#Helluvaboss fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alastor-simp · 1 year ago

Text

Hugging Them Out Of Nowhere - I.M.P Gang + Stolas x Reader

❥WARNING: Will contain some swear words/profanity

❥Notes: Here we goooooo! Starting to write for the Helluva Boss series now. It might take a while for me to get in depth with some of the characters especially Blitz since hes a very chaotic character, but I'll try my best. There will be hints/spoilers from the other episodes in the series.

Based on last weeks episode, Blitz and Stolas deserve these hugs!!!

I will do more for the other characters like Fizz and Verosika soon. Enjoy you guys:)

Blitzø🐴

🐴Hugging Blitz was not very common at I.M.P. He was a very touchy feely with everyone at work especially with Moxxie and Millie. There were many work group hugs that he initiated with the rest of you, which was met with not a lot of enthusiasm back, well except from Millie.

🐴Finding a job was an IMP wasn't very easy since many of the work establishments used imps as either slaves or whatever paid the lowest amount since imps were on the bottom of the food chain. Seeing the silly jingle for the Immediate Murder Professionals on TV, you quickly came to look for a job and were introduce to everyone by Blitz. Blitz was.....well he was an okay boss. There were moments where he was a downright dickwad and others where he showed a compassionate side, but it wasn't commonly seen.

🐴Your relationship with him started off just being employee and boss, but it soon changed to friends as time went on. There was more to Blitz that met the eye and you had seen the sides of him that not many others saw and it made your heart ache. You doubt if even Loona knew about it and she was Blitz adopted daughter, but their relationship was kinda rocky.

🐴Sitting on the lounge couch in the I.M.P office, you jumped a bit when the door slammed opened. Blitz had walked in, but he wasn't in an upbeat mood like he usually was. His face was in a deep scowl and there were big dark circles under his eyes. He barely even reacted when Millie shouted a "Good Morning Boss" at him, as he sluggishly walked towards his office and slammed the door, leaving you and the others alone.

🐴"Umm...is he okay?" you were the only one who spoke, while the others just continued about their day. "Don't know, don't care." was the short response you got from Loona, as she sat with her legs on the desk, typing away on her phone. Moxxie just shrugged his shoulders and said that "Sir usually has moments like this and its best to leave him alone." Your eyes looked back at the door to Blitz office, contemplating if you should go and seem him. Heaving a deep sigh, you got up from your position on the couch and made your way over to the door.

🐴Looking into the room, you see that the room was dark, with small beams of red light coming from the blinds in the window. Blitz was sitting on his chair, head resting on his arms that were folded on top of the desk. Making your way slowly towards him, you called out his name softly.

🐴"UGHHHH! FUCKING CHRIST ON A STICK! CAN'T A GUY JUST HAVE SOME ALONE TI-" He stopped mid-sentence in his rant, as you had wrapped your arms around, giving him a hug. Blitz had no idea how to respond this your actions, as he stayed still, tail moving back and forth. "If you think offering sexual favors is going to increase your pay, then think again." Blitz grumbled out, but he raised an eyebrow when he heard you give a soft chuckle.

🐴"I'm not doing this for sex Blitz. I'm trying to make you feel better. I don't know whats going on with you, but I'm here if you need to talk about it." Not a word was said after that, as you continued to hold Blitz. His body was tense throughout the whole hug, but you felt him slowly relax against you. You felt something long wrap around your abdomen, pulling you closer towards him. You quickly realized it was his tail, and moved closer into the hug.

🐴After a few minutes, the hug slowly came to an end, as Blitz unwrapped his tail from you, allowing you to step back. Blitz's red irises held a bit of softness in them, as he continued to stare at you. He turned his head away, but one of his hands made his way up to your head and gave it a slight pat. "Thanks for that." he said to you, as his hand fell from your head. You smiled back and gave a small nod. Blitz then lifted his head and was wearing a large smile. "Alright time to get ready to kill some fuckers for our clients. MOXXIE! GET YOUR FAT ASS IN HERE!"

Moxxie🔫

🔫Starting as a new employee at I.M.P had you nervous, causing you to fiddle with your hands. You didn't know how the others would be, fearing they would hate you upon first seeing you. Surprisingly, they were kind people, as you were offered a huge hug from the imp named Millie and a little wave from her husband Moxxie. The hellhound seemed a bit antisocial when you saw her, but she was nice enough to give you a small head nod before going back to her cellular device.

🔫Your skills in fighting were subpar, but Moxxie and Millie were kind enough to train you. You had gotten closer to them over time especially Moxxie, but not in the romantic sense, you saw Moxxie as a big brother. You loved how passionate he was about singing and creating songs, and you adored how he soft he was for his wife.

🔫There were moments you felt really bad for Moxxie as he had to endure the nasty insults that either Blitz or Loona would throw at him. You still couldn't figure out why they kept calling him fat, like what? You were always there to cheer him up though whenever he was having a bad day, especially after having to deal with Blitz all day.

🔫Today was a bit of an odd day as a helicopter had arrived to pick up Moxxie, along with Millie and Blitz. You couldn't figure out what was going on, but you decided to stay behind in the office in case something happened and to watch over Loona for Blitz. They were gone for a while and had returned back in the afternoon, but this time Blitz was wearing a leather jacket and Moxxie was in a wedding dress? Curious you asked what the hell happened and Millie was kind enough to tell you everything.

🔫Your heart ached for Moxxie when you found out about his horrible father. You honestly wished you had gotten on the trip so you could stab his father in the face. Your eyes glanced over to look for Moxxie but he had slip away from you. Wondering where he went you followed after him. Leaving the room, you wondered out in the hallway and peered to see where he went. The last place you checked was the public restroom, so you went inside there.

🔫The bathroom wasn't the best but it wasn't the worse, since the toilets actually worked, but the floor definitely needed a cleaning and the mirrors needed replacing. You heard the sound of sniffles coming from one of the stalls and walked closer to it. Opening the stall door slowly, you looked inside to see Moxxie sitting on the toilet. He was still wearing the dress, and his legs were up on the seat, covering his face with them, as he had his arms and tail wrapped around his legs.

🔫"Moxxie?" calling out his name, you slowly entered the stall, closing the door behind you. He jolted upon hearing you call his name, removing his face from his legs, showing his tear streaked face. "Oh crumbs. Sorry I'm..I'm alright, don't worry about me." He tried to play it off that he was alright, but you can tell that his smile was forced. moving closer, you dropped down to your knees, inching closer to wrap your arms around him in a hug. No words came from Moxxie when you did this, but you heard the sounds of whimpering coming from him, as he moved his arms to wrap you in a tight hug, moving his head to cry on your shoulder.

🔫Placing your hand on his back, you rubbed it to provide him comfort as he continued to cry. It sounded like he was okay now as the sounds of his crying had stopped and his breathing had returned to normal. "What has you so upset, Mox?" Pulling away, you continued to stay on your knees to look at him. "Just....I feel so useless. I never wanted to go back to my old life, and the time I do, I finally get to stand up to my father, only to be knocked out like a weakling. I should have killed him, I could have but I didn't, and I almost got Millie and Blitz hurt because of me." "Moxxie stop!" Moxxie clamped his mouth shut, upon hearing you yell. "From what I heard from Millie, you opposed your father and even threatened him, and to me that is anything, but weak. You defended the love of your life, and told your psychopathic father to F off, so whatever negative thoughts you having going on in that head of yours, tell them to F off too."

🔫Moxxie eyes widen as he heard you talk, before returning to normal. The sad look on his face was replaced with a soft smile, as he wiped his tears away with his hand. "Haha thanks Y/N." Smiling back, you stood up from the ground and reached your hand out to grab Moxxie's, lifting him from the toilet. "Come on, lets get you out of that dress, even though you look very cute in it." A pinkish tint appeared on Moxxies face, before he yelled a "Hey!" and punched your arm, causing you to laugh.

Millie🪓

🪓Your first impression of Millie was not what you expected. You were very surprised that someone as kind and sweet as her was from the Wrath ring. The memories from your encounter in the Wrath ring gave you PTSD and you never wanted to experience that again, but Millie was making you slowly change your opinion.

🪓She was the definition of a hellish southern belle. Her country accent was adorable and the warmth she expressed with everyone was very motherly. You did see more of her violent side during your missions, but she was far from scary, badass was the word to describe it.

🪓The both of you had become two peas in a pod when you started working at I.M.P. The both of you participate in girly hobbies like going to spa trips and clothes shopping, but it did become target practice training on some days, as you really needed to improve your combat skills and Millie was kind enough to help you with that.

🪓It was very rare to see her in a depressive state, but you had seen it first hand during the mission at Camp Ivannakummore. You had just spotted Millie and Moxxie arguing about the mission and Millie running off crying, upset that Moxxie wasn't giving her a chance to shine. You weren't upset with Moxxie as it was clear he felt horrible for upsetting Millie. You told him to go do what he had to do and that you would go check up on Millie.

🪓It took a while, but you were able to find Millie, sitting behind the curtain on the stage at the camp. She was still upset as she still had tiny pinpricks of tears on her eyes. She spotted you and try to play it off, but you had run up to her and gave her a massive hug. Millie raised her hands up in shock, before looping her arms around your back, hugging you back super tight. "Are you okay?" you whispered.

🪓"I'm alright, suga. Don't worry about me." Millie said, as she tightned her arms around you more, making it hard to breathe. "Ack, can't breathe!" Millie gasped and removed her arms around, waving her arms up in the air. "Oh gosh! I'm so sorry. I forget my own strength sometimes. Ya alright?" Millie kept checking to make sure you were okay to which you responded with a thumbs up. "Moxxie felt bad about what had happened, and I'm pretty sure he's gonna come around and apologize to you. Come on, go out there and perform Millie. You gonna knock their socks off."

🪓A bright smile returned to Millie face, as she gave you another hug, yelling out Thanks, before she let go and made her way up to the stage.

Loona🐺

🐺Awkward, was the word to describe your relationship with Loona at the beginning of when you two first met. You honestly had no idea how to approach her since she seemed very unamiable with everyone, including her adopted father, Blitz. Her personality tended to shift to being very sarcastic to angry rebel, and you had no idea which one you were going to get when you talked to her.

🐺Blitz noticed your attempts to bond with Loona and it actually warmed his heart, as he did noticed that Loona didn't really have many friends except Vortex. He hatched a plan to get you two to become friends by inviting you over for a sleepover. You were happy that Blitz wanted to help, but you still felt this was overdoing it.

🐺Entering inside Blitz home, you scanned the walls, observing the pinned up photos and decor. You spotted Loona, who was sitting on the couch, who leaned her head back to look at you before putting it back up. Blitz had appeared from the bathroom, and noticed you at the door. "AH, you made it! C'mon, sit right here next to Loony!" Blitz had dragged you by the hand to the couch and made you sit down. "There we go, now the both of you are gonna have a fun bonding sleepover party. I'm gonna go out and hang out with Fizz, so both of you have fun!" Blitz said with excitement as he literally ran to the door yelling out a "BYE LOONY TOONY! LOVE YOU!" before slamming it.

🐺Now it was only two, alone in the living room. You had no idea what to do, so you just moved your eyes around the room, taking in everything. You smiled at some of the photos of Loona and Blitz, especially the adoption photo. Your eyes then move to look at Loona. She was wearing dark purple shirt that said "Fuck You Dad" and black lounge shorts with skulls on them. Loona lifted her head a bit from her phone, and noticed your eyes staring at her. "What?!" She growled out a response. Shaking your head, you stopped staring and quickly apologized. "Oh nothing, just...I like your pajamas. They're cool." Loona blinked at your response, having seemed to calm down. She gazed at her shirt, then back at you, "Um..thanks".

🐺You smiled back at her, and looked away. No one said a word after that, leaving the room in silence. "Have you heard of them before?" was spoken next to you, causing you to jump. Looking back at Loona, you tilted your head, "Um..who?" Loona pointed to her shirt, "Fuck You Dad. They are a band." "Oh no I haven't. Are they good?" Loona smiled a bit and moved to the side to grab a pair of headphones, while handing one to you.

🐺The both of you listened to the music, bopping your heads to the beat. The atmosphere slowly began to improve between the both of you, as after that you both chatted about other music genres and cool books to check out. The both of you decided to watch a movie, as you went into the kitchen to make some popcorn, while Loona put on a thriller movie to watch. After the movie, you had realize it had gotten late, and decided it was time to head for bed. You decided to sleep on the couch, as you didn't want to make the new relationship with Loona weird again if you slept in the same room. Loona bid you a goodnight and close the door to the room, as you got comfortable on the couch.

🐺You were awakened by the loud growling sounds coming from somewhere. You got up groggily and headed to where the sounds were coming from. They were coming from Loonas room, so you decided to open the door to see if she was okay. Upon entering her room, you saw her laying on her bed, hugging herself as she continued to whimper and growl. "Loona?" you walked closer to where she was, and sat on the bed, reaching out a hand to touch her. She had woken up at that, and shot up from her position on the bed, growling while baring her teeth at you. Her eyes were full of fear, and she had small tears in the corners of them. You jumped a bit at her reaction, but stayed where you were. "Loona, its me." you spoke in a calm tone, to reassure Loona you meant know harm Extending your arms out, you slowly moved towards her, wrapping your arms around her to give her a comforting hug. Loona's slit eyes had widen, signifying that she was calming down. She soon realized you were hugging her, and raised an eyebrow at you, "What are you doing?"

🐺You slowly released her from the hug and moved back a bit, to glance up at her. "I was trying to comfort you. You seemed to have had a bad nightmare." Loona said nothing, and just leaned back, crossing her arms. "It was nothing. Don't worry about it." Heaving a sigh, you uttered an okay and got up from the bed. You were stopped when you felt a hand grab yours, stopping you in your tracks. Turning your head back, you looked a Loona, who was wearing a bit of a shy expression. "Can...uh...can you lay with me for the night?" Widening your eyes at that, you gave her a soft smile back, and slowly moved towards the bed. You laid on the opposite side of where she was staying, and turned your back towards her. You felt her settle behind you, heaving out a long sigh. The room became quiet again, making you believe she had fallen back asleep, but you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind. Her large tail had moved under the sheets to lay on top of you, it was amazingly soft. "Thanks." was what you heard from behind you. You smiled and moved one of your hands to pet her tail before closing your eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

Stolas🦉

🦉You were the one of the maids/butlers that resided in the Goetia Family mansion. You were newly employed by the family, so there were many things that you had to learn from the other imps, but the job was fairly easy.

🦉The inhabitants of the mansion was the Prince of the Goetia Family, Prince Stolas, and his wife and daughter, Stella and Octavia. Fear had filled you when you first saw Stolas in front of you, when you asked for a job. He was extremely handsome, and quite tall as well. His appearance was very stoic and graceful, yet it still made you feel sheepish when he gazed at you with a cold expression. He may have appeared very distant, but there was more to him that met the eye, as he hired you immediately and offered you adequate pay for your services and your own room in the mansion.

🦉He was a prince, but there were other things about him that you soon discovered during your time at the mansion. He was such a nerd, his love for exotic plants and astrology always made you smile, as you saw how at peace and happy he was when he was indulging in his hobbies. His love for his daughter was extremely sweet, always looking out for her and making sure she was safe and happy.

🦉It soon became clear that he was having an affair with someone else, given how often you caught him giggling about said person on the phone. He often referred to him as "Blitzy" and you happened to see said person or imp, when they were climbing up the balcony to Stolas chambers. You happened to hear the both of them going at it one night when Stella and her daughter were away. Let's just say that whatever was going on in there was best left unseen, but you noticed how much carefree and joyful Stolas was after, so you thought to best leave it alone.

🦉Stolas was called away very late at night for some unknown activity. Whatever he was, he was very excited and dressed to nines. He was gone for quite a while, so you decided it be best to head to bed. Your dreams were disrupted by the sounds of Stella yelling, my satan, she was such an annoying dreadful women. Getting up from your bed, you made your way over to where the sounds were coming from, and headed to one of the balcony's. Hiding away, your eyes spotted Stolas and Stella standing in front of each other. Your ears were able to pick up Stolas saying "𝒲𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒!" Oh my satan! He was finally asking for a divorce!

🦉The rage in Stella's voice was apparent as you heard her insult Stolas one last time, before turning away from him. You hid yourself even more, so she wouldn't be able to spot you. Once the coast was clear, you walked out and made your way over to the balcony to where Stolas still remained. His back was turned towards you, and he was leaning against the railing of the balcony, hands clutching at the feathers at the top of his head. The aching in your heart grew at his sad display. He was suffering so much.

🦉"Your highness?" Stolas jolted from his position, standing up from his regular height, and turning his head all the way back to look at you. "𝒪-𝑜𝒽 𝒴𝒩! 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅?" His eyes were dripping with tears, smearing his lower eyelids with black mascara. "I happened to hear you and Stella arguing." Stolas heaved a sigh, and pointed his head down in shame. "𝑀𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒷 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇" He was in front of you right now, crying, and he was apologizing to you? No no, he had no reason to apologize.

