#This Is The Mantra; This Is My Life || {Angel Dust IC}

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(Tag Dump - Angel Dust)

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✩ { @helluvaxhazbin​​ } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } At the other’s words, Angel can’t help but laugh. Shoulders shake as he sputters with the soft sound, genuinely joyous unlike the harsh or fake laughter he often has to spout in an effort to keep up some facade. But around Stolas, noises and actions are far more natural, less guarded. Lightly shaking his head with amusement, a hand idly twirls chest feathers around a finger, delicate digits then sliding through to rest his palm flat against Stolas,  ❝  Well, fer one thing... Ya jus’ called it lovemakin’.  ❞  

An accurate name, but one he’s never heard before.

Shuffling against Stolas, head rests against his chest as Angel curls up against the other’s larger body, nestling into his warmth with a content sigh,  ❝  That’s what it FEELS like, though... Lovemakin’, I mean.  ❞  Eyes close, face turning to better bury into comfortable plumage, words becoming slightly muffled,  ❝  I can tell that you actually care ‘bout me. That it means more ta you than jus’ gettin’ off... An’ when we’re done, I don’t—  ❞  Hand softly clutches feathers,  ❝  —I don’t feel disgusted wit’ myself.  ❞  

❝  ... I feel happy when I’m wit’ you, th’ entire time.  ❞  { ☆ }

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Angel has stolas ever had you suck his dick?

{ ☆ } Lying on the owl’s bed as if he OWNS it, Angel absentmindedly flips through a magazine— appreciating as well as critiquing some of the latest fashions; with a melding pot of time periods like Hell is, the fads are always interesting and wonderfully controversial —barely offering even a glance at the question. He’s accustomed to ones like it... and frankly, it’s far from the crudest or most personal one he’s gotten. Hell, he once had someone ask if he—

But that’s neither here nor there.

❝  I’ve had a taste of that bird dick once or twice~  ❞  Angel muses, licking his finger a bit slower than necessary, before using it to flip a page. Humming at the clothes he is met with, the silence drags on for a bit, as if the curious soul doesn’t even exist. Or more accurately, isn’t worth being TREATED like such. Licking another finger, gaze heavily-lidded as tongue glides across the slim digit, page is flipped yet again, Angel popping his lips a few times before finally adding—

❝  But he didn’t HAVE me do it..... I offered to~  ❞  { ☆ }

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✩ { @amarantesstars​​ } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } Doing the—

Cue a very skeptical and confused spooder demon. 

❝  Is that some kinda old-timey sex thing? ‘Cause it ain’t ringin’ any bells, babe.  ❞  

❝  Eh, whateva’ it is, I’m sure it ain’t nothin’ I couldn’t handle.  ❞  { ☆ } 

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{ ☆ } ❝  People who don’t think nerds are th' shit are jus’ intimidated ‘cause their dicks are th’ same size as their IQ...  ❞  Is he talking about the nerds' dicks or the nay-sayers? ... Doesn’t matter. Either way his point is suitably devastating. { ☆ }

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{ ☆ } Tired... 

The days leading up to Valentine’s Day are always progressively worse until the bombshell of a holiday. Leaving the spider feeling as if he’s running a marathon up to it, sprinting without respite... or maybe walking a death march. Either way, he’s exhausted, his make-up is ruined, and his formerly-cute outfit has seen better days.

But hey... at least he’s done for the day. Yaaaaaaaaaay~

Plopping down onto the couch, back against the arm rest and elbows atop, a boot lifts to the seat cushion while the other hangs limply over the edge. Lightly drumming his fingers, knee bounces and a lower hand fiddles with the torn lace of his dress’s waistband. Damn; he really liked this outfit too... Oh well. At least he made decent bank today for Val.

One less thing to worry about... He oughta be happy about it, he supposes.

After all, he’s got the whoooole rest of the day to do as HE pleases.

