#helluva boss oneshot

[voxsremotec0ck]

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞.ᐟ

ᝰ Blitzø x Fem!reader

ᝰ NSFW, oral (fem receiving), fingering, degrading names (slut), tail play??

wc - 1.4k

˗ˏˋ Blitzø does return the favor in the bedroom, and he’s going to prove it ˎˊ˗

Your lazy night in was interrupted by a loud banging on your door, making you jump and pause your TV. Checking your phone, you see that it's just after midnight, and you frown; who the fuck would be knocking on your door this late?

Whoever it was loudly knocked again before yelling through the door, “It’s Blitz open up!”

You sigh in frustration at the familiar name and voice of your frequent booty call. Of course, it was Blitzø. The man would never call or text; instead, he would just show up at random and expect you to rework your plans for him. You get up and drag yourself to the door, opening it and fully prepared to cuss him out, “Blitz, what-”

You barely got the door open before the imp was storming inside your apartment and slamming it shut behind him, “Listen, I’ve had a long and shitty night, and now I need to prove something to myself, so if you could get naked and in bed that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

Blitzø walked around you and made his way to your bedroom, taking his leather jacket off and tossing it on the couch in the process. You stood there dumbfounded for a moment before taking off after him, “What?”

“Oh my fucking Satan, can you just take your fucking pants off.” Blitzø snapped, standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed. You could tell something was wrong, even if he hadn’t told you he had a shitty night; it was obvious from his expression alone.

The two of you weren’t exactly the ‘talk about your feelings’ type, but you’ve never seen Blitzo this bothered before. Something really fucked up must’ve happened for him to be this visibly upset, “What happened?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you after I’m done with you.” Blitzø tried to flirt, and you only glared at him in response. He huffed in annoyance, “A lot of shit that I don’t want to talk about happened, okay? But one thing that did happen is that my ex said I don’t reciprocate in bed, and I know that shit is a lie.”

“So that’s what you need to prove to yourself? That you can please your bedmate?” you asked, rolling your eyes and leaning on the doorframe.

“Not just any bedmate!” Blitzø yelled, obviously getting worked up at the memory of whatever happened, “I need to prove that I can pleasure a pussy haver! That bitch made it seem like I don’t know where the clit is, and I cannot have that!”

Your eye twitched at the term ‘pussy haver,’ but still, you sighed and walked over towards the bed, “Yaknow, I don’t think you’ve ever eaten me out before.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve never sucked me off either. We’re more of the quick fuck type of booty call.” Blitzø rolled his eyes, “Now, am I gonna have to cut your stupid sleep shorts off or what?”

You stood silently in front of him for a moment, looking him up and down, trying to decide if you were really going to do this. The assassin seemed almost desperate for you to agree, and honestly, you did kind of want to see if he actually was good at eating pussy or not.

With a tired sigh, you slip out of your shorts and panties before climbing up onto your bed. Blitzø smirks at you before clapping his hands together and rubbing them, “You should also take your top off; I’m about to give you some real underboob sweat.”

“Literally, what the fuck?” You snap, glaring at him as he pushes your legs apart. The feeling of the cool air on your exposed core makes you shiver, and you quickly pull off your t-shirt.

Blitzø pulls your folds apart with his thumbs, exposing you even more, and spits on your pussy. You jump at the suddenness of his action and open your mouth to yell at him before he moves one of his thumbs, sliding it between your folds to spread his spit. You moan softly when he just barely brushes your clit, and you hear him mumble, “See, you fucking skank, I know exactly where the clit is.”

“Yep, you sure showed her. Now, why don’t you rub it or something.” You whined when his thumb only grazed the sensitive nub again.

“Oh no, I’m gonna do this right,” Blitzø said and began circling your entrance with his middle finger. “Which means I’m gonna draw it out as long as possible.”

You moan loudly when he slides his finger inside of you; your legs fall open impossibly wider as you glare down at him, “You’re an ass.”

“It’s your fault for thinking otherwise, sweetheart.” Blitzø meets your glare with a smirk before leaning down and flicking his forked tongue against your clit. Your hips buck up at the small bit of friction, pushing his finger deeper inside of you and making you grip the sheets tightly.

Using his free hand to hold your hips down against the bed, Blitzø started to pump his finger in and out of you slowly as he dragged his tongue between your folds. Every time the forked tip of his tongue cradled your clit, your hips jerked, and you moaned, no doubt alerting your neighbors to what you were up to.

After a few minutes of this slow torture, Blitzø finally pushed a second finger inside of you, making your back arch, “Oh fuck, Blitz.”

“Yeah, that's right,” Blitzø grunted against your mound, his fingers moving faster inside of you, “You better remember who’s making you feel this good.”

“Blitz your tongue-” You whine, missing the feeling of his mouth on you.

“What about it, sugar?” Blitzø asked, bringing this thumb up to rub agonizingly slow circles against your clit as his fingers continued to fuck into you, curling up just right and hitting your sweet spot. “Awe, does the dumb slut want my tongue on her clit? Are you gonna beg for it?”

You let out a frustrated groan, not wanting to give in to this stupid game but also needing his stupidly long tongue to cum, “Please, Blitz, fuck! Please use your tongue!”

“Well, when you ask so nicely.” You didn’t have to look at the imp to know he was smirking as he said that before he sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the small nub and making you all but scream.

You couldn’t help yourself anymore and reached down, grabbing Blitzø’s horns and pulling his face closer. You felt more than heard his muffled grunt of surprise, the noise vibrating against your sensitive skin and making your legs shake. That all-too-familiar heat began coiling in your abdomen, and you started rocking your hips against him as you moaned, “I’m so close!”

Something suddenly brushing against your left breast, pushing against your neglected nipple, and sending a shiver up your spine caught your attention. You pried your eyes open to see Blitzø had snaked his tail up your body, the flat end of it pressing against your tit until it lifted and came back down with a hard smack.

“Blitz fuck!” You cried out as you came, body overwhelmed with the amount of stimulation.

Blitzø continued his brutal pace as you soaked his face. His fingers still fucked against your g-spot, his tongue still circled your swollen clit, and his tail still smacked against your nipple until you were begging him to stop. He finally pulled away from you with a wet pop and leaned over you with a smirk while he licked his lips.

“So?” He asked, sounding out of breath but looking way more smug than when he showed up, “How was that?”

You panted, completely slumped against your bed, and getting pissed off at the sweaty feeling under your boobs, “That was-”

The sound of a high-pitched barking started blaring from Blitzø’s pocket, and you tilted your head to watch as he quickly pulled his phone out. You knew that was his daughter Loona’s ringtone, so when the imp’s eyes widened impossibly large before he scurried off the bed, you became nervous. “Blitz? Everything okay?”

“Yeah- shit!” Blitzø cursed as he fell off your bed, and you just rolled your eyes, “Yeah, Looney just needs me to pick her up!”

You just sat on your bed and listened as Blitzo ran out of your room and grabbed his jacket, “Okay, well-”

The sound of your front door opening and slamming shut cut you off, leaving you alone again. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you saw time as a little past one in the morning and sighed. If it weren’t for the wet feeling between your legs and the satisfied ach in your body, it would almost feel like he’d never been at all.

You flopped back down on your bed with a huff, “Asshole.”

I did it guys I finished the fic high me decided I was gonna write😌

[freakyfrye]

ᝰ. perfect stranger

requested: stolas x gn! swan reader, what if stolas never met blitzø at the ‘not divorce’ party

type: oneshot

content: no mention of pronouns (just “you”), slow burn, wholesome & vulnerable fluff, love at first sight (for Stolas maybe, up to interpretation), flustered & subtlety turned on stolas (not too much tho stolas), down to earth reader

note: for the record, I don’t hate stella (i actually like her character, villains have a soft place in my heart always), y’all idk about this—this is trash 🚮 I hate how I wrote it, imposter syndrome is heavy with this one but I don’t want to rewrite it and make you wait longer! I know I said I’ll wait until I wrote all my wips but I need this out my drafts neow!

Anyone who could be considered important, on some level but no more than she, knew that Stella Goetia just adored throwing parties once in a blood moon. In her fancy mansion, she’s the face, the main character, and she plays her role as host so well that people tend to overlook every other bad quality she has among the very few pros. Or perhaps, they would rather not have bad blood with someone of her caliber.

You, on the other hand, couldn't care less—about the parties, the fancy mansion, or Stella herself, frankly. Parties were never your first choice for outings; they were the most energy-draining events, with all the overcrowding and having to pretend to enjoy the company of ill-minded individuals.

But alas, you begrudgingly attend this one, and many others, as a representative of your family name. You're not silent in your disagreement, always voicing how they couldn't have picked a worse member for the job—if your frown, ever present since entering the oh-so-lovely and homey residency of the royal family, was anything to go by.

Doing your due diligence, you converse with a few guests as you make your way through the herd of people, keeping it curt and unseasoned. Finally, you reach the woman of the hour. Locating her wasn’t difficult; her boisterous, obnoxious laughter, reminiscent of a terribly played violin, rang through the room.

Exactly what you’d expect from her. Respectfully but quickly, you greet her, say a few false words of endearment about living a long life, and then scurry off back into the sea of snobby kiss asses. To her and anyone around her, it might look like you were scared, tucking your tail between your legs. In truth, you were trying to keep your big mouth shut in case she couldn’t keep her nasty comments to herself.

The party continues uneventfully. The music, more like a lullaby, would have lured you to sleep if you hadn’t downed a few cocktails to prevent it. The partygoers, annoying as they are, fail to read the room and approach you regardless of your many excuses to avoid meaningless conversation. They just want insight on why a (surname) is at a party alone, much less why you of all people are here.

By evening, you were running out of excuses until you grow hungry—using the lack of vegetarian options as a way to escape their gossip. Now standing beside a gigantic window, you contentedly munch on some leafy greens, finding interest in staring outside. The view is much more impressive than the building itself—isolated enough from Imp City yet overlooking it enough to make a grand statement. It is truly beautiful at night, the lights like little twinkling stars rivaling the sky.

Your head snaps in the direction of a crash, eyebrows raised in disbelief at the sight of wine dribbling down the glass of the window beside the one you stand near, shards scattered on the ground. To your surprise, or perhaps not, the vandal is Stella, who now leaves the scene in a fit of laughter, two idiots in tow beside her.

Why in hell would she do that to her own home? The thought Interest you some. She should know the potential damage that could have caused, let alone to one of her guests who could have been injured. Stella looked back, a sinister grin spreading across her face as she shot a rude remark past you towards someone. It made you realize she didn’t really care—neither about the mansion nor how it made her look.

Your lips form a tight line when you realize her comment was directed at her husband, who retorts with a low, irritated chirp. It seems this wasn’t much of a homey residence after all. Sighing, you place your drink onto the tray of a passing imp, heading over to the stained glass, each step revealing more of the prince hiding behind a column.

There wasn’t a memory with him that you could recall as you took out a handkerchief, wiping the window clean. You knew he attended all parties, cursed with the duty of family, but you never interacted with him. As you bent down, picking up the shards piece by piece, you considered whether you should approach him.

There were plenty of reasons why you didn’t want to or shouldn’t, like the vibe he was giving off as he shamelessly gulping down a bottle of absinthe. But it was your duty to greet all hosts, and even though he wasn’t mingling like his wife, he still counted. It was better to get it over with.

Hurriedly, you call over a wait staff, dropping the shards on their tray with a fleeting explanation, “Have that area swept thoroughly,” while gesturing towards it before brushing past them towards the prince. Stolas grew in size as the distance closed, standing a few feet taller than you. It would be only slightly intimidating if not for him choking on his drink after you suddenly appeared before him.

Sending him an apologetic smile, you bow, “Evening, Your Highness. Hope I didn’t frighten you.”

He managed to squeeze out, “I’m fine,” in the middle of coughing before fixing his posture and smoothing down his vest, handing the bottle to a imp beside him. “It’s quite alright. I just wasn’t expecting company…” he trails off, eyes flickering up and down, clearly confused as to who you are or why you were talking to him of all people in the room.

“I’m glad. I would hate to be the reason the prince falls ill. That would not bode well for my family,” you admit, half-jokingly, before addressing the second half of his statement. “You’re in a room full of like-minded people; surely someone besides me has come to talk with you.”

Right? Because that makes sense. He is the prince.

He blinks owlishly at you before stuttering, “Well—” He clears his throat, placing a hand on his abdomen before continuing, feigning nonchalance, “Why, of course. It’s only appropriate in this setting. I presume that’s your current agenda?”

“Yes,” you answer truthfully, finally glancing up and pausing. A giant banner hangs loosely above his head that reads “NOT DIVORCED!” in bold lettering. Usually the observant type, how in the world did you miss this? “However, if I’m honest, that’s part of the reason,” you add, curiously. You didn't realize it was that kind of party. Maybe you should start paying more attention to the invitations.