🦉"May you do something for me your highness?" you asked while walking closer to him. Stolas lifted his head and said "𝒴𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓉?" "Can you sit on the ground for me?" Stolas tilted his head at you, confused, but he proceeded to do as you ask. Now that he was level with you, you moved closer to wear he sat, throwing your arms around him in a comforting hug. "𝒪𝒽 𝑀𝓎!" Stolas let out a surprised hoot, raising his arms in shock at your actions. Squeezing a bit tighter, you continued to hug him. "I apologize for doing this, but you looked in need of a hug." Stolas grew less tense and placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back a bit. "𝐼'𝓂 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹-" Stolas stopped when he saw the look on your face, basically telling him you were NOT buying what he was saying.

🦉"Its obvious to me you are not alright. You had just broken off the marriage with your horrid wife and you are staying up here, crying your heart out. What you need right now is a hug and some comfort. I understand if you are not comfortable with it and you can push me away." It all happened so quick, Stolas had wrapped his hands around you, pulling you back into a tight hug. He had lowered his head enough to where it was pushed against your chest. Sounds of sobbing could be heard and you felt your shirt becoming slightly dampen from his tears. You cradled his head against you, rubbing the back of his head feathers gently. The both of you remained in the position, with you holding Stolas as he continued to let all of his emotions out.

🦉His sobs soon came to an end, and he removed his head from your chest, but he kept his arms wrapped around your back. His crimson eyes glanced down at you and he was wearing a soft smile. "𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒴𝒩." Smiling, you moved your hand to wipe the last of the tears on his face. "You are welcome, your highness." "𝒪𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓈." Your eyes widen a bit a that, before they returned to normal. "Okay." Stolas smiled even more and leaned his forehead against yours, thank you again.

🦉"It might be a bit late to ask this, but would you like some ice cream?" Stolas face stilled for a bit, before he broke into a hooting laugh. "𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽."

TAG LIST:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillylovesalastorsm1 , @cosmiccoralz , @iheartalastor ,

@mezzo-piano230 , @yukiinee

456 notes · View notes

shapard · 8 months ago

Text

Chains ⛓️

Satan x reader

Tw: They're fighting, a bit of angst

5,7 k words

This was so fun to write

The story begins after the cut

The tension in the air was suffocating, thick with the weight of unspoken words and lingering resentment. It was as if the warmth you once shared with Satan had been replaced by an oppressive heat that burned rather than comforted. For the past year, your relationship with him had been unraveling thread by thread, each argument leaving you more frayed than the last. It was exhausting, a slow erosion of everything you had built together.

It wasn’t just the fights—though those had become more frequent. It was the silence, the distance. Satan had always been temperamental, his emotions running hot and fierce, but he had also been someone you could rely on, someone who made you feel seen, even in his dragon form where his monstrous size should have been intimidating. Now, his anger felt like a barrier, something that kept you at arm's length while simultaneously threatening to consume you.

And tonight, it had reached a breaking point.

“Satan, just act mature for once!” you snapped, your voice sharp with frustration. You hated how desperate you sounded, but the words had clawed their way out before you could stop them. His behavior had been unbearable lately—erratic, short-tempered, possessive. You had tried to reason with him, to understand what was driving this change, but every attempt had been met with anger or icy dismissal.

His eyes, those blazing golden eyes you had once found so captivating, narrowed at your words. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he began to transform before your eyes. His human form melted away, replaced by the towering, terrifying figure of his dragon self. Scales rippled across his body, catching the dim light and reflecting it in flashes of gold and crimson. His wings unfurled, their shadow stretching across the room, and his tail thudded against the ground with a force that made the walls quake.

“You’re calling me immature?” he snarled, his voice a guttural growl that made the ground beneath you tremble. “You’re the one who’s never satisfied! Always pushing, always demanding!”

The oppressive heat of his anger pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. His size alone was overwhelming, but it was the raw fury in his eyes that made your heart pound with a mixture of fear and defiance.

“I’m pushing because you’ve changed!” you shouted back, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re not the same person I fell in love with. I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words needed to be said, even if they hurt. Especially if they hurt.

His roar shook the room, a sound of pure rage and anguish. Steam hissed from his snout, and the temperature in the room rose sharply, making your skin prickle. “You think you can just walk away from me?” he growled, his four golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “You think I’ll let you?”

You took a shaky step back, your hands trembling at your sides. “I’m not asking for your permission, Satan,” you said, your voice quivering but firm. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

The words felt like shards of glass leaving your mouth, each one slicing through your resolve and leaving you raw. But you couldn’t stop now. You had to leave, for your own sake.

His body tensed, his claws digging into the ground with a sound like grinding stone. “You can’t leave me!” he roared, his voice reverberating through the room. He lunged forward, his massive form looming over you, and you stumbled back, your heart hammering in your chest. His tail lashed out, smashing into a nearby pillar and sending chunks of stone crashing to the floor.

“You’re mine, Y/N!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cutting through his fury.

“No, I’m not!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. “I’m not your possession, Satan! I’m my own person, and I won’t let you trap me here!” Your voice broke on the last word, and you turned, your legs trembling as you forced yourself to walk toward the door.

But Satan wasn’t finished. His massive clawed hand slammed into the ground in front of you, blocking your path. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, and you staggered, barely keeping your footing. The heat radiating from him was unbearable, and the sheer size of his claws—each one as long as your arm—made your stomach churn with fear.

“You don’t understand,” he growled, his voice lower now, almost pleading. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t lose you.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your resolve falter for a moment, but then you looked up at him—at the towering, menacing figure he had become—and felt a fresh wave of frustration and anger. This wasn’t love. This was control, possessiveness, obsession. And you couldn’t live like this anymore.

“Satan, you already have,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart.

His roar of anguish was deafening, and before you could react, his tail lashed out again, this time catching you in its path. The force of the blow sent you flying across the room, your body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. Pain exploded through your ribs and shoulder, and you crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

“Y/N!” Satan’s voice was a mixture of horror and rage, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Tears blurred your vision as you clutched your side, the pain making it hard to breathe.

He moved toward you, his massive form trembling, and for a moment, you thought he might reach for you. But then he stopped, his claws curling into fists as he growled low in his throat. “You can’t leave me,” he said again, his voice softer now, almost broken. “I won’t survive without you.”

You forced yourself to your feet, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through your body. “You don’t need me, Satan,” you said, your voice shaking. “You just don’t want to be alone. But I can’t be the one to fill that void for you anymore.”

His wings drooped, and for a moment, he looked almost small despite his massive size. But the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Isn’t that enough?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. Love isn’t supposed to hurt.” Your voice broke, and you turned, forcing yourself to walk away from him despite the pain in your body and the agony in your heart.

Behind you, Satan’s roar echoed through the room, a sound of pure, unrestrained fury and despair. You felt the ground shake as his tail lashed out again, smashing into another pillar, and the sound of stone crumbling filled the air. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

Each step felt like a battle, your body screaming in protest, your heart shattering with every movement. But you kept going, because staying would destroy you.

And as the door closed behind you, muffling the sound of Satan’s anguished roars, you let out a sob, your tears falling freely. You had done it. You had walked away.

But at what cost?

__________

Satan was more than just angry—his rage was primal, a force of nature that couldn’t be contained. The walls of his lair trembled as his enormous claws raked against them, sending shards of stone and debris crashing to the ground. His tail lashed out, smashing into a crystal chandelier that shattered into a rain of glittering shards, scattering across the floor like fallen stars. The air was thick with the acrid scent of destruction, the heat emanating from his body warping the very air around him.

He was a storm, a whirlwind of fury and pain, and nothing was safe from his wrath. Bookshelves that once held ancient tomes toppled under the force of his claws, their contents spilling onto the ground before being crushed underfoot. The ground beneath him cracked with each step he took, fissures snaking out in every direction. He tore through furniture as though it were paper, ornate carvings and polished wood splintering into jagged fragments. Every piece of glass he came across was reduced to glittering dust, the sound of shattering crystal echoing like a symphony of despair.

The lair, once grand and majestic, was now a battlefield of his anger. Flames licked at the edges of the room, ignited by the heat of his rage, casting flickering shadows that danced on the walls like restless spirits. Satan didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the pain coursing through him, a deep, gnawing ache that he couldn’t escape. His roars shook the very foundation of the underworld, a terrifying sound that sent lesser demons fleeing in terror.

“HOW COULD SHE LEAVE?” he bellowed, his voice cracking with emotion. He swiped his massive claws at a marble column, obliterating it in a single strike. The ceiling groaned in protest as debris rained down, yet Satan paid no heed. His golden eyes blazed with fury, his pupils mere slits as he continued his rampage.

It was only when his claw struck something small and fragile that he hesitated. A faint clinking sound cut through the chaos, barely audible over the destruction. His golden eyes snapped to the source, glowing faintly in the dim light of the burning room. Amid the rubble and broken glass, something gleamed—a photo frame, miraculously intact, lying on its side amid the wreckage.

Satan froze, his massive form looming over the small object. For a moment, his breathing was the only sound in the room, heavy and ragged. Slowly, he reached out, his clawed hand trembling as he picked up the frame. It was absurdly small in his grasp, almost laughable compared to his immense size, yet he held it as delicately as if it might shatter at the slightest touch.

The photo inside was of you and him. You were smiling, your face lit with a happiness that felt like a distant memory. Satan was beside you, his human form serene, his eyes soft as they looked at you. The image was a snapshot of peace, of love, of everything he had lost.

His rage faltered, the fire in his eyes dimming as he stared at the photo. The destruction around him—the shattered glass, the toppled furniture, the scorched walls—blurred into the background. All he could see was the picture, the reminder of what had been. His claws shook as he held the frame, his vision blurring as something wet and unfamiliar welled up in his eyes.

For the first time in eons, perhaps millennia, Satan felt tears streaming down his face. They fell hot and heavy, sizzling as they hit the ground. His chest heaved with a sob he couldn’t contain, the sound low and guttural, filled with a sorrow that seemed to echo through every corner of Hell.

He fell to his knees, the ground trembling beneath his weight, and let out a roar that shook the very fabric of the underworld. It wasn’t a roar of anger, though there was still rage simmering beneath the surface. It was a cry of despair, a sound so raw and unrestrained that it rippled through Hell like a tidal wave. Lesser demons cowered, their own instincts screaming at them to flee, while the air itself seemed to shudder in mourning.

Satan’s massive form hunched over the photo, his wings drooping as he clutched it to his chest. The chaos around him felt hollow now, meaningless in the face of his loss. He had destroyed everything in his path, but it hadn’t brought you back. It hadn’t filled the gaping hole you had left in his heart.

“I… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. His claws tightened around the frame, careful not to crush it. “Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I stop? I should have stopped…”

Another sob wracked his massive frame, shaking him to his core. His mind replayed every moment he had pushed you away, every argument, every cold silence. He had thought he was protecting you by keeping his distance, by burying his emotions deep where they couldn’t harm you. But instead, he had only driven you further away.

The lair was silent now, save for the crackle of the remaining flames and the sound of Satan’s quiet, ragged sobs. The destruction around him felt insignificant, a monument to his failure. His golden eyes, dulled with sorrow, remained fixed on the photo, the only thing left of the happiness he had taken for granted.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, kneeling amid the wreckage with the photo clutched tightly to his chest. Time had no meaning in his despair. All he knew was that he had lost you, and for the first time in his existence, he felt truly powerless.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

But the words felt hollow, echoing in the emptiness you had left behind. And for the first time in a billion years, Satan, the great and terrible ruler of Hell, wept.

________

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single lamp casting long shadows over the chessboard between you and Coraline. Your fingers brushed absently against the edge of the table, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts that you couldn’t quite corral into coherence. The weight of the past month bore heavily on your shoulders, the silence between you and Satan stretching endlessly, a chasm neither of you seemed willing to cross.

“Don’t you think you’ve given him enough of a silent treatment? It’s been over a month now,” Coraline said, her voice even as she moved one of the chess pieces with deliberate precision.

You crossed your arms, your gaze fixed on the board but seeing nothing. “I’m not sure,” you muttered, your voice thick with frustration. “He’s Satan. He’ll never let his pride down to go talk to his *little girlfriend*.” The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, and they cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Saying it out loud made it feel too real. You weren’t just doubting him—you were doubting the foundation of everything you had with him.

Coraline tilted her head, her expression sympathetic but firm. “I heard down in Wrath that Satan isn’t in a good mood. Maybe he does miss you. Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment to apologize.”

You let out an exasperated huff, your emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface. “I’m not responsible for him!” you snapped, the words coming out sharper than you intended. Your hands found their way to your hair, clutching at it as if the action could keep you grounded. “If he’s so sorry, he would’ve already found me! He’s Satan—he could do anything if he really wanted to.”

The truth in your own words stung. You weren’t just angry at him—you were hurt. And that pain felt like a wound that wouldn’t heal, no matter how much time you gave it. “He has Yogirt to calm his temper,” you continued, your voice quieter now, the edge dulled by the heaviness in your chest. “I’m not his therapist.”

You leaned back, finally taking a deep breath, as if trying to fill the void inside you. But it didn’t help. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your grip tightening around the soft plushie you had borrowed from Coraline’s daughter. The poor thing bore the brunt of your frustration, your fingers wringing it as though it could somehow absorb your emotions.

Coraline sighed, the sound long and weary. “You know, I won’t stop you from feeling how you feel,” she said, her tone gentle but laced with that undeniable edge of truth. “But remember who we’re talking about here. This is Satan. If he’s keeping away, it’s probably because of Yogirt. He doesn’t like being without you, Y/N. You know that.”

Her words struck a chord, though you didn’t want to admit it. You sank deeper into the couch, your body curling into itself as if trying to shield yourself from the reality she had laid bare. Coraline was right. Satan hated being apart from you. He had proven it time and time again, in ways that were both endearing and suffocating. When you had left him before, his rage had been terrifying—but beneath it, there had been a desperation that you couldn’t forget.

But this time, something was different. This time, you weren’t sure if you could forgive him.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… he let his title get in the way. He let his status mean more to him than I do. And that hurts. More than anything.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you quickly looked away, as though avoiding Coraline’s gaze would make you feel less exposed. But you couldn’t escape your own thoughts. The image of Satan—his fiery temper, his golden eyes blazing with authority, his voice commanding entire realms—clashed with the softer moments you had shared. The moments where he had been vulnerable, where he had held you close and whispered things you never thought you’d hear from one of the Sins of Hell.

You shook your head, trying to clear the images that only made your heart ache more. “I needed time,” you said finally, the words trembling on your lips. “Time to figure out what I want. Not what he wants. Not what everyone expects of me.”

Coraline didn’t reply right away, and the silence stretched between you. Finally, she rose from her seat, her movements slow and deliberate. “I get it,” she said, her tone soft but resolute. “You need time. You deserve time. But just remember, Y/N… you can’t run from him forever. You know that as well as I do.”

Her words hit you like a weight, the truth of them undeniable. Satan wasn’t someone you could hide from. Not truly. And deep down, you didn’t want to. But the thought of facing him now, while your emotions were still so raw, felt unbearable.

You sighed, letting yourself sink even further into the couch. “I’ll talk to him next week,” you muttered, the words tasting uncertain even as you said them. “I just… I need to collect my feelings first.”

Coraline nodded, her expression understanding but tinged with worry. “Fine by me,” she said simply, before leaving you alone in the room.

The silence that followed was oppressive, pressing down on you like a weight. You stared at the chessboard, the pieces frozen mid-game, a visual representation of the stalemate between you and Satan. Your fingers traced the edge of the couch absentmindedly, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm of doubt, guilt, and longing.

You knew Coraline was right. Satan wouldn’t take this silence much longer. He would come for you eventually, as he always did. And when he did, you would have to face him. You would have to decide if you could forgive him, if you could let go of the anger and pain that had driven you to leave in the first place.

But for now, all you could do was sit with your feelings, trying to untangle the mess inside you. Trying to figure out if the love you still felt for him was enough to overcome the hurt.

_______

Satan was devastated.

Every passing day without you felt like a blade carving into his chest, a sharp reminder of what he had lost—your smile, your laughter, the way you’d light up even the darkest corners of his existence. The bed felt like a cold, lifeless void without your warmth beside him. He had always taken your presence for granted, but now, with the silence stretching unbearably, he realized just how much you meant to him. You weren’t just a companion; you were his anchor, his solace in a world that often felt chaotic and uncontrollable.

He knew exactly where you were. The moment you left, he had made sure you were safe. He might have been prideful, but his protective instincts were sharper than any blade. Knowing you were sound and secure should have eased his torment, but it didn’t. It irked him, gnawed at him, that he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t see you, couldn’t hold you close and tell you how much he missed you. The space between you felt insurmountable, and it was driving him mad.

Satan’s nights were endless. Sleep was a luxury he hadn’t tasted in weeks. His mind replayed every moment he had with you—your laughter, the way you’d scrunch your nose when annoyed, the softness of your hand in his. And then it would turn to the moments he had failed you, the times his temper had boiled over, the words he wished he could take back. Guilt coiled tightly around his heart, suffocating him.

