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#air lift performance
notomoto · 2 years
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A LBWK Lambo Huracan is what you need.
Shot for LibertyWalk Jpn.
Shot by @igelphotography / @notomoto
Built by LT Motorwerks
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I don’t know why, but I feel in my SOUL that Wrecker and Crosshair have memorized at least one choreographed dance.
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giantkillerjack · 1 year
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Y'ALL last night i spent a total of 2 minutes tops on my appearance and then went to a lesbian bar full of attractive people anyway, got up onstage during an event about sharing stories of queer joy, openly wept almost the entire time I was up there, and I STILL managed to give a good performance and come away feeling charming!
And THEN a troupe of improv actors and a pianist put on a short and very sweet sketch based on what I had said about the joy of seeing elder Trans folk in public as a disabled Trans person.
And I hope the queer elder I saw there really felt that love especially. I felt the troupe's performance really did me justice, and it was so beautiful.
But also, y'all, I was still able to crack jokes that got the whole room laughing WHILE I WAS CRYING!!! - A skill I'm just realizing I probably polished while I was in intensive group trauma therapy lol. Shout out to all my fellow IOP/PHP buckaroos in the chat!
and the best part about this little performance of mine? My most favorite-est proudest little detail?
It was easy. It was EASY!?!?!? IT WAS EASY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As in, the words I wanted came so naturally that I was able to deliver them with excellent timing on split-second judgment!!!!
Do you know what that means to me??? Oh I am so proud of this little Jack here! He who worked so so hard for a thing like that! I worked so much and for so long, and I shall - no, I MUST - celebrate the precious joy and pride of having achieved this childhood dream!
Oh to tell Younger Jack that he would be able to do such a thing one day! That sweet anxious confused child would feel such relief just to know it can be done! What a wonderful victory! It felt so good!
Life is fucking hard and dreams can come and go, but I can say that in this way at least I have become the kind of person I always dreamed I would be. ❤
AND I know that if I had rolled low on my charisma throw [i.e. made a social mistake] - which I have done, often do, and SHALL AGAIN [see profile picture] - I could have brushed it off with the ease of an old actor who knows that performance has only ever been the business of consensually making oneself look like a fool!
.... Or perhaps I would have processed my mistake with the knowledge of a fellow who has been to enough poetry slams to know that a kind and loving audience in a vulnerable safe space generally just responds to a performer's nervousness/awkwardness/difficulty communicating by rooting for them! I knew I was in a space where people wanted to see me do well, and that helped a lot. Bless those people for making that space. ❤❤❤
This post is not focused on my many MANY grateful and loving emotions about elder queers because, as I may have mentioned, I've sort of already expressed a lot of feelings about that for one 24-hour period. 😅
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ohproserpine · 4 months
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i. deer dolly
part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love
"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"
"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"
“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”
“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”
"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"
"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."
Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."
Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."
"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him. 
Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~" 
Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"
Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."
Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."
"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.
Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."
"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."
“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”
Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."
“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”
"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”
.
Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town. 
A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.
It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.
Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers." 
Charming. 
With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman. 
Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow. 
As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.
"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"
"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"
‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'
"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”
Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."
Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.
"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.
Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.
Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.
"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.
The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.
Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.
As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.
"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"
Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"
"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.
In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.
Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale
The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.
He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.
She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around
As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.
“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.
Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.
The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.
"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”
With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.
‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.
Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.
There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features. 
“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile. 
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.
"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.
Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "
"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."
A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.
"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"
"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."
Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."
“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.
With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.
Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead. 
This man could fucking dance.
As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.
"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.
"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."
After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.
"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.
Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."
While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.
As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose. 
What were you doing to him?
"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"
Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.
"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.
Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."
Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.
Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.
However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.
"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."
Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.
Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.
"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout. 
"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."
Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"
He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.
"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"
“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.
“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.
Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."
You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."
Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.
"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said. 
Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.
"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.
With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit. 
Yes, he shall see you very soon.
Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."
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some-bunniii · 4 months
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Lucifer breaks your deal with Alastor
・❥ Your soul is owned by Alastor, and Lucifer is not pleased about it.
x: OVER 20k words!? strap in ya’ll, it’s a roller coaster.
xx: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. if you want to read it in chapter-form, you can read it over on my ao3 here.
warnings: adult themes, abuse, angst
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‘Alright, deep breaths. You’ve got this. You’ve practiced this so much it’s a cakewalk, so just take it easy. You’ll rock it, like always.’
“Oi! Welcome to the show, ya dirty sinners! Didn’t think ya’d see me all the way up here, did’ja?!”
Screams and cheers echoed from the seats below, as the voice of the King of Greed boomed from the loudspeakers. 
"Well, listen up, ya pitiful souls! I've got a craving for some more cash, so I've decided to bring the whole shebang right here to the heart of sin, Pentagram City!"
The cheering erupted once more, the spotlights danced across the sandy pit underneath the large circus tent. On the perimeter were rows and rows of stands, packed with demons nestled against each other.
It was Mammon’s first circus show in the Pride Ring, a very rare sight to see him leave his cozy little ring in general. But, when a good portion of your fans are sinners who can’t leave without being incinerated, then you have to receive them on their home turf.
In the large pit, two lions jumped obediently through hoops, their handlers shouting commands and cracking their whips to further spur the cat’s maneuvers.
Bright green flame danced around the lion’s faces, resembling that of a large mane. Their eyes were soulless, black pits that glimmered in the bright lights as they continued maneuvers through the tight obstacles.
On the edges of the pit, support poles towered above the crowd. Thin wires snaked across them, anchored to large platforms that hung in the air from the pole’s side.
“As ya can see, we’ve got a big show tah’night! Lots of great fuckin’ acts for ya mongrels to eat up. But, before we get to the juicy bits, direct your eyes up to the ceiling to get a look at our first performance!” 
Hundreds of gazes lifted to sky, the spotlights below beaming upward towards a platform at one end of the tent.
Bright, white lights hit your vision, and you squinted your eyes to prevent them from burning to a crisp from the focused beams.
You stood, your bare feet planted firmly against the platform’s white surface. Before you, a tightrope connected your place to another platform in the distance, beckoning you.
A small hoop hung from the ceiling, encircling a small portion of the wire. The trick was that it was too small for you to stand up straight while walking through it, so you’d need to limbo underneath it.
"As you can see, we've got some sorry sap up there that is about to practically walk on thin air! See that hoop over there? They're fixin' to stroll right through it."
Small ooh’s and ahh’s emanated from the crowd, their eyes darting from you to the hoop.
"But hold your horses, folks! That ain't your run-of-the-mill hoop, no sir! That, my friends, is a hoop on fuckin’ fire!!”
Suddenly, the hoop ignited in a burst of green flames, illuminating the area before you. Gulping, you took another deep breath, steadying yourself.
Okay, well, you knew that was gonna happen. You’ve just never actually practiced with the hoop on fire, but it shouldn’t be too hard.. right?
You nodded to yourself, assuring your racing thoughts that everything was gonna be alright.
The skin-tight suit you were wearing sparkled in the spotlight, dazzling the spectators with a red gleam as you hovered right over the edge of the platform, waving to the crowd. 
You had been performing ever since you could remember, and this was just another part of the job. You weren’t a part of Mammon’s original crew though, only being given the opportunity when they arrived at Pentagram City.
You were a Sinner, which meant being confined to the Pride Ring just like the rest. Fortunately, one of Mammon’s acrobats was too sickly to perform, so when you saw the large poster detailing auditions, you jumped at the opportunity to make some extra bucks.
You had arrived at the settled convoy of vehicles and trailers at the outskirts of the city, you were ecstatic. You hadn’t performed in an actual circus in forever, and the make-shift village of performers and equipment was a fresh sight.
Mammon himself was a… colorful character. He was a hard party rocker with a big ego, and most likely had a swear jar at home overflowing with pennies, with how that guy talked.
You hadn’t really met him when you auditioned, but you could definitely hear him. He was loud, practically demanding everyone’s attention even when he wasn’t addressing them. 
You could hear him yelling about an absent performer, annoyance evident in his voice as he berated an assistant.
"What do ya mean he couldn't make it to practice 'cause he lost his voice? He's a bloody mime, mate! What the hell are we payin’ these blokes for!?"
When you had performed for the recruiters—which you were surprised to find wasn’t Mammon, since the guy seemed to stick his nose in everything—you displayed to them your . A few somersaults, a bit of ariel silk action, and the classic, juggling. 
“How good is your balance?” One of them had questioned, their pen tapping softly against the wooden desk, as they considered your skills.
“Good enough, I suppose.” You replied truthfully.
Long story short, you got the gig. Although, when you heard they wanted you to tightrope under a hoop, that was a little surprising. 
Good thing you weren’t afraid of heights, or this would have been a nightmare.
Backing away from the edge, your gaze rested on the hoop aflame in front of you. After Mammon would finish speaking, you’d begin your act.
"But that ain't the only thing heating up tonight, folks."
Wait, what did he mean by that?
“‘Cause the tightrope… is also on fire!!!” 
What?!
The crowd went berserk hearing that. They whooped and hollered, as their twisted little fantasies came true before their eyes.
“Oh, god damnit, Mammon!” You muttered.
When you told them you had a pretty good pain tolerance, that did not mean resistance to fire!
You sighed, it was a little too late to back out now. Plus, you needed the money. Bouncing on your toes, you attempted to hype yourself up.
Exhaling a large breath, your foot lifted from the stand, and slowly reached out towards the tightrope. 
‘Fuck, this is going to hurt.’ you groaned internally, your toe just inches from the wire. You could feel the heat of the fire as it hungrily licked at your feet. 
Right as you were about to place yourself onto the wire, you felt something tugging at the back of your collar. 
It was deathly cold, and you tried to pull away from its touch, but whatever was holding you had a strong grip. A thick green fog-like substance pooled at your feet, and you looked down in confusion as it began to circle around your figure.
You felt the force on your collar harshly pull you backwards, and your feet lifted from the ground. The smoke became so thick in front of you, it was only the bright lights from the spotlights below that gave you any visual. Suddenly, large eyes began to dot your vision, staring directly at you, into your hollow being.
