#( astaroth

[jessamine-rose]

ʚ✿⚘ Forbidden Fruit ⚘✿ɞ

Welp I was very busy this Kinktober thanks to WHB. More headcanons, anyone?? (*-`ω´- )

Characters:: Bathin, Marbas, Barbatos, Naberius, Satan, Zagan, Astaroth

Note:: Nsfw, pls take note of each character’s paraphilia before reading, MINORS DNI

♡ Bathin usually travels alone, but he is always open to your company. He will prioritize scenic routes and hidden gems, anything to make your journey more exciting. Once the moon rises, the two of you can take evening strolls, compare the night sky to Niflheim’s, and savor each other’s presence in an otherwise unfamiliar place. Not to mention the hours spent in your hotel room—there is a reason why you always share a bed.

♡ Technically, Marbas can undo his restraints during meals, but that hasn’t stopped you from offering your help. Hand-feeding him takes less time, after all, especially with candy or fruit. And it means you can tease him by sitting on his lap, tracing his lips for stray crumbs, getting your fingers sticky with his favorite strawberry caramel. Neither can he stop you when you pull him into a sweet kiss, slipping an aphrodisiac into his mouth~

♡ Barbatos likes to see you at different times of the day. Noon, illuminated in radiant sunshine. Sunset, colored in light and shadow. Night, when your visage is painted in the soft shades of borrowed sunlight. In return for indulging his kink, he will be the one to provide sunscreen and thoroughly apply it to your skin. Now he just needs to coax you into sunbathing with him; the both of you would look beautiful against the roses.

♡ Naberius is weak to pet play. There are many ways to rile him up, from soft headpats to harsh commands to a personalized collar engraved with your initials. And what is the best form of control if not Pavlovian conditioning? All it takes is the sound of his name spoken in your voice, in a stern tone used only during sex, for his animalistic urges to take over. “Hey, Naberius, have you forgotten who your owner is? …Oh? That’s my good boy~”

♡ The easiest way to end an argument with Satan is through makeup sex. Depending on the seriousness of the issue, he can’t help but feel turned on by your wrath—directed at him, no less. He hasn’t even apologized before you’re already at his throat, a slap to his face followed by a passionate kiss. To which he smiles and kisses you back, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You truly are an interesting human~

♡ Zagan is attentive to your physical mannerisms, which makes it easy for him to gauge your emotions. Every shudder, every flicker of discomfort, spurs him to stop moving and ask if you’re okay, if you need a breather, if he has failed as your lover. Do reassure him, won’t you? His skill is also useful during workouts! He will examine your form, manually adjust your body, and, in a shy voice, propose a final exercise in his bedroom.

♡ Astaroth’s favorite pastime is to read a book while you cockwarm him. The experience can only be described as your personal hell—fleeting touches, the spikes of his leg harness, his velvety voice narrating a tale of dark romance. How long will your patience last? Has corruption ever tasted this sweet? Don’t worry, he promises to reward you once the story is over. A beautiful rose is not without thorns, just like the flowers tainted by original sin.

♡

Still hornii?? Read my other WHB fics <3

Cheers to Marbas and Astaroth getting more headcanons after Dance with the Devil. Can y’all tell how thirsty I was when I wrote their parts?? Huhuhu _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Special thanks to @diodellet for beta-reading this and rejuvenating me with your reaction to Naberius. And to my beloved readers, do rot in the tags/ comments and tell me which devil was your favorite. I cherish your feedback <3

Tag a WHB enjoyer!! @sparkbeast20 @2af-afterdark @dreamii-yume @yanmaresu @pinkaditty @h2o2-and-baking-soda @paradivis @gr0tesquerom4ntica @dobaekki @obeythisass @beelsjuicytitties @binar-es @ushitoshii @sulumuns-dootah @devilmen-collector @jazeswhbvault

[rockrackal]

btw i have a cotl rp server! here’s the ad:

Somewhere in your world, somehow... A portal opens up. It calls for you, beckoning for you to enter. It whispers sweet promises of community and happiness, safety in numbers, and most importantly... A leader whose very purpose in this world is to lead you fairly and justly. You may want these things, you may not... Regardless of whatever inhibition you have for the portal, however, its call is tempting... Almost as though it has a powerful grip on your mind, and wants nothing more than for you to cross over, and see the other side.

Upon finding it, you are met with the ghostly figure of a peculiar individual: Grey, undead skin... A red cloak and bell... Sheep-like features... And most intriguingly, a dark crown that bears a striking red eye upon its face. The visage of this lamb is not unkind, however - They seem to simply wish for you to see what they have to offer, to join their ranks, and to befriend their family...

They offer you food, shelter, clothes, and other necessities for living and comfort. They say they have reached out to many individuals, and they wish for at least a few to join their ranks... And it seems that you are one of the many. The offer is optional, you have a choice to walk away... But, it is very tempting, is it not? After all, how much have you gone through, just trying to get to a place where you can thrive...? Well... Only one way to find out the truth of this offer.

What are you waiting for? That ghostly little Lamb is just waiting to see what you will bring to their domain...

(Welcome to COTL: Dimensions Unraveled! This server is a multifandom roleplay server where you can take any character, oc or not, from almost any media, and put a Cult of the Lamb spin on them!)

Link here

Open canons: Aym, Ratoo, Flinky, Shrumy, Klunko & Bop, Amdusias, Valefar, Barbatos, Gusion, Zepar, Elegos, Harborym, Saleos, Baalzebub, Focalor, Vephar, Hauras, Witness Agares, Witness Bathin, Witness Astaroth, Witness Allocer, Haro, Fisherman, Plimbo, Rakshasa, Berith, ???, Lighthouse keeper, Monch, the Fox, Heket

Taken canons: The Lamb, Helob, Forneus, Clauneck, Kudaai, Baal, Narinder, Midas, Sozo, Leshy, Kallamar, Shamura, Ratau, Chemach

(OCs welcome, obviously)

[grimowled]

the fearsome @nebula-gaster said: Astaroth didn't normally concern himself with the personal affairs of other Goetia, but after what he'd seen trending online recently, his curiosity was burning. Thus, he took it upon himself to visit Stolas directly at his palace to find out what the fuck was going on. Standing outside the entrance, he made himself known by calling out to the prince. "STOLAS! I wanna have a word with you!"

it wasn't just every tuesday that a grand duke of hell, his better in the tapestry of the ars goetia and right hand man to lucifer himself, darkened his doorstep with his impressive bulk. the prince was uncharacteristically quick to fasten his star-studded cloak and don the regal insignia that befit such a visitation, before manifesting himself in front of the door which he opened to bow obsequiously to his most esteemed and rather unexpected caller.