The phone in his hand was a lifeline and a curse. Your contact sat at the top of his list, the little icon mocking him with its silence. He stared at it, his thumb hovering over the screen as his chest tightened. He wanted to message you. No, he needed to. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to reach out, to bridge the gap, to fix what he had broken. But his pride shackled him, holding him back every time he came close to pressing send.

“Give her space,” Yogirt had warned him. The words played on an endless loop in his mind, but they felt like a punishment. Space? Wasn’t it space that had driven you away in the first place? Satan clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around the phone until his claws threatened to crack the screen. He hated feeling this helpless, this... human.

He scrolled through his contacts in frustration, the names of his fellow sins flashing past. Maybe he should ask Beelzebub or Asmodeus for advice. Bee was grounded and wise in ways Satan couldn’t always appreciate, and Asmodeus—well, if anyone knew the intricacies of relationships, it was him. And they both date the lower class. But the thought of admitting his failure, of revealing just how vulnerable he had become, made his stomach churn.

He threw the phone onto his desk, the clatter breaking the oppressive silence of the room.

His chambers were a mess, mirroring the storm inside him. Books lay scattered across the floor, some torn from his fits of rage. The curtains hung limply, darkened by the heat that radiated off his demon form. He hadn’t been able to revert to his smaller form in weeks—a fact that unnerved him more than he cared to admit. His massive horns curved ominously, his golden eyes burned with an unrelenting fire, and his wings, usually folded neatly, hung low and limp, dragging against the floor.

The lack of control terrified him. He was Satan, the embodiment of Wrath, a force to be reckoned with—and yet, you held more power over him than any celestial or infernal being ever could. He hated it. He hated how much he needed you. It was a dependency he hadn’t anticipated, one that left him feeling raw and exposed.

And yet, in his heart of hearts, he knew the truth: it wasn’t your fault. It was his. He had driven you away, let his title, his pride, and his temper overshadow the love he felt for you. He hadn’t seen the hurt in your eyes, the pain he had inflicted until it was too late. That image of you—your face crumpling in despair, your voice trembling as you told him you needed space—haunted him. It was etched into his memory, a scar that no amount of time could erase.

Satan ran a clawed hand through his horns, his frustration mounting as he paced the room. “Why couldn’t I just... stop?” he muttered to himself, his voice low and guttural. “Why did I let it get this far?”

He thought of the small moments he had missed, the times he could have told you how much you meant to him but chose not to. He had let his pride convince him that his actions were enough, that you understood the depth of his feelings without him needing to say the words. But now, he wasn’t so sure.

The truth was, he was terrified. You had him wrapped around your finger, and that scared him more than anything else. You had the power to hurt him, to break him in ways no one else could. He had kept you at arm’s length to protect himself, to maintain control—but in doing so, he had pushed you away, and now the absence of you was unbearable.

Satan’s chest heaved with a growl, a deep rumble that shook the room. His eyes darted to the phone on the desk, his mind racing. Should he call? Should he message you? Should he do something? The indecision tore at him, the war between his pride and his desperation leaving him paralyzed.

Finally, he collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his massive form sinking into the mattress. His wings drooped further, the weight of them almost as heavy as the weight in his chest. He buried his face in his hands, his claws digging lightly into his scalp as he fought the urge to scream.

“I miss you,” he whispered, the words muffled but heavy with emotion. “I miss you so damn much.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to hold you again, to hear your voice, to see that soft smile that always melted his defenses. The thought brought a lump to his throat, his golden eyes glistening as he blinked back the emotion threatening to spill over.

You were the only one who could calm the storm inside him, the only one who made him feel human in a way that no one else ever could. And now, without you, he was lost—a shadow of himself, a king without his queen.

He wanted to believe he could fix this, that he could find the words to make you come back. But for now, all he could do was sit in the emptiness of his own making, waiting and hoping that the love you had for him was still enough.

______

A week had passed, and now you found yourself standing before the obsidian gates, their sheer size and dark aura looming over you like a physical weight. It had taken every ounce of courage to make it here, and even now, as your fingers brushed the cool, etched surface of the gates, doubt gnawed at you. Should you have come? Should you have stayed away?

The imps bowed as you passed through, their expressions a strange mix of respect and relief. Some even whispered among themselves, glad to see you back, though their tones held a note of apprehension. It only made your unease grow. What had he done in your absence? The question was a constant thrum in your mind, but the answer was just out of reach, a shadow waiting to pounce.

Your steps echoed in the vast hall as you made your way toward his usual spot. The silence was unbearable, amplifying the sound of your racing heart. When you reached the room, it was empty. The sight struck a chord of unease in you. This was his place of solace, where he usually brooded when things became too much. But now, the chair he so often occupied sat cold and unused. The air was heavy, thick with a tension that pressed against your skin like a physical force.

You turned to one of his assistants lingering nearby. Their face was pale, their movements hesitant. “Where is he?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

The assistant flinched but answered, “He’s been in his chamber. For days now. No one can get in. He... he’s not himself.”

The cryptic reply did nothing to soothe your nerves. Your stomach twisted as you made your way to his private chambers. The corridors seemed darker than usual, the shadows deeper, and the air grew hotter the closer you got. Finally, you stood before the massive door, its surface pulsing faintly with the glowing runes that protected it. Even without touching it, you could feel the oppressive energy radiating from behind it.

Steeling yourself, you knocked. The sound felt pitifully small against the weight of the door. A growl answered almost immediately, low and guttural, vibrating through the air. It wasn’t just a warning—it was a command. Leave.

“It’s me,” you said, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound firm. “Please, Satan. Let me in.”

Another growl followed, sharper this time, like a knife slicing through the air. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” came his voice, deeper and rougher than you’d ever heard it. It barely sounded human.

Your heart sank, the raw vulnerability in his tone conflicting with the primal fear that his growl had stirred. “I don’t care how you look,” you said, your voice softening. “I just want to talk. Please.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a loud creak and a burst of hot air that nearly singed your skin, the door opened. You stepped inside, and the sight before you made you freeze.

He was massive, far larger than anything you’d ever seen. His dragon form filled the chamber, his hulking frame hunched awkwardly in the too-small space. His scales gleamed like molten gold, sharp and jagged, and his claws dug deep into the stone floor, leaving long, jagged gouges. Four glowing eyes pierced the dim light, their golden intensity terrifying and alien. His wings, tattered and massive, cast jagged shadows across the room, and his tail lashed behind him, hitting the walls with enough force to send cracks spidering through the stone.

The heat was overwhelming, the air thick and suffocating, and the primal power emanating from him made your knees weak. You had seen him angry before, in his smaller forms, but this—this was something else entirely. This was raw, unrestrained, and terrifying. For the first time, you truly understood why he was called Wrath.

“Satan...” His name barely escaped your lips, your voice quivering.

He growled low, a rumbling sound that shook the room. Steam hissed from his nostrils, the heat so intense that it stung your skin. His four eyes narrowed, focusing on you, and you felt your heart race. It wasn’t just fear—it was heartbreak. This was the man, the demon, you loved, but in this form, he was almost unrecognizable. He wasn’t just a dragon. He was rage personified, and it frightened you.

“Can you... can you make yourself smaller?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Another growl, this one tinged with frustration. His massive claws scraped against the floor as he shifted awkwardly. His eyes flickered with something—shame, maybe? Then, his deep, rumbling voice came, distorted and broken. “Stuck,” he managed to say, the word guttural and strained, as if even speaking in this form was a struggle.

Your breath hitched. Stuck. He couldn’t control it. He couldn’t even talk properly. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. Whatever had happened while you were gone, it had pushed him past his limits, and now he was trapped in this monstrous form.

Tears pricked your eyes as you took a hesitant step forward. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He huffed, the force of it sending a hot gust of air past you. His claws shifted, and his tail lashed again, knocking over a massive shelf that shattered on impact. His eyes darted to you, frantic and wild, and for the first time, you saw something else beneath the rage—fear. He was scared.

“You’re scared,” you said, the words breaking something inside you. “You didn’t want me to see this. To see you like this.”

He let out a low rumble, almost a whine, and lowered his head slightly. His four eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, they glistened with something you never thought you’d see from him—tears.

The sight broke you. You stepped closer, placing a tentative hand on the edge of his massive claw. “Satan,” you said softly. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. But you have to talk to me. You can’t keep shutting me out like this.”

He let out a long, shuddering breath, the heat of it washing over you. Slowly, as if the effort was immense, his form began to shrink. His horns receded, his wings folded awkwardly against his back, and his scales dulled. Finally, he was back in his more humanoid form, but even now, he seemed smaller somehow. Defeated.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse and cracking. His golden eyes locked onto yours, filled with guilt and anguish. “I didn’t know how to face you. I didn’t know how to ask for your forgiveness.”

You blinked back tears, your hands trembling as you cupped his face. “Why, Satan? Why didn’t you tell me how much you were struggling?”

“Because I’m not supposed to struggle!” he burst out, his voice breaking. “I’m Wrath. I’m supposed to be strong, in control. But you... you make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. I’m terrified of losing you. I’m terrified of how much I need you.”

His confession tore through you. You had always known he was prideful, but hearing this, seeing him so vulnerable, shattered every wall you’d built around your heart. “You won’t lose me,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “But you have to let me in. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

He nodded, his tears spilling over as he clung to you, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. “I’ll do better,” he promised, his voice trembling. “I’ll try. I’ll do anything to keep you by my side.”

And for the first time in weeks, the distance between you felt surmountable. You held him tightly, letting him sob into your shoulder, and silently vowed to face the future together—no matter how difficult it might be.

I Thank you for all the Love and support! it makes me keep going!

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @ayanazoldyck

#helluva boss satan #helluvaboss #fanfiction #hellaverse #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #helluva boss satan x reader #satan x reader #satan #angst #story #shapard

331 notes · View notes

theamberfist · 1 year ago

Text

Sink or Swim | Stolas x Reader

Romantic! Stolas x Swim Instructor! Reader

Description: When Stolas signed his baby daughter, Octavia up for swim lessons, he never expected to like her new instructor so much

(Notes:) (gender neutral reader) (reader is a sinner) (reader is baby Octavia's swim teacher)

Words: 1,640

❀ Fun fact: I've taught parent-infant swim lessons IRL so all the exercises shown in this are real ones we use with infants ❀

Stolas frowned as he pushed open the door to the building in front of him; unable to help the slight nervous feeling that bloomed in his chest. He supposed there should have been no cause for concern, considering he was a prince of hell and easily one of the strongest beings in this ring, but it wasn't as if he'd ever done something like this before.

He readjusted his arms, where Octavia rested on his hip sleepily. On a normal day, she would have been napping at home now, but not for much longer. He'd specifically chosen this time because he knew that, once she woke up, she would be as active as ever. Stolas reminded himself that this was for her sake, not his; he could hold his head up high for her, just as he always did.

When he entered, the imp at the front desk looked up from his work and his eyes widened slightly. "Prince Stolas..." He managed before finally clearing his throat and regaining his composure, "Right, we were expecting you." Though, something told the owl prince they hadn't actually thought he'd make good on his plans and come in.

"The toddler pool has already been reserved, and your instructor is waiting for you there," the imp went on to explain as he checked their names off on a clipboard, "I'll let them know you've arrived."

"Thank you." Stolas nodded awkwardly before turning and heading through the locker rooms to the pools. Though he could have simply signed Via up for regular lessons, he'd decided a private one would be better for the sake of them both. He wasn't aware that meant they'd reserve an entire pool for them, however small, but at least this way, he would have fewer paparazzi to deal with.

Finally, he reached the pool deck, seeing that the whole facility only had a few people in it right now. There was a large lap swimming pool in front of him, as well as a splash pad to his right and the toddler pool to his left. When he looked over, there was already someone sitting on the side with their feet in the water as they waited. They wore a red swimsuit with the word 'lifeguard' printed in white, leading him to believe this was the instructor the imp at the front desk had mentioned.

He made his way over to the toddler pool as Octavia began stirring in his arms now. It was a good thing he'd already gotten her into her swimsuit, or he would have had a hard time getting her to sit still long enough for it now.

Upon hearing them come over, you looked up and smiled, setting the clipboard you'd been holding on the side of the pool.

"Hello!" You called, "Here for the parent-child swim lesson?" Stolas nodded and you stepped out of the barely knee-deep pool to come over to him. To his surprise, you seemed to be a sinner, rather than an imp or hellhound like he'd expected. Your appearance differed from them greatly, and there was an energy about you that told him you had to be a human soul.

You smiled and introduced yourself. "I'll be teaching our class every week," you explained, "If anything is too difficult or uncomfortable for you two as we get started, please let me know. Private lessons means I have a little more flexibility in what we do." You winked at the last part, and though it made the prince's heart beat quicker, he was fairly certain you just meant it playfully.

"Anyway, who is this little one?" You asked, turning to the little owlet in his arms, whose big round eyes were staring up at you.

"This is my daughter, Octavia," Stolas replied, immediately relaxing now that the topic of conversation had changed, "She's about a year old; I hope that's alright!" You waved him off.

"That's perfect," you said, gently reaching out towards the baby, "I've worked with kids much older and much younger than this." Octavia's tiny hand grabbed one of your fingers and you smiled kindly before looking up at her father. "And you're Prince Stolas, right?" He blinked.

"Just Stolas is fine!"

You nodded before removing your hand from the owlet's grip and standing up straighter. "Well, if you're ready, then we can get started." You said, that professional air returning to you, "I was thinking we'd have her in the shallow area to start with and ease her into slightly deeper waters." Stolas nodded, setting his bag down on a pool chair and then following you to the water.

Now that you'd been properly introduced, Octavia was eager to follow after you, and he held her little hands as she stepped into the shallowest area of the pool. You giggled, encouraging her along the way.

Once she stood so that the water was up to her knees, you brought out a dive toy and placed it on the pool floor, asking her to reach down and grab it to get her a little closer to the water. Stolas sat by her as she did so with ease, and then you moved the toy slightly deeper.

He admired how much energy you seemed to have with his owlet, as well as how kind you were to her. Your soft voice and easy patience was a stark contrast to Octavia's mother; that was for sure. The two of you watched her repeatedly pick the dive toy up from increasingly deeper as if she had no care in the world.

Finally, he broke the quietness between you two as you congratulated Octavia at another job well done. "Do you often teach lessons here?" He asked a little awkwardly, "I haven't seen many human souls in this ring of hell before." You smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I teach almost all the lessons we offer here," you replied, moving Via's dive toy again, "It's the same job I had while I was alive, and I guess it's the only thing I've really found that I'm good at."

Stolas couldn't argue with that. Usually, Octavia was much more timid around water than this. She wouldn't even go in it at all if he wasn't holding her hand the whole time. With you, though, she was so enthusiastic that she hadn't even noticed the lack of touch. It was like he'd brought a different baby to the pool altogether today.

"I see," he replied with a nod, smiling down at his daughter, who was happily splashing some of the water. "Do you have any children of your own?" You shook your head.

"Nope, I mostly kept to myself while I was alive- and, I guess, while I've been dead, too." You shrugged, "But when I found out how few kids in my neighborhood knew how to swim, I started doing lessons to keep them a little safer."

Stolas nodded, wondering if it would have been too much to hope that 'keeping to yourself' meant you didn't have a spouse or partner, either.

"If you're ready, we can move to the deeper water exercises." You changed the subject now and the prince nodded, placing a reluctant Octavia back on his hip and bringing her towards the deeper pool nearby. There, you helped him perform the next exercise, which consisted of him resting the owlet's head on his shoulder and trying to get her to kick her legs as he moved her through the water on her back. She was less enthusiastic about that, but you were quick to think; holding a toy up so her focus would shift.

That calmed her down a lot, and soon enough she was kicking her legs happily as she giggled at you. "Do you get many attendees to your lessons?" Stolas asked in an attempt to strike up a conversation with you again, "I know those who died and ended up here aren't at as much risk of drowning." You nodded.

"That's why I work here," you smiled, "People in the pride ring aren't really concerned about dying unless it's at the hands of angels. I still think water safety is important, though."

The prince couldn't argue there. After all, that was why he'd signed Octavia up for these lessons. That, and he'd thought it would be nice for the two of them to get out of the house together for an activity.

"Then I applaud you for your work!" He replied, "I'm sure many hellborn children can be quite difficult to teach." You laughed.

"You have no idea how much hellhounds hate swimming."

The rest of the lesson went on just like that. With each new exercise, you found yourself getting that much more comfortable talking with Stolas, and vice versa. Octavia was also doing extremely well with everything you threw at her, and at this rate, you knew she'd be confidently swimming around on her own soon enough.

Finally, the lesson ended and you praised the little owl before dismissing the class and hopping out of the water. Feeling warmer than you had when you began, you grabbed your clipboard to prepare for your next class.

Stolas glanced your way as he carefully dried Octavia off. "Same time next week, then?" He asked with a grin and you nodded.

"I'll be looking forward to it!" He didn't say anything, but inside, he knew he would be too. Just as he was grabbing his bag to leave, you came over and handed him a small piece of paper. The owl prince raised an eyebrow.