“What the fu-”
Darkness suddenly covered your vision, and you felt like you were floating in mid-air. Though, you couldn’t tell where exactly in the air you were, other than the fact the surface below you had completely vanished.
You tried to peel your eyes open, but whatever had thrusted you into this chilling realm would not let you get a glimpse of your surroundings. It wasn’t until you felt your feet hit firm ground, and a much less intense light hit your eyelids. You opened them slowly, your mouth still partially open.
“-ckkkk?” You finished, your eyes darting from one side of the mysterious room to the other. It looked strange.. to say the least. It was old, a little run down. It screamed tacky. 
You observed the room again, trying to find anything familiar that could gauge your location.
Were you in a hotel lobby? But, why? How? You’ve never been here before, nor did you know anyone who stayed at such a dump.
“Ah, there you are, my friend! What a pleasure to see you!”
You pivoted sharply to face behind you, and your eyes widened in shock at the familiar face.
Standing before you, a large toothy-grin plastered across his face, was Alastor. The owner of your soul, your eternal boss, the Radio Demon, and the butt end of most of your unfunny jokes—which you would never dare say in front of him.
“You!”
Your finger lifted, pointing accusingly at the tall, red demon. He only tilted his head amusingly at you, that smile only growing wider as you frowned.
“Yes, it is I. I’m glad you remember my face, how are you today?” 
“What do you want?” You grumbled, ignoring his question. You crossed your arms before taking a step back. There were others behind him, but it was Alastor you were focused on as you waited for his response.
“Oh, just some charity work. My new friends over here are in need of some more helping hands, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services!” 
He motioned to the others behind him, and you glanced at the strangers. One of them was a woman with long, platinum-blonde hair, who smiled awkwardly at you with a wave. 
“That’s great!” You replied sarcastically, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “but couldn’t you wait until after my gig? I was about to make some good money!”
Alastor only sidled up to you, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his cheek as if you two were best friends. You wanted to recoil from his touch, but you knew you’d get nothing good out of that action. 
“Oh, I am terribly sorry about that, my friend. But, we do have an agreement, as I'm sure you are well aware. Which means, for the time being, you’ll be living here at the hotel!”
Of course you were aware of the “agreement”, the guy had your soul! 
“What hotel?”
“The Hazbin Hotel! What do you think about the name, hm? I came up with it myself!” 
“It’s kind of lame.” 
“Oh-ho! You are such a charm, my dear! I can always count on you to liven up the room with your jokes.”
You sighed, uncrossing your arms and lowering them to your sides in defeat. You were stuck here, with Alastor, until he no longer needed your presence. As always.
“I still would have appreciated a call beforehand or something.” 
“Take my arrival back in the city as the call, my friend. My return was no doubt discussed by many. You knew I’d acquire your assistance at some point.”
Yes, that’s right. Alastor had been gone a good, what, seven years? It was strange, how he had just disappeared without a word or any kind of clue to his location. Where had he gone? Why was he being so secretive about it?
You didn’t miss him, of course. His absence was a mini vacation for you, a break from endless favors that he deemed you worthy to complete. What a joke.
“Now, why don’t we go and introduce you to all these fantastic fellows, hm?” He spoke, a command deep in his static-laced tone.
You turned back towards the small group of demons, who stood a few feet away silently as the two of you bickered. Standing slightly away from the rest, was a familiar furry face. Husker. He was here too? 
Nudging you forward with his cane, you walked up to the onlookers, who regarded you with a mixed expression. The shorter gray lady stood glaring at you with suspicion, her eyes darting between you and Alastor.
Beside her, was that pretty pale-faced demon in the red tuxedo. She smiled broadly at you, her eyes practically gleaming in excitement at seeing the multiple new faces.
“Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! I'm so glad to have you aboard!” 
“..Hi, it’s good to meet you too.”
“Let me introduce you to our crew! Over there is my girlfriend, Vaggie!”
She motioned towards the shorter gray woman, and you looked at her more carefully. She had an X across her eye, barely visible with the long hair she situated across half her face. She still eyed you with suspicion, but her demeanor had softened as Charlie spoke to you.
“And, over there is Angel Dust, our first resident of the hotel!”
“How ya doing, Sugar?” Angel winked at you, as he leaned against the bar counter. Husk stood behind the counter, a thin line on his lips.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with Husker and Niffty, right?” 
You nodded, your gaze meeting Husk’s. His eyes softened just a teeny bit, before he let out a hmph and turned away towards the shelves of bottles against the wall.
Your attention turned back to Charlie, as she began filling you in with the details about the hotel and her plans.
She seemed like a sweet girl, passionate and imaginative. When she described her dreams to you, for the hotel, for the entirety of Hell, you listened carefully.
Sinners.. being redeemed? Going to Heaven? That seemed too good to be true. Unbelievable, almost. Sure, some of the demons down here weren’t too bad, but surely none of them were good enough to actually climb to the pearly gates. 
Charlie seemed… different from other dreamers, though, like she could actually get it to work. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made you think so. Maybe it was because she was the princess of Hell, and was the second highest on the food chain of this damned place.
You were lucky with how down-to-earth she was, or your bluntness would have probably gotten you smited by now.
In comparison to Charlie, you were a nobody. Well, you were nobody in general. You didn’t own anything of value, not even your soul.
Charlie didn’t act like a princess though. Such as how she spoke to you, and her friends. No command in her tone, no true motives behind layers of smiles and sweetly spoken lies. 
If she was the owner of your soul, maybe life wouldn’t be so bad. She treated everyone fairly, without judgment of who they used to be. Only dreaming of who they could be.
Was the King of Hell the same? How much did Charlie mirror her father, anyway? 
“So.. what can you do?” Charlie broke you from your thoughts, she was turned to you, her gaze meeting yours intently as she waited for you to respond.
“Well, I'm a performer! Mostly aerobatics, but I can dance and other tricks. Oh! I’m also a crowd-pleaser, i’m a really smooth talker.”  
“That’s ssooooo cool! You do that kind of stuff, like, in the circus?”
“Mostly, yes. Any odd jobs I can find looking for my skill set, really. I’m not picky when it comes to money.”
Charlie contemplated your words for a moment, her eyes darting. She’s already got a bartender and a cleaning lady, but where to put you…
“I’m also fantastic at pick-pocketing.” You grinned pridefully at her. It was something you were very good at, and that you had continued to perfect during your time in Hell.
It was also what led you to make that wretched deal with Alastor. 
“Oh.. um, let’s stick with your other skills, hm?” Charlie smiled awkwardly, before she turned her head, and her eyes landed on an empty desk situated near the large entrance doors. 
She perked, her eyes widening in glee as she spun around towards you. 
“That’s it! You can be our new receptionist! You’ll answer calls and greet all our newcomers, and you’ll be in charge of making sure all our guests are well taken care of during their stay.”
Your smile faltered, your gaze resting on the desk behind Charlie before meeting her eyes once more. You chuckled like she had just told you a good joke. Except when your eyes met hers again, she only smiled at you in anticipation.
Wait, was she serious?
“I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your hands up and shaking your head, “but that is not something i’m good at nor-“
“Well I think it’s a splendid idea!” Alastor appeared besides you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His claws dug slightly into your suit, and you whipped your head up, eyeing him with animosity. 
His eyes were squinted, a glare behind that wide grin. ‘Stay in line, or else.’ was his silent command. You scrunched up your nose, ready to argue, but the intellectual part of your brain smacked you upside the head. 
Your shoulders drooped, that frown deepening before you turned to Alastor. You pulled your shoulder from his grip, and looked at Charlie. 
“Fine.”
And, that’s how it was for a time. 
There wasn’t much to do, in all honesty. As the months ticked by, you sat at that desk drowning in boredom. The people at the hotel were lively, but the job? Not so much.
While Alastor was the face, you were the paperwork. Although, he barely acted like it, which meant you took most of the work. 
There were barely any phone calls, any new visitors, anything new at all really. So, you instead filled your days with walking around the hotel, observing the rooms of any renovations that Alastor could make, or you’d write shopping lists for groceries and other miniscule items for the crew, and going out yourself to shop. 
There was that one demon, the snake inventor, that had become a resident during your time working. You had been there, when he attacked Alastor on the hotel’s doorstep. Your mouth agape as you watched him tear a piece of your boss’s suit, waiting for the snake to meet his death.
He didn’t, surprisingly. Instead, he had arrived not too long after apologizing. Which was shocking, and.. eye opening. 
Could Charlie’s dream come true? Alastor spoke of it as if it would turn into nothing but a failure. You had believed him, but now, that doubt was fading from your mind.
Could.. there be a chance for you too? 
You had mentally slapped yourself for that thought. You, redeemed? With no soul, you were trapped here. Only ever being able to watch from the sidelines as those more worthy ascended. 
Thoughts like that only came when you had drank a little too much. Finger mindlessly circling the rim of your wine glass, brow furrowed as you lamented over your poor decisions, you’d sit at the bar in silence late at night.
Nobody bothered you during those times, not even Alastor. No one saw the way your lip began to quiver, the way your vision blurred with tears.
No one noticed the surface of your drink disturbed with a droplet of salty sadness as it mixed with the bitter alcohol. 
‘You don’t deserve to feel sorry for yourself,’ you’d think bitterly, soaked anger spilling down your cheeks, ‘you damned yourself to eternal suffering the moment you shook that demon’s hand.’
Taking the glass, you’d lift it to your lips and empty the rest of the contents. That salty tang still hanging on your tongue when you set the glass back down.
On the worst nights, you’d simply rest your head against the countertop. The cool surface refreshing to your warm cheek, as you curled into yourself, and drifted into a restless sleep.
When you’d wake a few hours later, your blood-shot, tired eyes would open to the sight of a glass of ice-cold water and a migraine pill sitting a few feet away from your face. 
You never saw who catered to your hungover needs, but you had an inkling of a guess.
Lifting your head, you’d blink away the morning fog before sitting up straight with a groan. Slowly, you’d reach out and grab the small capsule and the water, before swallowing both in one large gulp.