“Oh?” Stolas tilts his head slightly, eyes widening. He leans in closer, his voice a mix of confusion and genuine interest, “And what, pray tell, is the other half of the reason?”

You open your mouth, ready to speak what’s on your mind. You've never been one to hide how you feel—superior or not—otherwise, it would consume you. But then you close it, pursing your lips in thought. Perhaps that would be too rude, too personal off the jump, too far outside your jurisdiction to ask him about his marriage at his “not divorced” party, which his wicked wife obviously threw just to spite him.

Damn, you wish more than anything that you could have continued the party without ever seeing that sign or witnessing Stella’s public display. You didn’t care for gossip, but you were a curious individual by nature. He’s standing there, waiting on you to say something—anything, or you’ll risk looking like a fool.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you blurt out after a pregnant pause, cursing yourself inwardly for what you were getting yourself into. Anything would be better than what had came out of your lips.

His body recoils in apparent disgust at what you dare ask him, a prince. You can’t say you blame him; you’d be creeped out if a random nobody asked that too. “Wait, what?” he replies, dumbfounded at your boldness. Was this a joke? He scans around the room, as if searching for something but finds nothing before returning his gaze to you, a faint blush dusting his face. “Could you repeat that?”

You've made your bed, might as well lie in it. Besides, you never wanted to be at this party in the first place, and it's becoming painfully dull. Ideally, you'd slip away alone after greeting him—but this could work out—satisfying your curiosity before the night is over, it could potentially end badly but who knows when you'll cross paths again. Probably at another miserable gathering, actually.

"Ditch the party with me?" You casually rephrase, keeping your head high, silently hoping you don't come off as too much of an idiot. “Or not. Either way, I’m bored stiff here, and it doesn’t look like you’re having a blast either.”

Stolas blinks a few times, processing your proposition. “You’re suggesting leaving the party together?” he repeats, confirming what you’ve just asked, though you’d already clarified it. His lips curl into a hesitant smile, betraying a hint of nervousness at the unexpected proposal.

“And where would we go?” There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, signaling his curiosity and a willingness to entertain the idea of breaking away from the formalities of the event.

You hum in thought, not having planned that far ahead, before shrugging and tilting your head with a genuine smile. "What about the garden? There seem to be a lot of plants around the palace. Someone must really care for them. I bet it’s beautiful," you suggest, recalling the impressive variety of plants, including the carnivorous ones, on the way to the ballroom.

His feathers ruffle as he lets out a low, excited squeal, his smile growing more confident as he leans down to your height. "You have an interest in plants?" he asks, almost unable to believe it, his hands clasped together. Everyone he's ever come across has called his interests boring. He never had a friend who was.

You nod, your posture relaxing after seeing his genuine reaction. "It's a bonding activity between my mother and me that started in childhood. I take it by your reaction that you handle their care?" Perhaps he could be good company after all.

His comical blush returns when he remembers that your suggestion came with a compliment. “Yes, I do. I’m surprised you noticed. Not everyone cares for botany…” He gestures toward the exit, silently saying ‘after you’ before adding, “I would be delighted to accompany you to the garden. I can show you the new species of carnivorous plant I acquired...if you’d like?”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you nod and reply, “I’d love that.” You head toward the door, with Stolas quickly falling into step beside you, his hands interlocking behind his back. There’s a respectable distance between you both, ensuring you don’t draw unnecessary attention as you discreetly leave together.

Stolas takes the lead after exiting the ballroom, and a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of your footsteps. You notice how he occasionally glances at you, curiosity and excitement in his eyes, as the distance between you subtly closes. You don't voice your observation, letting him assume he's being sneaky when he's not.

"You know," he begins softly, eyes now trained forward, "I never caught your name." A stifled snicker escapes you, causing him to snap his eyes towards you, filled with confusion and a tad bit of worry. "Did I say something amusing?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Shaking your head, you respond, "No, it's just... It's a silly thought to think that you might know who I am." you tease.

A flustered noise escapes him, his shoulders stiffening as his mouth drops open and then snaps shut. He stops abruptly, turning his whole body toward you as he stutters, “That’s not... well, the reason...” He struggles to find his words before speaking honestly, “I don’t have a real reason, but if I had met you before, I wouldn’t forget you.” As if he could, you were the first creature in a long while to spark his interest so effortlessly.

Sighing softly, you gesture for him to continue walking. "Actually, it's refreshing not to be noticed immediately upon entering a room," you admit with a slight smile.

Finally reaching the garden, he opens the door and holds it for you, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I understand how you might feel,” he sympathizes softly, closing the door behind him as he follows you inside. He watches with pride as your eyes widen in awe at the lush, vibrant space filled with an array of plants.

Taking your hand lightly, he guides you to a particular section of the garden where an unusual, striking plant catches your eye. “This is it,” he says, reluctantly letting go of your hand. “My newest addition. Isn’t it fascinating?”

You glance between him and the plant, chuckling in disbelief. "You’re kidding, right?" Your eyebrows shoot up at his confused expression. "Satan, I don’t know what I was expecting, but this—this wasn’t it. How in hell did you get an earth plant to thrive?"

He hums, glancing at the plant lovingly. "A bit of nurturing, a touch of magic, and voilà—a thriving earth plant."

"That simple, huh?" you ask, stepping up to touch the plant. It's soft under your touch and bends with ease—it's real. He wasn’t joking, but then again, why would he with all these other live plants around? It’s just a little hard to believe, is all. “Simple but significant.” you add, remember an affirmation your mother used to say.

Smiling, you let go of the leaf, your eyes following a path that leads deeper into the garden. You start walking, momentarily forgetting your original agenda: why throw a 'not divorce party'? Why not a normal party like normal couples do? But then again, was anything ever normal when you’re raised in the royal family?

Chances are they were arranged before they could even walk. Everyone who grew up in the scene knew that love wasn’t always part of those kinds of marriages. But you thought that wasn’t the case with those two. They hid it so well.

You become so engrossed in the scenery that you jump slightly when Stolas starts to speak, forgetting that you are in his home and not a museum. “Earlier… you said greeting me was only part of your agenda.” He raises his arms in a gesture of harmlessness noticing your jitteriness before continuing, “I’m purely curious… inviting me to escape with you wasn’t the other half, was it?”

"You’re more observant than I gave you credit for," you tease lightly. "You’re right. I still think it’s a touchy subject for you, but I can’t help myself. It’s like an itch in my brain that needs to be satisfied."

“There’s a lot you’d come to find out about me. I’m quite attentive toward things or people who interest me. Plants, my darling Octavia…” Stolas trails off, leaving his lost words hanging tensely in the air, but his gentle eyes on you have you forcing your brain to stop misinterpreting him. He shakes his head, as if to dismiss his own thoughts, "You can ask, as long as I get to ask you one in return. A fair exchange, yes?"

“Fair enough,” you agree, still hesitant and unsure of how he would take it but blurting out your question anyway. “It’s not hard to see that there’s some tension between you and your wife… almost painfully obvious.” You sigh, recalling the earlier events. “So my question is, why are you together, throwing a ‘not divorce’ party when it so clearly should be the opposite?”

There’s a long, pregnant pause between you two. Stolas stares at you, blinking as he processes your question, truly not expecting that to be what was on your mind. You were right—it was a rather personal question, one that really wasn’t any of your business. The nerve of you to be so crass as to ask him that of all questions, and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to dismiss you.

Instead, he thought of all the reasons why he should answer—someone cares, someone’s listening… the list goes on and he checks them all off. The results are in and it’s still unclear if he should, even though his heart wants him to. Eventually, he expresses himself candidly, laying himself bare for a stranger who unexpectedly stepped inside his world.

Stolas sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looks down at the ground. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, grappling with the complexity of his situation.

"It's... complicated. Stella and I, we've grown apart, to say the least. Our marriage was never really based on love or mutual respect, but more on the idea of strengthening our family's influence and securing alliances."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes haunted by a deep sadness.

"But to leave her... it's not that simple. Divorce is rare and scandalous in Goetia. It would be a massive blow to my reputation, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face that kind of backlash just yet."

He shrugs, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as exhaustion settles on his face. The facade he’s been building crumbles in the wake of vulnerability. Now you feel slightly guilty for asking, but you know you had to—not because you were nosy anymore, but partly because he needs to know that there is an alternate ending, one where he could be happy. That it was possible, you were proof.

“I understand the expectations of royals as much as you do. However, I refused to give up that part of my life to my duties. I saw how taxing it could be from the outside looking in. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t. I couldn’t leave that up to chance, and I believe you shouldn’t have to either. So what if the royal family judges you? They’re going to do that regardless. If they are, why not live for yourself? You don’t have much to gain from the marriage anymore. Your daughter’s nearing adulthood, right?”

Stolas numbly nods, hanging onto every word. “Then set yourself free before you drive yourself mad trying to keep up with appearances.”

Stolas is at a loss for words. No one has ever cared enough about him to offer such kind words of support. Not his father, not his wife, not even those with whom he sought intimacy. Yet here you are, a stranger, offering him hope. He feels himself choking up with emotion, but he expertly covers it with a cough and a polite smile behind his hand.

However, you can see just how much your words have affected him when you look into his glossed-over eyes. It's like looking at freshly polished rubies. You fear if you confess that the tears he hasn’t shed will flow. Heavens when did you become so soft…

His hand moves from his lips to rest over his heart, which beats so aggressively against his ribcage that he might be concerned if he weren't immortal. You are dangerous for his health, he thinks, when you tilt your head cutely, causing his heart to flutter momentarily before finding its appropriate rhythm again. His throat tightens as he tries to swallow with a dry mouth.

“That might be the kindest and most genuine advice anyone has given me… thank you,” he mutters, afraid to speak louder than a whisper for this conversation. Stolas's face grows hot as he confesses his next words, a hint of longing in his voice, “I wish I had stood up for myself then. Maybe things would have been different…”

“It’s never too late to do what’s right by you.” you reply without a beat, nodding in all seriousness.

“You’re right!” Stolas steps closer to you, moving his hand closer to yours. “It’s time to live for myself. I think I deserve that much. You’ve given me much to think about.” His hand hesitantly brushes against yours. “But I do believe it’s my turn for a question.”

You perk a brow at his change in tone, noticing it drop an octave but it doesn’t match the coy smile he sends you. “I said it before: it’s only fair after the little discomfort I caused you,” you remind him, side-eyeing him, standing rigid and unsure of the sudden change in atmosphere.

He chuckles softly, finally taking your hand in his, “The only discomfort I felt was at that stuffy party, which was soothed by your presence,” he replies, before dipping down to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “Can we do this again? Going out, I mean.” Rising back up but not letting go of your hand, he continues, “I enjoy your company, and your honesty is a breath of fresh air compared to everyone sugar-coating. You’re the first person I’ve met who shares my interests too. It would be a shame, on my part, to leave it at this.”

Your purse your lips, brows furrowed. Since attending this party, nothing has gone right. Instead of leaving alone, you ended up escaping with the prince, and now he wants to see you again. It wouldn’t be an issue if it weren’t for the subtle hints he been giving since you’ve met. Let’s not forget that he is still married.

Despite how shitty a marriage it may be, he was taken. Not that it was your intention to steal him away in the first place. This could only end badly if people were to take your sudden friendship the wrong way. Now getting out of an arranged marriage with someone else was one thing, but having a situationship with the prince of Hell was another.

How were you going to spin this? You avert your eyes from his, filled with anticipation and hope, ignoring the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, your highness.”

Stolas coaxingly coos gently, drawing your attention to your hands, which he interlocks. "Oh, please? We could have it at your place this time if it'll make you more comfortable."

"Oh fuck me," you groan, closing your eyes and rubbing the back of your neck with your free hand, missing the way Stolas bites his lip as a shiver slithers through his body. You reluctantly agree, opening your eyes, "Alright... You have to give me time to get everything up to par for a prince."

"Not need! For company like yours, I’m fine anywhere."

rules, masterlist

[forgetmynamepleasethanks]

IF YOU write for hazbin x helluva boss could you do a oneshot stolas x raven!reader whos family only recently became royals and are treated as lesser by the other royal families. the ravens arent as fancy as the other families and dont really care about all the royal stuff so they're kinda looked down upon. they meet at some meeting or you can decide. and make this take place after season 2 episode 9 so blitzo and him have broken up at least for now. thank you a ton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I write for everything. That's why it takes me so long to write because I get a request, watch the entire show/consume the entire source material, then I start writing until I get a new request and the cycle continues. I am the Sisyphus of fanfiction. One must imagine forgetmyname happy. Anyways. Thank you for the request. I needed an excuse to watch season 2 of Helluva Boss. And shoutout to my favorite mutual for inspo for this I lowkey stole major plot elements from your story please forgive me. They're a better writer than I am so if you're interested in reading the inspiration for the latter half of this fic check out this. Also this isn't particularly romantic, just two straight guy cool guy besties (peak reference).