"My number," you explained with a smile, "just in case." He nodded at that, feeling his heart flutter as he placed the paper in his pocket, and then you waved them both off as they left.

It seemed he'd gotten more enjoyment out of these little swim lessons than expected, and he couldn't wait to come back.

#helluva boss #helluva stolas #helluvaboss #stolas helluva boss #helluva boss stolas #stolas #stolas goetia #stolas x reader #stolas x you #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x you #helluva boss x y/n #helluva boss stolas x reader

345 notes · View notes

whorebughaze · 1 year ago

Text

Huskerdust prank wars doodle comic :3

(tumblr fucked the quality of these pshhh)

159 notes · View notes

kaylopolis · 1 year ago

Text

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Seventeen

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Helluva Boss events of this chapter take place during S2E6 “Oops.”

Last transition chapter before the finale!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Seventeen - The Countdown

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!!!! Mentions of abuse.

3 Days till Extermination

“Coconut mocha for Sir Pentious, soy latte for Angel, espresso for Husk, decaf for Niffty, 2% cappuccino for Vaggie, iced coffee for Charlie, and black chai for Alastor,” you spun the tray, ensuring you had everyone’s order.

Well, technically, not “order.” The crew didn’t know you were going to this extent. You woke in Alastor’s bed, the sheets long since gone cold from where Alastor’s sleeping form had once been. The Hotel crew had been hard at work early in the morning - even Husk had skipped his eye-opener glass of whiskey. So, before you had joined the crew in the foyer, you snuck past them and headed for the kitchen. The group was still uneasy around Alastor - everyone except for Husk. The cat demon never gave a fuck about anything regarding the Radio Demon.

Taking a deep breath, you and the tray made your way to the huddled group in the foyer. “I um… I made coffee?”

“Thank fuck!” Angel exclaimed. The demon rolled his shoulders and stretched the stiffness from his arms. “Momma needs a drink.”

You passed off the drinks to their respective partners, finally coming to Charlie.

“Hey,” you breathed, afraid of saying anything more. This was the first time you were encountering the Princess since the big reveal and although Charlie was always the upbeat, do-gooder of the group, you were still nervous.

“Hey, um, Aunt… Thestral… Mika-… Mickey… Aunt Mike…”

God, this was painful to watch.

“Just call me Mikaela,” you smiled awkwardly, handing her the iced coffee.

“Okay, Aunt Mikaela,” the Princess smiled softly.

“Oh…” You blinked. “No, Charlie, it’s okay. You don’t have to…” You huffed, noticing the eyes around you quickly darting away. “I have not earned that title.” Your shoulders slumped as you spoke.

You never really expected to have this conversation. You had just assumed the worst, but this was Charlie for crying out loud. She was technically family. She was a bleeding heart, so of course she’d want some sort of relationship with you. Yet, you hadn’t really thought down this avenue, thinking you’d forever stay friends and never acknowledge the elephant in the room. Especially considering Lucifer hated you and wanted nothing to do with you…

Charlie placed a hand on your arm and smiled. “I look forward to that day.”

The Princess didn’t smile because she agreed with you, she smiled because she recognized the struggle within you. She recognized that you were not ready for that, for whatever reason (~hellah guilt~), and that you needed time to come to terms with the situation.

So she’d give it to you.

“Can we get back to plannin’? I’m too hungover for this shit.” Husk grumbled.

You rejoined the group before the table, squishing yourself between the cat demon and Alastor.

“Ma cherie,” Alastor greeted you with his usual kiss of your hand that made the butterflies in your belly crazy.

“I don’t approve of this…” Vaggie grumbled as she crossed her arms.

“Yeah, yeah!” Angel shoved his way between you and Husk. “We know, Small Tits!”

The Radio Demon leaned in, finding any excuse to touch you. His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the dark fabric of his suit accenting his sharp lines. What you would give to rip that suit off of him right here…

“Stop calling me that!” Vaggie stomped her foot, but Angel continued on.

“Watya tink?” The spider demon motioned to the diorama before him.

The Hotel was drawn in pencil on a sheet of paper, small objects signifying each of the Hotel Natives. You assumed the glass of scotch was Husk, Angel was the cellphone charm, the grey feather was Vaggie, the needle was Nifty, one of the Eggs (Frank?) represented Sir Pentious, the stress ball was Charlie, and… Alastor was a cut-out music note (probably hand-drawn by Angel). Which meant you were the espresso cup.

“What is this?” You scrunched your nose.

“A battle plan!” Angel exclaimed. “Can’t go to war without a strategy. Am I right?”

You did a doubletake. “This…” You swallowed.

Angel’s smile dropped. “What? What’s wrong?” The demon analyzed the playing board.

“Well…” You handed your coffee off to Alastor. “Can I?” You waited for Angel to permit you before - quite literally - rearranging every single icon on the map. Before you were done, it was a completely different strategy.

“Wow,” Charlie smiled. “Uhm, really - really - good job! But… Can you maybe… maybe explain to those who don’t know what’s going on, what’s going on…”

Oh, Charlie, dancing around the honest truth: what the fuck were you thinking with this?

“Well…” You pointed to the scotch and phone charm. “Husk and Angel have natural chemistry.”

“Excuse me?” Husk scoffed.

“Oooooh,” Angel purred. “You hear that, Whiskers? Chemistry.” Angel leaned into Husk, the older demon rolling his eyes but not pulling away as his cheeks heated.

“They work well together, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “Angel is a medium-distance fighter, while Husk is more close combat. If the portal to Heaven opens here,” you point to the front of the Hotel. “Which I suspect Adam will do, Angel and Husk can cover the right wing. At the same time, Charlie and Vaggie can cover the left. Same concept with their dynamic. Vaggie has battle experience, and Charlie… Well…” You winced. “She’ll be well taken care of.”

“I love it,” Angel purred, leaning into Husk even more. The cat demon sidestepped, allowing the spider to fall right onto the carpet.

“What about me?” Nifty appeared beneath your legs, her head barely appearing over the table's surface.

“You are a Jungler.”

“Oh!” She laughed maniacally, “A Jungler! Uh, what’s that?”

“A Jungler,” you moved the needle to demonstrate. “Is sort of like a freelancer. You have the power to move between the two groups and work as you please.”

“Why would I do that?” The small demon tilted her head before reaching for the needle. Vaggie swatted her away.

“Because, you can take out any rogue Angel that slips past or attempts to ambush the four of them,” you explained.

“Oh, I like that!” She laughed.

“And me?” Sir Pentious stepped in.

“With your knowledge of war and supply of long-range weaponry, you’ll be right outside the Hotel, with Angel, Husk. Charlie, and Vaggie being the line between you and the Angels. You and your Egg boys…”

“Hey, that’s me!” Frank pointed out.

“... will be in charge of long-range attacks against the invading forces. You’ll be aiming for the portal opening: where they concentrate most.”

“Yesssssss, sssssssir!” The snake demon saluted. “It would be our honor!”

You huffed, “That just leaves Al and I.” You moved the music note to the front line. “Alastor is our tank. He does the best against multiple enemies at once and can take the most hits. He’s best suited for the front lines, while I…” You moved the cup to the top of the Hazbin Hotel. “... deal with Adam.”

The entire room went silent.

“I’m our secret weapon. I’d be best used against their Commander and Second in Command - Lute. I know Adam’s fighting style, which means I know his weaknesses. He won’t be much of a problem for me.” You could technically take out the entire Exorcist force single-handedly if you wanted to, but unleashing the hidden Power within you would be a stupid move. It needed to remain a secret…

The room says nothing for so long you almost question whether they have frozen in time.

A zip of static runs its way down your spine. You turn to face the Radio Demon, his pupils pinpoint and hard as steel, despite his cool demeanor, meets your gaze.

You blink, “What?”

Angel leans in and whispers not-so-quietly, “That was Smile’s plan you just messed with, Hair clip.”

Oh, shit.

No. Wait.

You crossed your arms, “You want Adam for yourself.”

Alastor laughed, his chuckles shallow and filled with static, “When you say it that way, darling, it sounds selfish. No, no! I simply wish to play my part. What would dear Adam think when Mikaela Morningstar suddenly appeared after a hundred years of silence, hmm?”

It was always so interesting how Alastor could flip his personality on a dime. He was so different with you when the two of you were alone. The Radio Demon was always just a mask, but one he wore well. It was going to take some used to - this change of pace in front of others - but part of you saw it as playful. So, you played.

Grinning, you leaned in. Alastor’s grip tightened on his cane, noting the sudden change in proximity while in public. It made him uncomfortable, but you were doing that on purpose. “Who said I’d be going as Mikaela Morningstar?”

“Oh, my!” The Radio Demon pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes feigning a spark of interest. “Had you found your cloak? I thought that shabbish thing went missing for good!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the slight, “No, unfortunately, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make another one.”

“In such a short time!” Alastor leaned in, goating you despite the crowd. “My, my, what a feat that would be to pull off.”

Oh, to dance with the devil… You had one argument in your back pocket you could use that would shut Al up for good, but you would never do that. You would never tell Alastor that he sat a few rungs lower on the hierarchy of power than Adam did… It would destroy him.

So, instead, you said, “Al, I can handle him…”

“As can I.” Alastor leaned in more, his towering figure bent at an odd angle in order for you to meet him at eye level. “Laisse-moi faire mon travail, mon cœur. Let me do my job, mon couer.”

You blinked before switching to French. “De quoi s'agit-il vraiment? What is this really about, Al?”

The demon smiled, this grin lop-sided and genuine - his Radio Demon persona dropping for but a moment. “Toi, mon cœur, ça a toujours été à propos de toi. You, mon couer, it's always been about you.”

“I think…” Charlie steps in, “... what Alastor is trying to say is, it’s safer for you if you remain hidden from Heaven.”

Wait, can Charlie switch languages like an Angel could? Well, Vaggie could - she was an Angel - but Charlie was “other.” You didn’t know if she was closer to a demon or an Angel or - God-forbid - a Human Sinner at this point. She was the first of her kind - both belonging to and also not.

“I won’t hide from a fight.” You turn your energy towards her.

“You won’t be hiding, you’ll just be…” Charlie’s words ran out.

But, of course, Al popped in, “You’ll be assisting our dear Princess.” The demon placed a hand on her shoulder in support. “Keeping her safe from any harm during the onslaught from…” Al made direct eye contact with you before continuing, “your plan.”

Fuck. The entire ordeal with Lilith slammed into your mind. You made a promise that your plan would keep Charlie out of harms way and here you were, placing her on a battlefield. Fuck, Alastor was right, you were going to have to watch after her during the chaos. The fight left you then, the realization of the situation weighing down your limbs with lead.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Rolf switched the music note for the coffee cup, the ceramic finding its new home next to the stress ball and grey feather.

Leaving Alastor to face Adam alone…

____________________________________________

2 Days till Extermination

Alastor had introduced you to the most important person in his entire life, but she couldn’t be there.

As you stared at the marbled headstone, worn with age, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in your gut. Had you not done the things you did, had you returned Eve to Heaven like you were supposed to, you might still be able to pass St. Peter and enter the pearly white gates. You might still be able to return Alastor to his mother instead of standing here at her grave, speaking to the tree she was buried under.

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” you give a small curtsy before Alastor grabbed your hips and pulled you into him. Resting your head on his chest, you stand in silence for a while, letting the wind whip your hair and skirt in the small breeze. It was warm in Louisiana - the Extermination was right around the corner. You should have worn something lighter, but you wanted to wear something nice, something important for this moment.

Rosie had redone your wardrobe, this time unabashedly dressing you in Alastor’s colors. At your request, she redid the red and black dress you loved so much, the one with a back of black lace. Except this one was so much more. Full red with a layer of laces over a skin—colored slip. You appeared to be floating under a layer of lace before it bunched out at the hips. You wore that and a matching red ribbon in your golden hair. God, even on this side, you looked so much like Lucifer it’s a shock no one put it together the moment he stepped foot in the foyer.

“Alastor,” you breathed into his black lapel jacket. Someone, somewhere, was playing a trumpet, its brass echoing through the green meadow trapped within the heart of the city. “I need to say something.”

“Hmm,” the demon hummed.

You pulled back a little, yet still in his arms. You needed room for this part, to catch your breath. “Lilith has to die.”

It had been swimming through your mind for days at this point - since you woke in Alastor’s bed and found him smiling in his sleep.

“Oh?” Alastor’s eyebrows shot up, his smile slightly strained. You knew how he hated talking of Hell’s Queen and you knew why. “And why would that be?”

Taking a breath, you let your power slip out, just like it had that first day at the Hotel. You prodded into Alastor and, this time, he didn’t even put up a fight. You dug deep, swimming through the lake of power he had built up over the years as Overlord, until you found the center - empty.

Alastor’s Soul was missing.

“I knew something felt wrong, but I didn’t figure it out until recently. ‘To power and chaos,’ that was the last thing Lilith said to me before she took her trip top-side.”

Although you had but a moment to taste the well of power Alastor carried within him, it felt off. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it until yesterday when you were talking with Angel.

The spider demon brought you into his room and poked and prodded you about your relationship with the Radio Demon. Mostly he wanted information on the things only lover’s shared in bed, because, of course he did. Yet, the spider demon had asked you a very important question, one you never would have considered had he not brought it up.

____________________________________________

“So, uh…” Angel rolled onto his side atop the bed, Fat Nuggets snoozing in his arms. “I have ta’ ask this but uh, if yous was a Human Sinner, ya’ think Smiles would be all over ya’ Soul?”

You paused mid-chew of a sweet lemon square Angel had stashed in his room. After he sampled the ones you shared with him all those moons ago, the spider demon went searching for his own. Not for himself, but for the loveable blob of pink he shared the space with.

You blinked, mouth full of tartness.

Would Alastor, the Radio Demon, the man Hell-bent on the consumption of power, the architect of some of the most infamous deals in Hell, want your Soul? I mean, you imagined he would. Why wouldn’t he? The demon tried to kill you for power not that long ago, even going so far as to sink an Angelic blade into your flesh. Yet, he was a man consumed then, a veil of desire overshadowing his senses, but he broke through. Yes, you nearly destroyed half of a border town district in doing so but in the end, Alastor came back to you.

So, given the chance, would he persuade you - violently - into signing a contract to give over your Soul?

“Yes,” you swallowed.

Angel narrowed his eyes at you, “Ya’ seriously tink that, Hair clip?”

The lemon squares suddenly became too distracting. “I do. Do you know why?” You pushed the sugary delights away, clearing space for yourself physically and mentally to think this out. “Alastor nearly killed me, but he didn’t. In the end… In the end, he chose me. Had he been after my Soul, well, I’d still end up on that radio tower balcony with a knife to my throat. And it would have gone the exact same way it did the first time.”

Angel’s jaw dropped, “Wow, ya got a lot more faith in him than the rest of us evah would.”

Oh yes, Alastor would want your Soul… but what of his? Your stomach twisted.

You snort, willing the thought away, “Yeah, that’s why I’m the one getting dick and you’re not.”

The pig demon jumped as Angel exploded in a fit of laughter. “Holy shit! Okay! Okay…” He wheezed. “Okay, one last question. One last question!” The demon regained his breath. “I need ya’ to answer me seriously, gurl. Does the carpet match the drapes?”

You shoot him a dumb look. “Seriously?”

“As serious as the day I died.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything that is said in here never leaves this room, understood?” Angel had managed to weasel a few - A FEW - details regarding your sex life. Alastor was a very private person; you knew he would hate if serious ~details~ ever got out. So, you stuck to mostly the softer topics regarding your relationship - despite Angel’s protests.

“Ya! Ya!” Angel rolled onto his back, his head dangling over the side of the bed. “You’ve reminded me like fifty fuckin’ times. Just tell me!”

You grumbled, but trusted the spider demon anyway, “Yes.”

“I knew it! RED LIPSTICK DICK!” the demon shouted.

“Angel!”

____________________________________________

Alastor spun you before you could read more of his face, wrapping his arms around you from behind, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. He wasn’t hiding from you; he just couldn’t handle the way you looked at him. Not with pity - never pity - but intent, and he didn’t want that to fuel the guilt growing inside him.

The demon places a kiss on your bare skin, “Mother would have adored you.”

You breathed, a small smile forming on your face, “And I, her.”

You felt the demon smile against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, comfortable in the silence, enjoying the beautiful day. Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. The change of the weather was warming you to the point of discomfort, the humidity sticking to your skin. You curtsied to the grave and placed a kiss on Alastor’s cheek, thanking him for this moment and silently hoping for many more to come.

“Are you ready?” You snap your fingers, and the Hotel foyer beamed back at you through the crack in reality.

“I will be,” Alastor had his back to you, his hands finding his pants pockets. “I need a moment, my doe.”

My doe? That was new.

You note the stiffness in his shoulders, the sudden downturn of his smile - a thing he only ever let you see. Resisting the urge to rub the tension from his arms, you step through, giving Alastor Hartfelt a moment alone with his mother.

____________________________________________

The Day Before The Extermination

“Alright, bring it in!” Angel pulled the last bit of the clutter from the doorway, the chairs and tables used to barricade the doors from the torrential media outside. The media plagued you tirelessly as Velvette continued to spread her gossip to any news media outlet that would listen - which was all of them.