Then, it was back to work as always.
Sometimes, you’d actually that phone on your desk would brnnnggg loudly, and you’d leap out of your chair to have a conversation with a fresh new voice. 
“You guys at least provide free Hash, right?” The masculine voice on the other end questioned.
“Sir, this a hotel meant for redemption. Y’know, to Heaven? We don’t have any paraphernalia here.” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you listened to the guy.
“Wait.. so you’re saying Heaven doesn’t have joints?”
“I’ve never been up there, obviously. Though I'm sure drugs are a big no-no up there.” 
“Then what the fuck is the point of wanting to go up there?! No weed? No sex toys? Fuck Heaven! Fuck you and your stupid little hotel!” 
“Choke on dick and die!” You snarled, slamming the phone back into place. You leaned back in the chair, fuming silently. The calls never ended well. 
“Good job, you’re really pulling in all those potential residents.” A sarcastic voice piped up near you.
Your head snapped to the bar across the room, your gaze resting on the black and white feline who was busy cleaning glasses on the counter. 
Standing from your spot, you stroll over to the bar, before nestling into one of the bar stools. Placing a hand under your chin, you rested your elbow against the shiny countertop.
“Pour an old friend a drink, won’t you Husk?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him. 
His soul was owned by Alastor too, and even if you didn’t know the guy too well, you felt a kinship with him. You both were hollow beings, now.
“We ain’t friends,” the demon grumbled, “I'm just stuck with you and Niffty until I kick the bucket.”
“Okay, Mr. Grumpy-Pants.” You laughed as he reached for your go-to bottle. Same old, adorably-cross Husker. 
He was getting better, though. Happier, even. The night he disappeared to go retrieve Angel Dust, he came back with a bounce in his step. Seemingly more at peace, with whatever happened between the two away from prying eyes.
Once, you swore you heard him humming some old, happy tune while he organized the liquor bottles on the shelf. Husk.. singing? That was something you thought you’d never see.
He had a very good poker face, and half the time you couldn’t tell if the kitty even liked you. He always regarded you like he was behind a closed, see-through door. Getting close to you just enough to see and speak to you, but never enough you could actually reach out and use him for support. Hopefully, he was getting better with that too.
Maybe, with how things were going, he’d let you scratch his chin one day. You always wanted to try it, see if he purred just like they did back on Earth.
“What do you think about the hotel?”  You asked him, as he popped the cap off the bottle with his claw, and began pouring a glass in front of your seat.
“It ain’t too bad,” Husk replied truthfully, “But, it could be better.”
“I agree, I was having a pretty good time out on my own before this. Guess we’ll just have to get used to it, I’m not sure how long Alastor plans to keep us here.”
“You don’t know?” 
You raised an eyebrow at the feline, as you took a sip of your drink. “No, I don’t. Why would you think I do?” 
“Well, I just assumed the two of you would discuss those kind things.”
“You think I talk to Alastor about his deceitful plans with this place?” 
“Why wouldn’t you? I mean, you two are practically the same, with your silver-tongue and all.”
You leaned back, a mixture of surprise and disgust on your face at his words. Husk thought you and Alastor were like, what, best buddies? The demon that owned your soul?
“That’s a fucking lie,” You growled, glaring at him, “I’m not like that douchebag at all. Just because I’m good at talking my way out of tough shit, doesn’t mean I use them to manipulate people into making magical deals that fuck up their entire existence.” 
Using your feet, you pushed your chair back forcefully. It scraped harshly against the wooden floor, as you stood up from the stool. You didn’t even glance at Husk as you sharply turned away, and stomped across the room.
“Thanks for the drink, Asshole.” You called as you turned the corner into a long hallway, towards your room.
You didn’t speak to Husker for a while after that, or go to the bar. Instead, you worked and kept to yourself in your room. It wasn’t until you walked into the lobby one early morning, did you see the feline.
He was standing with the rest of the crew, concern etched across their faces as they circled around a mumbling, erratic Charlie Morningstar. 
“Why isn’t the hotel working?!” You could hear her fume, as she fussed over a large tack board filled with drawings and pictures. 
It wasn’t until about a half an hour later, when Charlie had hung up the phone with her father, did you realize the day was going to get much stranger.
“Alright, guys! My dad is going to be here in one hour, so we have to make this place perfect!” She said, a nervous smile on her lips as she addressed the small crowd.
Everyone tensed, their eyes darting to each other at her words.
Charlie’s dad was coming? Lucifer Morningstar? The King of Hell?!
Suddenly, the room bursted into action. Sir. Pentious slithered to the kitchen, claiming he needed to bake sweets for Lucifer’s arrival. Charlie was practically hyperventilating as Vaggie rubbed her shoulder soothingly. 
“Aw man, I gotta go put on my new perfume!” Angel Dust yelled from the chaos, as he sped away towards his room. Husk continued wiping down the bar countertop, but a little more feverishly now. 
Alastor was the only one seemingly unchanged by the news of the king’s arrival. He only stood there grinning, as the others rushed around him, before beginning to push back his cuticles.
“I’m just going to go… put on some better clothes.” You called, unsure if anyone was even listening as they scrambled about. 
You quickly left the lobby, running to your room to clean yourself up and look presentable. Your mind raced as you did so, recalling all the rumors and gossip you’ve heard over the years.
Was he a cruel king? He couldn’t be, not with how Charlie turned out. But, with her reaction to asking for his help… that was strange. She had never spoken of him before, so it didn’t seem like they were that close.
What was he going to think of you? You’ve never stood before such an important figure, other than Charlie, but that was wayyy different than speaking to the most powerful man in the realm.
You’d just have to make him like you, to avoid any trouble. You needed to charm the King of Hell, just like you’ve done successfully with so many others.
You adjusted your appearance in the mirror, before nodding your head in self-approval. You crossed your room, pulling open the door, and making your way down the stairs. 
When you returned to the lobby, everyone was making last minute preparations. 
Sir. Pentious was busy tidying the cookies on the cooking sheet in front of him. Angel Dust was finishing hanging up the balloons around the room, while Charlie was hyping herself up in the corner.
A large banner with a handwritten message ‘It’s A Boy!’ hung from the ceiling, and you shook your head in embarrassment with a smile.
When you had made it back to the group, there was barely any time to talk before you heard a knock at the front door.
Everyone froze, and Charlie exhaled a large breath of nerves, before crossing the distance towards the door. She pulled it open, and a white hat poked from over her shoulder.
“Charlie!” 
You heard him before you saw him, and he sounded like a burst of sunshine as you watched Charlie get pulled into his bear hug.
She sputtered against his tight grip, before he finally released her. You could see the wide brim hat poking out of her figure, see that silly apple that stuck out from the top of his cane, as they talked for a few more moments.
It wasn’t until Charlie turned to face you and the rest of the crew, did you see Lucifer Morningstar’s face. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you drank in his figure.
Fuck. He was gorgeous. 
He definitely presented himself like a king, with how he stood with his back straight and head held high. He rested slightly against his cane, his interest piqued at the new faces.
As his gaze swept across the lobby, it briefly landed on you, and your heart fluttered in your chest. God, his eyes were so pretty. They were a soft, muted yellow, like buttercream. 
They held many emotions too, you could see it. There was deep sadness that never left his gaze, as if it followed him like a shadow. It was something you felt followed you too. What was his story? 
Your eyes traced the rest of his appearance, landing next on the golden strands nestled under his hat.
That platinum-blonde hair practically glowed underneath the chandelier lighting, as it curled delicately around his face. It looked so smooth and silky, like the guy had a 10-step hair care routine. It probably smelled amazing too. 
And, those cute little rosy cheek spots on the sides of his mouth, that stood out from his pale skin. If you tilted your head just right, you’d say he looked just like a cockatiel.
But, it was his smile that enraptured you. Not the fake one, that wide, awkward mess across his lips he did as a way to appeal to Charlie.
No, it was instead that warm, genuine grin that lit up his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. The smile that only appeared during tender moments, like when his daughter rubbed her cheek against his affectionately. 
You hoped he would start to smile like that more often. 
Charlie had approached your group, introducing Lucifer slowly through your companions. Your heartbeat quickened as they made their way closer to you. 
Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands together, smiling warmingly at the duo approaching. Charlie stopped, turning to her father as she began to introduce you.
“And thisss is our receptionist! They’re in charge of handling most of our inbound and outbound affairs, and in helping us capture potential residents too!” 
“And I'm doing a fantastic job at that, by the way.” You declared to the two, that smile of yours widening as you edged closer to them. You lifted your arm, extending a hand towards the fallen angel.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” 
God, could this dude get any more perfect? The closer he got, the warmer you felt your body temperature become, like he was practically the sun itself.
He regarded it for a moment, before hesitantly taking your grip. His hands were soft, but firm. The gold band on his pinkie grazed across your finger, it was cool to the touch, giving you much needed relief to the growing intensity of the heat of his grasp.
His eyes traveled up yours once more, to your eyes as they flickered between your batting lashes, and to your pretty smile that only grew wider as you leaned forward.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He spoke softly with a grin, as he looked you over. His voice was like silk, and you wanted to wrap it around yourself like a sheet. 
A stark difference to Alastor’s, who gave you a headache listening to that static overlay every time the guy opened his mouth.
“This is your first time here, right?”
“Yes, I'm just here to give my daughter the support she needs for her little project.” Lucifer nodded, glancing over to Charlie as he spoke.
“Well, I hope your opinion of the hotel has improved now that you’ve seen it in person.” 
“Oh, believe me, it has.” He assured, that nervous grin disappearing from his face, and you could see a playful smirk slowly blooming on his lips.
That was before his eyes landed on the bar at the other end of the room, his hand left yours as he turned to face it. You pulled your arm back, clenching your hand as his warmth faded from your skin.
“What in the unholy Hell is that?”
You stood up straight, as he walked closer to the bar. Only for Alastor to appear right behind him, a deadly grin on his lips as he strutted forward.
“Just some renovations we’ve had done, adds a little bit of color! Don’t you think?”