-----

If the parties weren't bad enough, the meetings were. Was being a royal really worth it? Sure, immortality, woo. How nice it is to spend the next ten thousand years sucking up to other pompous avians.

Despite your less-than-enthusiastic outlook on royalty, being the youngest of your brothers made you the prime target for all the busy work one could hope for.

That's why you found yourself here. Due to your family's relative youth in terms of royalty, you're positioned to the very far end of an uncomfortably long table seating representatives from all the royal houses in hell.

What a bunch of pricks.

The etiquette that your parents had drilled into you from such a young age- you truly believe they conceived you to be the perfect little delivery boy to turn errands for them- is the only thing keeping you in your seat and this stuffy cape and outfit on your body.

After a wait that could have lasted from 15 minutes to 15 years, the host of this meeting finally makes his entrance. As much as you like to pride yourself in your blasé attitude, being in the presence of King Paimon is enough to shut you up and sit you down.

"Welcome everyone please stop your yammering and listen to me. God when did there get to be so fucking many of you." Paimon announces as he makes his entrance.

"As I'm sure a few of you know hell is currently experiencing some unfortunate economic... blah blah blah"

Could this get any more boring? As you fight to keep your eyes in focus you notice someone standing by the door behind you. It's one of Paimon's sons. Stolas. Long time no see. You and Stolas used to be close, but the weight of royalty split you two apart.

Wow, he looks just as bored as you. I guess being Paimon's son would mean you get dragged along to a lot of borin- "You! Raven boy. Not to be rude or anything but what do you people even do?" Your internal monologue is cut off by Paimon. You don't respond for a beat, internally laughing at how Paimon literally doesn't know who you are or what your family does but you still have to be at this stupid meeting.

"We keep the humans out of hell, Your Highness." You respond dryly. It takes you a second to even notice that you've responded. The line is so ingrained into your lexicon that it practically says itself.

"Right! That's the totally important job I gave your very... snicker... esteemed family." Paimon snorts out, barely containing his mocking laughter. A handful of other representatives stifle laughs at your expense.

Oh, the joys of being a Corvus Arcana. The least royal royal family in hell.

"Yes well, you're dismissed. You're needed for other important tasks. Prince Stolas will direct you. Thank you for your time." Paimon says with mock sincerity.

Oh. Stolas. Yes. You know Stolas. You're flooded with memories of the two of you back at the old "Center for Princes to be" It was a glorified daycare, really. You two got up to a lot. He taught you a lot about the starts, and bugs, and everything he read about. You taught him how to make spit balls and get out of trouble you put yourself in.

You rise from your seat, flipping your cape as you walk to the door. In royal etiquette flipping your cape at someone is somewhat rude. Exactly what you wanted.

The conversation behind you restarts as you reach the door. Stolas is waiting for you with a nervous smile on his face, almost like he's got bad news.

"Ah, I remember you! I didn't know it was you who my father was talking about! Let's head out, shall we?" Stolas remarks oh so professionally. He's looking right at you, using his eyes to try and convince you he's excited about your new task, but you know him well enough to tell he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" you respond sarcastically. Both of you know you were chosen for this because of your less-than-stellar family image.

"Ah! Well! You see- You were chosen for your... unique skills and inspired professionalism! Yes of course!" Stolas sputters out trying to respond without admitting that you were chosen because you're the trailer park trash of the royal family.

A smile creeps onto your face at the owl's half-baked response. He was never the most socially perceptive, even in his youth. You follow the tall owl out of the meeting room and down some of the winding hallways of Paimon's manor.

"Well hopefully my 'inspired professionalism' landed me something to do besides sitting in that room. How bad could it be? As long as it's not something stupid like stacking boxes." You respond lackadaisically. You look to Stolas for a reaction but he seems fully focused on looking at some dusty old paintings on the wall.

Then you round a corner into a freshly moved into bedroom. So fresh that boxes are strewn about. You look up at Stolas who's scratching the back of his head and looking anywhere and everywhere but your direction.

"No way. It's stacking boxes." You state dumbfounded.

"If it's any recourse I will be helping you unpack. That's our mission. Isn't that... heh... fun?" Stolas replies. You look him up and down. Both of you know how stupid this is.

You just sigh.

Twenty minutes later you're unpacking boxes. Your cape is discarded on the bed, the effort of moving boxes with both magic and your birdy body causing you to break a sweat, and as promised Stolas is helping. You can't help but sneak glances at him. He really has changed a lot since you were kids. He's a lot taller for one thing. Besides the obvious physical change, he seems to never have really put himself together. You can tell he's struggling.

Ruffled feathers, quick to anger, and somewhat mopey. To an average royal this would seem pretty normal. Royals aren't known for their vigor and lust for life. To you, these are signs that he's not doing so hot. Struggling to lift a white cardboard box labeled "FRAGILE!" the tall owl is surprisingly human- well, demon? Humanized? He seems a lot more likable than the rest of the royals.

You decide to break the silence. "So tell me. What's a big important bird like you doing unpacking boxes with lil old me?" It's almost self-deprecating the way you look down on yourself.

"Me?- Ah of course he means you- My father brings me along as a secretary of sorts to his meetings when I'm available." Stolas responds while trying to not trip over a box of pillows as he places knickknacks he got out of a box around the dresser.

You snort at his response. "I have a secretary but she doesn't unpack rooms." You banter at him. This seems to irk Stolas. "Yes well since my divorce it seems my father can't resist the urge to assign me silly tasks as if I were some child in need of a distraction." Stolas snaps at you. He drops his volume at the mention of his divorce, which has surely affected how he is perceived by the other royals.

Despite how peeved he sounds by your comment, it sounds more like he's disheartened than truly upset.

You had heard of his divorce. You didn't care. Your family was never huge on the whole arranged marriage thing. You weren't even married yet, which for a prince of your age was unheard of in most other families.

You smile, half sympathetically, half filled with schadenfreude. "Join the club." An uncomfortable silence fills the air after your response. Stolas was aware of how your family is treated. It seemed silly to complain about being assigned trivial tasks like unpacking a room to a Corvus Arcana. It's sort of like complaining about a paper cut to a man missing both his arms.

"I apologize," Stolas says.

"For what?" You respond quizzically. "For how the others treat you. Merely because your lineage is young does not justify the lack of respect or meaningful assignments they've received from the other royals." Stolas says.

The uncomfortable silence fills the air once again. Stolas had always been the only person to treat you like a true royal. Back in the day, he was the only one to play with you, share with you, or even really acknowledge you. You two unpack in silence. After another ten minutes of unpacking you finally can't take it anymore.

"This blows. Wanna ditch this stupid "assignment"?" You stretch your arms and let the box you were carrying fall to the ground with a thump. Stolas looks at you dumbfounded.

"Ditch? Like... 'play hooky'? No... I could never! I'm much to old for that type of behavior now." Stolas seems aghast at the idea of offending his father. You turn around and grin at him. "Oh like anyone's gonna miss us! There's a million servants around here that can unpack this dumb room. Let's ditch this. Or are you gonna tell me you're having a blast?"

"That's not the point. I can't just leave!" Stolas retorts.

"You're an adult now. Plus King Paimon clearly doesn't care what we're up to. No one's checked on us. C'mon, we used to do this all the time. It'll be like back then when we used to sneak away from the nannies at daycare." You rebuttal. You can see Stolas fighting with himself over what to do.

The look on Stolas' face is priceless. There's nothing quite like a royal trying to decide if it's worth doing something considered "non-royal".

"I suppose it's okay to leave unannounced... I read something about the human country of Ireland and how its people say goodbye without saying anything and-" Stolas realizes he's rambling. "Ah well... yes. I guess I'd like to leave."

You shake your head in mock surprise at his overly introspective response. "Follow me."

You two walk in silence for a moment. You're spending the quiet time considering your current circumstances. You and the prince of the Ars Goatia are playing hooky from a meeting neither of you were really invited to. Huh. Interesting spot you've found yourself in.

Conversely, Stolas is trying his best to keep his cool. He's not so used to just leaving these types of things. You two have also not spoken much since you were young. There was never any bad blood or anything, being a royal is just time-consuming.

Stolas follows closely behind you as you walk out of the castle. "So... if you don't mind me asking..." Stolas begins, waiting for your confirmation to continue. After a quick nod from you, Stolas furrows his brow, contemplating his words before speaking, "Your..." He pauses, searching for a diplomatic way to phrase it. "casual demeanor seems almost at odds with your status as a royal. It's always been quite intriguing, I must say. Most other royals tend to carry themselves with a certain..." He gestures with a hand. "formality, shall we say. Your informal manner is indeed a rare sight." Stolas asks you.

The owl's attempts at not offending you are admirable. "Well. My family is much younger than yours, as you know. While your family and all the others gained power at the very start of hell my family rose to power a short three hundred years ago. To put it bluntly, we don't really do all the royal stuff." You respond, trying to explain your family's situation.

"I see... fascinating." Stolas offers. The two of you make it out of the castle without another word.

You two find yourselves behind the castle. You hop up on a small ledge to see over the hedges. Stolas, being tall, can see over just fine.

"Well. The world's our oyster." You say. The night is fresh upon you and the city shines spectacularly below you. You look up at Stolas with a mischievous grin. "How quickly would your dad notice if his fancy schmancy car went missing?"

Stolas snickers at your question. "We'll just have to find out I suppose."

-----

I don't really like how this turned out but I also feel like I say that after everything I write. I'm also pretty rusty (and slightly intoxicated). Life has been up my ass for like two years so that's where I've been. Once again, massive props to freakyfrye for a lot of inspiration behind this. I had no clue where to take it but I read their story and it was great! Worth checking out. Anyways I hope you enjoyed.

[hazbean-hotel-imagines]

Rules

🍒 If you have any questions regarding these feel free to leave an ask, I promise I’m friendly!

🍒 I write for both Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss.

🍒 I only do headcanons, one shots, and matchups. If you have anything that doesn’t fit these three, consider asking if it’s alright before shooting your request, I’m pretty flexible.

🍒 I do not write anything NSFW for minors or characters who are canonically asexual. I will, however, write SFW for them.

Headcanons

🍒 For headcanons, I only do three characters maximum per ask.

🍒 Please include your prompt and if applicable, whatever characters you’d prefer!

One shots

🍒 For one shots, I only do one character per ask.

🍒 Please include a prompt and character!

Matchups

🍒 Information required for a matchup is a name (an emoji is alright), pronouns, and sexuality. Your Myers brigs test isn’t a requirement but is preferred, as it’s the easiest way for me to get a feel of your personality and compatibility.

🍒 Please specify if you only want characters from either Hazbin or Helluva Boss. By default, I will include both fandoms.

🍒 By default I will include three characters and list brief points. If you specify in your request, I can include only one character and go into heavier detail.

[shapard]

Tantrum🕷️

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader

Tw: Smut, slow burn, therapist x client, Satan being Satan to the low life, p in v

6k

Satan is so Hot

Part 1 > Part 2

The story begins after the cut

You exhaled slowly, your breath shaky as your eyes scanned the list of today's clients. One name stood out like a drop of blood on pristine parchment: Satan. Yes, the Satan. You’d laughed when the receptionist first told you. Surely, it was some dark joke, right? But the chilling sincerity in her eyes told you otherwise. For the next month, the King of Wrath himself would be your client. His personal therapist—or "anger coach," as they called it—was conveniently on vacation, leaving the responsibility to you.

Your fingers hovered over the file, tapping lightly on the thick paper. His profile was sparse yet enough to send a chill down your spine. Anger issues. As if that needed to be stated. Brutal, cruel, unpredictable. Lies often. Has a dangerously short temper. And the last line, hastily scrawled like a warning, stood out the most: Approach with caution.

The note on your pad detailed when and where you were to meet him: Satan’s castle. Even the thought of it made your stomach churn. The clock on your desk screeched, breaking your trance. It was time.

Your palms were clammy as you left your room, dread curling around your spine. The limousine waiting outside was overkill, with its glossy black finish and an interior too luxurious for comfort. You sank into the seat, but even its plush softness couldn’t ease the knot tightening in your chest. Your fingers toyed nervously with the fabric of your shirt. "Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, your voice a hoarse whisper.

The drive stretched on, the limousine cutting through a landscape that seemed to grow darker, more twisted with every passing mile. Gnarled trees loomed like skeletal hands, their shadows dancing over the cracked road. The closer you got to his estate, the more oppressive the air became, thick with heat and a faint metallic tang that clung to your throat. When the car finally stopped, your breath hitched.