The media sharks had circled the Hotel guests for the past three days. Stalking them in the streets and on social media. The only time they didn’t go running after a Hotel Native was when Alastor left the Hotel with Charlie to visit Rosie in Cannibal Town. Angel was the one to suggest a barricade and he was right in doing so. The rest of you have managed to sneak out the back and circle in through the Doomsday District. It was a bitch of a walk but what else was one to do?

You were just thankful the crew didn’t resent you for it. That being said, there wasn’t really any time for that - particularly today. There was far too much to be done to prepare this place and the surrounding grounds for the onslaught you were about to face. You had the disadvantage of being sitting ducks, but the advantage of surprise.

That’s where Carmilla came in. Vaggie had somehow swung the Overlord into promising resources for your battle. This is what led you and Angel to spend nearly an hour removing the wonderful barricade to allow boxes upon boxes of sparkling weapons to be delivered to the Hotel.

Boxes and boxes of weapons which could kill you…

“You can drop those by the bar,” you informed the first demon in the line of demons carrying boxes. The demon, a praying mantis by the looks of him, eyed you weirdly but continued on with his work.

Not surprising. Velvette was saying some pretty nasty shit about you. The newest and most supported rumor was that you were sent from Heaven to spy on the inner workings of Hell in order to kill more demons off in the next Extermination. Which made sense, why would the Extermination date move up? The beheading of the Exorcist was only known to a select few - the majority of which were in the Hotel with you. The rest of the City had to put the pieces together without that information, and an Angel showing up and attempting to take down not one but four different Overlords looked - to them - to be an attack on Hell’s power system. An attempt to strip the underworld down and weaken it before the next attack.

It didn’t matter that you had actually come to Hell to empower it, to raise it up into a formidable force, to build an army to fight. You were just thankful they had moved on from topics like your sex life.

Can’t a woman enjoy power without accusations of “whoring herself out?”

Alastor also mentioned that they even interviewed Susan, but nothing was published, as everything she said was too nice and supportive. The media wanted scandal, not sweet stories about tea time with Granny.

“Sign here,” a familiar yet quiet voice rings out.

Odette.

Your heart skipped a beat as you twisted in place, your gaze finding the light-skinned demon. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look away, but instead makes her way towards you.

Was something wrong? Odette never spoke to you directly, let alone confronted you alone, ever since the incident on Extermination Day. She was a soft spoken woman before, now she had gone completely silent.

“Mikaela,” she nods, ever the young girl she always was.

“Odette, is everything okay?” You crinkled your nose in concern, your palms sweaty with anxiety. You resisted the urge to rub the back of your neck as images of blood filled your vision.

“Yes,” She huffs, looking down. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but words have evaded me.”

Ah, there was her academic mind. Always such a well-spoken demon with what little words she did possess.

“I believe you have miscalculated, in regards to my mother…”

Oh? You blinked.

“What happened that day…” Her gaze falls to her clipboard as she clutches it against her chest. “… was a miracle and I will be forever grateful. However, the circumstances regarding said miracle have brought tension between you and my mother and I can no longer sit idly by and watch as she withers away.”

The demon thrusts her clipboard before you to reveal a contract.

“My mother promised you Souls in exchange for your services with the Vees. That has since ended and you are thus due payment. However…”

Odette flips the top page over to reveal a black obsidian calling card. Carmilla’s true name shines on its surface in bright white. “I will no longer sit by and watch my mother wrack herself sick with guilt. So I ask you this, sign the contract, take the card, and erase my mother’s memories of that fateful day.”

You blinked. “What? Why?”

“My mother blames herself for what happened to me. She has barely allowed me out of the penthouse, let alone the building. Today was the first day in weeks, but my endeavor from home was necessary, pending the deliveries. My hope is that, by taking back this card and erasing her memories, she will forget my near death and move on with her life.”

Oh…

It would work. Carmilla didn’t have to be the one to relieve the card, it simply had to be taken from her in any manner that could arise. Carmilla wouldn’t only forget your identity but every moment you shared together. It was a failsafe you and Rosie input into the cards the day you made them - a dramatic but necessary move to make.

So the question was, was Carmilla a friend? Yes, she tortured you when you first arrived - hung you from the ceiling and tortured you for information, but the two of you had moved on from that. You were now business partners, partners in crime, and also… familiar with each other.

The day Odette almost died you were just as hopeless as Carmilla and Clara. You would have slit your own wrist had you thought it would have worked. Odette was right, her healing from a traumatic wound such as that was a miracle.

The deaths of the 14 demons who saw however… That was what haunted you. Yes, you’ve killed before but always with purpose. Killing humans on Earth meant nothing knowing they had an afterlife to look forward to. Killing Human Sinners in Hell, however, it meant ending their entire existence. That was different and the days you could hold back the ever bloodthirsty Book of Knowledge you stuck by that rule. The times you couldn’t… Well… Killing was too easy.

“No,” you breathed. “I’ll take the Souls but not the card.” You dipped to meet her gaze. “I’ve recently learned how important my friendships are to me in this world, and I don’t plan on giving them up that easily. I’m sorry for the things your mother has been going through but what happened was not her fault.” You placed a hand on Odette’s shoulder. “I would have done the same had someone I…” Your eyes flit to the bar, to where Alastor sat sipping a glass of rye, he and Husk were well entranced within a conversation. “Someone important to me was hurt. After all this is over, Odette, I will pay the three of you a visit and set this right. In any way that I can. If your mother wishes to give up the card herself after that, then I will accept, but it must come from her. I owe her that much…”

Odette gives a slight nod, the downturn of her mouth illuminating her disappointment.

“And, Odette, if I thought at the time there was something I could have done, I would have. Do not feel guilty for surviving. Whatever form that may take.”

Odette was looking but you could tell she wasn’t really listening. After you told her no her gaze glazed over as if her mind was elsewhere. It was fine. Trauma is rarely resolved after one conversation.

You brought the demon into a hug, shocking her as much as you did yourself. You weren’t good at this emotion thing and comforting others, but you were getting much better at it.

“You’re a survivor, Odette, just like me…”

____________________________________________

Elsewhere in Hell…

The Mafia boss sat with his back to the desk, a roaring fire of green illuminating the darkened office. “So, you say you're good? 'Cuz we really need a big score right now…”

Swiveling in his high-backed chair, the imp turns.

“The best, had a royal on the ropes just last week.” Striker sets his glass of wine on the desk, allowing Alessio - the imp’s butler - to refill their glasses.

Crimson was more of a whiskey man himself, he preferred the burn as much as the dulling numbness from the alcohol, but the wine wasn’t for him. It was for his guest.

“Sure, but not dead?” The question comes out sharper than he wants, but then again, Crim was not in a good mood.

He had been embarrassed. In public. Minutes after you disappeared, the shots of blue electricity following in your wake, the imp boss spotted a pissed-off mass of red barreling straight for the Entertainment District. The demon quickly called off his gang, knowing full well what a visit from the Radio Demon would bring his crew. Crim was brash, but he wasn’t stupid.

“It was... called off. But I have a body count in the hundreds! I ain't afraid to go after anyone. Women, kids-” The roar of the crowd outside interrupts their conversation, but the imp continues before climbing to his feet to check the window. “And cute little-faced puppy-lookin' things. Don't matter!

“Hmm…” Crim thought, “I'll tell ya what. If you can deliver something of value... I'll consider it. You see, I have a particularly irritating Heavenly creature I need something done about.”

Striker smirks, the gleam in his crazed eye evident even in the low light. Now that was an opportunity the assassin could not pass up. “One moment…”

Striker opens the window and pulls out his lasso. Sending the rope soaring into the streets below, the assassin finds his mark and pulls. Two figures fly into the room and slam against the back wall, interrupting a particularly intense game of billiards between two of Crim’s demons.

Fizzarolli and Blitz.

Crimson laughs, “Hired!”

Striker corners the two demons against the wall, “Funny to run into ya’ again, Blitzy!" The assassin pulls out his knife and slides toward the clown imp, pointing it under his chin. “And with a famous friend…”

Blitz rolls his eyes, “Oh, fuck me.”

Fizzarolli crosses his arms, “For the record, we are not friends.”

____________________________________________

The Night Before…

Normally chaos excited you. Normally you and Alastor couldn’t keep your hands off each other at the mere thought of it, but tonight… Tonight all you wanted to do was lay wrapped in his arms, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you played with the fur on his chest.

You were nervous. You were worried. Trepidation was such an odd thing, the potential promise of hurt an ever-looming dark cloud that threatened rain but never dropped it.

You’ve been worried for Alastor before, most notably the day Velvette fake kidnapped him atop V Tower, but not like this. This was disabling concern. It made you leave the pre-fight celebration early tonight - the last hoorah before looking death straight in the face tomorrow. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was life after death. This was extinction.

And if anything happened to Alastor, there would be no way to bring him back…

“My doe,” Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing you from your thoughts. “You’re sparking.”

“Oh,” you blinked, noticing the blues dancing off your skin. “Sorry.”

Alastor had noticed you sneaking off early from the festivities - because, of course, he did. When you had reached the top of the stairs and headed for your room, well… Alastor couldn’t have that now could he? Rolf shadowed the two of you to his room, where the demon insisted on a bath.

There wasn’t anything sexual about it. Alastor layed you against him as he scrubbed the stress from your skin, massaging the worry from your scalp as he shampooed your hair.

It was the day before battle and Alastor was taking care of you - YOU - a battle-born soldier who has seen more bloody encounters than she could count. You had faced down pure death and yet here you were, shaking like a leaf with anxiety as a Human Sinner soothed your worries.

Alastor ran a hand through your hair, tucking the locks gently behind your ear. “You’re worried.”

“I am,” you bit your lip, Alastor’s nails eliciting goosebumps as they trailed down your shoulder and arm.

It was ironic: the demon who detested physical contact couldn’t keep his hands off you. Yet, it was also an odd comfort. You had never been “touched” in this way before. You’ve never had someone be so gentle with you. Like your wings neatly tucked away, your skin had only ever really known things like hurt and pain. It was a weird adjustment to kindness and one you weren’t quite used to.

You still flinched whenever Alastor reached for you. You still jumped when he approached from behind. You still winced when his hand went to your hair…

Years of abuse and then years without… Your body still has a memory even if your mind was elsewhere.

“The plan will work,” Alastor hummed into your hair, the scent of his shampoo wafting off the two of you in droves. It would have been its own kind of soothing high had you not been so tense.

The two of you lay beneath his covers, wrapped in the warmth of Alastor’s Hotel bath robes. Your legs were intertwined with his, your toes warming themselves against the demon’s calves. Alastor always made a point to keep his hooves away from your feet - almost as if he was self-conscious about his lack of toes. Yet you fought him on it, intentionally tangling your legs together so he couldn’t pull away.

“It’s not the plan that worries me…” Your voice trailed off.

Alastor’s hand stopped to cup your face and guided your eyes to his. Worry crinkled his brow, his smile faltering to a thin line of his lips. There was understanding before he spoke, “You worry for me.”

Your lip trembled as you huffed. Digging your head into the fluff of his chest, you felt the hot tears begin to build behind your eyes, the air suddenly sucked from the room as your heart finally acknowledged the terrifying elephant in the room.

“Oh, ma biche chérie, ne verse pas de larmes pour mon âme. Oh, my darling doe, shed not tears for my Soul.”

“You’re facing Adam, tomorrow, Alastor - an extremely powerful Angel.” Your voice cracked.

Alastor gently tipped your face into his, your chin tucked between his forefinger and thumb. “An extremely powerful Human Soul.” The demon corrects.

A Human Soul.

Right.

Adam was merely a Human Soul. On the tiers of power he was leagues below you, but Alastor? You had always been taught that an Angel outweighs a Human Sinner in all aspects of reality, but then again you were also taught that Angels couldn’t die so…

“Promise me something?” You propped yourself up on your elbows as you spoke, overtowering Alastor beneath you. The demon wouldn’t be caught dead in this position with anyone else.

“Hmm,” he merely responded, his eyes gloomy with the weight of your worry.

“If anything happens…”

“It will not.”

“If anything happens,” you repeat. “Promise that you will either send Rolf for me or use the calling card?”

The demon paused for a breath, mixed emotions brewing within him. He couldn’t decide whether to give in to your worry for him as opposed to arguing against it. After all, Alastor the Radio Demon didn’t have a reputation for being weak. Your lack of confidence in him was not a lack of confidence. It was worry; albeit, misplaced. Alastor could take care of himself, he had for years. In his mind he had taken down top dogs more powerful than himself before - even Overlords before he became one. Adam was just another name on the list.

The Radio Demon wasn’t fretting over the confrontation so he didn’t see why you would be? Well… That’s not true. A part of him was worried but not for himself, for you. Tomorrow would shine a lot of Heavenly attention on the Hotel - unwanted attention for someone in hiding from Heaven. He worried what might happen to you should anyone discover who you are during the campaign - and you still hadn’t found your cloak.

Charlie had managed to help you stitch something together last minute but it was nothing compared to ancient magic. What you would be wearing tomorrow would be nothing but a clothed hood…

“And should anything happen to you?” The demon countered.

You blinked, not expecting the question.

“I have seen you die once, my doe. I will not see it again.”

There it was again: “my doe.”

“I will be by Charlie’s side the entire time. Should anything happen, Vaggie will be the one to let everyone know, for they will be going after the Princess next…”

“Hmm,” Alastor did not like that answer.

Then, a thought hit you. “Give me your card.”

Without any hesitation, Alastor pulled the obsidian calling card from the void and watched as you flipped the metal over, his true name hidden beneath your fingers. You waived your hand over the darkness and watched the black consolidate into text, like bleeding ink on wet paper but in reverse. It was a hidden contract in plain sight. One every Human Sinner inadvertently signed with their blood when you granted them the right to summon you.

“Rosie helped me design these.” You mumbled. “She wrote them, but I signed them. Perhaps if I…” The words changed beneath your hand, reforming a new contract. “There…” You handed the card back to Alastor and watched as the ink saturated the card, solidifying it into shining obsidian once more.

The demon raised an eyebrow at you.

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed it to your chest. “Close your eyes,” you demanded.

And he obeyed.

“Think of me,” you began. “Think of…”

“Lavender,” the demon interrupted almost immediately. After all, thinking of you wasn’t hard to do. The scent of the decadent flower filled the demon’s nose as real and as solid as the beat of your heart beneath his fingers. “Red wine.” Cabernet hit his tongue, the tannins dancing across his taste buds. The demon smiled, the curl of his lips lopsided as he smiled his iconic half-cocked grin. “The forest.” Greens and browns blinded the demon’s vision.

You sucked in a breath.

Alastor slowly opened his eyes, his pupils dilating at the sight of you. “And… The humidity of Louisiana…”

You stared back, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Somewhere, somehow, along the way, Alastor had become a part of you…

Your heart kicked into a frenzy at what that meant, but still oh-so afraid to voice it…

Three little words and yet…

“The softness of your hair,” Alastor’s claws found your silver locks, his fingers threading through the strands. “Your skin.” The back of the demon’s knuckles traced your cheek. “Your lips.”

Alastor leaned in and kissed you. His tongue drinking in the lingering taste of you. He broke away for but a moment, “I can feel you.”

The obsidian calling cards gave you an unnatural avenue into the lives of the holders. It allowed you to feel their emotions, to scent their Souls, to taste their desires. The contract opened a connection that you and Rosie had not originally intended - yet didn’t change. Reconfiguring the contract had opened that door and allowed it to flow both ways. It was almost like the connection you shared when you inadvertently signed your verbal contract on the balcony of his radio tower - except this was different. It wasn’t as strong and only allowed you to sense the other - a mere skim of the surface compared to what you had experienced.

The demon drove you onto your back before settling himself between your legs. With his forehead on yours, the two of you out of breath, he spoke, “Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine*…"

You didn’t have a chance to switch your brain to French before the demon’s lips were back on yours, his hips perfectly aligned before driving himself in.

That night, before chaos and destruction, before death and suffering, before fear and heartbreak, you made love to the Radio Demon…

And you prayed - you prayed it wasn't the final time…

* "Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine" = This is an extremely sad quote that has many many meanings even in the French language. It can be translated as "dying from unfulfilled love," "Dying for love, living for hatred," etc... I used it here to mean "dying for love." Read into that how you will, but it's extremely fitting for Alastor's character arc at this point in time.

Last transition chapter - Chapter 18 will be the Finale! There will be alternate endings - please read author note before chapter 18 starts.

-> Chapter 18: My Fawn & My Shadow

-> Chapter 18: Paris

Tagged Hoteliers: (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 0 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail l @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen n @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

@chibistar45

103 notes · View notes

starpunz · 2 months ago

Text

Mark booked the wrong hotel

25 notes · View notes

cutielights · 2 years ago

Text

Fizz x Ozzie X Tiny! S/O (gn)

Tw: none

I’m picturing this as like 4ft tall? Hc

They absolutely love your height, constant teasing.