(he had to wonder if word of his recent ... escapades and fallout had finally gotten to the grand duke - hoo hoo, perhaps he was in trouble!)

still bent at the waist, the owl prince offered a gallant flourish of his taloned hand, a flawlessly affable expression painted on his pale visage and a perfect curve sliced across his beak as he greeted the large demon before him with the usual theatrics of aristocracy. even if the latter's manners left a little to be desired, it didn't mean he had to forsake his own.

"my, my. greetings, astaroth. to what do I owe the great honour of a visit? you could have called, you know. no need to go through such trouble over little old me."

[devil-in-the-details-ay]

9

“If one of those issues is a divorce, I can guarantee you that I will not be giving one.  I’m sorry, Astaroth, you are stuck with her.”  Lucifer grinned.  His daughter might have on a mask of indifference and smugness, but he knew the insecurity that lay within.

“Oh, now THAT is NOT one of the issues.  In fact, I do have thank you for what I assume was to be some kind of punishment for one or both of us.  We are both extremely happy with this arrangement and have no desire to seek a divorce now, or anytime in the foreseeable future.” Astaroth gave his father-in-law a cocky grin and brought Yara’s hand up to kiss the back of it before placing it back on his arm.  His eyes never left Lucifer’s and the seething rage within the King’s gave him joy.  “So let me make one thing clear to YOU, Lord Lucifer.  If you, or any of your cronies, try to come between us, I will have no qualms in expeditiously ending your life with great satisfaction.  You wanted this marriage, now *I* do.”  He felt Yara’s hand tighten on his arm, his hand atop hers gently squeezing reassuringly.  As he had thought, her smug exterior was just a mask of her true feelings.  She wanted him to stay calm, which he had no inclination to do.  Lucifer was about to learn his place, one way or another. “I will remind you, Lord Astaroth,” Lucifer’s voice dripped venom as he said the other male’s name with derision, “that your, so called, wife is still my daughter and I will treat her as I see fit, as shall my staff.  You reside in MY kingdom, sir, and therefore will not dictate to me how I will behave.” The condescension was so heavy in Lucifer’s voice and demeanor it hung in the air like a blanket on the entire room. He was grinning with a bit of smug satisfaction, something that was about to change.

“I’ll remind you Lord Lucifer,” Astaroth matched his condescending tone and smug visage, “that unlike YOU, I do not have to live in Hell.” Yara saw her father’s jaw clench and wondered what her husband meant, something that he quickly clarified.  “Remember that I am NOT on our father’s bad side like you and some of the other Lords here are.  I left of my own accord because I had more friends here than there.  I can choose where I live.  Here, there, or even Earth. You, Lucifer, have NO power over me. None.”  Astaroth’s smirk became cocky and condescending, he was enjoying this.  “And, dear brother, now this is true of my wife.  She is not my “so called wife”, she is my WIFE.  Full stop.  No further clarifications required.  So, your daughter or not, my WIFE will be respected in Hell or there will be consequences.  I will not tolerate anything otherwise” 

“Maybe you should move out of Hell then, Lord Astaroth.” Lucifer was barely containing his temper now and Yara actually took a step back from her husband.  He knew why and did not take offense. “I do hope that you fulfilled all the fine print of your contract though, or your marriage to Yara will be nullified.  Then she is back to being MINE and I have many ideas on how to welcome her home.”  

The grin on her father’s face sent icewater coursing through Yara’s veins, yet she did not move and her smug expression did not falter. It was a mask she’d perfected over centuries.  It was not hard to keep in place now.  She had read that damned document several times and her mind was racing over what could have been left out, she would figure it out.  There was no way she was going to give up Astaroth, not after just a taste of his affections.  The thought of more developing and her father trying to destroy it was almost enough to drive HER to violence.

Astaroth wondered what he’d missed in the contract.  He didn’t know, but he’d damn sure find out when this was over.  There was no way in Heaven, Hell, or Earth that he was letting Yara go, and definitely not so her father could toy with her.  “I assure you, that will not happen.  Touch her and you will regret it.  Your minions touch her, YOU will regret it.  She gets a papercut, and I will blame you.” He took a step forward.  “Your priest ruined our wedding for no reason other than to be an asshole at your order.  He barely left with his life.  Know that next time I will not be so merciful to one who disrespects her.  You thought that you were sending her to me to die, but you were wrong.  Just accept it.  You don’t have that power.”  By the end of his statement, there was a growl undercutting his voice.  He was barely restraining himself.

“You can kill her or I will,” now Lucifer showed his hand and for one split second Yara’s mask faltered before it was back in place.  While Yara was in shock, the sound that came from Astaroth was one of pure, unadulterated rage. The look on Lucifer’s face said he had not anticipated that reaction, and he took a step back. Yara could not see the look on her husband’s face, but she had to imagine that his demonic visage was coming through for her father to even show the slightest modicum of respect and possibly fear.

“No one, not you or any of your people, will lay a hand on MY WIFE.”  Astaroth started to stalk toward Lucifer who was standing his ground.  It was clear in Astaroth’s voice that he was barely containing himself and speaking through clenched teeth.   “I don’t care what you WANT, it is NOT going to happen.  I will eliminate any threat that comes near her, including you and the consequences of that can be damned.  You cannot kill her, Lucifer.  You forget one thing. I. AM. DEATH.  *I* decide if she can die and I said NO!” The air began to literally vibrate and hum in the room, one of the powerful men was about to unleash literal Hell and Yara was not sure which one of them it was. 