The castle loomed above you like a blackened wound carved into the earth itself. Jagged spires clawed at the sky, and the air was heavy with the faint stench of sulfur. The gates creaked open, revealing a procession of imps scurrying about with feverish purpose. Their glowing eyes briefly landed on you before darting away, like vermin avoiding a predator.

You swallowed hard, stepping out of the limousine. The ground beneath your sneakers radiated an uncomfortable heat, as if the very earth resented your presence. You hesitated, looking up at the fortress before you. Every instinct screamed for you to run. But you were a therapist—for Lucifer’s sake, you’d dealt with impossible clients before. Just not ones who could incinerate you with a single breath.

A small, hunched imp dressed in a tattered butler’s uniform approached, its head bowed. Without a word, it gestured for you to follow. You obliged, your legs moving stiffly as if weighed down by chains. The castle’s interior was worse. Shadows seemed alive, twisting and curling around corners like smoke. The halls were cavernous and eerily silent, save for the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor.

You were led through corridors that gleamed with wealth. Gold littered every surface, accompanied by piles of glittering jewels—rubies, diamonds, and sapphires, carelessly heaped as if they were nothing more than pocket change. It was suffocating in its opulence, but it was the odd details that unsettled you. A scorch mark on the wall, as if something—or someone—had been obliterated there. Deep claw marks gouged into the stone.

When you entered his chamber, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Heat rolled over you in waves, and the room smelled faintly of ash. Your eyes roamed over the space, catching glimpses of heavy iron chains, monstrous workout equipment, and a hulking throne that seemed carved from molten rock. And then, your gaze rose.

He was there.

The dragon loomed in the far corner, a creature of pure, terrifying majesty. His scales shimmered like molten obsidian, and his horns, wickedly curved and sharp, glinted faintly in the dim light. His golden eyes burned like twin suns, locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His chest rose and fell with a deep, growling breath that reverberated through the floor.

"So," he rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural drawl that made the air vibrate. "You’re the replacement.”

You froze, your body rigid as his gaze raked over you. His tone dripped with disdain, his lips curling into something between a snarl and a smirk. You felt like a mouse under the eye of a serpent.

“A succubus?” he sneered, the word laced with contempt. His massive frame shifted as he lowered his head, bringing his razor-sharp teeth dangerously close to your trembling form. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their molten depths. “For a succubus, you look... innocent.”

You flinched as his claw moved, its sharp tip hooking under the edge of your buttoned shirt. With terrifying ease, he pulled you closer, the heat radiating from him suffocating.

“Sir,” you managed, your voice wavering as you fought to hold your ground, “this is… inappropriate.”

The dragon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Inappropriate?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “Oh, little one, we’re far beyond ‘appropriate’ here.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable, his golden gaze locking onto yours, unyielding and searing. Then, with a huff, he released you, his massive claw retracting as he settled back.

“Let’s see how long you last,” he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “They always break, you know.”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow as you took a hesitant step back. This wasn’t going to be like any other client you’d dealt with. And as his gaze lingered on you, predatory and calculating, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into a game you didn’t fully understand—a game where the rules were written in blood.

“Let’s start with something simple—an introduction.” You tried to project confidence, raising your voice slightly to ensure he could hear you clearly. The weight of his molten gaze bore down on you, but you kept your posture straight. “Before we can trust each other, we need to know each other.”

Your words hung in the air, daring to challenge the suffocating silence. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his reptilian features. You forced a smile and continued, your voice steady despite the thrum of fear in your chest. “My name is Y/n L/n. I’ll be your therapist for the time being. In my spare time, I enjoy drawing. Now, would you care to introduce yourself?”

The room seemed to grow hotter. A deep huff escaped from Satan’s nostrils, the force of his breath stirring the papers on your clipboard. His head tilted ever so slightly, as though studying you from a new angle. “You know who I am.” His words were low and blunt, carrying the faintest edge of impatience.

You kept your expression neutral, though your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Of course, I know. But I’d like to hear it from you.” Your tone was calm, measured, even as the edges of his form seemed to ripple with heat.

That caught him off guard. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, his eyes lost some of their predatory sharpness. His breathing, which had been fiery and erratic, grew slower, more controlled. “I am Satan,” he said at last, his voice still low but tinged with pride. “The Sin of Wrath. The first sin.”

You didn’t flinch, though the words carried a weight that pressed against you. Liar. The truth was well-known—Lucifer was the first. But you kept that observation to yourself, instead lowering your gaze to jot something down on your notepad.

The scratch of your pen seemed deafening in the charged silence.

“What are you writing?” His tone was sharper now, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. You glanced up cautiously, noting the slight flare of his nostrils and the way his claws flexed against the stone floor.

“It’s nothing important,” you assured him, your voice soft but deliberate. “Just a few notes for me. Is that okay?”

His eyes narrowed further, glowing faintly as if testing your words for deceit. After a tense moment, he leaned back, the massive muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

You allowed yourself a small exhale, the pen trembling faintly in your grip as you made another note. “Thank you. So, tell me—what’s your favorite hobby?” you asked, keeping your tone light, almost conversational.

Satan blinked, clearly caught off guard again. “Hobby?” he repeated, as if the concept were foreign to him. A pause stretched between you, and then he shrugged. “Uh… I like working out.”

Internally, you groaned. Great, you thought, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. A gym bro with anger issues. But outwardly, you smiled, though your fingers tightened slightly around your pen.

As you scribbled his answer, you felt a subtle shift in the air. His gaze hadn’t left you, and there was something unsettling about the way he watched you now—curious, calculating, like a predator studying its prey. The edges of his mouth twitched, as if he were amused by something only he understood.

“Do you always write so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little too casual.

You froze for half a second before looking up. “Only when it helps me understand my client better,” you said evenly.

Satan’s lip curled faintly, exposing a hint of razor-sharp teeth. “Interesting,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly. His massive frame seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow that swallowed the light around you. “You seem… different. For a therapist. For a succubus.”

The word dripped with disdain, but there was an odd curiosity in his tone as well. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t think I fit the usual mold,” you replied lightly, though the words felt thin against the heavy atmosphere.

Satan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No, you don’t. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

The way he said it felt more like a warning than a casual remark. And as the room grew unnervingly quiet again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just stepped into something far more dangerous than you were prepared for.

“Anyway,” you began, trying to dissipate the strange tension in the air, “what do you usually do to calm yourself?” Your voice was steady, professional, but you were acutely aware of the weight of his golden gaze lingering on you.

Satan tapped his claw against his chin, the sharp tip glinting faintly in the dim light. “I work out,” he said simply.

You nodded and placed your notepad down. “Have you ever tried anything else? Something less… physical?”

He shook his head, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “No.”

“Interesting.” Your pen hovered over the page, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Bingo. A potential breakthrough, something to work on next week. “Maybe you should try something new,” you suggested, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

Satan raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something new?”

You nodded, maintaining your professional tone. “Yes. There might be situations where you aren’t able to work out. Finding an alternative that brings you calm can help—something you enjoy that doesn’t rely on strength or exertion.”

You could see him thinking, his gaze becoming distant for a moment before snapping back to you. Then, he said it, blunt and unapologetic:

“Sex.”

Your pen slipped slightly, leaving a faint mark across your notepad as your head shot up to meet his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Sex,” he repeated, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “I enjoy it. Specifically, I love to dominate. It brings me a sense of calm, of control.”

The heat in the room seemed to spike as his words hung in the air, heavy and electric. You felt your breath hitch slightly, your professionalism faltering under the weight of his admission. Your teeth caught your bottom lip, a subconscious reflex as your mind betrayed you with images you hadn’t invited.

Satan, towering over you, his claws dragging possessively over your skin. His deep growls vibrating against your neck as his body pressed you into the bed like prey. The way his molten gaze would devour every inch of you, a predator savoring its prize.

The thought was dangerous, forbidden—and utterly intoxicating.

“You’re quiet,” Satan observed, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He leaned forward, resting his massive claws on the table between you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sit straighter in your chair, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your inner turmoil. “Not at all,” you lied, your voice wavering slightly.

His smirk widened, the sharp tips of his teeth glinting faintly in the low light. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched again as he stood, the sheer size of him making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, predatory. His shadow fell over you, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, velvety growl. “Have you ever let someone take control of you? Completely?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. His presence was overwhelming, his golden eyes boring into you with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare.

“Let me guess,” he continued, his voice smooth and teasing. “You play the role of the confident therapist. Always in control, always composed. But I wonder…” He leaned closer, his claw tipping your chin up slightly. “What would happen if you let go? If you surrendered—for once?”

Your pulse raced as his words sent a shiver down your spine. The air between you was charged, thick with tension that felt ready to snap at any moment.

“I—” You barely managed to speak before his smirk deepened.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body reacts to me.”

Your breath quickened, your mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen—this wasn’t professional. But the pull of his presence, the raw magnetism of him, was impossible to ignore.

As he leaned back, giving you a moment to catch your breath, his smirk softened into something darker, more sinister. “We’ll see how long you can resist,” he murmured, his voice like a promise—a challenge.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your notepad like it was a lifeline. Whatever line had just been crossed, there was no going back now. And the worst part? Some small, treacherous part of you didn’t want to.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, the ticking seconds echoing louder in your ears as you realized the session had come to an end. It felt like both a relief and a punishment. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Our time is up for today.”

Gripping your notepad tightly, you rose from your chair, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the inner conflict you fought to suppress. “I’ll see you next week?” you asked, your voice carefully measured, though the second heartbeat between your thighs throbbed mercilessly, reminding you of how thin the line was between professionalism and raw, unspoken desire.

Satan leaned back into his seat, his massive frame exuding power and ease as his ever-present smirk stretched across his face. “You’re quite interesting, you know that?” he said, his golden eyes glinting with something dark, something dangerous.

The way his words curled in the air, dripping with molten heat, sent a shiver down your spine. And then he said it—your name.

“See you next week, Y/n.”

The sound of your name, as it rolled off his tongue like a lazy threat, like a predator marking its prey, felt like fire licking at your skin. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the way he owned it, as if your name wasn’t yours anymore but his to use, to savor, to command.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you fought to maintain control of yourself. His gaze lingered on you, heavy and consuming, as if he could see every thought, every reaction you tried to bury. The room felt smaller, hotter, as if the very air bent to his will.

You took a deep breath, willing the flush creeping up your neck to subside, and bowed your head slightly—a courteous gesture, but also an excuse to break free of his burning gaze. “I’ll… take my leave now,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected, though your body betrayed you with every trembling step toward the door.

The silence stretched, but you could feel him watching you, his presence looming even as you turned your back to him. Each step felt heavier, your legs weaker, as if some invisible tether pulled you back to him.

“Y/n,” he called softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement. It was enough to stop you in your tracks, your hand hovering just above the door handle.

You turned slightly, not enough to meet his gaze but enough to let him know you were listening.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said, his smirk audible in his voice. “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t trust yourself to respond. With a hurried nod, you pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the hall as quickly as you could without outright running.

As the door closed behind you, the weight of his words lingered, wrapping around you like a vice. Each step away from his chamber only made the ache within you stronger, and the echo of his voice—dark, commanding, possessive—played on repeat in your mind.

When you finally reached the outside air, you exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady the wild beat of your heart. But no matter how much distance you put between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trapped—bound not by his hands, but by his voice, his gaze, his presence.

And the worst part? You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to escape.

______________________

Your mind drifted to Satan again, as it often did these days. His golden eyes, the low timbre of his voice, the weight of his presence—all of it lingered with you like an intoxicating haze. It was wrong to think of him this way, wasn’t it? You're the therapist. A being of ancient power. Yet his words from the last session whispered through your mind, sending a shiver down your spine: “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.” What did he mean? The thought left you breathless, your lip caught between your teeth as you tried to push the memory away.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the mirror, pulling yourself together. Today was a new session, and you needed to remain professional. No room for fluttering thoughts or the heat that crept up your neck every time he said your name. After all, you had a job to do, and you’d prepared exercises meant to calm, not... whatever this was. You brushed out your hair, adjusted your outfit, and gave yourself one last look. You could do this.

The drive to his mansion felt longer than usual, the limousine’s quiet luxury giving your mind too much space to wander. By the time you arrived and stepped out, your palms were clammy despite the crisp air. You gathered your supplies—a palette, brushes, a canvas—and headed to the imposing doors. They opened with a creak, and there he was, standing tall, his figure sharper than usual in a tailored outfit that clung just enough to his form to make you notice. Was he doing this on purpose? The thought made your cheeks flush.

“Satan,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady as you stepped inside.

“Y/n,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto yours. He always said your name like it was a secret, something sacred.