But if it gets to much or you don’t like it, they’d ease up

SITTING. ON. OZZZIE’S. SHOULDER.

You and fizz would constantly be sitting in Ozzies fluff, like that looks so fluffy let me in.

I’m sorry but Ozzies probs almost stepped on you a few times

He can’t help it!

Knows to be more careful now

Fizz using air horns to wake you up is definitely a great way to start the day

Trying on Fizzy’s spare hat thing only for it to fall over your eyes

Fizz constantly scooping you up with his stretchy arms.

One moment you just chilling and the next your feet are off the ground

Kisses!

Kisses from the sky specifically

Pulling Fizz down by his jacket to kiss him

Accidentally falling asleep in Ozzies fluff after pulling an all-nighter

Speaking of his fluff you and Fizz hide in it when he goes to meetings

After the Striker and Crimson incident he doesn’t want to take chances

#helluva boss #fizz x ozzie #fizzarozzie #helluva fizzarolli #helluvaboss x you #fanfic #head canon #fizz x you #fizz x reader #Ozzie x reader #Ozzie x you #ozzie x fizz #helluva fanfiction #helluva head cannons #height difference

647 notes · View notes

dewdr0pz-alt · 10 months ago

Text

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩 pretty little psycho

summary: Vox, Lucifer, and Blitzø finding out that you killed someone when you were alive

warnings: murder (obviously), mentions of abuse, angst(?), swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of Valentino, suggestive nicknames from Blitzø, Blitzø's section is less angsty?? idk

a/n: hello! i had this idea after coming home from a council event about substance abuse, bullying, etc. (oh the duality of man), and i wanted to write it :) let me know if you want a part two!

tags: (as always, just tagging a few people i think would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be on or off of the taglist!) @o-kye @zuuriell @strangleetomz @xxtalulahlovesyouxx@ax-y10 @stars-around-scars-collective@blu3-lemonad3@myheartticks@mochamuff1n@unbeleevable@danvstheworld @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @average-vibe @back-totheoldhouse

📺₊ ⊹𖦹 ׂ ⋆☆๋࣭ ⭑—Vox

(he had no idea lmao)

You had rushed out of Val's studio after you felt a panic attack creeping up on you, the long, sharp claws of anxiety piercing into your mind and body. Why couldn't you just get over it? It had happened so long ago, so why did it still matter to you now?

You ran into Vox's office, the closest room nearby, and sat in a corner, your trembling arms wrapping around your frame as you struggled to breathe normally. Your blurry vision tried to look for water, food, something to distract you, but it was just monitors and cameras. Your nails dug into your forearms as you paced around the room, shaking your head occasionally to try and get rid of the ringing sound in your head.

"What the fuck was that about?" A booming voice echoed through the room, making you freeze and hold your breath. You slowly stood and turned your head with wide eyes and was greeted with the sight of an enraged Vox.

"Jesus, calm your tits," Vox scoffed. "I just want to know why you ran out like that."

"You're not mad?" you stuttered, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

"I couldn't give two fucks," Vox said, "but Valentino's pissed. He wanted me to ask you since he was busy screaming at the tech crew." Vox took four steps closer to you and you went five steps back. "Tell me why you left."

"Why do you care?" you said shakily, your eyes still wide. God, you probably looked like a wild animal.

"Did you not hear me?" Vox snapped. "I said, I don't care, Valentino cares."

"I-it's nothing important," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired. I'll be back out in ten."

"Bullshit," he laughed bitterly. "People don't start trembling and sobbing because they're tired. Be serious."

"Why can't Valentino just ask me later?" you asked, slowly removing your nails from your skin and rubbing your fingers over the crescent-shaped imprints.

"Because you know he'll hurt you," Vox muttered, "and I don't want that to happen."

"Why not?" you arched a brow.

"Do you not remember the...transaction we've had for the past few months?" Vox sighed.

"Where I pretend to date you for publicity?" you replied.

"Yes, that," Vox said. "I know it's all for the media, but that doesn't mean I want bad things to happen to you." He paused and cleared his throat, moving away from the softer demeanor he had. "If Valentino hurt you, your face would be all fucked up for the cameras. Wouldn't want to date ripped-up flesh."

You sighed and shook your head. "I know my way around makeup, Vox, I'll be okay if he hurts me."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me or I'll tell Valentino exactly where you're staying," he said, a malicious smile creeping onto his screen.

You froze as your blood ran ice cold. No. No, no, no, no, no. No, he wouldn't. Vox wouldn't do that. He'd promised. He wouldn't...right?

"You promised you wouldn't," you said shakily. "Y-you said you wouldn't tell him that I was at the hotel with Angel. You promised me."

"You think I give a shit?" Vox barked out a laugh. "I'll gladly tell Val." Vox noticed you backing away again and he wrapped his sharp claws around your forearms. "Tell. Me."

"FINE!" you shouted, causing his eyes to widen. "You wanna know why I freaked out? You wanna know why I panicked?" When he said nothing, you raised your voice. "Do you?" Before he could say anything, you screamed, "Because I didn't want a knife pressed up to my throat because I wasn't in the mood to remember that I killed my shitty excuse of a husband after he tried to kill me!"

Your words echoed into the otherwise silent office, your tears plinking against the cool tile. Vox stared at you for a long while, his expression nearly unreadable. After what felt like forever, he unwrapped his hand from your trembling arms and stepped back.

"I'll, uh," he said quietly. "I'll....leave you be."

As you watched him walk away, you thought he wouldn't tell Val. Val would use that to torture you for sure.

But as you moved to the door to leave, you saw Vox talking to Valentino, who had a ruthless smile on his face.

He knows.

˙ . ꒷ 🍎 . 𖦹˙— Lucifer

(he knew, but he didn't know why)

You two had been dating for a little bit, around three months, and he already knew so much about you. He knew the way you liked your toast, he knew your favorite color, he knew the line in your favorite book that always makes you cry, he knew that you said you loved horror movies and yet you always cover your eyes and squeal at the scary parts. He knew it all.

And yet, he didn't know who you killed or why you killed them.

How could he not know? You were a powerful overlord, and people knew that before you were an overlord, you'd proudly tell the stories of the person, or people, you'd killed while you were alive. Nobody could quite remember whom it was, though. Was it your friend? Your friend's mother? Your own mother?

As far as he knew, Alastor was the only one who truly knew (much to Lucifer's disgust), but Alastor didn't tell a soul. Figuring you wouldn't mind too much if he asked, Lucifer very casually asked you one day while you were getting dressed.

"Oh, just a few people," you replied, matching his tone despite the way your heart had dropped to your stomach. You hated talking about it. You hated that people knew you as "the pretty little psycho" or the "murderer overlord" because there was more to you than your past trauma.

"I gathered, dearest," Lucifer stuttered, "but may I know who in particular?"

You froze, your finger still lingering on the buttons of your dress. The mystery of whom you had killed was a mystery you preferred unsolved. It wasn't pleasant to think about. The relief you felt after was immense, disgustingly so. He'd think you were insane if you told him so.

"Hey, hey, darling," he said softly. "You're overthinking. I can tell. I won't be mad at you in the slightest." He paused. "Unless you killed a duck or something," he laughed. "You know I like mysteries."

"Less a mystery unsolved than a secret well kept," you said, hesitantly trying to switch the topic.

"Being vague and poetic won't get you out of this, I'm afraid," Lucifer chuckled, "but it is very attractive."

You sighed shakily and finished buttoning your dress before facing him.

"When I was alive," you started, "I had a husband. He manipulated me into thinking he was the best guy around, and I thought we were in love." You smiled sadly before it faded as you said, "We weren't." You took a breath as he nodded. "He was abusive, crass, cruel...I couldn't handle him anymore. One day, after he'd attacked me--" "What do you mean, 'attacked you'?" Lucifer asked.

"He asked me to cook a full meal for his friends an hour before they came," you said. "I said that couldn't be done, with the things he was asking for. Enraged, he...battered me up." You cleared your throat before continuing. "When his friends came over, I'd served them a casserole. I had added poison to it," you said more quietly, "but it must've not have been the right amount. In a blind rage, I grabbed a steak knife and..."

You stopped before continuing, Lucifer's wings wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

"He should've gone to Hell, not you," he murmured. "I'll make sure to hurt him like he hurt you when I find him."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🔪𖦹🌹⭒°｡⋆ — Blitzø

(he knew who you killed, he didn't know why)

You stepped through the portal into the I.M.P office after a mission, your uniform clinging to your skin and sticky with blood. You wiped some blood off of your cheek with the heel of your palm before meeting Blitzø's gaze.

"Hey there, bitch," he said, a wide grin plastered onto his face. "You look sexy like that."

"Hello, sir," you sighed, slumping into a chair near Loona's desk and letting your head fall back.

"Who're you throwin' your head back for?" Blitzø said, the smirk audible in his voice.

"Leave them alone, sir," Millie chuckled. "They're tired from the mission! We all are!"

"They're used to it from killing her husband," Blitzø muttered.

Your head snapped up to glare at him. Millie and Moxxie froze. Loona gave Blitzø a look before looking at her phone again.

"Don't talk about it," you snapped.

"Why not?" Blitzø laughed. "It's why I hired you! Well, that and those rockin'—"

"Not a good time to be commenting on how hot you think I am," you scoffed.

"Why did you kill your husband, anyway?" he asked. "Wasn't good in bed?"

"He was an abusive piece of shit," you snapped.

"Oh."

He didn't really bring it up again after that after seeing how upset you got.

121 notes · View notes

drades-lair · 2 years ago

Text

Touched for the very first time

Fandom: HelluvaBoss

Rating: M

Pairing(s): Straz

Notes: This was a request from my friend on twitter _CrispySalade_ aka. Exhausted_Plant. They requested a PT2 to their original story 'Like a Virgin'.

PT1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52635439

Chaz was many things, subtle was not one of them thus despite having assured Striker that he’d not said or done anything stupid while black out drunk the other night it had become painfully clear he was lying. Striker’s anxiety began to run at mock nine as he tried desperately to remember that night unfortunately the few snippets that managed to pierce the drunken haze did nothing to set those concerns at ease. Striker needed answers or he’d never be able to get a good night sleep thus he came up with a plan to get the shark to confess. Striker made his way to the bar before Chaz was off work, bribed the bar tender to serve the pale imp ginger ale whenever he asked for beer or a shot that way it would appear as though he was drunk when actually he was stone cold sober. A couple hours later Chaz came strolling into the bar looking for Striker, catching sight of the pale imp almost immediately prompting him to head straight over to the stool beside Striker. Once Chaz was seated and flagged the bar tender for a beer Striker turned on his best acting chops.

“Hey...how long you been here?” Chaz wondered curiously.

“L-long…enough…” Striker managed a slur in response.

“Clearly,” Chaz retorted with a huffed laugh.

“Well…Ya know…I was thinkin’ about the other night…I was thinkin’ and thinkin’….” Striker slurred out, downing his ‘shot’ before calling the bar tender for another.

“The other night? Are you talking about when you got drunk and thought you said something stupid?” Chaz clarified arching a brow.

“Uh-huh…I…ugh…I say stupid shit…when I’m drunk…Charles,” Striker slurred out, using the name Chaz had let slip that apparently, he’d called him that night.

“Right…well I wouldn’t say it was stupid,” Chaz retorted with a small chuckle, taking a swig of his beer.

“Please…it had to be stupid…” Striker added a hiccup for extra flare as it appeared he was close to getting what he was looking for.

“I wouldn’t call wanting to lose your V-card to me stupid,” Chaz chuckled, swigging his beer again while Striker nearly choked on his shot.

“Wha…I mean…see, stupid…” Striker managed to regain composure just in time to save his drunk act, luckily the new flush across his cheeks fit the act.

“Nah, your just nervous and that’s fine,” Chaz retorted having luckily missed Striker’s little slip up.

Striker’s face turned six shades of red, one for each layer of hell as embarrassment swelled in his gut promptly breaking his little drunken act. Striker abruptly stood from his stool causing Chaz to follow the movement with a cocked eyebrow of confusion. Striker tossed a couple bills on the bar to cover everything then turned to head for the saloon doors.

“I’m goin’ back to the room,” Striker announced, voice low and no longer carrying that drunken slur to it.

“Wait, you need me to help you?” Chaz called after Striker, standing to reach out to the imp.

“No! I wanna be left alone!” Striker snapped, whipping his head around with a snarl.

“Striker? Wait, Y-You’re not drunk?” Chaz questioned; confusion heavy in his tone as he realized Striker had been faking his drunken state.

“No Chaz! You refused to tell me what happened the other night, so I faked being drunk ta get Ya ta tell me. I knew I said somethin’ fuckin’ stupid and I was right!” Striker angrily barked, turning away from Chaz to head out of the bar. Chaz took a moment to absorb what just happened however once he did the shark ran after Striker.

“Hey! Wait! Striker! Look, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you upset…you seemed super nervous about telling me that you wanted me to be your first,” Chaz rambled as he strode just behind Striker.

“Congrats fish, you called it right. Just leave me the fuck alone,” Striker groused under his breath, hands tucked firmly in his pockets as he continued walking randomly through the darkened town.

“Well, I’m fine with it and you don’t have to be embarrassed,” Chaz added trying desperately to back pedal on this unraveling situation.

“Ha! That’s rich! I’m sure Yer gettin’ a good laugh outta this,” Striker mockingly laughed, snarling slightly over his shoulder.

“N-No…can you stop, please…stop!” Chaz insisted suddenly bounding in front of Striker forcing the imp to stop walking.

“What part of fuck off and leave me be, are Ya not understandin’?” Striker growled, tail rattling irritably behind him.

“I’ll gladly let you have some space but first I just wanted to let you know that I don’t think it’s a big deal that you’re still a virgin and if you really want me to be the first, I’ll happily do that,” Chaz blurted out the words so fast he needed to inhale deeply afterwards.

“Whatever…” Striker trailed off after taking a moment to absorb what Chaz had said, pushing past the shark to continue his aimless wondering through the town streets. Chaz watched Striker wonder off eventually releasing a defeated sigh as he hung his head and headed back towards the motel, they were staying in.

Striker wondered around the dark streets for hours simply mulling over in his mind what Chaz had said, denying that the shark meant it. Striker could hear Chaz’s mocking laughter in his head, the same laughter he’d heard in the past from others who’d found out about his little secret then there was the fear of the act itself, Striker gave a snarl of irritation at himself. Memories flashed through Striker’s mind of a time when he was teenager fourteen, maybe fifteen, he cleaned tables at the local saloon and during one of his shifts a couple guys made advances on him which he’d ignored…eventually they’d trapped him near the bathrooms in the back of the bar where they touched him inappropriately, luckily the bartender caught the act before anything went too far. Striker hated how that felt, he hated everything about it thus every time he got close to doing the act with anyone since he panicked. Shaking the memories away Striker was ready to simply bolt from this town unfortunately he had left everything in the motel room that he shared with Chaz including his very expensive angelic weapons thus he had little choice, taking a deep breath he mustered up the courage to head back to the room with the plan to slip in, grab his shit then leave. Once at the motel room Striker managed to quietly slip inside, releasing a small sigh of relief when he saw the lights were off suggesting Chaz was asleep already, glancing around he located his duffle on the floor near the bathroom promptly heading straight to it. Taking a knee Striker made sure everything was inside the duffle bag however just as he zipped it closed, he felt two hands grab his shoulders, yanking him upwards causing a yelp of surprise to escape the pale imp right before he was spun around, and a mouth clasped around his own. Striker grunted as his back hit the wall beside the bathroom doorframe, hands grabbing at the arms of whomever was currently holding him against said wall, inhaling sharply as the mouth disappeared. Striker could now focus on the figure in front of him, making out the familiar greenish snout that belonged to Chaz.

“What the fuck, Chaz!? I nearly kicked Ya in the nut sack!” Striker exclaimed irritably, heart racing in his chest.

“Oops, wouldn’t want that because then we couldn’t fuck,” Chaz chuckled, pulling back slightly.

“What!? Ya…Ya wanna…” Striker stammered out, brain seeming to malfunction. Chaz wasn’t laughing at him nor was he teasing him…Striker couldn’t focus as his heart pounding wildly, panic rising in his throat as images of those large male imps trapping him…touching him flashed through his mind.

“That’s what this was all about right? You wanna lose your virginity and you wanted me to be the one to lose it too…right?” Chaz wondered.

“Well…yeah…but…” Striker trailed off, grabbing his chest trying to steady his rapidly beating heart.

“Hey, are you…okay?” Chaz asked, tone gentle as he placed a hand on the imp’s shoulder while backing off a little.

“N-no…my heart feels like it’s gonna…burst from my…chest…” Striker stammered through panting breaths.

“Whoa, take it easy…come sit on the bed,” Chaz suggested guiding Striker to sit on the edge of the bed before leaving to grab him a glass of water. Striker accepted the water, sipping it while taking deep breaths as Chaz knelt in front of him.

“Thanks…” Striker managed to get out once he’d calmed a little.

“It’s fine, what caused that panic attack?” Chaz inquired, cocking his head to the side.