Lucifer and Astaroth were almost nose to nose, the anger rolling off the two males was almost palpable in the air around them.  Yara watched from a few feet away, feeling more and more ill as the seconds passed.  Which one of them would blink first, she wasn’t sure.  Very few had stood up to her father, but she’d never seen anyone as enraged at him as her husband currently was.  That Astaroth's anger was over her touched a part of her deep inside that no one ever had before.  Why he was being like this confused her, other than their discussion yesterday regarding how they would make the best of what they had been forced into, and that meant taking care of one another.

Just then she caught movement to the side out of her peripheral vision.  Eyes snapping in that direction, she saw one of her father’s minions with a cursed blade heading to the two males who were currently facing off.  There was no way that this was a good thing.  “I wouldn’t if I were you.”  Her voice came out almost a purr, but it was full of warning as well.  Astaroth was facing off with her father, she wasn’t going to allow some minor demon of her father’s to threaten in him in any way. Not that she doubted that he could defend himself, but his attention was otherwise occupied. The minion demon scoffed and rolled his eyes at her warning.  Of course he would blow her off, she was Yara, Lucifer’s daughter.  In her father’s world she was of no consequence.  She wasn’t of that world anymore though, as her husband kept reminding her, she was now the Mistress of Death.  It seemed like a good time to make that clear.

Reaching out her hand, she waved it rather dismissively with the intent to end the demon's life. She wasn't sure how the whole command over life and death worked, but she surmised it had to be something like her other demonic powers. It was worth a shot. If it didn't work, she'd just have to kill him another way. 

The demon with the blade suddenly made a choking sound then dropped mid-stride.  “I told you not to…” Yara smirked and watched as both her father and husband’s heads snapped to look at the dead minion that she’d just dropped.  She lifted her chin with a smug smile, hiding the fact she was actually completely stunned it had worked.  If it hadn’t, she would have had to do it manually, which she WAS ready to do. 

It seemed like it was just a blink till Lucifer was now in her face.  “Just who do you think you are to come into my office and kill one of my demons?  Explain yourself!”  He demanded, his hot sulfuric breath caressing her face as she saw Astaroth approaching them slowly over his shoulder.  The look on her husband's face was malevolent, ready to strike if Lucifer made a wrong move.  It emboldened Yara to address her father as she had never before.

“Daddy dearest, you should know.”  Her grin was nothing short of malevolent as well, no warmth in it whatsoever.  “You arranged the marriage after all.”  Her head tipped to the side as she regarded him.  “I’m the Mistress of Death now thanks to you,” Yara leaned her head forward towards him slightly, “and if you ever have one of your minions threaten my husband again, I’ll drop you, not him.  Capiche?”  She winked, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest with a cocky smile.  One thing her father hadn’t taken into account was that she was the oldest of his children, which meant if he died…she’d be Queen.  She knew it, she feared it, but at the moment, she had literal DEATH ready to defend her.  No matter how scared she was, it did give her strength.

“I think you two need to leave, NOW.” Lucifer had reached the end of his ability to control his rage.  He was sure that if he unleashed it on Yara, as he wished to, that Astaroth would make him suffer for it. Why the Lord of Death was so enamored with his daughter, he could not understand.  There were none of his own demons who could even stand her.  What he wished to happen would, just later than he had anticipated.

"We will." Astaroth answered as he walked around Lucifer to the side to come up next to Yara. "Don't forget my warning.  I will not give it again, nor will I be lenient. And it appears you now also have a warning from my wife, which if I were you, Lucifer, I would not take lightly. I fear you have no clue what you've done, which delights me greatly." Stepping next to his wife, he wrapped his arm around her waist and gently guided her to the door of Lucifer’s office.  As firm and hard as her expression might seem, he knew the emotions beneath were neither.  The tears and the ache she had shown him the night before were fresh in his memory, and when they were alone once more he would ease them once more.

@saltysupercomputer - and here it is!!

[aeternals]

astaroth manifests in a number of ways to those who worship him. this is usually based on either preconceived notions or whatever needs to be seen at the time. not everyone can handle his true demonic form, others expect the visage of his sister, and yet others don't have the psychic capacity to see rather than they can feel his energy near.

if attempting to evoke the duke, he can react in a variety of ways. should the circle show a bunch of kids who have no idea what they're doing he will do his best to scare the every living sh*t out of them so they don't attempt again with a demon who might actually eat them. not all demons like humans, tolerate humans, or wish to see humans alive. if the evocation spell comes from someone stupid enough to try and contain his power he will make their life the stuff of their worst nightmares. it is not possible for the average human to contain most demons in a spell or circle. at least, demons humans tend to think about such as the divine hierarchy. lower level and fledgeling demons might be more susceptible.

invoking him, however, can reveal a much more gentle side of him. despite the abrahamic title of demon, astaroth cares a great deal for those who seek him for help, knowledge, and bettering their lives.

he and his sister helped a great deal in old babylon, especially during the construction of the hanging gardens and the ishtar gate. in fact, astarte was so infatuated with babylon that her consistent presence inspired the people to start worshipping her as a goddess.

though, since their fall he is much more apt to steering humanity from the shadows as opposed to head on. times are different enough that more people respect money and power than they do divinity.

[mythologyfolklore]

No rest for the wicked

There were no words to describe the agony of falling from grace.

It was impossible to paint the picture to a non-fallen being, impossible for a not metaphysical being to imagine, and be they ever so imaginative or wise.

How could one possibly describe the feeling of the sacred light of God, the blessedness and holiness being ripped from your body and soul? The feeling of your angelic purity burning away, as you slowly and torturously turned from a creature of God to something vile, unholy and evil? Having to watch, as your white wings were set ablaze and burned, only to reappear later, tainted and pitch black …

Lucifer woke up screaming.

He spent the next approximately thirty minutes hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf, before it finally dawned on him, that it had just been a dream. He was fine, the Fall had been 6000 years ago, he was in his own king-sized bed, in his bedroom, in his palace … in Hell.

He had just been sleeping.

Demons technically didn't need to sleep, but sometimes chose to.

However, every time Lucifer chose to sleep, he was haunted by the memory of his fall. The flashback dreams were so harrowing, it was impossible to get used to them. Of course he was. It wouldn't be much of a punishment, if he was able to forget, would it?