You set your supplies down, the clinking of brushes breaking the charged silence. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over the items with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with intrigue.

“Painting,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s something that can help channel emotions. I thought it might be worth trying with you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the flicker of interest in them was unmistakable. “You think this will calm me?”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, your tone light. “But first, I need you to… shrink a bit. Your current size might make it tricky.”

He arched a brow but complied without argument, his towering form diminishing to something more manageable. Even so, he still loomed over you, his presence filling the room in a way that made your breath catch.

You handed him one of your favorite brushes, your fingers grazing his. The brief contact sent a spark through you that you tried to ignore. “This one’s precious to me, so don’t break it,” you said with a teasing smile.

His golden eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you. “Why would you entrust me with something so valuable?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“Because I think you’ll manage,” you said simply, turning to demonstrate. The truth was, you trusted him in a way you couldn’t explain, and the weight of his gaze as you worked was almost palpable.

You dipped your brush into the paint, your movements fluid and purposeful as you applied color to the canvas. You explained the process, your voice calm, almost hypnotic, as you encouraged him to let his emotions guide him. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” you said, glancing at him. “Just let it flow.”

Satan watched you intently, his focus shifting between your hands and your face. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved—graceful, confident, entirely at ease. He tried to mimic your strokes but grew frustrated when his didn’t have the same beauty. Fire flickered briefly at the corner of his mouth as his grip on the brush tightened.

“Take your time,” you said gently, your voice softening. “You’ll manage.”

Those words seemed to echo in his mind, silencing his frustration. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His golden eyes settled on you again, and this time, there was something softer in them—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Pretty,” he murmured, the word so quiet you almost missed it.

You glanced up, assuming he meant his canvas. “It’s not bad for a first try,” you said, smiling.

But when your eyes met his, you realized he wasn’t looking at the canvas at all. He was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made heat rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you were lost in it.

“I… meant your canvas,” he said quickly, the faintest hint of a stammer in his voice. He turned away, focusing on his painting as if the moment hadn’t happened. “I suppose this isn’t for me,” he added, his tone returning to its usual steadiness.

You sighed softly, setting your brush down. “That’s okay. We’ll find something else to try next time.”

When it was time to leave, you gathered your supplies, his lingering gaze following you to the door. “Till next time, Y/n,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, bidding him goodbye before stepping into the limousine. As the car pulled away, you stared out the window, your reflection blushing faintly. “Cute,” you muttered under your breath, thinking of his fleeting shyness.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to think of him a little differently too.

As the limousine glided down the winding road back into the city, Y/n leaned their head against the cool glass of the window. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow, but their mind was too preoccupied to notice. Their chest tightened as they replayed the day's moments, each interaction with Satan etched into their memory with vivid clarity.

His golden eyes watching them, the way his brows furrowed in frustration only to soften when he heard their encouragement, and that one unguarded word he’d uttered—“pretty.” Y/n sighed and closed their eyes, the image of his intense gaze surfacing unbidden. He had said it so quietly, yet it echoed in their ears, lingering like a secret between them.

Why am I letting this get to me? Y/n thought, shaking their head. Satan was their patient. A being to be studied and guided, not… admired. And yet, there was something about him—something magnetic and impossible to ignore. His raw power was undeniable, but beneath the towering presence and occasional flashes of anger, there was a vulnerability that Y/n couldn’t help but find fascinating.

When the mansion’s doors had first opened to reveal him, standing there like some otherworldly figure carved out of the very shadows of the underworld, Y/n had been struck by how human he seemed despite his demonic origins. He was capable of humor, of curiosity, and, at times, even shyness—like when he stammered over his compliment and turned away. That brief flash of awkwardness had been disarming, endearing even, and it left a warmth in Y/n’s chest that refused to fade.

_______________

The past few weeks had been a blur of trial and error as you and Satan searched for a way to calm his tempestuous nature. Every method—meditation, physical exercises, even music—had ended in failure. Yet, with every attempt, the two of you had grown closer. Comfort had crept in between the boundaries you’d initially set, a warmth that softened the edges of your professional relationship. Perhaps it was too much comfort.

Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair, tugging slightly as you let out a groan. “What’s left?” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You hated admitting defeat, but the lack of progress was wearing on you.

“Are you okay?” Satan’s deep voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. He leaned against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned your face. Concern lingered in his tone, though there was something else in his expression—something darker, more intent.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah, I’m just… out of ideas,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “Nothing seems to work. Maybe you were right all along—this isn’t going to change.”

A low growl escaped him, and he moved closer, the space between you shrinking with every step. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried,” he said, his voice a seductive rumble. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing along the curve of your neck with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. The ruby necklace he’d given you weeks ago caught the light, glinting like a drop of blood between you.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I’m open,” you replied, though your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but the tension in the air was thick enough to drown in.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and his eyes seemed to glow brighter. “Let me please you,” he said, the words both a question and a command.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid lower, taking yours in his. His touch was firm but surprisingly warm, and you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened. “For weeks, I’ve been thinking of you. Not just as a distraction from my anger, but as something—someone—I want to consume. Every thought I’ve had has been about how to lure you in, how to make you mine.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, your body tingling with the weight of his confession. He slipped a delicate, shining ring onto your finger, the smooth metal cold against your skin.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “I’m throbbing for you, aching to show you what it means to be claimed by me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. His clawed hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The first touch of his tongue against your neck made you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he traced slow, burning lines along your skin.

“Satan…” His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as his claws found the waistband of your pants, the sharp tips grazing your skin without breaking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your throat, his voice raw with need. “Tell me you want it too.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if to ground yourself. That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, and the pain mingled with pleasure in a way that made your head spin. His hands roamed your body, one clawed hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped as he tore open your shirt, the fabric giving way like paper under his strength. His golden eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the heat in his gaze made you shiver. “Perfect,” he growled, his lips descending to your collarbone as his claws worked your pants down, leaving you bare beneath his burning gaze.

He pressed his body against yours, his skin hot like fire but not unbearable. The sensation was intoxicating, his power and desire radiating off him in waves that left you trembling. His mouth found your chest, his tongue and teeth teasing sensitive skin until you were writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fought to keep some semblance of control.

But control was the last thing Satan allowed. “Let go,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl as his hand slipped between your thighs. His touch was rough but precise, drawing sounds from you that you’d never made before. He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, the heat of his body searing into your palms. His growls deepened as you touched him, and when you whispered his name again, it seemed to drive him over the edge.

He latched onto your nipple, his hot, eager tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as though it held the key to quenching a deep, unrelenting hunger. The heat of his mouth sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching instinctively to press closer to him. Each flick and tug of his tongue was deliberate, rough yet skilled, and it drove you wild with every second.

Your hands found his horns, gripping tightly as a loud, unrestrained moan tore from your lips. The sensation of his horns beneath your fingers—solid, commanding, and so uniquely him—only heightened the intensity of the moment. He groaned in response, the vibration of it against your skin adding a tantalizing edge to the pleasure.

As you opened your mouth to say something—perhaps to beg, perhaps to curse his name—his massive hand moved swiftly, covering your mouth and silencing you with an almost possessive dominance. His palm was warm, his claws just barely grazing your jawline, a silent reminder of his power.

“Shh,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire and control. “No words. Just feel.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your muffled protests turning into needy whimpers against his hand. His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race. He didn’t need to say more; the look alone spoke volumes. You’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means.

His free hand trailed down your side, the sharp edge of his claws leaving ghostly trails that tingled with a mix of anticipation and pleasure. He shifted slightly, his lips abandoning one nipple to lavish attention on the other, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp against his palm.

“Such sweet sounds,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a deep, sinful growl that left you trembling. “I want to hear every single one.”

He claimed you fully then, his movements powerful and relentless as he pushed you to your limits and beyond. The roughness of his touch, the possessiveness in every kiss and thrust, sent you spiraling into a state of pure bliss. He was consuming, overwhelming, but it was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When it was over, you were both breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together on the floor. His claws traced lazy circles on your skin, the sharp tips surprisingly gentle now.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left no room for argument.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “Yours,” you whispered, and for the first time in weeks, you felt completely at peace.

“I need to take you fully,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint, though his burning gaze made it clear his control was hanging by a thread. His golden eyes bore into yours, aflame with desire and something deeper—possessiveness, perhaps, or the primal need to claim you completely. His hot breath fanned across your face, each exhale like a spark threatening to ignite you from within.

You swallowed hard, your body trembling beneath him as you nodded, unable to form words. He stood, towering over you even in his "smallest" form, and the sound of his belt buckle clicking open made your heart skip. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, his claws brushing lightly against his skin as he stroked himself. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he smeared the slick arousal you’d already left on him along his length. The sight of it was utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his voice a rumble of raw need. His eyes darted to your smaller frame beneath him, the contrast between your softness and his powerful figure making his jaw tighten. Your body trembled under his intense scrutiny, and the way you shuddered only seemed to spur him on.

“You’ll take all of me,” he promised darkly, his lips pulling into a feral smirk before he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to press in, the stretch almost overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch. The thickness of him made your breath hitch, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward as if savoring the way your body gripped him so tightly. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with awe and lust. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

He started to move, his thrusts deliberate and forceful, his pace building with every stroke. The wet, sinful sounds of your body meeting his filled the den, mingling with the guttural sounds he made as he lost himself in the rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his rough movements perfectly hitting every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with pride as he watched your body arch beneath him, your moans spilling out freely. “Taking me so well—every inch of me.”

His hands gripped your hips tightly, claws digging in just enough to leave marks as he pulled you into each thrust. His pace quickened, his breathing harsh and uneven, a symphony of raw need that filled the space around you.

Your moans turned into cries of ecstasy as he pounded into you harder, the force of it making your head spin. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. He growled your name, the sound reverberating through the air as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice breaking slightly as he thrust even harder, his control finally snapping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure and submission. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more relentless. His growls deepened, and the way he pounded into you left you utterly breathless. Every nerve in your body was aflame, and as you reached your peak, the intensity of it shattered you completely, your cries echoing through the den.

Moments later, he followed, his movements faltering as he let out a deep, primal groan. You felt him shudder above you, his body rigid as he spilled into you, marking you in a way that felt both physical and otherworldly.

For a moment, the only sounds were the two of you catching your breath, the heat of his body still pressed against yours. He leaned down, brushing a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, a stark contrast to the ferocity he’d shown moments before.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, almost as if reassuring himself.

And as you lay there in his arms, thoroughly claimed and utterly sated, you knew he was right. You were his. And you didn’t want it any other way.

Saw no one making shit about him so here I am your savior. Damn y'all.

💫

Masterlist

[lqveharrington]

Lucky King? | L.M.

summary: Lucifer takes pride in everything he has, especially his wife.

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x wife!reader

includes: fluff, lucifer being a sweet and attentive husband and father, suggestiveness, possessiveness, that’s pretty much it (let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: okay but like, i am on serious hazbin brain rot, i have written more for HH than any other fandom so far.

Being the embodiment of pride meant that Lucifer constantly flaunted everything to his fellow sins and his people. And being the King of Hell meant he had a lot to brag about. Especially his family. God, Lucifer loved his family and would do anything to talk about them in every conversation.

An overlord meeting about movie productions on VoxFlix? Add romantic comedies, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite. Speaking with Beelzebub about her different alcoholic beverages? Make sure to make mojitos, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite.

He took pride in who he married and who his daughter was. After all, they were the royal family of Hell.

“Mom, I think it’s as tight as it can go— MOM!” Charlie’s eyes flashed red as she squealed, grabbing your arm.

“Sorry!” You tilt your head back as you let a laugh fall from your lips. “I thought you said—“

“No no no no noooo!” She turned around, eyes wide. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her crown.

Charlie beamed at you and traded places with you. “My turn!”

You hum as she tightens the corset around you, eyes flickering up toward the mirror when you hear the door creak open. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hi, my love.” He pressed a kiss to your hand and then one to Charlie’s forehead. “Hi, apple pie.” He watched his daughter tug on the strings attached to the corset, moving forward when it seemed like you were going to fall from the platform. “Charlie, what are you doing to your mother?”

“Pulling her corset tight—“ She grunted as she held the string in place, tying the back. “There.” You gave her a thumbs up as she finished, watching her glow at your silent praise.

“Gorgeous as always.” Lucifer stole you from your platform, the devil’s tail wrapping around your waist.

“You know? Vaggie is probably looking for me! I should leave…” Charlie let out an awkward laugh and fled for the door. “Text me when you need me for the entrance!”

Lucifer dipped you down, chuckling when you let out a noise of surprise. “You look breathtaking, my love. Maybe we should just skip the gala and do better activities right here—“

“Lucifer!” You lightly smack his chest, face flushed from his words. “You horny devil!”