Striker’s cheeks flushed a little, averting his gaze to the side as a heavy frown settled on his features. Chaz patiently waited for Striker to respond, watching him with an expression of curiosity mixed with concern, hands gently starting to rub along the pale imp’s thighs.

“I-It…Ya really don’t care…that I’m a virgin?” Striker eventually quietly asked.

“Pfff! No, I’ve slept with virgins before. Some older than you,” Chaz revealed with a snorting laugh.

“Really?” Striker retorted; eyes wide as he met Chaz’s.

“Yep, some people just don’t get around to having sex or something happens that makes them nervous to take that extra step,” Chaz explained simply.

“Something…” Striker dwelled for a moment on that iteration once again averting his gaze except this time it was in thought.

“Did…something happen to you?” Chaz chanced asking.

“M-Maybe…Every time I try ta take that step with someone…I start ta panic…when I was in my teens these imps cornered me in the bar I worked at and they…” Striker trailed off still refusing to look at Chaz.

“Touched you? But if you’re still a virgin…?” Chaz trailed off as a prompt for Striker to finish the story.

“Y-Yeah…the bar tender caught ‘em before anythin’ could really happen but they groped me through my pants and were undoing ‘em…not hard ta figure out what was goin’ ta happen,” Striker finished saying.

“That’s…shitty…look if you’re not ready then we don’t have to but…whenever you are, I’m more then willing to be your first,” Chaz smiled a little trying to put as many of Striker’s worries at ease as he could.

Striker’s face flushed again, having talked about what happened suddenly calmed his anxiety, replacing it instead with a heat that was quickly pooling in the pit of his stomach. Chaz continued to massage his hands over Striker’s thighs testing out a casual squeeze as Striker slowly turned to face the shark prompting Chaz to move slowly till their mouths connected again in a gentle kiss till Chaz chanced slipping his tongue inside Striker’s mouth resulting in an encouraging hum as the imp pressed back. Chaz slid a hand to Striker’s hip where his thumb played at the hem of his pants, his other hand mirroring the action on the opposite side moments later all while exploring the imp’s mouth. Chaz took a quick glance down revealing Striker’s pants were getting tighter in the front causing a smile to spread across his features before pulling from the deep kiss leaving them both softly panting as Striker clenched his hands in the sheets to either side of himself, averting his gaze once again as he tried to think of what he was supposed to do.

“You good?” Chaz checked with his thumbs still softly doing circles on the imp’s sides just above his pants hem.

“I’m fine, I just…don’t know what to do…” Striker quietly admitted.

“No problem, leave it to Chaz,” Chaz stated with a beaming smile.

Gingerly Chaz slid his hands from the imp’s hips up underneath Striker’s shirt encouraging the imp to remove his jacket followed by Chaz pulling his black long-sleeved shirt off. Striker’s anxiety told him that he didn’t like how much clothing Chaz was still wearing in comparison to him at this point causing him to grab Chaz’s coat giving it a few yanks till Chaz got the hint to remove the same amount of clothing from his torso. Chaz gently pushed Striker backwards onto the bed, yanking off the imp’s boots before he scooted towards the headboard with Chaz crawling up after him while keeping a watchful eye to assure Striker wasn’t in distress. Striker rested on his forearms while Chaz caressed his claws down Striker’s sides causing a shiver to run down the imp’s spine then Chaz leaned down to nip along the imp’s neck making sure to suck a dark hickey right over Striker’s pulse point before continuing down across his chest. Striker moaned softly as he tipped his head back, eyes closing to enjoy the sensations Chaz was eliciting from his body when Chaz’s fingers skillfully flicked open Striker’s belt followed by undoing his zipper and button causing panic to spike for a moment in his chest only to be quickly replaced by relief as his hard cock was given some space to breath.

Chaz licked up Striker’s chest sending tingling sensations across it like electricity, his one hand working on slowly scooting the imp’s pants and underwear down while the other supported him on the opposite side of Striker’s torso. A happy little rattle sounded from Striker’s tail unintentionally indicating that he was excited about what Chaz was doing encouraging the shark to finish removing Striker’s pants at which point the funniest expression crossed his face as he pulled back to stare at Striker’s nude form.

“What?” Striker asked after a few awkward moments of Chaz staring.

“Nothing, I just…have never seen some one with both parts before,” Chaz stated moving back a bit to get a better look.

“Humph, I told Ya that I had the whole package,” Striker huffed.

“True, it’s neat. Mind if I…?” Chaz quarried, gesturing to Striker’s crotch after all they’d gotten this far however that didn’t mean Striker wanted to go further, add in the fact he had a bad history with people touching him and Chaz wanted to make sure he had permission through this whole thing.

“Isn’t that why we’re here?” Striker retorted.

Chaz chuckled out loud then reached gingerly forwards to wrap his hand around the base of the imp’s cock, massaging teasingly upwards when his fingers ran over a series of bumps along Striker’s shaft. Investigating further Chaz could see there were small barbs inside the bumps that were pulsating slightly as Striker’s cock twitched, the imp’s anatomy was a never-ending curiosity, Chaz explored his way down towards Striker’s pussy sliding his fingers along Striker’s cock. Chaz caressed two fingers over Striker’s folds feeling the slick that coated them along with his inner thighs from how aroused he was causing Striker to shudder with a panting huff that faded into a surprised sharp inhale as Chaz spread the imp’s folds with those same two fingers. The longer Chaz stared the more self-conscious Striker began to feel, face flushing deeper crimson as he began to shift his legs inwards with his tail rattling nervously promptly pulling Chaz out of his curious state to look up at his partner. Striker averted his gaze to the side, panting shallowly.

“Can we get on wit this?” Striker wondered.

“Yeah, here…lay back,” Chaz encouraged gently pressing against Striker’s chest till the imp laid down flat on his back with his legs crooked.

Chaz settled firmly between Striker’s legs, spreading Striker’s folds again then without warning licked from top to bottom of his vagina sending a burst of sensation through Striker that he wasn’t used too. The feeling of being touched by a hand that wasn’t his own sent sensations through Striker that he wasn’t prepared for nor could have ever imagined especially once Chaz located his clit. Chaz flicked his tongue against the small bundle of nerves sending a shock wave of electricity that made Striker’s toes curl and his back arch.

“Holy fuck! What did you just do?” Striker exclaimed, clenching his hands in the bedding.

“Want me to do it again?” Chaz coyly asked with a seductive eyebrow wiggle.

“Fuck, yes…please,” Striker confirmed, admittedly enough he’d not played around with his cunt to much mostly because it was awkward to reach, his dick was easier to touch thus that was how he orgasmed most of the time when masturbating.

Chaz delved back into Striker’s pussy, thrusting his tongue into Striker’s vaginal opening then sliding it back to his clit. Eventually Chaz slid his tongue all the way up the underside of Striker’s cock to the head where he swirled around the crown causing precum to drool out. Chaz caressed a hand along Striker’s folds down to his asshole, rimming a slick finger around the tight ring of muscle as he slipped his mouth around the imp’s cock head to suck liberally. Striker clawed at the bedding with deep moaning groans, teeth biting into his lower lip as his eyes squeezed shut from the overwhelming amount of sensation running through his body. Chaz pulled back in amazement as the barbs sheathed in Striker’s cock shaft started to emerge the more excited, he became it was also a good indicator for Chaz to move on.

“You want me to fuck you?” Chaz inquired still gently rimming Striker’s hole.

“Y-Yes…” Striker breathed out managing to open his eyes to look down at Chaz.

“Okay, hang on,” Chaz stated, moving off the bed to rifle through his bag before returning.

Kneeling back on his heels Chaz undid his pants then yanked them down to mid thigh revealing Chaz’s double cocks, Striker knew about this unique trait in sharks but to see it was far different from reading about it. Staring curiously Striker watched as Chaz opened two condoms then slid them over both hard members, giving them a playful little bounce before leaning over Striker once more. The imp furrowed his brow in question as Chaz squeezed a bottle in his hand to produce a clear liquid onto his other hand, rubbing it over his fingers before reaching down to smear across Striker’s folds revealing it was slick and cold. Striker jerked slightly with a hiss from the cold.

“Easy, easy, I’m just going to lube you up a little,” Chaz explained, placing the bottle on the bed so he could caress up Striker’s side.

Striker relaxed so Chaz could insert his fingers into his pussy, thrusting at a lazy pace for a few minutes before removing them. Gently Chaz hoisted Striker’s thighs upwards to allow him to position right at the imp’s folds, rubbing his cock along them for a couple seconds before pressing the tip of one cock barely against his vaginal opening.

“This might hurt a little just try to relax,” Chaz encouraged.

Striker didn’t know what to expect just like most of this evening, but he trusted Chaz thus he gave a nod of understanding then tried to relax himself as much as possible. Chaz gently pushed forwards immediately causing Striker to inhale sharply, eyes opening wide before his head fell backwards with a pained groan. Chaz stopped moving to look up at Striker with concern on his features.

“Are you okay?” Chaz wondered.

“Ugh, that hurts…I didn’t expect it ta hurt like that,” Striker panted out.

“Okay, try to relax your muscles…do you need me to pull out a little?” Chaz calmly asked.

“N-Nah…I just…need a minute,” Striker gritted out.

“Alright, I’ll just wait until you’re ready,” Chaz assured him.

Slowly Striker felt the pain subside allowing Chaz to press forwards inch by inch until he was sheathed in Striker’s slick heat. Chaz leaned over Striker to nuzzle at his jawline, nipping gently down his neck to distract the imp till he could fully adjust to the shark’s girth. Upon feeling Striker relax around him, Chaz began rolling his hips causing a series of breathy curses to fall from Striker’s lips, face flushed bright crimson with sweat dripping down his pleasure riddled face. A steady pace found the duo swiftly in shambles, panting heavily with moans mingling in the darkened motel room when Striker suddenly wrapped his legs around Chaz’s waist promptly triggering the shark to move faster. Striker wrapped his arms around Chaz with open mouthed cries of pleasure, claws raking along the shark’s back as he pleaded for release as Chaz put more oomph behind his thrusts. Striker clenched his teeth with a groan for a moment then released a breathy heady loud moan as his walls clenched around Chaz’s cock successfully pulling the shark over the edge with him.

Striker fell backwards panting, looking up at Chaz who was also lost in his orgasmic high just trying to come down. Striker was overwhelmed with sensation, whimpering slightly as Chaz finally pulled out then flopped onto the bed next to the imp with a satisfied huff.

“So~?” Chaz chimed after a couple minutes of catching their breaths.

“So…what?” Striker retorted still staring at the grimy water-stained ceiling.

“What did you think? Was it good?” Chaz asked, turning to lay on his side with one hand propping up his head.

“Oh…Yeah, that was…definitely different,” Striker answered immediately eliciting a slight pout from Chaz.

“Different? Is that all?” Chaz irritably asked sounding dissatisfied with Striker’s answer.

“What else do Ya want from me? I don’t exactly have anythin’ ta compare it ta besides my own hand,” Striker retorted sounding just as irritated.

“Guess that makes sense, as long as you enjoyed it. So, you cum from both your pussy and your dick?” Chaz randomly asked noting the cum splayed across Striker’s stomach.

“Huh? Uh, yeah…I shoulda warned Ya about the barbs too,” Striker answered realizing his barbs were still flared on his slightly flaccid cock.

“That’s alright, do they do that all the time?” Chaz wondered curiously, glancing down to look at Striker’s dick.

“Yeah, whenever I cum they do that,” Striker confirmed.

“Cool, gonna have to figure a way around that for hand jobs and blow jobs, but I’m resourceful,” Chaz simply stated in such a nonchalant manner it took Striker a little off guard.

“Ya are assumein’ we’re gonna be doin’ this again a little quick,” Striker pointed out.

“Of course, we are~ I’m like a drug, once someone gets a taste of the Chaz, they can’t get enough,” Chaz chimed with a smug smile on his face, head held high with his eyes shut as he pressed a hand to his puffed-out chest.

“Humph, we’ll see about that,” Striker huffed a chuckle because he couldn’t argue with Chaz that this probably wasn’t the last time, they’d be doing this however he certainly wasn’t going to tell Chaz that…at least not yet.

#HelluvaBoss #HelluvaBoss Fanfiction #Fanfiction #HelluvaBoss Striker #HelluvaBoss Chaz #Striker #Chaz #Straz #Striker/Chaz #Humor #angst #drama #romance #fluff #smut

11 notes · View notes

coolbeesbro · 5 months ago

Text

Artwork I did for chapter 3 of Helluva Fall.

While chapter 4 is still underway, I wrote a small short for the Helluva Hazbin AU: Text Log: I Hope This Email Finds You Well

Cropped cell phone image below cut!

#stolas #stolas goetia #stolitz #helluva fall #helluva boss #helluvaverse #helluva fanart #helluvaboss #helluva boss fanfiction

53 notes · View notes

voxslays · 10 months ago

Text

“Howdy, Striker!”

Featuring >>> Striker x Reader; In which, Reader catches Striker in the middle of a murder, and things escalate from there.

Warnings; Smut, Possibly Dub-Con, Striker is Striker.

A/N: Sorry for posting my latest part of Haztober so late, here is a special little gift for being so patient with me. I just watched episodes 3-7 of season 2…but 4 and 6…STRIKER!

It was a fine fall day out in the wrath ring. Still very hot, but starting to cool down as it got later into October. You were visiting for the Harvest Moon Festival, hoping to see one of your close friends compete. You were taking a shortcut by walking down an alleyway when suddenly you saw two imps fighting. As you got closer you realized who one of them was—Striker—A famous assassin and cowboy among wrath. “Give up vermin.” He growled at the other demon as he dealt one last blow to the head with his angelic knife. He watched as the imp bled, then turned towards you. “Hello there little one..” Striker grinned, showing his gold tooth. You quickly backed up. “Woah, Woah, Woah there cowboy…I was just leaving-!” You say, clearly panicking. Striker's grin widens, a dark amusement playing in his eyes. He takes a step closer, his heavy boots thudding against the ground. "Going so soon? You just got here. Besides, I haven't even had a chance to,” He pauses as he looks you up and down. He reaches out, his large, calloused hand wrapping around your wrist. His grip is firm, unyielding. He pulls you closer, his breath hot against your face. "…Ask you your name." He purrs, his voice low and menacing.

Your breathing grows heavier. "Now, now, why are you breathing like that? Am I that intimidating, hmm?" He chuckles, his gold tooth glinting in the dim light. "Relax, I don't bite...Hard." He grins, his eyes glinting with a wicked amusement. He leans in closer, his nose brushing against your neck. He inhales deeply, his voice rumbling against your skin. "You smell... different.” He says, his southern accent ringing through the air. “Like flowers, not like the usual stench of this place. Intriguing..." He pulls back, his gaze meeting yours.

“I'm not from here.” You say as your breath hitches. "Clearly." He smirks, his thumb tracing circles on your wrist. "And what brings a sweet little thing like you to this godforsaken place, hmm?" His eyes narrow slightly, suspicion flickering in them. “I’m just here to watch one of my friends compete in the festival.” Striker laughs. "The Harvest Moon Festival, eh?" He releases your wrist, taking a step back. "Well, ain't that just precious. Coming all this way to watch your little friend play pretend." He shakes his head, another harsh laugh escaping his lips. "You know, I was invited too. But me? In a festival? Might as well invite a wolf to a lamb convention." He chuckles darkly, his gaze returning to you. "But now that you're here, maybe my time won't be entirely wasted." He says, his voice filled with lust.

You suddenly feel a deep blush coat your already rosy red cheeks. "Mmm, you're blushing. Cute." He grins, taking a step closer. His hand reaches up, his calloused fingers gently caressing your cheek. "Look at me like that again and I might just take you right here." Your blush deepens. His eyes darken with desire as he notices your even redder cheeks and quickened breath. In one swift motion, he pushes you against the nearest wall, his muscular body pinning you in place. His other hand grips your hip possessively.

You gasp in surprise, feeling an army of butterflies in your stomach. *His face hovers inches from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Shh, just breathe," he whispers, his voice laced with dominant undertones. "I promise, I won't bite...yet." His hands begin to explore your body, slowly, tauntingly. His touch is firm, yet gentle, contradictions that send shivers down your spine. His voice drops to a low purr. "You're so responsive... It's intoxicating..." His southern drawl becoming more evident. His hands slip under your shirt, his calloused palms brushing against your bare skin. You can feel his erection pressing against you, a testament to his arousal. "See what you do to me?" he growls, nuzzling your neck.

His kisses become more urgent as you let out a few gasps and moans, his hands tightening on your hips. He grinds against you, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "You taste like honey," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. "I bet you'd taste even sweeter elsewhere." His strong hands hoist you up, carrying you over to a nearby abandoned shack. He kicks the door open, carrying you inside. He lays you down on a pile of hay in the corner. His eyes glint wickedly as he looks down at you. "Now, where was I?"

He crawls over you, his hands pushing your skirt up. His fingers brush against your thighs, slowly parting them. "So innocent..." He kneels down between your parted thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them further apart. He flashes you a roguish grin before lowering his head, his warm breath tickling your core. "I think I'll start here."