Eh, whatever.

He didn't care. Of course he didn't care!

He was the King of all Demons! Leader of the Fallen! Head of the Council of the Seven and the Prince of Pride!

“I'm fine”, he mumbled to himself.

He was not shaken.

He was not crying!

He was not curling up under his covers, trying to convince himself that a stupid nightmare had reduced him to such a state!

That was just preposterous!

“I'm fine”, he repeated to himself again and again, like a mantra.

Until he actually believed it.

.

Asmodeus awoke with a start.

It took zir a few seconds to realise, that ze wasn't sleeping anymore.

It became obvious, when ze saw that Lilith was sitting next to zir in their marriage bed, her owlish eyes full of concern.

“That dream again?”, she guessed.

“As always”, Asmodeus groaned frustratedly. “Six thousand years and the only improvement is that I don't wake up screaming!” Ze stopped short. “I didn't scream and thrash around in my sleep, did I? Are you hurt?”

Lilith shook her head. “No. You just groaned in your sleep and stirred a lot, but not violently. But as you know, I have sensitive ears. I was about to wake you up, but then you woke up by yourself.”

The Prince of Lust sighed and leaned zir human head onto zir wife's.

Her giant owl wings enveloped zir and she hooted quietly.

Asmodeus sighed once more. Ze was just so tired! “You know, Lilith … as stupid as this sounds, I think I need a vacation.”

“Damn right you do”, Lilith agreed, “You're so overworked, because you and Beelzebub are the only ones actually doing their work, that you actually fell asleep next to me! Even though demons don't need sleep! That's how exhausted you are! Tell you what …” She wound herself out of zir embrace and looked zir in the human eyes. “I bet your partner is just as much of a nervous wreck. How about you and Beelzebub take a vacation together? We both can have some alone time, you and I, and I can take the kids and your work, while you're gone.”

Asmodeus smiled. Ze loved one – one – human turned demon queen.

“Have I told you lately how much I adore you, my queen?”

Lilith laughed and told zir to turn around.

She spent the next hours preening Asmodeus' enormous six wings.

.

“Beelzebub … Beelzebub … Beelzebub, wake up!”

The Lord of the Flies screamed and thrashed around in the grip of the claws that were gripping zir arms.

“Easy! Easy! Calm down, my pretty! It's only me.”

My pretty?!

Only one person had the nerve to call Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies and Prince of Gluttony pretty; not just, because ze was a Prince of Hell and member of the Unholy Trinity, but also because ze the very opposite of pretty.

On top of that, this smooth and sultry feminine voice could only belong to one person.

Beelzebub opened zir eyes and recognised zir own office. Ze was hunched over zir desk and at some point the candles must have burned down. In the darkness ze could make out a red-eyed, red-lipped and deathly pale face smiling with the gentleness only one Prince of Hell was able to muster (even though that person was far from actually being tender).

“Aeshma Daeva¹?”, ze choked.

Asmodeus nodded gently. “Of course it's me, Baal Zevuv². Settle down now, my pretty. It was a dream and it's over now. Everything is fine.”

“What are you doing here?”, Beelzebub asked.

“I was taking a walk. I passed by your office and heard you groan, like you were in distress. It had me worried.”

The Prince of Lust snapped zir fingers and the room was lit by floating hell flames.

Beelzebub was a bit embarrassed, because surely zir eyes were all puffy and zir face completely tear stained … not that it was that noticeable on zir pitch black skin. As if on cue, the flies crawled out of zir floating white hair and buzzed around Asmodeus.

“Hello there, little pretties”, the Prince of Lust cooed (again, being the only one to ever find Beelzebub's flies pretty).

The buzzing and Asmodeus' smile were soothing.

But then the latter saw Beelzebub's tear-stained visage and frowned. “Oh! Oh, my pretty …”

The Prince of Gluttony leaned into the clawed hand that was caressing zir face.

“Go ahead”, Asmodeus coaxed the other. “Let it out, Beelz. It's okay to hurt.”

Beelzebub leaned into the taller archdemon's shoulder and allowed zirself to cry.

“I dreamt of it again”, the Lord of the Flies whispered.

“I know”, the Spirit of Anger responded and rubbed the smaller one's back. “We all do. Whenever we choose to sleep. That's why I almost never do.” A bitter smile. “Good thing we demons don't really need sleep, hm?”

“Yes”, Beelzebub croaked. “But I'm just so exhausted …”

“No wonder”, Asmodeus grumbled. “We're both overworked, because we're the only ones with a work ethic.”

“To Heaven with it!”

“Indeed. Hey, how about this: I'll stay with you for a while. You know, give you a massage and all and just generally diverting you. And tomorrow, we both will waltz into the council, give the others Heaven and demand a vacation. It's what we deserve, don't you agree, my pretty?”

“What about your wife and children?”, Beelzebub objected. Trying to keep the jealousy from zir voice at the reminder, that Asmodeus was hitched and leading a successful marriage, despite zir notorious promiscuity – that a mere former human, a being of clay, had put a ring on the Prince of Lust and could say with pride, that they were husband/spouse and wife.

Beelzebub heard the smile in the other's voice, as ze answered: “Don't wreck your pretty head about it, Beelz. Lilith can handle the kids without me for a while. Most of them are big enough to care for themselves by now anyway. And Lilith will be happy to have some quality time to herself.”

The Lord of the Flies sighed and leaned further into Asmodeus' shoulder.

A vacation … that sounded wonderful.

.

As Astaroth awoke, she screamed, but her scream was silent.

Without her voice, which God had taken away, she couldn't scream like all the others could.

Her screams, her tears, her laughter, they all were silent.

So was her sigh of relief, when she realised that it had just been a dream.

With annoyance she realised, that she had fallen asleep completely, whereas to the simple dozing she normally did, when she chose to rest.

Dozing was a way of getting some rest without having to suffer those horrid flashback nightmares, but sometimes …

She pressed her face against the pillows, curled up and wept.

It wasn't fair!

She had done nothing to deserve this!

She had done nothing to deserve her fall from grace and the loss of her voice!