“Says the queen of Hell.” He captured you in a quick kiss, red lipstick staining his lips. “Come on, Charlie can handle it on her own.” He squeezed your hips as you walked over to the vanity with his head resting on your bare shoulder.

You glance at your beloved with a soft look, “Luce, we didn’t coordinate a whole gala just to have our daughter host it herself.” You clip on a pair of earrings, the golden snake and apple shining through the light. “We also didn’t have these outfits made for us just for them to be wasted away on our bedroom floor.”

“I mean…” He nipped on your exposed shoulder, earning a gasp and glare. “They made you a maroon dress with a slit exposing your legs, my love.”

“Because it matches your maroon and black suit.” You turn in his arms and tug at his lapels. “Which I have to admit, kinda does it for me.”

He smirked as he slowly pushed you up against the vanity, “Yeah? Maybe we should ditch.”

“Nope.” Your hands clasped behind his neck, eyes widening when you feel one of his hands trail down to your exposed leg. “Luce…”

“You started this.” He slotted himself between your legs and continuously peppered kisses to your collarbone and neck, softly sucking. “You’re a tease.”

“Lucifer—“ Your protests were cut off with a quiet moan, but you quickly covered your mouth when hearing him chuckle. “Nope, we’re leaving now.”

Lucifer separated from you, a wide grin adorning his face as he scanned you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “Let’s go then, my love.”

You raised a brow but didn’t protest, letting him wrap his arm around your waist to guide you toward the ballroom. You both were quickly accompanied by your daughter as you made your way to the landing of the grand stairway.

The lights flashed off and the spotlight projected on the Morningstar family, the crowd’s voice hushed when spotting the monarchy. Lucifer gave a welcoming speech to the sinners, overlords, and sins who attended, making sure to mention his family and how they helped make the gala entirely possible. Final rounds of applause echoed through the ballroom as Lucifer finished off, letting everyone go back to their socialization and dancing.

“Mom,” Charlie caught you before you could follow Lucifer to greet his fellow sins. “Did you… Do you know why… You have bruises on your neck.” She finally mumbled out, eyes not meeting yours.

You felt yourself warm from embarrassment. Not only did your daughter tell you that you have hickeys on your neck, but you stood in the blinding lights with an audience staring at the three of you. No doubt photographers caught this and snapped photos for the internet. “Thank you for telling me, baby. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to murder your father.”

“Mom—“

You scanned the room before your gaze zeroed on Lucifer. He was laughing with Asmodeus before meeting your gaze and gave you a wink. Oh, he was going to pay.

“Lucifer.” You appear by his side. You give his fellow sin a quick smile but turn back to the little devil with a scowl. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “It was nice catching up with you, Oz.”

You guided Lucifer back to a secluded hallway, eyes flashing bright red when you were alone. Within a blink of an eye, you had Lucifer pinned against the wall with your forearm.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to know that I went out there with bruises all over my neck? Or, better yet, that our daughter was the one who told me what was on my neck?” You seethed. You were beyond embarrassed and pissed, you’re surprised you haven’t become a full demon yet.

“To be fair, it was more than just your neck—“

“LUCIFER!” You use your free hand to reach up your collarbone. The room felt ten times warmer, and it didn’t help that you felt Lucifer’s devil tail decided to wrap around your calf.

He remained pinned on the wall, giving you a cheeky grin. “This is really hot.”

“Oh, my god!” You release him with a glare. “There’s going to be photos everywhere! What will the public think about—“

“Lucky king?” He shrugged as he let his fingers trail up your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Listen, we’ll get rid of the photos. But is it really a crime to show off what’s mine?”

You grumble a small response, propping your head on his shoulder. “You’re crazy, Luce.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He chuckled.

The photos never made it outside of Pride Manor, but the teasing you received from the other sins made you flush every time. Lucifer listened to each jeer, a smirk present on his face from the constant reminder that you were in fact his.

Especially when the bruises scattered around you spelled out his initials.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[mandareeboo]

I do think it'll be funny to see Stolas adapt to imp-oreinted situations bc like. He's used to being so quiet and not disclosing things but imps are blunt and NOISY and don't give a fuck.

Stolas, leaning over to whisper in Blitz's ear at imp walmart: okay dearest I need to go to the pharmacy to pick up my. You know.

Blitz: oh yeah sure -starts bashing carts in front of him- MOVE YOUR ASSES THE BIRD NEEDS HIS FUCKING SEROTONIN

At a party Stolas is smoking a blunt with IMP and starts to awkwardly discuss his sexuality with grand sweeping gestures of the fucking blunt bc he forgets to pass it and is like, "I know this might come as a shock, but I am gay. I was never attracted to Stella, it was-" and Millie sweetly interrupts him as she takes it with "Stupid political bullshit, we know. Besides, there's somethin' so sexy 'bout watching a man suck dick. My husband is great at it!" and Stolas sinks into the sofa in sheer mortification.

I am convinced it is completely normal in these types of neighborhoods to scream obscenities at each other for no reason- "MOVE YOUR FUCKING TRASH, ASSHOLE" "YOU MOVE YOUR FACE, DICKBAG!" and Stolas tiptoes around like sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry oh fuck sorry

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hi I love your work so far, do you think you could do headcannons for all the different characters of the main Hazbin Hotel cast when their lover comes to them injured? Like how they would treat you and then how they would deal with the person who harmed you. I would love to see this ahhhh 😫

Ahh of course! I love this, thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Trope: Hazbin Hotel x Injured!reader

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

Warnings: Physical violence, mention of death, injured reader, blood.

author's note: hey guys! this is my first time doing one of these, and I'm still getting better, so forgive me if its a bit shabby. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in! I'm in a creative buzz rn lol. Enjoy!

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

The day that your attacker decides to hurt you is the day that they decide to die. Messing with the Radio Demon’s plaything is about the last thing you want to do. 

Alastor often sent his shadows to follow you into town when he couldnt be with you, so the second you were attacked, Alastor could sense that something was wrong. 

By the time his shadows had carried you back to the hotel, your attacker had already escaped, but luckily, his shadows saw everything.

When he rushed down to see you, he seemed rather indifferent at first. He carried you up to his room, immediately conjuring several healing ointments to heal you quickly.

He laid you in his bed, in which you almost immediately fell asleep.

He hears the whispers of his shadows, and gains all of the information he needs out of them. 

With a single snap of his finger, the issue was taken care of. Rumor has it that the screams of your attackers' seemingly “random” death could be heard about 3 rings down. 

While waiting for you to wake, Alastor conjures two steaming bowls of his mother’s jambalaya. Placing one on the side table next to you, he sits down next to your sleeping body and lightly grazes your head, singing soothing songs until you wake up.  

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️😈:

Would of course be so very angry at whoever did this, but her first priority would be healing you up and making sure that you’re absolutely 100% okay and comfortable. 

Would set you up in her bed and assure that you have anything at all that would make you feel more comfortable. Tea? Yup. Ice pack? Already got it. Cuddles? Of course!

Would definitely let you cuddle with Razzle and Dazzle for as long as you needed.

She would try her best to talk to you and figure out what happened - to figure out who did this to you.

As you told her, she seemed surprisingly… calm? She simply thanked you for telling her and left the room. 

Though Charlie doesn't seem like a particularly violent person… She can get protective over the people she loves. So, let's just say she got that issue taken care of real quick. How stupid to mess with the Morningstar family. 

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Anybody in her vicinity needs to watch out when she hears that her love is hurt. 

Like, seriously, heads will roll. But not before she checks on you to evaluate how badly she needs to fuck up the person who did this to you. 

When she sees you, bruised and bloody, she can't help but hold you so tight and cry, scolding you for getting yourself into a bad situation without her there to protect you.

Vaggie knows what it feels like to be beaten and dumped on the side of the street like garbage. She could never forgive herself if she allowed that to happen to anybody else, let alone the genuine love of her life. 

When she asks for the person who did this, you can only give her a vague description. That’s alright though, she will use her former exterminator skills to scan all of Hell and find the person who dared to do this to you. She will not leave this alone until she serves you justice. 

🕷️💖Angeldust💖🕷️:

Coming home from the studio to find you in his room, crying and bruised, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and comforts you in the biggest hug ever. 

Angel has plenty of experience with being abused and left to fend for himself, so he doesn't immediately resort to asking questions. No, that’s not what you need right now. You just need to know that you’re loved, beautiful, and that this does nothing to affect your worth or value as a person.

He carries you from the floor to his bed, covering you in blankets and laying next to you with Fat Nuggets. 

“It’s okay baby. You can cry, it's okay.” he whispers as you sob into his chest.

He allows you to initiate the conversation of what happened, not wanting to push you past your limits. 

Once he finds out what happened, he knows what he has to do. He waits until you fall asleep, and heads down to the club where your attacker happens to frequent. For once, being a famous pornstar will actually serve in his favor. He tempts your attacker to follow him, and immediately beats him to an absolute pulp. 

He allows the person to live, saying “I am only letting you live so you can know how it feels. You ever try this shit again, and I will find you. Except that time, you wont leave here looking so… whole.”

♥️♦️Husk♦️♥️:

Husk is used to all the residents of the hotel bitching and moaning to him about all of their issues. With Charlie coming to him and oftentimes crying about the many failures of the hotel, tears were no foreign sight to him.

But coming from the kitchen to the bar and seeing you there, looking an absolute mess, was different. 

“What the-What the fuck happened?” he yells. When you flinch, he knows that something happened.

When you explain to him what happened, he immediately needs a description of the attacker. He takes possibly the largest shot you've ever seen and storms out of the hotel.

He wishes that he could do more to protect you. Back when he was an overlord, he had power beyond anybody's imagination. He could've snapped a finger and your attacker would simply disintegrate (but not before he tortured him a bit first). But now that Alastor owned his soul, his powers were limited. 

You know what wasn't limited on husk, though? His pure physical strength.  

He immediately finds the guy walking on the street adjacent to the hotel (dumb, right?) and absolutely obliterates him. 

As the attacker is begging for his life, he just keeps hitting, blind with rage and love for you.

When he wants back into the hotel bloody and exasperated, he sits in the stool next to you and wraps you with one of his wings. 

“It’s all okay now. I’m here” he says as you lean on his shoulder, so ready to go to bed. 

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Sir Pentious always loved coming to your room to show you his many zany inventions. Normally you welcome him in with open arms, a sweet smile on your face, but today was different.

When he knocked on your door, he was met with absolute silence, which isn't normal for you. When he listened a bit closer, though, he could hear your small sniffles. He trusted his gut and slowly opened the door, fully ready to be denied entry.

Instead, you looked at him shyly, turning away and crying. He could've sworn that he saw a… black eye?

He took this opportunity to come and sit next to you on your floor, placing his arm around you and letting you lean your head on his shoulder. 

When he noticed that you were calming down a bit, he asked you what was wrong.

You explained that while you were engaged in a turf war, some ruffian beat you up, and badly. The girl you had momentarily teamed up with had left you behind, and you were left to trek back to the hotel on your own, barely able to walk. 

You could see something change in his eyes. 

He curled his tail around you, his cool skin calming your nerves. He assured you that he was here now, and nothing like this would ever happen to you again. He then swiftly called his egg bois to entertain and comfort you while he prepared his airship. The idiot that did this to you was going to pay, and not just in turf.

😈🐣Lucifer🐣😈:

Bursting into Lucifer’s room, the only thing you could mutter is “Help” as you fell into his arms. 

He frantically carried you to a chair and tried to assess your injuries. Man, someone fucked you up, and badly. Too bad he would kill them before they could brag about their success. 

He rushed to find ANYTHING that could help you. Bandages, ice, your favorite food, a rubber duck, ANYTHING. 

When he finds you absolutely passed out asleep in the chair, he gently moves you to his bed and tries his best not to stir you. 

As he sits watching you, thinking of your beautiful smile (and how he’ll brutally kill the person who did this to you), he observes your features with great detail. 

When you wake up, you smile. Lucifer must have gone, but sitting on your table is a bowl of soup and… is that a rubber duck that looks like you?

[djljpanda]

Hi!

I was wondering if you could make a oneshot of Alastor and y/n? Where y/n gets kidnapped by Vox and Alastor is all pissed at him and gos on a rescue mission?

Thank you! Love your work btw 🙂

Alastor X Gn Demon Reader (Ft. Vox and Husk)

Alastor had been waiting for you but was starting to inpatient when you were taking longer than usual that is until he heard Husk call out his name. That is how Alastor found out Vox kidnapped you as a way of calling out Alastor.

(Husk found out by looking at the Tv he can see Vox trying to communicate and for Husk could hear it was about him taking you.)

Alastor had no fear but was upset that Vox ruined his time with you so that is how he comes face to face with the place he was told to meet Vox at.