You sighed, your lips twisting into a slight frown as you watched the tension in the room escalate with every word Lucifer and Alastor exchanged. It wasn't until Charlie sidled up beside her father, that the drama got good.
“I guess that’s why they call it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?” Lucifer grinned, nudging Charlie with his elbow.
You snorted, your hand coming up to cusp your mouth at the sudden outburst. His dad joke was just so hilariously stupid—not to mention, it was pointed at Alastor, which was bonus points—you couldn’t contain the noise you made.
All eyes turned to you, and you felt sweat beading at your forehead from all the sudden attention.
Alastor still had that large toothy grin, but his eyes were squinted in a glare as his head snapped uneasily towards you. 
It was Lucifer’s gaze that captured your attention, though. He turned in surprise, as if shocked someone actually laughed at his joke. It wasn’t until he saw that the person that laughed was you, did he seem to slightly puff out his chest, a prideful grin dancing on his lips.
Heat flooded your cheeks as he sent you a mischievous wink, before his attention turned back to Alastor as the demon laughed2.
“Yes, Ha-Ha. It was actually my idea, though.” 
“Ha-Ha, well, it’s not very clever!” 
“A-Ha! Fuck you.”
You had stood to the side, as the two demons bickered and fought for Charlie’s attention. The insecurities of both became increasingly obvious to you as time went on.
Alastor, with his uneasiness that someone of much higher stature and power could take his role in the hotel. And, Lucifer, who’s relationship with his daughter was sour enough that the idea of someone replacing his role as a father caused him to short circuit.
Then, when a short, rotund woman bursted through the front doors, dressed like a flapper and fawning over Alastor, you realized even more how today was looking to be a really strange day.
Mimzy, an old friend of Alastor’s from when they were both swinging through the 20’s and 30’s back on Earth. 
You didn’t know her very well, other than she never stopped talking, and in your opinion, had an ego bigger than Alastor’s. But, you’ve been around long enough to know that whenever she came around, it was only to beg Alastor for help when she fucked up.
Your opinion of her only worsened when the wall a few feet away from you blew open less than ten minutes later. 
The chaos that ensued was even worse, as bullets began ripping through the walls of the hotel. Loan Sharks, snarling Mimzy’s name with venom, threw another explosive towards the building. 
When Alastor had suddenly arrived, shifting into his demonic form, you breathed a sigh of relief as he began to decimate the little army outside.
One of them was falling right above your head, and you tried to scramble away. 
Before it could turn you into a stain on the carpet, it suddenly jerked away, smashing into the closest wall instead. Gold sparks faded from around its wooden frame, and you turned your head to see Lucifer at the other end of the room with Charlie, his eyes trailing your form as you beelined for the opposite wall.
Another explosion rocked the lobby again, and you stumbled on your feet. A table skidded quickly across the floor, heading right for you.
The adrenaline pumping through your veins sent your body into overdrive, and you swiftly lean down, lowering your hands to meet the floor. With a powerful push, you launch yourself into a graceful somersault, your body arching elegantly over the crashing obstacle. Time seems to stretch as you execute the maneuver with precision, feeling the rush of wind against your skin as you spin through the air. Your back barely grazing the table’s surface before you landed into a roll. 
You shoot up from the ground, heart racing, a dumbstruck smile blooming across your lips at the realization you were still in one piece.
You were too preoccupied with Sir. Pentious barreling into your side; that you missed the pale face mirroring your  expression, as he watched you clear the table. 
By the time you untangled yourself from the snake demon, the dust had begun to settle in the room. Alastor had killed—or eaten—most of the Loan Sharks, and was now standing on the front lawn, cleaning bits of meat from underneath his nails.
Husk lifted his head slowly from behind the bar, eyes scanning the perimeter for danger. Mimzy crawled out from under the bar stools, before scurrying outside to speak with Alastor.
“Jesus, is everyone okay?” Angel Dust called, while Charlie was helping dust off stray pieces of rubble from Vaggie’s hair.
“HELPPPP!” Came the loud, mousy squeal from above your head. Eyes lifting to the ceiling, you see Niffty clutching a support beam with her life.
“Niffty? How the fuck did’ya get up there?!” Angel Dust yelled back, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.
It had partially dislodged from the ceiling, hanging loosely by one end. Niffty poked her head out from the side, her large eye darting across the room, as she waited for someone to come to her aid.
Your gaze traveled down from the support beam, your eyes landing on a water pipe, broken and sticking out from a large crack in the wall. It hung just perfectly in between you and Niffty, which would allow you to reach her quickly.
If you could just get a boost… aha! Your gaze lands on the partially torn couch that was scooted a few feet across the room from the explosions. If you leapt off its back, you could swing from the broken water pipe and use it to catapult yourself right next to Niffty. 
Lucifer analyzed the ceiling before turning to his daughter, smirking as he slowly lifted his cane.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got thi-“ 
“Hang on, Niff! I’m coming!” Your voice rang through the room, your footsteps echoing as you ran towards the damaged furniture. 
Taking a large leap, your feet hit the backrest of the couch. The muscles in your legs tense as you lower yourself slightly to vault forward and up, your arms shooting above your head as you close in on the pole.
Your fingers wrap around its chilling, metal surface; and with your palms snug against its frame, you swing forward, arching your body so your feet begin to lift above your head. 
You release the pole, your legs high in the air as you lift yourself up. You feel the wooden beam graze to the back of your knee pit, and you curl your legs around its base, hanging upside down.
Tensing all the muscles in your abdomen, you use the momentum to swing your legs around the beam and your butt hits the top of its base. You blink, your heart pounding in your chest as you exhale a sigh of relief.
Damn, that felt good. This was so much better than rotting at a desk all day, you really missed your old job. 
Niffty shot up next to you, wrapping her little arms around your forearm in glee.
“You came to rescue me, you’re my hero!” 
“Yeah, yeah. Just hang on, little lady.” 
You pulled her close, before getting to your feet. You lean over the edge, the only thing catching your eyes that you could use was that water pipe.
Okay, you’ve done a bit of parkour before. Piece of cake. 
You knelt slightly, before leaping from the beam. You stuck on foot out in front of you, and you felt your sole hit the top of the pipe. It was like taking a large step, as you swung your other leg forward and launched yourself with the other. 
Curling your legs, you practically cannonball into the couch. The large, plush cushions swallowed you for a moment, before spitting you back onto your feet in front of it.  
“Holy shit, ya didn’t die!” Angel Dust exhaled a sigh of relief, walking up to you. Niffty fussed in your hold, and you gently lowered her to the ground.
Niffty ran to Angel, who kneeled down to fuss over her for any injuries. You turned from the duo, before you caught sight of another figure coming forward.
“You’re an acrobat, aren’t you?” Lucifer said, a hint of astonishment in his tone as he strolled up to you, his eyes gleaming with interest.
“Yes, well, mostly. But I can do a lot of other things too.” You nodded, smiling bashfully at his facial expression.
“Wow! I mean, heh—boy, I haven’t seen anyone do that perfect of a maneuver in a long time. You looked like a ballerina up there with how strict your form was when you were swinging.”
Did Lucifer just.. compliment you? He knew about aerobics enough to make that kind of judgment on you? Man, this guy just kept getting better and better.
It should have been obvious, though. His silly red-and-white attire had struck you as familiar when you first saw him, and now you realized it was similar to the getup of a Ringmaster.
“Thank you, I've been practicing since I was young. I’ve even done a few circus acts before, and it’s always such a thrill. I'd do it over and over again without getting tired.”
“I think that’s called being an adrenaline junkie.” Lucifer teased, a playful smile on his lips. “But, really, that was good. Impressive, even.”
“Not as impressive as saving me from getting crushed by the ceiling.” 
Lucifer’s eyes widened just a tad, and he nervously adjusted his long collar, his smile turning bashful now.
“Oh, you.. you saw that?”
You nodded, “Yes, I did. Thank you. Also, your magic is just so pretty, they’re like little golden fireworks!”
Before Lucifer could speak, you leaned in closer to him. Your ear just barely grazing the brim of his hat as you smiled.
“And, I just wanted to let you know, I agree with you about the hotel name,” you inched closer to his face, your voice lowering as you spoke with a honeyed tone, “I have no doubt you would come up with a better name, Your Highness.” 
Lucifer tensed, and you thought you could see those red spots on his cheek darkening just a shade. 
He lowered his head slightly after that, his face mostly obscured by the brim of his hat. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but, was that an edge of a smile on his lips?
After a second, Lucifer cleared his throat, before lifting his head again.
“I’m glad we share the same appreciation for aesthetics. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” 
“Hey, Dad? Can I, um, speak to you? About the hotel?” Charlie spoke, approaching. A firm look on her face, as if it was rather important.
“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lucifer nodded, before turning back to you, “Again, a pleasure to meet you. I hope we get to talk again.” 
Then, he did something you never expected, he curtsied. Your eyes widened, the King, showing you such a gesture of respect? All for what, doing a few tricks in the air?
Heat creeped onto your cheeks after that, and you watched him turn away, following after his daughter. Leaving you to stew about your encounter with Lucifer for the rest of the day.
Well, your thoughts on the King of Hell definitely stayed when you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that. 
Your thoughts were still there in that lobby as you sat at your desk one afternoon, your hands organizing a large stack of papers. They had a picture of the Hazbin Hotel on them, along with words that basically screamed ‘Come check us out!’
The plan was to distribute the posters around the city.  Buildings, poles, doorways, anything that could hold a staple was your target. 
You were fiddling around in your drawer, searching for extra staples when you heard it. A gentle rapping against the front doors, which made you lift your head.
There was no one else in the lobby, not even Husk. Slowly, you walked towards the doors, and the silhouette of a hat stuck out from the bottom of the stained glass.
Is that..?
Reaching to the handle, you pull it open, and met the familiar soft, yellow gaze. His lips curved into a smile at your appearance, and he lifted his hand in greeting.
“Oh! Hello, again!” 
Fuck, he was still gorgeous. Definitely an Angel, no doubt about that. His pearlescent skin practically glittered in the red hues of the afternoon light behind him, and you averted your gaze for a moment, trying not to be blinded by his ethereal beauty.