She hadn't sided with Lucifer back then, even though he had freed her from the house arrest/de-facto prison God had put her in before!

Her only crime had been … knowing too much.

As the angel of time, she had known past, presence and future (still did) and therefore also the Ineffable Plan. However, no one was allowed to know God's plans (aside from Satan, maybe, but even he didn't know everything – not to the extent Astaroth did).³

But still … she was innocent … she just wanted to …

Astaroth cried harder.

That went on for a while, until someone knocked on the door.

The Princess of Hell wiped her tears away and wiped her tears away.

She whistled, as a sign that whoever was out there was permitted to enter.

A minor demon came in.

“Your Royal Highness, Princess Astaroth – their Highnesses Beelzebub and Asmodeus are calling for a council meeting in two hours”, the demon announced.

Huh.

That was weird.

And rather short-term.

But Astaroth nodded and the demon bowed and saw themselves out.

Two hours … that was time enough to take a nice bath to relax from the nightmare and to freshen up a little.

And half an hour before the meeting she would kick Belphegor out of bed, just to lean back and enjoy him run down as hastily as a lazy boy like him could, thinking they were under time pressure.

.

Belphegor also awoke screaming.

When he realised, that he was awake, he groaned and ruffled his blue hair.

“Fuck this shit … I must've fallen asleep completely.”

Contrary to what people believed, he and Astaroth never truly slept – ironically, as they were the demons of sloth. Instead they dozed for a while, never really quite asleep. It was a loophole to avoid those traumatic dreams. Astaroth was a lucid dreamer to boot, but that didn't work on the retrospectral dreams.

Damn it, Dad! I wasn't even on their side!

He hadn't been.

But he hadn't been on Heaven's side either.

He had been too cowardly to choose a side and remained neutral and that had been his ruin.

Belphegor grumbled sullenly, before lying back down and resuming his nap.

Unfortunately it didn't last long, because soon someone ripped him from their dozing slumber.

Upon opening his eyes, he saw Princess Astaroth glowering down on him.

“Wake up, lazy boy!”, she signed (would have snapped at him, had God not stripped her voice away before the Fall). “Get your demonic ass to work!”

“Who're ya callin' lazy”, Belphegor slurred, but stood up.

Astaroth shared his position as Prince of Sloth, but as she was Lucifer's left hand, a former Seraph and member of the Unholy Trinity, she outranked him by far. It was too dangerous to resist her. And even though she lacked the capability of speech, she had a lot to say – and certainly didn't need speech to be intimidating!

“Beelzebub and Asmodeus are calling in a council meeting”, she signed. “So wash and get dressed. You have half an hour.”

“But that's too little time!”, Belphegor whined.

Astaroth snarled menacingly.

“Alright, alright! On my way, your Royal Highness!”, the Prince of Sloth grumbled and dragged himself away to do as told.

Fucking bitch!

.

Mammon hadn't actually been asleep.

They had just hit their head and passed out, but that had been enough to make them relive the horrid memory of the Fall.

The Prince of Greed came to themselves, cursing up a storm; swearing usually made them feel a little better.

“Okay, fuck this shit”, they muttered, “I'll just finish this paperwork, then go rob a bank or something-”

A knock on the door.

It was a mook demon, informing them that there was going to be a council meeting.

“Right, I'll be there”, Mammon replied.

Once they were alone again, they smirked: “Hmm … wonder if Asmodeus will join me afterwards – go shopping, gamble and rob some casinos … it's always more fun with zir!”

.

Leviathan and Satan were never haunted by that kind of dream, as neither were fallen angels.

Leviathan was a giant sea monster and Satan was an entity God had created before all others, specifically to oppose Him, yet in a way be His right hand.

But they knew of the others' nightmares, of course they knew.

It had once slipped out of Lucifer and Satan hadn't left the fallen Morning Star alone, until he had been told everything.

“They're collectively having nightmares, these six”, Satan reported to the sea serpent, when he was on the phone with her.

The Adversary knew that, because his presence was everywhere but Heaven, thus he always knew what was going on in the entirety of Hell (which belonged to him, by the way, no matter how much Lucifer acted like it was his).

Leviathan chuckled at the other end of the phone: “Well, that'ssss nothing new now, issss it?”

“It's funny”, Satan laughed, “How they still haven't got over it after such a long time! One would think that after having the same dream every time they sleep, they would have got used to it!”

“Well, look at it thissss way”, Leviathan hissed into the phone, “It's fun to sssee them suffer like thissss from time to time, issssn't it?”

Another laugh from the Adversary: “You're so delightfully cruel, my friend!”

A hissing laugh from the other end of the phone.

“By the way”, Satan continued, “There is about to be a council meeting. Will you attend or shall I find someone to step in for you?”

“No need. I'll turn humanoid and teleport mysssself to Hell and it'll be good.”

“Cool! We need to connect again! This is going to be interesting, I can tell!”

.

---

.

1) Aeshma Daeva (Avestan: "Spirit of Anger/Fury") is a demon from Zoroastrian tradition, which embodies wrath, murder and greed and is armed with a bloody mace. While Aeshma and Asmodeus are not the same being, it's thought that the latter's name is derived from/a reference to the former.

2) Ba'al Z(e)vûv/Baal Zebub (Hebrew: "Lord of the Flies"), a derogative pun used towards the Philistine god Ba'al Zebûl ("Exalted Lord/Lord of the dwelling") and towards that god's worshippers. The Septuagint later transcribed it into Baalzebub, which later morphed into the Beelzebub we all know.

3) Just to make this clear: this is a headcanon. The idea that Astaroth is a former seraph and guardian of time, rendered mute because he/she knew God's Plans, comes from the German Wikipedia article on Astaroth (once again proving that one should never trust Wikipedia about facts), but since no sources were stated for the things written there, I will treat it as a headcanon and not as actual canon. It's really annoying, because I can't even credit the person who actually came up with this, because the part stating it was quoting no sources, so I don't know who it was. Please don't kill me.