Now while before Alastor came you were tied to a chair as Vox kept ranting about you and Alastor, “Awe seems like you have a crush on little old me~” “No!”. You two kept going back and forth as you did want to know why kidnapping of all things?

Vox looked at you and from your point of view it looked like he was gonna spill his heart out but he just walked out the room leaving you there confused till you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

Alastor and you decided to leave not wanting to waist more time on Vox as both just wanted to have some lunch together so just like that you were gone.

And after that Vox came in and noticing you gone let’s just say the surrounding area had no power for awhile.

You did thank Husk when coming back making sure to pet him before he can push you away (he doesn’t mind when you pet him).

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hazbin Hotel Master List

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! I will write for pretty much any of the characters from this show.

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

List of Things I Won't Write

Requests are marked in pink

Series are marked in purple

Suggestive are marked in orange

NSFW are marked in red

ALASTOR

Make You Wish Master List -> Y/n has known Alastor since she first ended up in Hell. When he disappeared? She thought her life was over. Seven years have passed since then and slowly but surely, the 1950s housewife turned murderer has made a life for herself, full of good decisions and some bad ones. What will happen when Alastor turns back up again, sending the world as she has made it into chaos once again? Multi chapter fic.

Rhapsody Master List → Gn!Reader. Alastor and Y/n have been taking down the overlords of Hell together for years but Y/n has had a secret and Alastor knows it. They each go their separate ways because of this but what happens when years later their paths intersect once again. Loosely inspired by Raine and Eda in The Owl House.

Alastor Master List -> I have so many Alastor fics/one shots that they have their own master list now.

LUCIFER

Encore (Lucifer x Reader) → Lucifer went to the hotel wanting to talk to Charlie. Instead, he found the shy demoness who had been unable to meet his eyes the last time he’d visited on the stage.

I Myself am Strange and Unusual (Alastor x Living!Addams family!Reader x Lucifer) → Y/n is bored and summons some demons. 

Lovely (Lucifer x Witch!Reader) → Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

VOX

Destruction//Creation (Vox x Alastor's Ex!Reader x Alastor) → Alastor refuses to let the past die and Y/n would rather pretend it never existed.

Unexpected (Vox x Fox Demon!Reader) → Vox tries to make a deal with one of Valentino’s girls.

Smudge (Vox x Gn!Partner!Reader) → Vox tries to figure out why Y/n, his partner of five months, refuses to kiss him.

LUTE

Music (Lute x Reader) → Y/n has been dating Lute for years. After her girlfriend gets home from the most recent extermination, she tries to talk to Lute about the person being around Adam makes her.

ADAM

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader) → Y/n is a nephalem with ambitions and a need for entertainment. Adam is in the wrong place at the wrong time.

[king-dumbasz]

Hi🫶🏻🫶🏻 could u do a mammon oneshot that takes place after fizz quits.(pretending the twins don’t exist) Like the reader is like the new face of his brand. Ppl start shipping the reader and him online, so he goes along with it for clout and money. But they both eventually end up catching feelings. ( ik it’s rlly specific but I keep thinking about it) also I like ur writing 💜

The internet is a magical place💚

I immediately liked the request and had an idea in mind. It's not something too difficult so my mind was happy Lmao

TW:why do I even put it in if there's never anything to worry about except for swear words, but c'mon, it's Helluva Boss

Mammon x GN! Reader

The news were full of what happened at the last clown pageant. Everything was about Fizzarolli and his relationship with Asmodeus and how Mammon was ridiculed...

Mammon was FURIOUS

He needed a new face, a new someone to put everywhere and make money. He did everything until he finally found it... He found you.

You were perfect! You were funny, good looking and great for the audience! The perfect clown to replace Fizzarolli!

Mammon immediately made plushies, cereal, service bots (you choose what kind of service), hell, even a body pillow of ya!

Phone cases... Halloween costumes for kids... Lamps... Everything!

You became a star!

But like every star, you were a victim of the internet effect of the rule too

For some unknown reason, people shipped you and Mammon

No one knew why, but when you opened your phone, on Envybrl (Tumblr), on Sintter (Twitter or X), there were fanart of you and Mammon

All kind of Fanart! (I know I don't do NSFW, but when I say any kind, I mean any kind)

Mammon saw it too, a lot of it too

"What is that? Wh- why are we hugging in this one?"

He says, pointing at his phone, looking at a fanart of him and you cuddling

"i don't know, sir... The internet scares me"

"Ye..."

Mammon didn't understand why. When Fizzarolli was there no one made these things, but with you it was different

The more Mammon watched, the more he realized how beautiful you looked, and how he liked these fanarts

Mammon started to like every post and imagine these things were true...

Every day, you find a new gift at your door from an unknown person, even if it wasn't that unknown because the wrapping was green black and yellow

One day though, Mammon decides to Rizz you up, because obviously he won't do it normally

"Sir, you wanted me here?"

You said after being called in his office, only to find Mammon in his special valentine outfit (It's just the old one but pink and with hearts)

"Hey, Are you a Wi-Fi signal? Because I’m feeling a strong connection"

That was horrible, adorable, but horrible

"Sir... What?"

"oh, shit uh... Well, I'm out of lines"

"What is happening?"

"Well, I never thought that would've happened, since you're a lower class and shit- but, I found myself liking these fan arts mentally unstable people post of us.."

"Oh!"

You were stunned. Mammon. THE Mammon... Likes you?"

"Well... If I'm gonna be honest... I also found myself liking some of those posts..."

Mammon didn't realise at first and looks at you confused (Idiot)

"I like you too"

Just after you tell him he realises. Mammon smiles widely and hugs you with his four arms, so tightly you couldn't breath

"oh, you're a bloody legend, Y/N!"

"Eh... The internet is really a magical place..."

[hazbinwhoree]

since I’m a sucker for nice hands, I was thinking what if F!reader is in an established relationship with Adam (they’re both angels) and she stares a lot at his hands so she suggests to paint his nails black —> this leads to him taking advantage of her weak spot for his hands to use them when they have sex hehe (like choking her or making her suck his fingers)

Hands

Adam had noticed that (Name) stared at his hands a lot. He let it go for a while until (Name) asked him to let her paint his nails black.

“What is it with you and my hands?”

(Name) blushed, opening and closing her mouth. “I just want to paint your nails,” she finally managed to get out. “I see you staring at them all the time, it’s like you’re in love with the– ohhh.” Adam smirked, putting two and two together. “Do you have a thing for my hands? Do they turn you on?”

(Name)’s face was bright red. “You just have such nice hands. Long fingers.”

“You want to see what these long fingers can do?” Adam asked, grinning.

(Name)’s eyebrows rose. She bit her lip. “Maybe.”

Adam smirked. “Paint my nails first.” (Name)’s jaw dropped. He was such a prick. “Fine,” she conceded sadly, getting the nail polish from her drawer.

The air was thick with tension while (Name) carefully painted Adam’s nails. “This is pretty sick,” Adam said, admiring the hand (Name) had finished. “Metal.” “Stop moving.” “Ooo, attitude,” Adam teased. Still, he did stop moving.

(Name) finished his nails and blew on them to dry. Once they were dry, Adam got into (Name)’s personal space, reaching up to cup her face in one hand. His thumb stroked her cheek before he moved it over her lips. “Open,” he commanded.

Almost giddy, (Name) obliged, taking his thumb into her mouth. Adam pressed on her tongue. “Good girl.” He removed his thumb, replacing it with his forefinger and middle finger. “Suck.”

(Name) did, and Adam’s half erection quickly became a full one. He pulled his fingers out after a moment, impatient as always, and demanded, “Strip.”

(Name) did so hurridly, pulling her shirt over her head and tugging down her sweats and panties, kneeling when she was done. Adam unzipped and shed his robe.

Adam was back on her in an instant, his fingers wet with spit prodding at her entrance. He slid his fingers in and curled them, and (Name) moaned. She tugged at his shirt, but Adam didn’t pull back to remove it, adding another finger. (Name) arched her back. “Adam,” she sighed, pleased.

Adam languidly pumped his fingers in and out before removing them and bringing them up to her face. “Clean my hand and I’ll take my clothes off.” (Name) opened her mouth obediently and took Adam’s fingers one by one, sucking her own juices off of them. Adam stared at her intently the entire time. Maybe he was into hands.

As soon as (Name) finished, Adam took his hand back to shed his shirt, pants, and boxers. He bunched up his shirt and pushed (Name) onto her back, making sure her head was cushioned against the floor by his shirt.

Adam crawled on top of her, connecting their lips. His hands ran up and down her body, before he leaned back, spreading her legs. He aligned himself with her opening and thrust all the way in at once, causing (Name)’s back to arch off the floor.

She locked her legs around Adam’s waist as he began to pound into her recklessly. One of Adam’s hands held (Name)’s lower back, keeping her hips angled upwards, while his other hand wrapped around her throat. He squeezed gently and (Name)’s eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Fuck, (Name), you feel so good,” Adam hissed. (Name) whimpered. “So tight, shit, so good for me.” Adam babbled. (Name) clawed at Adam’s back with one hand while the other gripped the wrist of the hand around her neck.

“Right there,” (Name) gasped at a particularly hard thrust. Adam made sure not to change pace or angle, and (Name) moaned and cried everytime he thrusted in. “Adam,” she whimpered. “You’re doing so good, baby, cum for me.”

(Name) came with a gasp and an arched back, and Adam came almost simultaneously, sheathing himself deep within her to cum on her insides. When Adam came down, he removed his hand from (Name)’s neck and gently pulled out.

“Damn, maybe you were onto something with hands,” Adam panted. (Name) giggled. “Glad you enjoyed it as much as I did.” “Enjoyed it?” Adam exclaimed. “That was some of the best sex I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a lot of sex.” (Name) rolled her eyes, pushing his face away from where he was hovering over her.

Adam gasped in mock scandal. “Rude!”

“I don’t wanna hear about how much sex you’ve had,” (Name) said. “I feel like you’re ignoring the part where I said sex with you is the best sex ever.” (Name) blushed. “Really?” she asked after a moment, looking unsure. Adam sat up and pulled (Name) up and into his lap.

“I’m very serious,” he told her, kissing her forehead. “Meaningful sex beats meaningless sex any day.”

[deliciousspecimen]

Verosika x male!reader dating headcannons please

A/N: Of course, @ultimategraffitiguy! Verosika is one of my favorites :}

Mine, Loud and Clear

Verosika x Male!Reader

Warnings: Sexual themes, Possessiveness/Jealousy, Arguments/Conflict

Word Count: 943

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

- Verosika was the one who made the first move: Obviously, she knew what she wanted the second she laid eyes on (Y/N) and didn't waste a second before flirting shamelessly, practically daring him not to fall for her.

- At first, (Y/N) thought he was just another target for her to toy with: But when she started genuinely caring whether he texted her back or if he smiled at her during a date, she realized she was in deeper than she meant to be.

- He surprised her by not being easy to push around: Not hostile, but just solid enough that he didn’t let her walk all over him. That infuriated and attracted her all at once.

- In public, Verosika loves flaunting their relationship: Clinging to his arm, stealing kisses, tracing a claw up his chest with a mischievous smirk while other demons stare. "What? You think I'm gonna hide how hot my man is? Dream on."

- Dates are extravagant if she plans them: Exclusive clubs, private concerts, trips to weird, beautiful corners of Hell- but (Y/N) tends to suggest things like movies, walks through busy streets, or greasy, hole-in-the-wall diners. Somehow, she ends up loving his ideas even more.

- Verosika flirts like breathing: Constantly, effortlessly, shamelessly. She'll whisper dirty things right in (Y/N)'s ear in the middle of a crowded room just to watch him blush and stammer like a fool.

- Her favorite thing? Making him squirm: She’ll drag a finger up his thigh under the table, lean in way too close, brush her fangs against his ear as she pretends to "ask a question"- all while acting totally innocent if anyone notices.

- (Y/N) learned quickly that challenging her only makes her worse: "You’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna rattle me, babe." Cue Verosika grabbing him by the collar and proving she absolutely can rattle him.

- Possessive as hell… but fun about it: If another demon so much as looks at him the wrong way, she’ll pull him into a kiss so deep and smug it leaves him dizzy. When they pull away, she'll smirk at the onlookers with a "he's mine, back off" kind of look.

- She loves leaving marks: Hickeys low on his neck, nail scratches on his back, lipstick smudges on his mouth- anything to make sure everyone knows who he's with.

- (Y/N) finds out she's extremely physical when she’s really in the mood: grabbing, pinning, climbing into his lap without warning, sitting in his chair and pulling him down into a kiss until he's gasping.