“Your highness? I’m—ahem, well, sorry. I’m just surprised to see you back so soon. What are you doing here?”
“I'm here to see Charlie, of course!” He exclaimed, strolling right past you into the lobby. His eyes scanned the room, resting for a moment disapprovingly on the bar, before landing on the large desk. 
“Is this where you work?” He motioned towards its wooden frame, you sidled up to him, before nodding.
“Yep. Hardly move from there during the day.”
“You sit there all day? Yeesh, that’s terrible.” 
“Mhm. Pretty boring, actually.”
“Well, if you ever want a better career, I’m sure I could find you a job at LuLu World, I’ve got a circus that runs year round there.”
LuLu World? The theme park he owned? You had never been there before, but it always sounded amazing. And, he thought you’d be a great fit there too. He couldn’t have been that impressed by a few of your maneuvers. Maybe, he just needed to go to an actual circus and see the real performers.
“I’d love to, but I'm kind of stuck here.”
“Why?” Lucifer turned to you, an eyebrow raised. 
“Well, um—��� 
‘My soul is owned by the demon you have beef with, and I can’t exactly leave without his permission. I also can’t tell you this because I apparently signed an NDA too.’
“—I just want to help people! So, I made a promise that I wouldn’t leave until I made a difference. Y’know, really make an effort to improve this wonderful community!” You responded with fake cheer, clasping your hands together.
Lucifer regarded you for a moment, his fingers fidgeting against the apple on his cane as he thought.
“Oh.. well, that’s generous of you. But, someone with your skill set doesn’t deserve to rot away in a place like this, I’m sure you’d make a difference somewhere more relevant.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me, Your Highness?” You teased, your nails grazing against the desk as you walked past him, before pivoting to face him.
“What? No! Of course not, just—forget I said anything.”  He chuckled nervously, before fussing with his long collar. He seemed to do that often when
Aw, he got all flustered when he thought you were serious. Who knew the embodiment of Pride had such bad self esteem.
“Charlie went out to run some errands, but she should be on her way back, actually. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”
“Chamomile Tea, if you have it?”
You nodded, before walking towards the small counter behind your desk. There was a coffee machine, a toaster, and a large, electric kettle. You placed the kettle underneath the small sink, filling it up, before switching it on and setting it down. 
It would take a little time for the water to heat, so you returned to where your visitor awaited.
Lucifer leaned against your desk slightly, his fingers mindlessly tapping at his cane, his eyes staring at the wall. There he goes again, lost in his thoughts. Which he seemed to do quite often.
Would it be rude to wake him from his stupor? You had only just met him, so maybe, don’t push your luck.
You turned your attention back onto the stack of posters, flicking through each one as you counted. You heard Lucifer shuffle beside you, before clearing his throat. 
“What are you doing?”
“Posters for the hotel. I’m going to put them up around the city later today.” You held one out to him, and he took it from your grasp. His fingers grazed yours, and you could feel the warmth seeping into your skin from just that small touch.
When he pulled his hand away, that warmth left you, and you felt that never-ending chill seep back into your bones again. It was something that followed you since you made that deal with Alastor. As if your soul was the sun, and you just got shoved down a long, dark well. 
You could only claw at the edges for so long, letting the blood from your nails drip into the standing water at your feet, before you gave up trying. You’ve been sitting in that well for a long time, allowing time to pass by.
But, for some reason, since you arrived at the hotel, you’ve begun to start digging at the cracks of that well again. Maybe, if you got your claws in deep enough, you’d find that beam of sunlight.
“Hm, the drawings seems.. a little off. Did you do this?” Lucifer dragged you out of your thoughts, as he looked at you expectantly. 
Shaking your head, you chuckled softly. “No, unfortunately, stick figures are my only language in the arts. I think Charlie drew it.”
“Did I say this drawing was off? I lied! Ha-ha, yeah, this is great work.” Lucifer quickly replied, brushing off his earlier comment.
You were going to open your mouth to respond, before you heard the loud whistling of the kettle. You turned, watching the steam pour out of its lid, and quickly ran to fetch it.
You pulled a small tea cup from its stand on the edge of the counter, before filling it full with the water from the kettle.
Reaching towards a small cupboard, your fingers sorted through the different herbal flavors as you looked for one in particular. When your eyes finally caught the light green packaging, you pulled it out.
“Hey, this might seem like an odd question, but do you like caramel?” Lucifer asked from behind you. You turned your head slightly, taking a glance at him. His nails clicked against his cane, fast and nervous as he waited.
“Yes, I do. It’s not my favorite sweet treat, but I've definitely indulged in it a few times.”
Taking a few moments as you spoke, you ripped open the package. Holding the small string in between your thumb and your index finger, you carefully placed the tea bag into the steaming water. 
“Great! I was wondering, well, I mean—you see, I made some caramel apples for Charlie. Except, she hasn’t had one of mine since she was a girl, so I just wanted someone to take a test bite before I presented it to heel
Slowly, you could see the color begin to change as the herbal goodness was dispersed in the cup. You turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised as you regarded him.
“You want me to.. try one of your apples?”
“Yes! That would be great, just to know I still got the gourmet chef in me.” He smiled, lifting up a finger right above his lips, and swirling it in the air. As if twirling a long mustache.
“Your tea, Your Majesty.” You chuckled, bending your head slightly, placing it down on the desk in front of him. When you lifted your head, you were greeted with the sight of a large, light-brown coated apple. 
“It’s not poisoned I promise.” He teased, a lopsided grin on his face as he held the treat out to you, his fingers clasped around the kabob-like stick poking out of the bottom.
Carefully, you lifted your arm, plucking the caramel apple away from his grip. When you had it between your fingers, Lucifer reached down to take the tea cup from the desk, before swirling the mix around slightly. He blew at its surface, and the liquid rippled as steam still rose from it.
He gingerly lifted it to his lips, his pinky lifting away from the handle as he did so. His eyes softened as the herbal flavoring hit his tongue, and his body seemed to relax as warmth bloomed under his skin and the drink traveled down his throat.
‘He drinks with his pinky out? That’s so cute.’ You gushed silently, never did you think the King of Hell would practice such mannerisms. But, in all honesty, he didn’t seem like he should be in Hell at all. Guess that’s what happens, when the highest powers known to man punish you for being you.
His eyes never left you as he drank, as he waited for you to take a bite. You turned the treat in your grip, inspecting it a final time. Carefully, you lifted it to your face, and took a bite of its side.
Lucifer seemed to grimace as your mouth closed against the large chunk of apple. You chewed for a moment, letting your taste buds do the work. Then, your brain short-circuited at the sensations, and your eyes lit up.
“Woa-hu-ho! This is fantastic!” You beamed, and Lucifer’s eyes widened in a look of surprise.
“Really..?”
“Yes! It’s actually really good! I think Charlie is going to love it!” You nodded briskly, taking another bite of delicacy.
“Ha, well. Guess I still got it in me after all this time.” He boasted, chest puffing just slightly at your compliments.
You obliterated that apple in front of him, taking barely a moment to breathe as you scarfed it down. God, his cooking was actually really good. What else could he make?
Lucifer only watched you, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you devour the treat. As if he was fascinated by your sudden primal hunger. 
Your eyes met his and you stopped suddenly, covering your mouth as you continued to chew. Heat flooding your cheeks in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, this is pretty rude of me..”
“No! Not at all, if I had more I'd surely give it to you,” he laughed, setting his almost-empty drink back onto the desk, “and please, call me Lucifer. There’s no need to use such titles in a private setting like this.”
Right as he spoke, the front entrance doors burst open, and Charlie and Vaggie strolled in chattering loudly. They held a few shopping bags in their hands, as they entered the lobby.
Right, so much for privacy. Couldn’t you get five more minutes with the #1 bachelor in the realm?
“Oh, Dad!” Charlie exclaimed, surprise etched on her face at seeing Lucifer standing beside you.
“Charlie!” He beamed, strolling over to her. He encompassed her into another of his signature bear hugs, and she sputtered for breath in his hold.
“Wha—gasp—what are you doing here?”
“I just came by to visit, also to take another peek at some renovations that really need to be done. Among other things.”
“Oh, okay! Let me drop this stuff off by Angel Dust, and we can do that.” Charlie smiled at her father, before turning and crossing the room to another hallway.
Lucifer watched her leave, before turning to you, his eyebrows raised as he spoke, “I assume you’ll still be sitting here the next time I stop by?” 
He wanted to see you again? Your brain couldn’t process that thought when the words left his lips.
“As always.” You smiled warmly at him, as you cleaned up the now-empty cup from the desk. You didn’t say ‘Your Majesty’ this time, but you weren’t sure whether calling your king by his real name was appropriate. At least, not yet.
“Good.” He nodded approvingly, before his back faced you and he walked out of the lobby. Your gaze lingered on the corner he had turned out of view from, before you sighed and returned to work. 
You didn’t notice those sickly red eyes watching you intensely from the shaded corner of the room, as you took a seat back at your desk. 
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Days like that continued, where you’d be greeted by the soft knocking against the entrance door. And, when you opened it, you’d meet the handsome, smiling face of Lucifer.
“Good morning, I hope you’re hungry!” He’d state as he strolled past you, always stopping right next to your desk first when he came.
You made sure to save your stomach for the delicacy he always carried with him now. Usually, he’d bring two, one for Charlie, and one for you. 
“I need to make sure she’ll like this one too.” He had explained. You were apparently his official taste tester now, but you never complained.
He’d hold the treat out to you, one eyebrow raised playfully, as he presented the caramel apple like a rose.
“Now with sprinkles!” He’d exclaim as you’d gingerly take it from his grip, your fingers brushing against his. The warmth a welcome feeling to your skin.
You’d sit there, feasting on the apple in your seat as he leaned against the desk. He was very chatty, even when he still held reservations around people in general. It never bothered you, of course. It stopped you from getting so bored while you worked.