[regali-s]

I’LL FOLLOW YOU ➽ ZHONG LI

genre: entirely self indulgent, that’s the genre. this is just me being selfish and writing something for the first in a long time

wc: 1.5k

warnings: self indulgent. not at all a reader insert (or at least not yet i’m deciding on it still)

a/n: literally this is just for my own satisfaction. that’s it. i just want to write something for him. it’s also to get myself back into writing a little bit? i’m not gonna out this up in the tags i’ll just, let it sit here on my blog because i don’t have a large following and i feel comfortable having it here as something i wrote! as such, i won’t be doing a taglist for this um.. unless requested otherwise and if anyone’s actually interested in keeping up with it? then let me know in that case but this is really just a selfish project of mine until i decide whether or not i’ll turn it into an official work

there's the whisper of legends that are shrouded in fog, the mutterings of names that even the divine would learn to fear.

the requiem told by monsoon rains is a familiar one in celestia, a despairing melody whose tongue dances with the lick of thunder and lightning that should illuminate the heavens and all her dominions beneath. of the ruthlessness and utter destruction that would dare lift its hand against a god and arise victorious, there are to be offerings of terror and fear so potent, so violent, that it would devour what false illusion of solace is left to be found. it is the hymn of crashing waves that cry with a deafening silence, soundless and domineering as it consumes and takes and devours, until all that should remain of gods and realms will lay forgotten beneath the ocean floor.

morax is no stranger to the story of astaroth, a demon so greatly revered in terror that even celestia would pause at the mention of her name. a fallen god who was stricken down from her throne for a sin left untold, she'd be forever lost to redemption, her place with the divine left to rot with the passage of time. and yet, celestia would warn kingdoms and empires of her name — beseeched its gods to never earn her displeasure. what power is there so great, that even the heavens should hesitate against it? morax had never understood this in his youth, yet all the same, he drew no questions and dared not to ever utter a word of that monsoon demon. even in the throes of brash recklessness, he knew better than to keep dark legends in his heart, and he'd for long been content with letting that story be woven by mothers putting their children to bed.

so then why now, as golden eyes meet those of the deepest red, does he recall that particular tale?

he finds her at luhua pool beneath a lonely moon, her company welcomed by its silver glow as it encompasses her image and brings her to the light of a distant dream, paints its visage along her brown skin with a gentleness a lover would bear. he doesn't feel a wind, and yet her long, black braids and the few strands that are left to curl freely around her head, they sway ever so slightly as she faces him, appearing to him like an illusion — a mirage conjured by burning desserts and merciless suns. here beneath the moonlight, this woman of blood reds and blackened night skies pulls him into a trance and shows to him visions forbidden when she smiles, and with a voice like the softest silk and a windborne melody, she beckons him closer.

"keep me company for a while, won't you?"

it's an innocent request, her voice hiding nothing beneath it save for the promise of another body to stay by his side for the night, and morax sees no reason to refuse. thus, he finds himself next to this woman beneath a watchful moon, her companion for however long she would decide him to be.

for a while, there are no words spoken between them, a silence lulling across the surface of the water and falling over their bodies like a blanket, their world caught within these seconds that flow like molasses. she seems content to let that quietness persist, allows their words to rest on abandon and instead gazes at the stars above.  it's almost as if she's looking for something, her eyes flickering with the reflection of millions of silver lights, the taste of wistfulness that clouds pools of red would pull him in until he finds himself drowning. and in those eyes and among her stars, morax sees a certain something that he can't put a name to. it grabs a hold of his mind and leaves him wondering, until his heart begins to ache with the loss of it and his soul dances on yearning and a curious desire.

then, she speaks, and on that whisper lost to the wind, morax finds his breath disappears for a moment.

"what value is there to life?"

the question is vague yet weighted, the words behind it would overflow with what felt like a lifetime of searching. and perhaps, morax considers as he lets his eyes linger on this woman, searching has been all she had ever known. when she lets her eyes fall from the night sky and turns to him, he sees an eternity spent on want and desire, a longing for purpose — for value, yet even as she turns to him for an answer, her whispered words and the faint smile that plays across her lips seem almost hopeless. what kind of life must she have lead to have left her feeling so lost and abandoned, he ponders, and when he turns his eyes to the skies above, he wonders if he'll find an answer among those shining secrets.

for some time, he remains quiet, lets the question tumble around inside his chest and he thinks to himself. he's lived for an eternity and eons more, witnessed the rise and fall of gods and men, watched civilizations build from sand and create legends to be worshipped and idols to be forgotten, yet he finds himself wanting of an answer to her question. what value is there to life? to be born and to die? such has been the order of everything beneath the heavens — where life is created, death must inevitably follow. even the divine, as he'd long known, are no exception, and when he thinks on the severity of it all, he lets himself think if for a moment that the very purpose of life is damnation.

and yet, he knows that there's much more to it all than that.

"the value of life is growth," he gives his answer to the wind and to her, lets his voice permeate the silence and to find solace with what they may. "we exist to live and to learn, to grow day by day with an ever-changing world. even gods are no masters of existence as they too must obey the passage of time... every living thing must adapt, and to adapt, you must learn."

when he lets his eyes wander over to her, he finds that she's already looking at him with something like wander, her attention hangs on each and every word as if he spoke to her the most sacred scripture. it invokes within him something foreign, a feeling that is lost on him and simmers beneath his chest like the beginnings of a gentle flame. and from that flame, he gives to her a promise that holds to it such great weight and severity that it stuns even himself. so bold is he with his words that he would find himself feeling bashful and embarrassed many years later, but in this moment here, he gives them to her with the strongest sincerity and utterance that his growing, learning heart can offer.

"and, if you still find yourself searching for value or reason, then take me as your own, and i'll give to you what i can."

and this woman — gods, he still has yet to learn her name and to give her his own — she looks up at him with something new in her eyes. the stars in them glisten like thousands of fireflies as she asks him quietly, "and what must i give to you in return?"

ah. morax pauses; he hadn't necessarily thought of that. he allows himself a moment to think on it as his fingers weave together, eyes drifting to where the moon and stars dance atop the waters. "all that i ask in return is that you provide me company, just as i provided you tonight. be by my side for as long as you would like to and, in return, i will be whatever it is you need of me. let's call it a contract, shall we?"