 ❝  Heh... Happy Birt’day ta me~  ❞  { ☆ }  

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Starter for - ✩ { @hcppyhotel​​​​​​ } ✩

{ ☆ }  ❝   Nah, Husky... Ya ain’t dreamin’.  ❞  Angel says with a chuckle as he approaches the bar counter, decked in an ensemble that’s surprisingly even more risqué than he usually graces the public with. Reminiscent of something belonging in a shoot rather than the ‘rehabilitation’ hotel, Angel sashays along as casually as if he were draped in an oversized sweater; virgin-killer or not.  ❝  I’m really here an’ I’m really wearin’ THIS getup...  ❞  He continues, a hand motioning at his chest and smile more amused than sultry,  ❝  My otha’ clothes had ta get left behind durin’ my great escape— probs makin’ some schmuck BIG bucks on th’ market by now —an’ lemme tell ya...  ❞

Sitting down on the barstool in a fluid motion, curves bouncing and back arched in a manner that is unfair in NORMAL circumstances, he rests his arms on the counter and leans forward, draping his upper half over the surface. Voice hushed as if telling some great secret, lids lower and eyes narrow as he playfully purrs,  ❝  I am not exactly in th’ mood ta trek all th’ way back ta my room ta change wit’out gettin’ a taste of somethin’ hard first~ ...  ❞  

Abruptly leaning away, he lightly taps the counter with a pointer finger and pipes with a wink,  ❝  So how ‘bout givin’ me a stiff one, ey Kitty?  ❞  { ☆ }

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{ ☆ }  ❝  Y’know.....  ❞  Angel nods at the portrait of Lucifer, not bothering to give it a glance but looking over at the person beside him as he states—

❝  He lets ME call ‘im Daddy too~  ❞  { ☆ }   

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💉💉 alastor to angel

- ✩ { @hazbinxdisaster​ } ✩

✩ { Meme } ✩

{ ☆ } Angel doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry... True, he’s already done plenty of both— even if the spider still refused to let himself completely break in front of the over-enthusiastic and incredibly stupid pieces of shit that managed to get the drop on him. Although to his merit, not everyone who attacked had walked away from the ambush afterward. Even as tears cascaded down his face, flowing from the agony and ‘amusing’-irony of it all, Angel never stopped mocking his captors, be it raucous laughter or a mere chuckle... He REFUSED to succumb. Refused to cease his torrent of snark and insults and blatant suggestions that they go FUCK themselves.

Needless to say, they hadn’t exactly appreciated it...

But who the fuck cares? Either way, it was going to be torment for him. The arachnid could see it in their eyes the moment those fuckers first jabbed him with a needle, fire seeming to course through his veins and steal his breath in an instant, Angel’s body tensing before spasming into abrupt darkness. It was like the hellfire promised to him, preached about by all those bible-humping posers, had suddenly been released into his very being. So yeah, definitely not on his top ten list of drugs... Weakly, Angel chuckles at his own internal coping mechanism joke, the sound broken by wretched coughing as the taste of iron coats his dry throat, pink blood splattering onto the ground and dripping down his chin, discolored and thicker than it should be.

Gross.

Grimacing at the vile taste covering his tongue, Angel resists the urge to spit it out, not wanting to waste what little hydration still lingers in him. Mind over matter, mind over matter. His body may be weak, battered and bruised and begging for an end... but his mind is— ... Another bitter chuckle as the thought ‘strong as ever’ flits by like an insult, Angel wondering whether he could ever REALLY have considered it such. Especially as of late. Eh, maybe this is just what he gets... His punishment for humoring the idea that he might possibly be able to go clean. This is Hell, after all... about time it started ACTING like it.

What does that say about him? Having actually preferred things , fucked up as they are, to what his living reality was. Preferring the abuse to the secrecy... The vices to the struggling... The lie to the truth. To the knowledge that he’s still the same terrified little dandy he always was, just perhaps a bit better at swapping out different masks to conceal it, instead of being forced to only use one. At least his old man taught him all he needed to know about handling situations like this one. Swallowing thickly, head lolls down as if too heavy to lift, Angel taking a moment to just focus on his breathing... God, his head is swimming. Kinda hard to forget a lesson given to you by example. It takes all he has just to keep from stumbling deep into incoherent ramblings, grasping into any semblance of a ‘thought’ he can.