“Don’t even get me started on Mammon,” Lucifer groaned, as you told him about your most recent circus acts, “the guy will do anything to put more money in his pocket. Y’know, he thinks we’re best buddies or something, thinks that lets him plagiarize my amusement park.”
“Why don’t you tell him to shut it down?”
“Because it brings in more business,” Lucifer had shrugged, “People go there, expecting a good show, and don’t find one. So, they go to my LuLu World, and bam, they never want to leave!”
You chuckled at the name, ‘LuLu’. Yep, you were definitely speaking to the Sin of Pride, alright.
“What’s so funny?” He had asked, curious at your reaction. You straightened yourself, a lop-sided smile on your lips when you realized he caught your laugh.
“Nothing it’s just.. ‘LuLu World’? There had to be something better you could have called it.”
Lucifer gasped, placing a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. “Woah, woah. First, you say I'm good with names, and now you’re laughing at them? Dirty.” 
“Oh, I'm so sorry. Please, good sir, don’t smite me!” You mocked a pain expression, clasping your hands together in a gesture of begging.
“I will allow you to live for now. Can’t have the hotel going into shambles because you’re not here to keep it running.” Lucifer’s voice deepened as he fixed his posture into a much more royal stance. As if he was speaking to a lowly squire in court.
‘I barely do anything around here, but thanks for the confidence boost.’ you’d answer silently, as you leaned back in your chair, watching his antics with amusement.
You began to anticipate his arrival with excitement. Even pouring his tea beforehand, so when he walked through those doors, you’d place a steaming cup into his palms. You always enjoyed the way his eyes softened when he took his first sip.
Hell, you enjoyed.. everything about him. His smile, his jokes, the care he had for his daughter, even if he had a hard time showing it. He made you smile, which was something you haven’t done willingly in a long time. 
And, his smile? That real, true look of happiness that blossomed on his face? That slowly began to return as well. 
For a few months, everything was dandy. Until, one evening, when Alastor summoned you to his room.
He never did that, and that made you nervous.
You stood at the closed door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest. What did he want? Did you do something wrong? Your thoughts just couldn’t still as you fidgeted nervously.
Slowly, you lifted your knuckles to the door. Before you could even graze the wooden surface, the door swung open. It creaked loudly as it did so, and your breath hitched as you began to glimpse inside.
You poked your head in, your eyes scanning across the room. The decorations were so outdated, it almost made you gag. Skeletons of an alligator hung on the wall, its eyes glowing from the string of lights wrapped around its figure.
A large shelf of books, mostly for cooking, stood out against a small wooden table. A small radio sat snug on the desk, playing a gentle jazz tune. On the opposite side of the room, was where that freaky abyss lay. You had never stepped foot there, the part of the room that simply seemed to dissolve into a dark, swampy land. 
Then, you heard humming. Staticy, soft humming, coming from the left side of the room.
Alastor stood over a bloody cutting board, a large kitchen knife in his hand. He wore an apron that was spattered with blood, his usual overcoat was gone, replaced by a dark red tuxedo underneath and a—surprisingly—clean white dress shirt.
He hummed along in sync with the music wafting from the speaker, as he continued to slice along the large slab of meat on the counter. You couldn’t dare think what the flesh used to be as you slipped through the crack, shutting the door softly behind you.
It didn’t seem like he knew you were standing there awkwardly by the door, but you knew he did. How long was he going to have you wait?
Clearing your throat, you spoke softly, “you wanted to see me, Alastor?”
“Ah, hello there, my friend!” He pivoted sharply, his tone chipper as he smiled at you. The knife was still in his grip, and he swirled it in the air playfully. “How are you doing on this fine, hellish evening?”
“Fine..”
“Wonderful! I called you here today because there is something I’ve wanted to discuss with you for some time. You see, I've taken notice that you and our ever-so charming King of Hell have been growing closer these past few months.”
This is what he wanted to talk about? You fought to not roll your eyes at that. 
“Let me guess, you want me to stop talking to him?”
Alastor giggled at that, a maniacal fit of he-he’s as he forcefully stabbed the knife into the slab of flesh. It stuck out like a grim warning, as he brushed his hands against his apron before removing it entirely. 
“On the contrary,” he spoke as he hung the apron against a dining chair, “I want you to get closer to him.”
You blinked, leaning your head back slightly as you processed his words.
“Wait, what?”
Alastor nodded, confirming that you didn’t just hallucinate that. He slowly walked forward, before placing a hand on your shoulder as he moved behind you.
“You see, I believe it’s in both our best interests to forge a deeper connection with our illustrious King. There are certain… opportunities that may arise from such a relationship.”
“Opportunities? What kind of opportunities are we talking about here?”
“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Let’s just say that there are benefits to being in the King’s inner circle. Power, influence, the chance to shape Hell itself… But I’ve said too much already. Just trust me on this one, my dear.”
Trust Alastor? Ha! That was the first joke he’s ever spoken to you that was actually funny. 
Your thoughts raced as he appeared on your other side, his claw grazing across the back of your neck as he rested his hand on your shoulder once more. 
He wanted you to what, fake your attraction to Lucifer? Wanted you to lie and manipulate him so he’d bend to your will, and carry out Alastor’s evil deeds in the guise of caring for you?
“What makes you think he’d even fall for that? He’s an angel, he’s not stupid.”
Alastor chuckled, patting your shoulder as his grin widened. “Haven’t you noticed the change in his demeanor? The little.. pep in his step? Ever since he met you that first day, he’s only grown more attached to you.”
Was that true? Sure, Lucifer seemed to be getting better, slowly. Seemed to smile more genuine as time went on. But, that couldn’t be because of you! He was reconnecting with his daughter, of course he’d be happier at the hotel.
It didn't matter, in the end. You weren’t going to do that to Lucifer. You weren’t going to ruin the one relationship that was built by trust. The question is, could you resist Alastor?
“What if I don’t want to?” You finally ground out, your firsts clenching at your sides.
Suddenly, you felt a chill around your neck, and you gasped at the sensation. You lifted one hand up, to try and feel whatever was clenching at your throat.
Your fingers wrapped around a green, metal collar that seemed to tighten as the seconds ticked by. Energy sizzled against your fingertips, like static. Eyes widening, you ripped your hand away, your feet moving on instinct to get away from him.
Your back hit the wall roughly, your heart practically beating out of your chest as you watched Alastor slowly stalk towards you. His eyes began to shift, resembling that of radio dials. Those small antlers on his head began to rapidly branch out, growing longer every step he took.
“What if you don’t want to? My, what a foolish question.”
He was just inches from your face, that toothy smile practically ear to ear as he leaned in. Lifting a hand, his claws grazed your collar bone, before traveling up towards the glowing green clasp.
A single claw hooked underneath the metal surface, pushing roughly against your throat as he tugged you harshly forward by it. 
His breath hit your face, and you scrunch your nose from the foul odor. He reeked of death.
“It seems you have forgotten who owns your soul, my dear.” He whispered in your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut, your lip quivering as he spoke.
“If you try to resist, try to fight against your chains. I’ll make sure my radio broadcast is filled with nothing but your dying screams.”
Tears pricked at your eyes, the collar only becoming colder as you writhed slightly against his touch.
“I-I’m sorr-“
“You sold your soul to me, don’t forget. If there is anyone to blame for your misfortune, it is you alone.” Alastor hissed, thrusting you even closer to him by your collar. You felt his smile crease brush against your skin, and you shivered.
You were becoming increasingly aware how sickly-yellow his teeth were, compared to Lucifer’s. Disgust began to boil in your belly as you opened your mouth.
“I’ll do it!” You whimpered, your heart pounding, “I’ll do it..”
“Wonderful.” He drawled, before leaning away from you. His claw released your collar, and it dissolved in green fog. You coughed, rubbing your neck, as Alastor took your shoulder and roughly nudged you to the door. 
It opened on its own, and you were pushed through the threshold. 
“I’m glad we could have this little chat,” Alastor’s chipper tone returned, as you stared at him with disgust, “Have a hellish rest of your day, my friend!”
The door slammed shut as he disappeared back into his room. Leaving a rush of angry tears to pool at your feet alone.
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Two weeks had passed, since Alastor told you to tug the heartstrings of the King of Hell, to play him right into your fraud-loving palms. Oh, the universe must surely hate you.
You had begun to avoid Lucifer, though. Whenever he was around, catching you at work, you’d continue your silly little chats. You began to memorize the timeframe he’d show up to the hotel, and make some kind of excuse to not be there when he knocked. Either you were out shopping for supplies, or seeing the latest movie. Anything you could think of, you’d leave and force Husker to greet Lucifer.
The guilt of knowing what would happen if Lucifer fell in love with you? It ate you up inside. You hardly slept lately, tossing and turning with terrible nightmares of drowning in that cold, dark, bottomless well. The chains tied to your feet, preventing your escape to the surface.
Would anyone care if you just let yourself sink to the bottom? 
Those thoughts were still on your mind as you did your morning jumping jacks.
You had asked Charlie to use one of her empty storage rooms as a place to practice your acrobatics, which you had started doing every night now. It was any easy escape from your troubles, on the farthest side of the hotel from the lobby, where no one could bother you.
It was a large room, with ceiling-high windows that lit the room with a light red hue. You had convinced Alastor to give you a makeshift gym as a part of your “deal”. If you were going to be forced to be the bad guy, he could at least give you a place to kick ass.
There were multiple gymnastic bars set up at different heights, two balance beams, and a small-scale tightrope. The tightrope was a thick wire connected between two poles across one side of the room, roughly the size of your torso. There was a platform attached to each pole, allowing good foot room on each side of the wire.
Tonight, you were practicing walking on your hands across the balance beam. Sweat dripped from your forehead, and you watched it land onto the leathery cover of the beam beneath you. 
You had made it halfway across, when you heard the door to the room open softly. 
“I didn’t even know there were rooms back here!” An astonished, familiar voice came from the doorway. 
What was Lucifer doing here?!
Your brain short-circuited, and your arms began to wobble beneath you. You lost your balance, and  immediately tumbled off the balance beam with a breathless “Fuck!”