"a contract?" she parrots, tilting her head. morax notices the way her braids fall ever so slightly to the side, and he thinks that the way she peers so curiously and, perhaps a bit confused, is nearly endearing.

"but of course," he says smoothly. "this is a gain and give agreement, wouldn't you say?"

the woman turns her eyes away in thought, lips pouted in her contemplation and her brows slightly creased as she hums. "well..." she mutters, "it feels a bit... uneven, doesn't it? it feels as if i'm gaining far more than you are."

"is that how it feels?" morax raises one eyebrow, watching as his companion nods her head, still wearing that concerned expression as she awaits his response. he chuckles, the sound rumbling within his chest like a gentle timbre. "having another's company after being alone for a long time is invaluable," he tells her with confidence and a certain knowledge that takes with it the reminder of an old pain. "i can assure you that simply having you by my side will be more than enough."

his answer soothes her worries, it seems, as she allows a smile to grow where her lips once pouted. half-lidded eyes show to him the beginnings of gratitude and devotion, and hidden behind them is a promise that he'd yet to learn of.

"well then," she laughs ever so slightly, her head tilted and eyes twinkling when she looks at him. "i'll do my best not to let you down then."

[goldleafacrossyourlips]

Uneasy Lies the Head - Dark Lord/OC - Chapter 4

Chapters - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Chapter 4 - Thyme and Glamour

Samara didn’t get to attend many weddings. She didn’t have many friends outside of her family. Any she had made during the Academy were lost when she began homeschooling. The Witch community in Vail wasn’t as large as the Greendale one and besides, Witch communities weren’t fond of bringing in outsiders. So as she sat amongst her former Coven members Samara faintly wished she was a part of a community as large as this one.

She tuned out most of what Blackwood was saying. He stood before them in his ornate robes and rambled on about their loss of the Anti Pope. Samara smoothed her black lace dress over her knees, picking off some stray fox hair as she went. She’d spent the morning getting ready and brushing Phlox. Her Aunts had been away at the Academy, Ambrose was still in hiding and Sabrina was with Nick. She had wanted to arrive at the Academy early and help her Aunt Zelda prepare but when she’d called she was told to simply arrive with the rest of the guests. So she’d busied herself at the Spellman house and waited until the time arrived to head to the Desecrated Church. It had felt odd to leave Phlox behind since he’d been stuck to her hip since she’d moved to Vail. She felt uneasy being alone but her Shadows were often to remind her they were still with her.

The deep rumbling of drums caused her to turn and look towards the doors of the Church. She felt her eyes prick and blur as she caught sight of her Aunt Zelda. Aunt Hilda was beautiful as she marched down the aisle in front of her sister, a grin gracing her face as she went forward. Samara was slightly confused as to why there was a strange girl walking in front of them but assumed she must have been related to Blackwood in someway to be a part of the wedding.

Aunt Zelda was a vision as she glided at the end of the small line. Her black and ruby dress accented her figure beautifully. The golden crown she wore was draped with a black veil both which caused slight want to well within Samara. Gold and black had always been her two most favourite colours. To see her Aunt adorned with them made her warm. Within her Aunt’s hands was the ceremonial blade. An intrinsic thing of beauty in and of itself. Never to be wielded for harm or battle, it’s sole purpose was for rituals like it attended now.

“In the name of Satan I call forth the demons who rule marriage and lust. Astaroth, Furfur, Hathor, and Ishtar. Saleous, Uvall, and Vassage. Be here and forge this union like fire forges the blade. Demons of the deep, accept this gift of blood.” For all that Samara hated the man, Blackwood could command his power like no Warlock she’d met. His voice reverberated throughout the Church and demanded unerring attention. 

Samara kept her focus off of him and instead continued to look at the visage of her Aunts. Aunt Hilda stood proudly by Aunt Zelda’s side. She made eye contact with Samara and her grin grew bigger. Samara could tell she wanted to wave, but couldn’t break the ritual. Aunt Zelda looked regal and proud. Her head craned high and a pillar of beauty. Her gaze was locked ahead. Samara knew that her Aunt was nervous and this was why she refused to glance around the crowd.

She saw the girl that had walked up the aisle take the dagger from Aunt Zelda. Samara watched with dispassion as she slit the throat of a dead animal and let it bleed into the chalice below it. As she handed the chalice to Blackwood, his words once again rang through the air.

“My bride and I will fortify our physical bodies with the blood of this sacrificed being.” Faustus and Zelda each took a sip from the chalice. Samara held in a squirm at the thought of having to drink straight blood. 

“The hand of my bride will now be sheathed with mine under the skin of a mortal. Hilda.” Samara’s Aunt Hilda wrapped the piece of flesh around Aunt Zelda and Faustus’ hands. Samara wrinkled her nose as she could hear the flopping and squelch of the flesh.

“Now, Sister Zelda, in the name of Satan, you shall respect me, obey me and submit to me. As Lilith served Satan, so will you serve me. You will forsake all others, lift me up and exalt me for all eternity. And now by the onholy power invested in me-” Samara felt her teeth grind at how misogynistic the vows were. But before Blackwood could finish his vows he was interrupted.

“Murderer!” Samara whipped around at the familiar voice that shouted. She felt all the blood in her body rush towards her feet and her chest seized with grief and disbelief. Her believed dead Uncle and Aunt, soaked to the core with water and faces pruned almost beyond recognition, stormed through the doors of the Church. She heard mutters of astonishment around her.

“It is I, Edward Spellman, returned.”

“And I, Diana Spellman, returned.” Samara once again felt tears threaten to fall as her hand rose to her lips. Their voices were just as she remembered, even if they held anger within them now.

“I accuse Faustus Blackwood, who brought down our plane that took our lives. I accuse Faustus Blackwood who killed the Anti-Pope while he slept under the very same roof. Confess Blackwood, or face my wrath!” Edward’s voice held just as much power as Blackwood’s. Samara could sense why her Uncle was held with such great esteem. The congregation murmured around them.

