolutely everything and luke basically glows with pride

simeon: if he has not legally adopted this tiny child within twenty four hours he is GOING to blow something up. (good luck with that custody battle, buddy, you've got like five competitors). yes he is like asmo, he nearly bursts into tears nearly every time he lays eyes on her for the first few hours. oh and he is SO happy to like hold ik high up in the air and go "you're flying!!!" and then ik will spread her arms and go ''i'm flying!!!!' and now simeon's crying even harder

solomon: [lucifer voice] i am so damn tired. ik will ask him whether he could fly by tying a bunch of balloons to himself, and he'll immediately be hauling her off to the shop to buy 9383398 packets of party balloons like "LET'S FIND OUT!". lucifer has to physically restrain him at times while urgently yelling at beel to get ik out of there

also solomon gets such an ego trip from ik thinking literally any trick he does is the coolest thing ever. he's like "i pull THIS giant teddy bear from THIS tiny cup" and she goes "WOAOAOAOAOAOAOAOOHH" and solomon's internally going [punches air] 'i am the MAN'. he does a thing where he's like "ik you think i'm the coolest one right? right?" and ik replies "yeah!!" because he just gave her the giant teddy bear he magicked up, so solomon goes "and you like me best, right?" and ik just goes along with it like "yeah!!!!", and then solomon immediately calls everyone else like "GUESS WHAT IK JUST SAID"

[devildomimagines]

Hi! If that's okay could i request the brothers or the undateables (Luke included but platonic) with a MC who has a pet parrot? Their parrot is super cuddly and is on their shoulder or near them 24/7 and everyone think he's adorable but he's actually a spoiled little shit who will not hesitate to screech if he's not being held and paid attention to (he also does that annoying thing where parrots throw things off the table and when you put It on the table again they throw it again just to piss you off-) like, even if MC payes 0,01 seconds of attention to them he's screeching bsosh-

Anyways, look at the gremlin who inspired this request

He's a bastard birb but i love him anyway😫💞 (fun fact i stopped cuddling him to type and this dude started chewing on my phone case-)

Awww! How cute!!! I wish I could draw too because the idea of MC with a bird buddy is so fricking adorable!

Thank you for requesting and for your patience while I worked on this. Also thanks for the picture of your bird because I love him! 10/10 would spoil.

Belphegor

He squinted at the parrot, the screeching was interrupting his nap.

“MC,” he whined, “get it to stop.”

“Sorry, he’s just so clingy, I stopped petting him for just a second.”

Belphie pouted as your concentration moved from rubbing his back to playing with the bird.

He pulled at your sleeve and placed it on his head, “You have two hands.”

You sighed, how would you ever get anything done like this? 

Beelzebub

At first, he mainly only sees the parrot as something similar to chicken.

Once you explain that it’s a friend, not food, Beel was worried that he’d hurt the small creature so he just tended to avoid it altogether.

He’d watch quietly as you played or took general care of the cage.

One time, he happened to be eating a banana and your parrot hopped over to him asking, “Treat?”

Beel’s eyes opened wide and looked over at you, his face asking if it was ok?

“Yeah! He loves bananas!” You confirmed and watched as Beel sweetly offered his banana to the bird to take a nibble.

Asmodeus

Unfortunately the first experience Asmo had with your parrot was when it pooped on him. He was not a fan.

The next unfortunate misunderstanding was when the parrot chased him, naturally he ran, not wanting to be pooped on again and that only added to the chase.

“Asmo, you have to stop running, he thinks you’re playing!”

“But MC! He’ll do unspeakable things to me!” Asmo was close to tears.

“Ok, ok, come here,” You opened your arms and he dived towards you. Swiftly you caught Asmo in a hug and the parrot swooped in and landed on your shoulder.

The pair came face to face as Asmo peeked a look, “Pretty boy!” the parrot squawked. When Asmo’s face softened, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that was something you told your pet and not something the parrot was noting of Asmo.

Satan

Originally intrigued by the little guy.

He was somewhat familiar with the behaviors of cats but he didn’t know much about birds

You’re excited to share all the tricks and phrases you’ve taught your bird buddy as Satan takes notes.

Satan has a lot of questions and you answer the best you can but you’re no expert so you promise to get a bird book for him.

With a scratch of his chin, he asks, “And why is he so attached to you?”