Your side hit the mats below, pain bloomed from your shoulder as you lay there in defeat. You heard a high pitched yelp from behind you, and the sounds of feet pattering against the floor neared.
“You’re not dead, are you?” Lucifer laughed nervously as he kneeled beside you. He reached a hand down to your face, before he hesitated, and instead lifted his cane.
You felt soft poking against your cheek, as he prodded you with the black stick. 
“Stop that.” You grumbled into the mat, stirring slightly from the floor.
“Oh, you’re not dead! What a relief.” He said, exhaling a breath he had been holding. “I’m terribly sorry about that! I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You groaned, before lifting yourself up from the mat. You got to your feet, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.
“It’s fine, I’m fine. What are you doing here, though?” 
Lucifer processed your question for a moment, before he suddenly straightened himself up. Head held high, he strutted over to you, before halting. He glanced at you, before he began fussing with his bow-tie nonchalantly.
“Well, I came to find you.” 
“Why?” 
“Because, I wanted to speak with you. And, you’re conveniently always out of the room when I want to do that.”
Shit. Did he notice you were avoiding him? You didn’t think it was that obvious.
Lucifer watched you intensely, analyzing your reaction to his accusatory statement. He had a firm line on his lips, as if your actions didn’t bother him. 
“I’m not avoiding you.” 
“Oh, really?”
“I came here to improve my aerobatics, before you rudely interrupted me.”
“Right, like you need to improve.”
You turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re already good at it, there’s no reason for you to come here every day.”
He turned his head to face you as he spoke, and your eyes caught sight of something wiggling slightly on the top of his head. Is that apple decoration not fully attached to his hat?
Suddenly, you had an idea. A playful smile began to bloom on your lips, as you slowly made your way towards him. 
“Actually, that’s not true. I’m not that good at tightrope walking, I’ve told you that before.”
Right before he turned his head so he could trace your movements, you shot your arm above his hat, your fingers pinching around the small apple stem.
You sharply pivoted, facing him now as you walked backwards towards the tightrope platform. The apple hung behind your back, as you kept his gaze. 
“Buuut, I think I’m much better at it than you.”
“Excuse me?”
You turned to face the platform, moving your arm fluidly and taking the stem between your teeth, before lifting yourself on the white surface. 
Gripping the apple once more, you turn to him slowly, watching his eyes widen as you swing the apple between your fingers for his viewing pleasure.
“Actually, I think I'm better at this whole circus bizz than you. Look! I’m a magician even, would you like to see another trick, Your Majesty?” 
Lucifer stood there in shock, for a few moments. His red pupils darted from the swiped apple to you, before they dilated slightly. Then, he laughed, an audible ‘Ha ha!’ at your words. 
“You think you’re better at the circus than me?” Lucifer asked slowly, a mixture of disbelief and teasing in his tone.
“Without a doubt!” You called, turning to face the wire. Not giving him a second glance, a smug smile formed on your lips.
Lucifer regarded you a moment, before a mischievous grin played on his face. “Well, let’s prove it then.” 
He lifted his cane, before tapping it against the ground twice. Suddenly, you found the platform vibrating underneath your feet. Then, it began to move. You stumbled, and then fell to your knees, gripping the edges as you squeezed your eyes shut.
What the hell was happening?!
The support pole began to rise up, and up, and up, until it barely grazed against the ceiling. Slowly, you opened one eyelid, and then the other. You were still safe, clutching to the platform. The tightrope was still holding, connected to the pole across the room. 
You exhaled a side of relief, before crawling over to the edge. Your eyebrows flew up in surprise as you judged the distance to the ground, you were roughly three stories in the air!
Did.. Lucifer do that? He took “prove it” to a whole new level with this one. 
You got back onto your feet, the apple still in your palm as you placed your other hand against the support beam. Now, where was Lucifer? Did he stick you up here to starve to death?
“Hey.”
You jumped, reeling back from the voice, right towards the edge of the platform.
“Woah—hang on there now!” Lucifer quickly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you back to the center of the stand. You blinked, slowing your heart beat, as you stared in surprise.
“Lucifer? How did you get up here?”
“I can fly, remember?” 
That’s right, he did have wings. You just didn’t think he was that fast with them. Lucifer had also completely ditched his hat and overcoat, instead he was in his red and white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to partially expose his forearms. 
His hair was slightly disheveled, no doubt from the flight up here. It wasn’t as slicked back as before, small strands of hair sticking out messily. You thought that was adorable.
Lucifer looked down, before smiling sheepishly and withdrawing his hand from your wrist. He brushed his fingers down your hand, his nails gently grazing against your palms.
This time, you didn’t feel the cool sensation from his gold ring against your skin, as his pinky lifted from your hand.
“Now, are you going to walk across that wire, or are you going to just give me back my apple?”
You met his eyes, his gaze playful as he smirked at you. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. Slowly, your heel hit the wire, and you halted. 
Lucifer watched you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. He probably assumed you’d turn around to cross the wire, and he’d nab the apple from behind your back.
Too bad for the King of Hell, you could walk on a tightrope backwards. You winked at him, as your feet moved fully onto the wire. You pivoted slightly every so often, your body fluidly leaning back and forth as you adjusted for balance.
Lucifer watched you, admiration in his eyes as you maneuvered your way down the tightrope. You pulled the apple from behind you, teasing it in front of his view.
“The big question is, how do you think you’re going to best me in those heels, Your Majesty?” 
Lucifer glanced down at his knee-high boots, before slowly peeling them off his feet. He placed them neatly to the side, before moving a foot to the wire.
He began to put his weight onto the tightrope, wobbling a little as he adjusted for balance. He definitely did not do this often, and you laughed softly at his failing posture.
Lucifer huffed, glancing at you, who was still moving a reasonable distance away from him. Then, a smirk played on his lips, and you saw forms begin to appear against his back. 
The red feathers of his wing’s underbelly began to glimmer in the light from the large windows behind you, as he slowly opened them to full length.
Six ethereal, majestic wings flapped gracefully behind him. They began to pivot slightly, adjusting for Lucifer’s balance much quicker and with ease.
“That is so dirty!” You laughed at him, shaking your head disapprovingly.
“Looks like I'm going to getcha!” He teased, as he began to take much more confident steps across the wire; his wings flapping softly, boosting his speed.
You took bigger, riskier steps as you closed in on the other platform. Your heartbeat racing from the challenge, adrenaline beginning to pump in your veins.
“What happens if I eat this apple?” You asked, holding up the apple to your nose, before taking a deep sniff. Licking your lips playfully, you glanced back up to Lucifer.
“A tummy ache, I'm afraid. But, hey, I'll trade you a caramel apple for that one.”
Your stomach grumbled at that, and you genuinely licked your lips at his words.
“I might consider that proposition, if you can catch up to me that is.”
You spun on your heel, facing the base of the pole, as you began to increase your pace.
It wasn’t until you felt the wire jerk under your feet, did you begin to wobble. With a hitched breath, you try to regain your balance, but to no avail.
Your foot slips, and you feel your body beginning to lean off too far to the side. Gasping in surprise, you flail your arms hoping to catch anything in your grip to stop your fall.
Right as you begin to free fall, you feel strong arms snake around yours and grip you firmly. 
“Hang on, I got you!” Lucifer practically spoke in your ear as he pulled you forward, back up onto the wire. You breathe heavily, clutching his forearms tightly as you lean in closer, catching your breath.
Large wings flapping stronger now, Lucifer held you close as you both balanced along the same small portion of the tightrope. You felt his hot breath on your face, and realized how close the two of you actually were.
Your chest was practically against his cute little bow-tie, your legs brushing against each other as you balanced on the tiny surface. The steady wing beats of the fallen angel sent wind softly grazing past your ears, cooling the heat that was beginning to creep onto your cheeks.
He was so close, and so fucking gorgeous. Forget what Alastor wanted to do, what you wanted to do was kiss this man silly. For months, you both danced at the edge of each other's hearts. Gifts of affection, words of compassion, the whole shebang. 
Yet, you’ve never looked the King in the eye and told him ‘I want you.’
Was it because you were stubbornly fighting against Alastor’s demands, that you even ignored your own true feelings? Just to spite the powerful cannibal?
Couldn’t you just look at a sexy man in peace, without anyone else watching your every move?
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asked after a moment, pulling you from your ogling.
“You saved me..” You finally breathed, eyes wide and you met his soft gaze.
“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I—”
Lucifer’s words caught in his mouth as you pressed your lips to his. He froze at the touch initially, but it only took a moment for his entire body to soften against yours. 
His hands found his way to your waist, and he pulled you flush against his body. Your fingers reached up, and you began to caress the sides of his face, twirling a few pieces of hair between your pinkies as you deepened the kiss.
The warmth that bloomed from his touch was intoxicating, your entire being craving for more as you leaned even farther into his embrace. 
His hands moved from your waist, until they brushed underneath your shirt. His palms coming up to cup the small of your back as he pressed you closer to him, as if worried you might dissipate into the air and leave him forever.
It was a good thing he had six wings to keep the two of you afloat, or else you would have been a splatter on the mats by now.
You felt Lucifer's teeth graze against your lip, and you had to fight to not bite his lip back. After a few more moments, you pulled away from his face, your breath coming out ragged as you gave him some distance. 
Lucifer blinked a few times, his eyebrows beginning to raise slowly as a dopey smile danced onto his lips.
“I really enjoyed that, but we should probably get on solid ground, don't you think?” He laughed breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you adoringly.
You reached up, brushing the few loose strands out of his eyes, before nodding. “That is a good idea.” 
“Well, just hang on.” Lucifer replied with a mischievous grin, and you opened your mouth to question him. Before you could get a word out, you felt him begin to lean backwards, pulling you along with him. 
You yelped and squeezed your eyes shut, as you began to free fall on top of him. Lucifer only hugged you closer, before his wings shot open, slowing your descent. 
Carefully, you peeled your eyelids open to the two of you gliding softly down, as Lucifer circled the pole lazily. Your feet swung in the air, and the wind rushed past your ears. The adrenaline rush causing you to laugh in glee as you felt your feet hit a hard surface.