His tongue flicks out, tasting you. He growls in approval, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them open. He buries his face between your thighs, feasting on you like a man starved. His touch is rough, intense, mirroring his personality. "So good..." You cry out in pleasure. He doubles his efforts at your cry, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at your essence. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he holds you in place, not letting you escape his relentless assault on your senses. He suckles your sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

He laps at you more insistently, drinking in your essence. His tongue delves deep inside, stroking your walls. He sucks hard on your clit, determined to make you fall apart. "That's it, scream for me," he growls against your sensitive flesh. He continues his onslaught, drawing out your release. As you come down from your high, he straightens up. His face is glistening with your juices, his eyes wild. He quickly begins to unbuckle his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. The leather hisses as it's pulled through the loops of his pants. He doubles it over, the ends dangling ominously. "You've been a good girl so far... But maybe it's time for a little..."

He leans down, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. He wraps the belt around your wrists, securing you to the wooden beam above. He smirks at you, his face a mask of dark intent. "Now, where were we?" He drops to his knees, burying his face once more between your thighs. He ravishes you with his mouth, his tongue plunging deep inside. But this time, he brings his hand into play, his fingers joining his tongue. He pumps them in and out, scissoring them to stretch you. He continues his relentless assault on your most intimate area. His fingers curl inside you, stroking your G-spot as his tongue lashes your clit. He can feel you tightening around him. Knowing you're close, he doubles his efforts, determined to push you over the edge into ecstasy.

He feels your walls clenching around his fingers, your body trembling on the edge. He doubles his efforts, sucking your clit hard as he curls his fingers to stroke that special spot inside. He wants to feel you come undone, to hear you scream his name as pleasure overtakes you. He feels your body convulse, your inner walls gripping his fingers like a vice as you come undone. He doesn't let up, continuing his relentless assault until he's wrung every last drop of pleasure from you. Only then does he slowly withdraw, licking his lips with a satisfied grin. “Stiker!” You scream out.

He stands up, his eyes burning with a dark hunger. He reaches for the belt still binding your wrists, undoing it and tossing it aside. He lifts you up, his strong arms supporting your weight. He carries you over to the table, setting you down on the surface with a thud. He steps between your legs, forcing them apart. His hands grip your backside, lifting you up and pulling you forward. He grinds against you, his hardness rubbing against your slick folds. "Look at me," he demands, his voice gruff with desire. You immediately look into his golden eyes.

His eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and possessive. He reaches down and spreads your lips open, revealing your dripping wet pussy to his hungry gaze. "So fuckin’ pretty," He growls, his voice now filled with lust and his classic southern accent. He lines himself up, the head of his dick pressing against your entrance. He slowly pushes inside, his eyes never leaving yours. He wants you to see who's taking you, possessing you completely. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he starts to move. He pulls out slowly, only to thrust back in harder, setting a steady, powerful rhythm.

His thrusts become more forceful, almost violent in their intensity. The table creaks beneath you as he pounds into you. "Take it," He snarls, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take every fuckin’ inch of my cock." He leans down, his chest pressing against yours as he continues to pound into you. He captures your lips in a rough, dominating kiss. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, claiming you utterly. He swallows your moans and cries, drinking in your pleasure like a true cowboy. He breaks the kiss, panting harshly. His hips never stop moving, driving into you with increasing force and speed. The room fills with the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your moans. "Take it," He snarls greedily.

He lifts you up, holding you aloft as he drives into you from below. He grins wickedly as he watches his length disappear inside you, over and over. He leans back slightly, changing the angle and making you gasp. "Oh, you like that? Good." He slams into you, finding that spot inside that makes your vision whiten. He sets a brutal pace, driving into you deep and hard. He watches where he's joined to you, his eyes glued to the point where he disappears into your heat. "You feel so good~” His face contorts with pleasure and concentration as he chases his release. His arms tighten around you, his hands clutching your bottom possessively. His breathing grows heavier, his movements more erratic. He's close. He leans forward, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He bites down, the sharp pain pushing you both over the edge. He roars his release, burying his face against your neck as he spurts into you with one final thrust.

He collapses forward, pinning you beneath his heavy, sweat-slicked body. He pants against your neck, his hips still twitching slightly with the aftershocks. After a long moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his eyes dark and sated. "Mmm..." Striker groans. He slowly pulls out of you, his softening length slipping free with a wet sound. He rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you end up draped across his broad chest. His large hand finds your back, stroking up and down possessively. "You did well.” He smirks cockily. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, an unusual sign of tenderness from him. He wraps both arms around you, his hold tightening protectively. "Rest now," Striker murmurs, his voice low and soothing.

305 notes · View notes

razzle-n-dazzle · 1 year ago

Note

Excuse me, I hope you have a good day! If your requests are open I would like to request Blitzo with an enemies to lovers trope kind of with perhaps the reader being a concubus (gn succubus) with Verosika's posse, and the two have a competitive streak with each other. They both are supposed to be enemies (because they are loyal to Veroskia) but they don't realize how hard they are falling until they accidentally save Blitzo/IMP one time... Which turns into them saving them other times all by mere "coincidence" but it's really because they started looking out for him crushing hard and wanting to keep him safe. Even if they feel like they can never admit it because of Verosika. Happy ending or not, Blitzy requesting! <3

ᯓ★ "Lust, not Love . . . Love, not Lust?" Biltzo / concubus! Reader | Drabble Warning! - not proof read (we die like Adam), implied sex, hate-make out but not really hate-make out scenes, light gore, name calling

ᯓ How the fuck did you even manage to get here? Being pushed onto Blitzo's desk was the dusk of the night was settling through the drawn window. On either side of you laid his hands, pinning you in place as though he thought you would make some cheap shot and move away; Which, you were half tempted to do. Yet, instead, you would wrap your legs around his waist and draw the Imp closer, harshly cupping his cheeks so he could shove his tongue further down your mouth. Fuck, it felt so nice! Your eyes would flutter as you felt Blitzo groan, his clawed hands reaching up to squeeze and kneed your thighs needlingly. "You're fucking gross," He would groan, not even being able to wait until you both broke for a quick puff of air, causing you to snicker into the heated kiss. "Oh, shut it, you know you like it!" You would bite back, reaching to tug on one of Blitzo's horns. You knew it would rile him up; Verosika talked all the time about how Blitzo was a slut for his horns to be pulled, tugged, played with. And was it a sweet sound that escaped his mouth, a flustered gasp for air paired with a growl, making him all worked up and pretty. The glare he gave you sent shivers down your spine.

ᯓ And shit you kind of needed him too. Even if logically you know you should be pushing him off, running far away from the Imp out of loyalty to Verosika, there was something that just made you stay. Something that tickled your stomach and your heart all at once, that drove you insane, that had you crawling back to the pathetic Imp, Verosika's ex, on all fours.

ᯓ Gladly you never publicly did that, only in your mind . . . sometimes. And yet you could never tell anyone what happened here, that night under the cover of the shadows and in the arms of an Imp. That would be a secret you had to keep to the grave; Even if he did give you the best time you've had in a while.

ᯓ But how the hell did you even end up in the Imp's arms in the first place?

ᯓ Well, it started when Verosika had moved her headquarters to the same building that I.M.P. was in; gaining the same floor, stealing their parking spot, and well just being a bitch. You had a hunch she did all this in spite of Blitzo, hating his guts so much that she wanted to torture him after they broke up. Which, before you met or saw him, made you think he was some sort of sexy Imp who could turn anyone's heads. Then you saw him and was, well, disappointed. Verosika was getting her panties into a twist over some short Imp who couldn't even stand up to her at first. He had to send one of his workers in before he even stepped foot into the studio! To you, he was a waste of time. A nobody who got a shot with a popstar and blew it for not being able to love properly, or something like that.

ᯓ So, you no attention to him at first; why should you? He was someone who, when the competition was a complete, would be a no body to you! Just another bad decision from Verosika you would have to hear about every so often just because you worked for her . . . and sometimes it made you question whether or not you should have accepted that job offer from her.

ᯓ Your interest for Blitzo first began at that very competition, or demon duel, which you had little interest in yet participated in because 1) it was good way to gain more magic and fulfill your hunger and 2) Verosika told you to. Persuading humans to fuck you, along with the others, was easy enough to do, even easier when it's a bunch of horny teenager son spring break; A simple look and or a flirty wink and you had them hook and sinker. Even if it left you feeling dirty by the end of being banged by 3 different people in a row, not being given a chance to properly breath as Verosika seemed oh-so-determined to win that bet. You were a concubus, sure, but fucking people you didn't know wasn't exactly your style; Which was always pointed out as weird, but you gained more power by fucking someone you knew or wanted . . . desperately.

ᯓ So all this was doing was both wearing you out and making you feel like a whore, which in turn made you feel like absolute shit! Can't exactly fucking people if you're feeling yourself or your body. Which led you to wondering away from the crowd, shoving past the tangled mess of naked or half-naked bodies attempting to fuck into each other, to get some air away from the scent of sweat and sea water and booze. "Fuck me. . ." The mumble left your lips as you trailed along the beach, dragging your aching legs. Wanting nothing more than to go home and shower, maybe take some pain killers and go to sleep, never brought you closer to relief. It only lead to you sitting on a barrel under the bridge that was over the beach. And, you know, you weren't trying to attract attention. You really weren't. Yet, it seems like everything you wanted never went your way anyways, "Oh, look! I knew I smelled something fishy." Blitzo's voice drawled out, his words instantly as sharp and thrashing as his tail behind him. And if you hadn't just been fucked by three guys, two at once, you would have probably gave him the anger he wanted out of your reaction. Yet you couldn't, "Oh fuck off, Blitzo! Go bash someone's brains in and jack off, I know it's your kink." You could already feel the way his eyes narrowed at you, the hostility basically seeping out of his pores to drown everyone around him. "Can't exactly fucking do that when you're stinking up the whole place! Shouldn't you go be getting your holes filled, Whore?"

ᯓ People often say that first impressions are always the most important, but you choose to say different. While they can be important to judge people off of, you've heard too much about Blitzo before you even got to know him! So, you never did get a proper first impression. Instead you got the pleasure to know how long his dick was before you even got to know his face! Thanks, Verosika. And yet, even if that did technically count as your first impression, or first meeting, with Blitzo it didn't change much about your impression on him. At least, not in that moment. He was still the dick bag cunt ex of your boss and you had no intention of sticking around and talking to him. So, as he turned to talk to some hellhound that was by his side, you snuck off and walked down the opposite side of the beach. No need to stick around if he already ended the conversation on a sour 'Whore'.

ᯓ You know, you never really understood the concept of 'love' before Blitzo. That was something you realized when you had woken up after your fuck session on his desk after that . . . strange dream of the first time you spoke to him. You would groan as you shrugged yourself to sit up, feeling a weight on your chest that caused your eyes to drift down and meet with an all too familar jacket, and yet no Blitzo. It caused you to blink once more, maybe again for good measure before you rubbed your eyes just to make sure they were squeaky clean before taking in the sight below you. Oh fuck. . . I just fucked my boss's ex. Was the thought that ran through your head, panicked and crazed, as you quickly glanced around frantically. You had to make sure no one saw you and that you could still wear your clothes!- Fuuck. What were you going to tell Verosika? Hey, I slept with your ex sorry about that, didn't mean it, it was hate fucking, you know how it is! No, you couldn't!- Ugh, shit. The fact that you had been abandoned on Blitzo's desk, with no Blitzo in sight, hadn't even crossed your mind. Even as you raised your hands, drawing his jacket up to your face to hide in, hoping that some freak accident would happen and just kill you.

ᯓ That would, sadly, be better than facing Verosika's wrath.

ᯓ Love! Such a crazy concept and you defiantly shouldn't know it or even feel it! You were a concubus, you were a demon made out of the pure essence of Lust and Craving; You got your magic by fucking people, your body, hip curves and plush thighs were made to be admired and fucked. You were like a sex toy, you were a sex toy to most, and yet. . . there was this weird feeling that had began to fester in your chest. A feeling that grew the more of Blitzo's scent wafted into your nose.

ᯓ Shit, when had this even started? Was it that day on the beach? You doubted it. You felt nothing but tire and ire from talking to Blitzo while trying to hide from your duties. Was it the days after? No, you never got much of a chance to dwell on the thought of him nor did you get much of a chance to talk to him. So when did it start? No, not when you had noticed it, you remembered that day well enough, especially since you almost died trying to save that Imp and his team. But, when had the feeling started to festered in your chest, implanting it's way into your heart and igniting itself in a way you've never felt before? In a way that had started to make you crave him in a way you never experienced? Should you talk to Ozzie about this, you were relatively good friends, yet . . . would he even understand? You doubted it; He dealt with Lust, not Love. Love; shit! No, no, you can't name it Love even . . . even when it felt so right.

ᯓ Rescue day was as clear in your mind as though it had happened yesterday; It was around the time you had been watching I.M.P. for a good month or so, just 'curious' about what they were doing, where they where going, who they were going to go kill, and who they were doing it for. It was all in pure curiosity, you had reassured everyone else in the office, and yet you think you had just been lying to yourself; Trying to shove down the prodding and poking feeling, shove it deep, deep down until it couldn't be felt anymore. But what kind of bitch who isn't a psychopathic maniac in love with the thrill of dying would go to such lengths you had to save I.M.P. from uncertain doom?

ᯓ "What the fuck? How did you even manage to do this shit, fucktard!" You would yell, your body flushed with the flesh of your human disguise which made it so much more uncomfortable to run. Though you still hand onto Blitzo's wrist as he used his free hand to shoot back, trying to kill anyone who was daring to follow the group. "What-" Moxxiewould mumble, quickly jumping over a trash can that had been thrown carelessly on the sidewalk. He stumbled before regaining his footing, "Aren't you like- working for Verosika?! Shouldn't you be helping them get us, not . . . saving us? Is this even saving us? We're just running!" Though his confusion would fall onto death ears as Blitzo shot another bullet out of his gun, watching as it pierced through an officer's head and gushed out brains and guts on those behind him. You would shutter as Blitzo yelled, "I don't know, maybe someone," He would cough, obviously fibbed, "MOXXIE!" Again that fibbed cough, "shot the wrong target! And then the human police were called and they're on our ass because we KILLED SOMEONE, GENIUS! How else did you think we got here?" "Oh, I don't know, I thought you may have tried to FUCK a police officer!" You quipped back, "Oh, sorry, you fucking can't because you're scared of sexual relationships, my bad. I forgot!" "Oh please, you can't fucking forget because I know Verosika shit talks me to you every day! DON'T BE FUCKING PLAYING THE INNOCENT CARE ON ME." Blitzo would shoot back, not noticing as Moxxie had tripped over his own foot and almost fell; Though thankfully Millie had been there to catch him, lifting him up into her own arms so they could keep pace with the others. Loona, who was tired of having to hear the gunshots and the bickering betewen Blitzo and you, snapped; "Can we stop hate flirting for a second and fucking get out of here before one of us get shot?!"

ᯓ "WE'RE NOT HATE FLIRTING."

ᯓ "Yeah, because it's so much more convincing when you both say it at the same FUCKING time." Sarcasm dripped out of Loona's tongue as she slung her bag over her shoulders, bringing it in front of her. She began to rustle around for something as you feel a sudden coldness in your hand; Blitzo had drew his own wrist away from your touch. Cold, that's all you felt; and it stung sharp and harsh. Pitiless.

ᯓ You really had to stick out your neck for someone like that? Someone who now left you up and dry on his desk after 'hate-fucking' you? Why would you ever fuck someone as pathetic as that, had desperate had you been? . . . Had you even been desperate? You couldn't remember feeling desperate, like you usually forced yourself to feel when you fuck someone for power, or a purpose other than the alternative which isn't important. It couldn't be important when you were clearly the only one who felt the same and Blitzo just wanted some- "Oh good, you're awake." The sound of the door opening and closing jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to scurry and cover yourself. "I thought I was about to have to drag your ass to sleep on my couch, and that would have been a whole 'nother fucking problem." Blitzo would mumble, coming up behind you. You felt him linger, you wondered if he wanted to do something yet was too scared to do so; Which, you guessed was true because he walked around the desk without doing anything and sat down on his chair, sat down in front of you. Which was weird. This was all weird, you didn't know how to react seeing Blitzo, who was dressed, sitting in front of you drinking his coffee like you weren't literally butt ass naked on his desk. "What?" Blitzo muttered, noticing your staring. You would simply point at him and then the desk, trying to formulate the words that didn't want to stick together: "Are . . . we going to fucking pretend that you didn't just fuck me on your desk last night?"

ᯓ "Do you want me to pretend like I didn't just fuck you on my desk last night?" The question lingered in the air, bringing with it silence. Your eyes were kept on Blitzo's before they faltered away, looking down at the ground. Did you want him to pretend that he wasn't grunting and groaning your name last night, that you hadn't been clawing at his back and screaming his?

ᯓ Was that really what you wanted?

Home | Masterlist tag list | @lily-ann-b

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

258 notes · View notes