- Dirty talk? Constant. Merciless: "Careful how you look at me, sweetheart... I might have to drag you somewhere private and ruin you." She loves watching his face heat up- it’s almost a game to see how fast she can get him flustered.

- She teases him about his reactions nonstop: "Aww, look at you. All red for me? You're adorable." And if he tries to flip it and tease her? Good luck. Verosika loves a challenge- she'll escalate until he's the one begging for mercy.

- When she’s feeling extra playful, she’ll dress just a little more scandalous if she knows they’re going somewhere public: Tiny skirts, plunging tops, tail flicking at his knees- all so he struggles to keep it together while she acts totally innocent.

- But it’s not just physical: Sometimes, when they're alone and it’s quiet, she’ll crawl into his lap, bury her face against his neck, and mumble soft, sultry promises against his skin. (Y/N) can always tell when it's not just teasing- when it’s real and vulnerable underneath all the heat.

- Verosika loves when he gets bold: If (Y/N) ever turns the tables- like grabbing her waist and pinning her to the wall mid flirt- it drives her crazy. She loves that tiny flash of dominance from him, especially because she knows she’s the only one who gets to see it.

- (Y/N) learned quickly that Verosika is a jealous creature, even if she tries to play it cool: If anyone flirts with him, she immediately stakes her claim- usually with a kiss that leaves him dizzy and the offender looking for the nearest exit.

- But behind closed doors, she softens: She loves sprawling across (Y/N)'s chest after a long day, her wings loosely draped over him, lazily tracing little patterns over his skin with her nails while they talk about absolutely nothing important.

- Verosika secretly treasures the little, normal things he does: Holding the door open for her, tucking her hair behind her ear, bringing her a drink without her asking. She’ll tease him mercilessly about it, but she will have the biggest smile on her face the whole time.

- Whenever she’s stressed or overwhelmed (which happens more than she’ll admit), she finds herself instinctively seeking him out: Even if it's just to sit next to him while she works through her thoughts. He’s one of the only people she trusts enough to see her without all the glamour. No makeup, no elaborate outfits, no show. Just Verosika- tired, gorgeous, and real.

- When they fight (because they do), it's explosive: lots of shouting, dramatic exits, slamming doors- but (Y/N) never lets her go to bed angry. He’ll find a way back to her, even if it’s just leaning against her door and muttering a stubborn, half-sincere "I’m not leaving until you hear me out." - Verosika never thought she'd settle down: She never even amused the idea she would care so much about someone else's happiness, but (Y/N) somehow made it feel easy- normal, even. She still won't admit she's "soft," though. Not yet.

[miss-allsundays]

the thing is, blitzø isn’t in denial about his own feelings; he is in denial about stolas’.

blitzø knows he cares about the prince, he knows that it isn’t just about the grimoire for him anymore, but he’s convinced that his love is completely unrequited, because who in their right mind would like a bastard like him?

not only is stolas leagues above him in terms of social status, but in blitzø’s eyes, he also has nothing of value to add to the table as a person. he’s nothing but an asshole who has ruined lives, who doesn’t know how to build functioning relationships without fucking everything up one way or another. the only meaningful connection he has is with his daughter, and even then she had no other option, he adopted her.

whenever he sees a real, romantic bond, he instantly jumps to the sexual aspect of it- he’s seemingly weirdly interested in moxxie and millie’s relationship, especially when it comes to their bedroom life, and when he finds out that what fizz and ozzie have is genuine, he starts cracking vulgar jokes right away.

this is probably because sex is the most familiar aspect of it all for him, something even himself can obtain; which is why he sticks to that when it comes to stolas. he wants to keep their deal strictly sexual, because that makes it easy to manage. no strings attached means he won’t get hurt, and even worse, he won’t hurt the other person.

so when their dynamic starts to shift, even if to a minuscule amount, he panics and tries to forcefully stop that from happening.

we see it happening firstly during the harvest moon festival, when he stumbles through his own words in an attempt to correct striker, and then during ozzie’s, when he berates stolas at the end of the night, and then finally during OOPS, as he rants to fizz about how the owl doesn’t like him at all. nuh uh. no way in hell.

(you tell yourself that blitzø, we all think.)

[ramona-quinn]

Late Night Drive

CG!Blitzø and Little!Stolas

Co-written with @yourneurodivergentlady

Plot: Stolas can't sleep and is overwhelmed with big feelings, so Blitzø takes him out for a drive to soothe his mind.

A.K.A., a follow-up story of Baby Feathers by @shhtickerbook

Illustration done by @sugarnpaint (@hels-belle)

Stolas stared up at the ceiling, trying to go back to sleep. A couple of hours ago, he was put to bed by Blitzø with a warm bath, fuzzy pajamas, and a couple of bedtime stories. All of that ensured a peaceful night's sleep for the Goetia. However, fireworks went off at midnight to ring in the new year, causing him to wake up. Stolas covered his ears with a pillow because he was very sensitive to sound. He internally prayed to ignore the noise and return to catching some shut-eye.

Unfortunately, it was no use.

Stolas looked over at Blitzø, who was sleeping on a beanbag in a corner of the living room. He considered waking him up for help, but he decided against that. Blitzø has done so much for him by helping him discover his tiny side. The imp needed a break.

Taking the pacifier out of his mouth, Stolas held onto it while fiddling with the handle ring. He could feel his headspace returning to normal. He grabbed his phone and looked at the time.

2:57 A.M.

The Goetia sighed. He got up from the couch and went outside to the balcony. He looked down at the streets below and saw people winding down and heading home after throwing New Year's parties. A rat-like sinner demon saw the owl and threw a water balloon at him.

"It's the shitturd I was talking about!" the sinner jeered while his friends laughed with him. "Hope you die alone!"

Stolas felt tears forming in his eyes as he got up and walked back into the apartment. As he made it to the bathroom to dry off, he couldn't help but replay what the rat had said. Maybe he deserved to be alone after what he had done. Maybe he deserved to be banished and have his royal status revoked. Maybe he deserved to lose his daughter. After all, selfish people like him didn't deserve to live...

"Hey, you alright?"

Stolas jumped, startled by Blitzø's voice.

"Oh, Blitzø... what are you doing up?" Stolas asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Blitzø replied. “Who did this to you?”

Stolas looked down at the bathroom tile floor in silence.

"Here, let me help," the imp said.

While Blitzø grabbed a towel to dry Stolas off and get him into a fresh pair of pajamas, the Goetia's mind was running a thousand miles per hour. The insomnia wasn't making things better for him.

Stolas could feel his eyes flooding with tears once again. He hiccuped as his headspace drifted back and forth. He could feel his hands and body tremble as he dropped to the ground.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on, buddy?” Blitz softly asked as he crouched down.

Stolas sniffled and shook his head.

"You can tell me. I'm not going to get angry."

Stolas shook his head again, furiously rubbing his eyes with his arm.

Blitzø gently wrapped the towel around the owl, just like when he wrapped his coat around him when Octavia left him. The imp then gently moved Stolas's arm and gently cupped his feathered face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

"It's okay, buddy. I'm here," Blitzø comforted. "You don't have to say anything."

The imp thought for a moment before finally considering something. “You wanna go for a drive? Maybe that’ll help you calm down.”

"A drive?" Stolas hiccuped as his voice pitch grew a bit higher.

“Yep. It’s useful for when you can’t sleep.” Blitzø told him, gently tapping his nose. "It'll be like stargazing on wheels."

"On wheels?" The owl tilted his head.

Blitzø nodded. “Yeah. You wanna see the stars?”

Stolas nodded, however something popped up in his mind.

"What if... what if people see me?" the Goetia asked worryingly. "'m little..."

“Baby bird, it’s dark out so they’ll be sleeping. If they do see you, I’ll protect you,” Blitzø reassured as he dried Stolas off with the towel.

"P'omise?"

“I promise,” he stood up and offered his hand to Stolas. “You ready?”

Stolas thought about it for a little bit, then nodded.

"Alright, let's get you changed into some fresh jammies first, yeah?"

The owl nodded again.

Once Blitzø got Stolas changed into a fluffy pair of dark red pajamas, the imp grabbed the two blankets off the couch and a couple of pacifiers and placed them into a bag.

Blitzø tenderly took Stolas's hand and took him outside.

Once they reached the van, Blitzø unlocked it and placed a blanket over the backseat. He then helped Stolas in and buckled him up. He got him comfy by covering him up with the other blanket. The imp then went to the driver's seat.

"You ready, kiddo?" Blitzø asked.

The owl nodded as he wrapped his arms around the blanket.

Starting the van, Blitzø backed out and began to drive. He turned on the radio to some soft classical music.

Stolas leaned his head, resting it on the blanket-covered seat. He looked out the window and could see the beautiful night sky. It reminded him of when he was a kid. He would go out on the balcony of his palace and do some stargazing on nights when the weather was just right. He would do research on the stars he looked up. He would try and talk about his findings to his father. However, the dad wasn't all too interested, even though he assigned him to be a prophet amongst the stars and galaxies of the universe.

Blitzø drove around for about thirty minutes, occasionally glancing back at Stolas.

"You okay back there?" The imp asked genuinely.

Stolas nodded sleepily. “Yeah.”

Blitzø smiled softly as he continued driving.

The owl continued gazing up at the sky.

"B'izø?"

"What's up, feathers?"

"Have... have you been sta'gazing before?" The owl asked reluctantly.

"I don't think I have. Why?"

Stolas looked down at the floorboard as he fiddled with a corner of the blanket he was holding. Blitzø wouldn't be interested in something like this. The imp would probably reject the idea of spending quality time with him... just like his father...

"Would you like to do that some time?"

Stolas's eyes widened at Blitzø's offer.

"Really?" the owl asked.

The imp nodded. “Yep, we can go stargazing anytime you want.”

Stolas gave a little smile.

“Ready to go home now, bub?” The imp asked as he glanced back at his little owl.

Stolas nodded his head as he let out a yawn.

So, Blitzø drove them back to the apartment. When they arrived, the imp got out of the van and went to open the back door. He opened it and saw Stolas drifting off to sleep.

"Come on, buddy. We're home," Blitzø said in a gentle tone as he shook the owl's arm.

"We are?" Stolas mumbled tiredly as Blitzø unbuckled his seat belt and gathered the bag and blankets.

The imp took Stolas’s hand and led him inside before bringing him back to the couch.

"Than' you, B'izø," Stolas yawned while the imp tucked him in nice and snug.

“You’re welcome, bud. Do you need anything?” Blitzø asked.

"Stay?"

Blitzø nodded and sat beside him. “Of course.”

The imp reached into the bag and pulled out one of the pacifiers.

"You want your paci?"

Stolas nodded tiredly as he reached for it.

Blitzø handed the soother to the owl, who popped it in his beak.

"Ni', B'izø," the owl murmured.

“Night, baby feathers,” Blitz reached out to ruffle his hair.

After a few minutes, Stolas drifted off to sleep. Blitzø smiled and went back to the beanbag to get some more rest himself.

Author's note: Thank you to all of the lovelies who made this story happen (@yourneurodivergentlady, @shhtickerbook, @sugarnpaint, @hels-belle)! I couldn't have done it without every single one of you! /pos /gen

DNI Banner made by @wolfenpupr

[shapard]

Welcome to my Page!

My Name is Shapard! Duh

I write some 18+, so read with caution.

There are English errors sometimes in my story/scenario/one shot.

I'm a Mixed African German potato✨

Be nice and polite in the comments!!

I do take requests but I need my time.

Press here to interact with my Taglist

Shapard's Masterlist

Helluva Boss

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader - Tantrum / Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Satan x reader - Chains /One shot

Request

Satan x Fallenangel!reader - How does it make you feel /headcanon

Satan x Demonslayer!reader - RAGE / Headcanons

Satan x Reader - Needed me /Oneshot

Hazbin Hotel

Sweet Delusion🌙 - Lucifer x Sinner!fem!Reader; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Story ~

Feather of Fate - Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Epilogue/ Story~

Playlist 🎵

Thorned🥀 - Lucifer x Human!Fem!reader; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6/ Story

Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader - Candle Night /spin off (Feather of Fate)

Lucifer x sinner!bunny!reader - Sun and Moon /One Shot

Lucifer x reader - Alone; Part 1, Part 2 / Short story

Lucifer x Gn!reader - A Love tail that started with Jealousy /Scenario, One shot

Lucifer x fem!human!reader - Albino Snake; Part 1, Part 2 /Short story

Vox x Reader - Blue Thunderbolt /Scenario

Requests

Lucifer x hellborn!reader - Scarlet /scenario

Lucifer x reader - Playing an Untitled Goose Game with Lucifer /Scenario

Lucifer x sinner!reader - Alien Superstar/ headcanon

Lucifer x Nun!sinner!femreader - Demons / Part 1, Part 2

Jujutsu Kaisen

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