His pop may have been an ass, but Angel has to give it to him... he made sure he knew how to take a beating. Tongue swipes across his lips, fur cracked and matted with dried blood and bile, Angel barely aware of the revulsion that arises... Maybe he ought to have some gratitude towards Val too, for knocking him around all those times. For getting his body accustomed to misuse, for getting HIM accustomed to pain... Even if being able to ‘handle’ it doesn’t prevent it from sucking a big fat—

Huh... It’s starting to get kinda cold again.

Straining against his restraints once more, he feels the coarse fibers BITE into skin, enticing more blood from where it had already dug beneath now-matted fur and rubbed flesh raw. Warmth drips down his wrists, Angel faintly wondering if Val’s handprints from before the ordeal— how many days has it been now? —have been scrubbed away by his frantic movements. Cleansed, as it were... Wincing as he gives a final tug, Angel then slumps against the chair once more, satisfied with the throbbing pain in his arms and stinging sensation around his wrists. Something to FOCUS on... Something to keep him grounded... Which is a lot better than when things start to become numb, hazy... dulled.

Fidgeting for a few more moments, eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to cease the room’s disoriented movements. Drugs or exhaustion, he can’t tell... but it needs to cut that shit out. Needs to stop the nausea from arising, needs to save what little food may still be inside his stomach... Swallowing thickly, body shudders as he wonders how long it’ll be before his captors return. Time is a fickle thing, but he’s learned to read his body’s warning signs. Drugged out of his mind with all manners of toxins, he feels them waning... It’s almost time for more. Of everything. Feels the trembles returning, his sweat-dampened body flushing with waves of heat and chills... It’s getting hard to breathe. Hard to think. To even EXIST. 

Why is he holding on so hard anyway? What is it all for? Stubbornness? Pride? Some deep-seeded instinct that recoils at the thought of death? Hadn’t stopped him before. Or is it something even more PATHETIC... Just the thought of drugs entering his system again?

The door opens with a rusty creak, a sliver of light slipping into the dingy darkness, illuminating the spider tightly fastened to a chair. A lone spot of dulled rose-white and pink, in a damp and suffocating atmosphere... True as clockwork, the only way Angel has to feel some passage of ‘time’. Forcing a defiant smile onto his face, curling with a slow, painful crawl, lips cracked and teeth stained with fresh blood— when had he bitten his lip? —he emits a soft breath, and weakly says,  ❝  Heh... Missed me alread—  ❞  

Gaze raises expecting to see one of his tormentors, but what he is met with is... a surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t be? With a mind too fogged to properly put together what he is feeling and a body too weak to coherently say it— if he could even understand it himself —all Angel can do is blink dumbly, as if expecting the figure in the doorway to disappear at any moment. And when he doesn’t, all the spider can do is breathe—

❝  Oh...  ❞  

So that’s why he was holding on so hard. { ☆ }

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Angel your stripping skills are so good you've made many guys realize they're gay. That's real talent right there.

{ ☆ } At the stranger’s words, a smug grin is quick to stretch across Angel’s face, the spider reclining on a posh chair. One leg slowly crossing over the other, legs spreading out a bit more than necessary during the action, a finger presses against his cheek, arm propped up on the armrest by an elbow, as he replies with a flutter of his lashes,  ❝  Awwwww~ Ain’t that nice of you ta say...  ❞  Words flow out in a purr that’d send shivers up near-any guy’s spine, heavily-lidded gaze capable of awakening someone right then and there.

❝  But it’s more than jus’ talent, babe.  ❞  He adds with a wink, before giving a small shrug, gaze averted and words hinted with laughter,  ❝  I mean- Okay, yeah... Talent has a lot ta do wit’ it. I got natural talent out th’ ass, an’ these looks—  ❞  Motioning at himself with one hand, he dramatically reclines on his seat so that his legs are draped over an armrest, head on the other.  ❝  —are a pretty big help too~  ❞  Rolling over into his stomach, legs kick in the air as he waves his hand, daintily flicking a wrist,  ❝  But I gotta practice my ass off too, y’know! Pole dancin’ an’ strippin’ is an art, an’ art takes DEDICATION an’ sufferin’.  ❞  