You laugh, “I’m assuming it’s because he loves me but it’s probably because I’m the one who gives him treats.”

Leviathan

He didn’t have a strong feeling towards the bird one way or the other at first.

When the bird picks up the intro tune to one of his animes, his interest starts to grow.

He thought it was cute and happened to catch it on video one day. When he posted it online, it blew up.

Levi tried to teach your parrot other tunes but lost interest when there wasn’t an immediate turn around.

The first time he saw the happy dancing of your parrot, his interest was back lol.

He can be caught bopping along with your parrot if there was ever a time they were left alone together.

Mammon

I feel like he would dislike the bird (mainly for drawing your attention away from him) but the bird actually really likes playing with him.

Mammon always has something interesting to the bird whether it’s his feather keychain or his glasses or some shiny trinket.

Your parrot likes tapping the side of Mammon’s glasses to get his attention.

He’s pretty good at handling the bird and when asked he admits to taking care of a crow without Lucifer’s knowledge so that stays between the two of you.

He definitely talks to the parrot like any other being, “Oy!” He points an accusatory finger at your parrot, “Knock it off with the nipping!” and thus the parrot takes a nibble at his finger.

Although he talks a big game, he secretly loves that you two can be bird parents together.

Lucifer

His pride takes a hit that he, the right-hand to the crown prince of Devildom, has to compete for your attention with a parrot.

Oh the withering looks he gives as your pet screeches for your care.

He does know a thing or two about wing care though. XD

He also knows exactly the right spots for scritches near and on the wings and your parrot is putty in his hands, that boosts his previously wounded pride just a bit.

I think he would secretly spoil your parrot as an extension of spoiling you. 

Deep down he’s a big softie for animals so extra toys and treats find their way into the house.

Luke

Luke liked the bird initially until it screeched at him.

From then on he was kind of scared even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

It’d take a lot of coaxing to get him to pet your parrot but I think you could convince him eventually.

He enjoys how you gush about all the things your pet can do and so he starts to warm back up.

Slowly he gets back to being comfortable and the next time there is an unexpected screech, he’s better prepared.

He starts watching parrot videos online and looking up treats he could make that were safe for parrots.

Solomon

I feel like he knows some things about birds but isn’t particularly fond of animals in general, not that he hates them but doesn’t really get the hype.

You with a parrot on your shoulder is pretty cute though.

Solomon smiles as you play with the parrot, the two of you bouncing. He’ll sneak a picture, just for him.

If you ask him, he’ll play along too.

Through watching you care for your bird, he’ll start to understand the bond between pets and their owners.

Eventually does get interested in the diet of your pet but you assure many times that it’s being taken care of and that he doesn’t need to concern himself with it on top of his studies.

Simeon

Secretly loves birds but he couldn’t keep one as a pet in the celestial realm.

Absolutely beams the first time your parrot hops over to him to investigate.

Giggles when his hair gets pulled for attention but lovingly pets the tiny bird head.

Even with his limited technological knowledge, he takes a lot of pictures. He wants to be able to remember this time when he goes back.

He would absolutely relish the opportunity to take care of your parrot if there was ever a need and I’d trust him to do a good job. 

Offers to help take care of anything related to the bird for you definitely not to act like it’s his pet for a short amount of time.

Barbatos

He’s hard to impress but appreciates the refreshing sight of you smiling at your pet.

Barbatos is pretty knowledgeable so he knows what foods are ok to give to your parrot so he always has them on hand when you come around.

He smiles at you as your attention is on scolding the bird for biting at Barbatos. He wasn’t hurt, but he appreciates your concern.

You get a chuckle out of him when he catches you and the parrot in a game of chase.

Once the bird warms up to Barbatos, he chirps at Barbatos to get the treats he’s learned Barbatos usually has.

May make a toy for the bird, and even if your pet is typically picky about toys, he loves this handmade one.

Diavolo

He’s obsessed. He loves animals and he loves you so it’s all heart eyes for him.

He has Barbatos prepare treats for you and your parrot when you come to visit.

Adores your demonstration of tricks and claps at the end.

He asks if he can hold or pet your bird and of course you say yes. Your parrot’s reaction was to bite at the unknown fingers and Diavolo just laughs.

“He’s spunky, I like it!” 

For sure gets toys to try out for each time you visit and whether your parrot plays with the toys or not, he just enjoys the time spent with you two.