“Your wrath….Indeed. You forget girl. I knew your father. And whatever the circumstances, Edward Spellman would never disrespect our ceremonies and traditions as you do. And so this petty trickery comes to an end. Detegant istos ostenderet falsa.” Where Diana and Edward once stood, now stood Sabrina and Nick. Samara felt some betrayal cross her heart. Blackwood was right for once in his life. Even though Samara despised that her Auntie was marrying the worm, never would she think to sabotage the ceremony. To do so was to only invite in bad karma. Samara knew that Sabrina was raised with better judgement and respect than what she was currently showing. 

Samara watched the shock cross her Aunts’ faces as her cousin was revealed. She too felt shock as Blackwood called for his lackeys to seize both Sabrina and Nick. Satisfaction curled within her at Nick warning the boys off to protect both him and his girlfriend.

“I am Sabrina Spellman. I shall speak and I shall be heard. You, Faustus Blackwood, are a fraud.” Sabrina’s voice rang through the Church. While Samara was irritated with her cousin’s actions, she felt a low sort of elation as her cousin called out the man.

“Sabrina, what are you saying?” Samara felt herself cringe at the barely concealed rage within her Aunt’s voice. She grasped her dress that laid against her thighs and held it within tight-knuckled fists.

“I’m sorry, Auntie. But it’s true. He killed my father and mother, and I believe he killed the Anti-Pope too.” Sabrina’s words only caused Samara’s thoughts from the night before to feel more solidified. Again the Church was a buzz with murmurs.

“And why would I have done that?”

“Because you were afraid His Eminence wouldn’t approve your repugnant, misogynistic reformations.” Sabrina spat her reply.

“Which you haven’t even read, have you? Hm. Let it be known there is no proof to any of this. Yet your very own cousin was covered in His Eminence’s blood.” 

“Ambrose Spellman is innocent!” The shout echoed throughout the Church. The silence that followed was quickly cut short by the man in questions materializing on the altar himself.

“Die Blackwood! Die!” Ambrose looked like a crazed man with blood still saturating his clothes and a dagger in hand. The girl at Blackwood’s side froze Ambrose before he could commit the act he arrived to do. Blackwoods lackeys were quick to tackle and subdue Ambrose. 

Samara jumped to her feet and began to stagger forward to help her cousin but Nick grabbed her arm before she could continue. She looked on helplessly as they escorted Ambrose out of the Church. She wanted nothing more than to free him, but his recent actions only confirmed many suspicions the Coven held. It would take an Unholy miracle to help him now.

Samara stood at her Aunt and Sabrina’s side as they sat outside the High Priest’s office at the Academy. Her black coat was draped over her arm as her other hand picked at the skin of her thumb. Her gaze was locked on the carpet before her. Her thoughts were lost in remembrance of what happened the last time she was near this office. She felt her Shadows nudging against her back that was resting against the wall. She splayed her hand against the wall in reassurance to them. Before she could get lost in thought again, her Aunt Zelda stalked out of the office.

“Congratulations. You ruined my wedding day, Sabrina.” Aunt Zelda’s eyes were full of fire. Samara felt herself shrink away and her Shadows rise to shield her. Samara never dealt well with reprimand from her family. 

“Aunt Zelda-” 

“A day of greatness for the Spellman family shall now, instead, go down infamy.” Aunt Zelda always held public image on a pedestal. She was constantly worried about how the Spellmans were perceived in the Coven.

“Where’s Ambrose, Aunt Z?” Samara kept her voice soft as she peered at her furious Aunt.

“Your cousin has been thrown in the Witch’s Cell for his treasonous crimes.” Aunt Zelda’s voice was steady but Samara could detect a small amount of sorrow for her nephew.

“No!” Sabrina cried out.

“What of Sabrina?” Aunt Hilda finally spoke. Samara stole a quick glance at her cousin before focusing back onto her Aunts.

“She and Nicholas have been expelled from the Academy of Unseen Arts. And they deserve it. It was all I could do to convince Faustus not to lock you in the dungeon too.” Aunt Zelda’s words held all the disappointment she surely felt. Samara could only imagine how upset her Aunt truly was. 

“Well at least I stopped your wedding.” Samara closed her eyes at her cousin’s words. Some tact would’ve been nice at the moment but Sabrina had always been a bit thick-headed when other’s feelings were involved. 

“Oh! Stopped it? Sabrina, Faustus and I were just married in his office.” Aunt Zelda stalked away to the office as she finished her sentence. Sabrina, Samara and Aunt Hilda all stood, shock freezing them from moving.

[varyingstorms]

     “What happened, Astaroth?” --- Voice is weary and the demon sits forward in her chair. Hand remains on his knee, though the gesture is less authoritative, instead seeking long buried familiarity. That too part of the reason for choosing this visage, reminiscent of days long passed. “I want to know the whole truth, honey, I’m too old for sugar-coated secrets and bullshit. What deal did you make, what did you have to give?” Pause lingers like melancholy on her lips, dark eyes swirling with regret as they seek his. “Don’t make me order you not to lie to me, sweetness.”

@fertilitasetmortem​ from this ask

[joshmcaleartattoo]

Illustration for the PILGRIM/ ICE DRAGON split 10” “Visage of Astaroth” on my label Yersinia Pestis Records. Pen and ink on board, digital coloring and layout, 2011. . . . #pilgrimdoom #icedragon #yetsiniapestisrecords

[ao-no-exorcist-imagines]

Hi! I think my question was: Demon king's favourite horror games xD Thank you

Mephisto:-Resident Evil-Visage-Agony-Dead RisingAmaimon:-Until Dawn-Fallout 3-Little Nightmares-OutlastLucifer:-Fatal Frame-Alien-Slender-Dead SpaceAstaroth:-Amnesia-Silent Hill-Boogeyman-Paranormal Activity

[joshmcaleartattoo]

Astaroth’s dragon on @elric_doitch based on a drawing I did in 2011 for the Pilgrim/ Ice Dragon split ep titled “Visage of Astaroth”. . . . #astaroth #astarothtattoo #sealofastaroth #lesserkeyofsolomon #pilgrim #pilgrimdoom #pilgrim doom #icedragon #icedragonband (at Ghost in the Machine Tattoo)