❝  You can’t do th’ things I do, an’ especially not as GOOD as I do ‘em, unless yer hittin’ that pole durin’ yer free time too.  ❞  Not that Angel minds it; under the right circumstances, practicing is actually quite therapeutic... A way for him to reclaim the pole, the act, as something for himself. ONLY himself. { ☆ }

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{ ☆ } Don’t mind him, he just... thinking. Worrying. Lips pursing and arms crossed, fingers lightly drum against his arms as he muses aloud, not particularly to anyone... but at the risk of being overheard,  ❝  Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ wantin’ ta be someone’s favorite. Wantin’ ta be someone’s- eh, y’know... their person... Ta be— ... shit, ta be SOMETHIN’. Ta be th’ thing- ugh, one...  ❞  Not a thing. Never a thing. Well, for a long time that seemed to be the best he could get... To be VALENTINO’S most prized thing. Shitty as it is, it’s a place of importance.

Of ‘WORTH’... But is it wrong to still want something more? To think believe hope he deserves it? Even if he’s already been allowed far more than he ever thought he’d get... Is it—

❝  It ain’t selfish ta wanna be above everythin’ an’ everyone... Jus’ fer at least ONE person.  ❞  Especially if that’s how much that means to him. Although it sure sounds it.   ❝  An’ if it IS, well... fuck. I ain’t neva’ claimed ta be some kinda saint.  ❞  { ☆ }

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{ ☆ }  ❝  This is your final boarding call... All aboard~  ❞  

❝  Pack your bags... Sun’s out. 

❝  Take a vacay, babe. Take it straight to bone town~  ❞  { ☆ }

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✩ { @helluvaxhazbin​​​​​​ } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } Poor Jerry... Surprising as it may be to most, Angel is familiar with the concept of overthinking things. One doesn’t live the life— or afterlife —he has without getting stuck in their own head quite a bit. However, sex is one of the few things where Angel can feel in control... as long as he’s not with a certain Rat Bastard. Can feel confident in what he knows, in what his body is doing and how he is affecting the other person. When his mind can shut the fuck up and let him ENJOY himself, be it by feeling smug about what he’s doing to his partner...

Or actually liking what his partner is doing to HIM.

❝  C’mon, babe... I-I know you can do it...  ❞  Angel breathes when Jerry voices his concern, body squirming slightly as a shaky breath escapes him,  ❝  I’ll let ya know if I don’t feel good anymore...  ❞  He soothes, a soft groan slipping free as the pace starts to quicken, his nerves lighting up at the increased friction. It’s hardly what he’d consider ‘really’ giving it to him, but at least he’s starting to feel like he’s actually being fucked rather than teased.  ❝  B-But yer sure makin’ me feel SO GOOD right now, baby... So- So fuckin’ good~  ❞  

Moaning in response to Jerry’s, body shudders in tandem, muscles clenching tightly around the other’s thick cock. Head angles back to further expose his neck, inviting warm and wanting kisses as his body flushes with heat at Jerry’s thrusts. Feeling fingers digging into his hips, Angel gasps when a thrust hits his prostate, a shaky cry escaping,  ❝  Ah, f-fuck... Yes... YES~  ❞  A lower hand fumbles for his dick, grasping the pink shaft— throbbing and starting to drip with pre in appreciation of the increased fervor —and giving it a firm squeeze.  ❝  That’s it, Jer... K-Keep goin’...  ❞  Rubbing grows faster, Angel starting to jack himself off in time with his partner’s movements.  ❝  Doesn’t that- hgngngnn... Doesn’t that feel amazin’, baby?  ❞

❝  Yer makin’ us BOTH feel fuckin’ amazin’...  ❞  Another moan slips free, louder and more desperate as his stroking speeds up in a subconscious plea for Jerry to do the same. Even as he tries to control himself, the spider can’t help but quietly groan,  ❝  Pound me inta th’ fuckin’ mattress~  ❞  { ☆ }       

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{ ☆ } Just... thinks about Extermination Day and where he’s expected to stay during it. { ☆ }

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✩ { @helluvaxhazbin​​ } ✩ - Continued from ★

{ ☆ } ❝  Well, then...  ❞  A quirk of his brow as he leans over and bluntly states,  ❝  Guess tonight ain’t gonna be any different than every otha’ time I’m wit’ ya.  ❞ { ☆ }