You both stood there in silence for a few moments, the weight of what just transpired finally settling on top of you. 
Holy shit, you just kissed the King of Hell! From trying to stay as far away from him, to getting as close as physically possible. What a twist.
“Well, now that we’re down here,” Lucifer began slowly, his gaze meeting yours with a playful roll of his eyebrows, “we could continue our previous.. discussion.” 
You almost obliged, until you heard the familiar call of Charlie, as she searched for her father. You tensed in his grip, before pulling away from his hold. A pout formed on Lucifer’s lips at the absence of your touch, before he straightened himself. 
Snapping his fingers, that familiar white overcoat magically materialized onto his figure, along with his wide brim hat. Your eyes landed onto that spot where the missing apple usually was, and then you noticed how empty both your hands were.
“Your apple! I think I dropped it when I almost fell.” You explain apologetically.
“Oh, you mean this apple?”
Lucifer pulled the red, gleaming trophy from beneath his overcoat. He threw it in the air a few times, catching it gracefully. A silent boast as he grinned at you. Your mouth only hung agape, as you scanned the apple for any imperfections.
“There is no way you took that from me! How do I know you didn’t just make that?”
“Woah! Sounds like someone is a sore loser.” Lucifer laughed, before turning towards the door, he kept his gaze on yours as he did so, walking backwards as he talked.
Slowly, you kept pace with him, shaking your head in disbelief at his words. He was just as preoccupied as you, sucking on your face, you couldn’t believe he actually took it from you in the chaos.
“At least we settled the little debate, hm? Seems like i’m better at these kinds of things than you. Just like I said.”
“We’ll definitely come back and test that theory with your wings bound this time.”
“Oh, will we? Is that a challenge?”
Lucifer halted at the doorway, and you stopped a few footsteps away. You batted your eyelashes at him, grinning playfully, “it’s a promise, actually.” 
He grinned at that, before he leaned in closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
“So, you haven’t been avoiding me, then?” 
‘Not this again.’ You groaned internally.
“No, I haven’t. I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” You quickly spoke, an apologetic look on your face. Would he buy your lie?
“And you’ll tell me when something is wrong, right?” 
You cracked him an assuring smile, “of course!” You lied through pearly-white teeth. 
Lucifer nodded approvingly at that, before he glanced out of the room. You both could hear Charlie a hallway or two away, and she seemed frantic to find her father. Lucifer only sighed, before turning to you.
“Looks like I’ll be seeing you real soon, Darling.” He promised, bowing his head slightly to you. You wanted to scold him for that, about lowering his head to someone of lower class, if he did that in public no doubt the citizens of Hell would mock him for it.
But, you weren’t in public. You were alone, with someone you cherished, able to whisper all your secrets, hopes, and dreams to someone you trusted most. If only you could tell him the truth, and not be stuck here drowning in your own lies.
Lucifer gave you one final glance, before he turned away, strolling through the hall away from your room. A happy whistle came from his lips, and you could hear it slowly fading as he moved away.
Backing up, you plopped down on a bench on the side of the room. The recent events hit you like a freight train, and you realized how terribly stupid you were.
How were you supposed to protect Lucifer from whatever plan Alastor had in store for him, if you were going to keep disregarding your brain for your weak little heart? 
Yes, Lucifer was the most powerful being in Hell, far more powerful than that red demon. But, he was also a sad, lonely angel. Who craved affection and attention, which he seemed to want solely from you and Charlie. 
If your life were in danger, would he be stupid and risk his own for you? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Your filthy, sinning soulless self wasn’t worth the trouble.
You just wish Lucifer would see that. 
For an hour, you paced the perimeter of the room. Your thoughts clear as you evaluated all the metaphorical cards in your hand. If Husk taught you anything about gambling, it was always to call your opponents bluff before he had a chance to do it to you.
Your feet halted suddenly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you stared through the large windows. Your thoughts settling as you watched the waning light.
You weren’t some pushover, some scared little child in need of protection. You weren’t going to let some murderous psychopath take any more control of your life. You were going to call the shots this time, even if that meant being dragged by the throat into that well.
As long as everyone you cared about, even Husker, made it out.
There was only one plan of action you saw ahead. And, it was not going to be the easy route.
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“I’m done.” 
Alastor halted, the wall sconces in the hallway illuminating his sharp grin as he heard the words leave your lips. It had been four days since you decided you were going to stand against him.
“Pardon?” The words left his lips slowly, his head cracking in-humanely to one side, his ears twisting to face you. 
“I said I’m done deceiving for you. I’m not going to lie to Lucifer, or anyone else, for any longer.”
Alastor didn’t say anything, his back still turned to you. His claws tapped against his microphone, rhythmic and loud as he processed your words.
“Is that so?” 
“Yes, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. There’s more to the world than power, Alastor.”
You felt something cold tugging against your neck, that familiar, sickening sensation returning to your body. You sucked in a large breath, calming your rapid heartbeat. 
Green illuminated your face as you felt something heavy begin to weigh on your body. Alastor held one of his hands out, before flicking his wrist with a painful pop sound. 
The chain snapped forward from the collar around your throat, snaking around your figure as it wove to Alastor’s palm, its green glow casting eerie shadows against the walls. You struggled against its hold, feeling the cold, metallic links digging into your skin. Alastor's laughter echoed through the hallway, a chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine.
"You dare defy me?" Alastor's voice was low, dangerous. "You forget your place, little puppet."
Panic surged through you as you fought against the chain, but it only tightened its hold, squeezing the air from your lungs. You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume you.
"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Alastor said, his tone dripping with malice. "A lesson in obedience."
“Don’t you have any more tricks in the book than this fucking chain?” You growled between gasps, the back of your head sliding against the floor as you twisted against its metal grasp. “C’mon Al, this is just embarrassing.”
Immediately, his face contorted into a look into a large, crooked smile. His eyes shifted to resemble radio dials, as he harshly yanked you towards him. Your cheek slid across the carpet, and you felt the sting of rug burn bloom across your face.
‘Don’t let him see you scared, don’t let him win.’ You begged yourself internally, as you held your tears back. 
Alastor’s face began to change, his features sharpening drastically, that crooked smile growing all the more larger. His antlers branched farther from his head, gnarling together in twisting designs above his ears. 
Even his hair began to stand on end, as he stalked closer to you. Shadows enveloped the hall, like a fog rolling in. Obscuring the sight of your eventual corpse, as Alastor wrapped the chain around his arm, keeping it taut as he closed in.
“The only embarrassment,” He started, his voice flickering into pure static at his rage, “will be how fast it takes for your s̴͔̓̌̍ç̵̯̮͍͆̿r̷̼̥̿̒̊̐e̸͙̣̯͛̽̒a̷͈̼͗ͅm̵̮͑͛͆s̴̻͊̽̑ to die on your t̸̝͓̆͌͝ö̷̻͚̩̎͊n̸̨̘̭͍̕g̵̱̝͍̈́͛̍ͅû̶̞̼̲͜é̴̺, when I rip your h̷̟̣͚̅̏̔̚͜ë̵̺͙́́a̶͉͙̤͆͋r̶̼̈́͝t̴͙̯̕ out of your throat.”
Archaic symbols danced your vision as Alastor’s entire body seemed to contort into jagged edges, his arms and legs doubling in length, as his hunched back hit the ceiling of the hallway. His crooked neck lowered, his head itching closer. One claw coming out to hook  underneath you collar, pulling you up by the neck. 
“What will our dear King do then, when he finds your mangled body on his front door?” 
You snarled, trying to tear away from his grip. How dare he still try and bring Lucifer into this, even when the fallen angel could pulverize him in an instant. Couldn’t he face you one to one? 
The Radio Demon’s eyes flickered a darker red, and you feel the collar begin to tighten around your throat, squeezing the breath from your airways. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes as you clawed at your neck in a poor attempt to stop the sensation.
“Alastor? Is everything alright over there?” 
Suddenly, the squeezing at your throat dispersed like fog, as the collar and chain vanished into thin air. You were left on the floor, sputtering for breath, as Alastor quickly pivoted towards the voice. His body instantly shifted back to normal, with quiet pops and clicks as his joints squeezed back into place.
It was Vaggie, coming down the hall, her eye staring suspiciously at his shaded form. 
Clutching your bruising throat, you stumble onto your feet. Your back hits the wall, and you use it for support to catch your breath.
Alastor straightened his suit, his expression morphing into its usual grin as if nothing had happened. “Oh, everything’s just dandy, Vaggie. Just having a delightful little chat with our friend here.” He gestured casually toward you, his tone dripping with false cheerfulness. “Isn’t that right?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with an unknown expression.
“Yeah—cough—sorry, just choked on the water I was drinking.”
“Right. Listen, Alastor, I wanted to talk to you in private. If that’s okay with you.” Vaggie said, gesturing down the hall.
“Of course, it’s always a pleasure speaking with you, my dear!” You didn’t miss the way Alastor’s eye twitched, as if he was not thrilled about having to leave. But, he was deceiving everyone else, too. Which meant he had to play his little part to a T.
“I’m just.. going to go. I’m not feeling so well.” You muttered to the pair, before darting around the corner, out of sight. 
You ran to your room, slamming your door behind you. Your back hit its frame, before slowly sliding down until your bottom hit the carpet. Tears of anger flowed down your cheeks, as you continued to rub your neck.
Fuck. Why were you so powerless?! If only you had even a sliver of magic in you, you could have defied him better. Now, what was Alastor going to do? 
‘What did you expect?’ A part of your mind hissed scoldingly, ‘You just tried to fight the demon that owns your soul, and got your ass handed to you.’
You growled, rising to your feet. Frustration, sadness, pain, everything seeped out of you, and you felt like killing someone in that moment.
“It’s better—”
You picked up a spare shoe from the ground, your nails digging into it as you bared your teeth. Swinging it behind you, you vaulted it towards the opposite wall.
“—than doing nothing at all!” 
You heard glass shattering, and watched shards spill from the mirror above your dresser. You could see your face, partially obscured in its remaining reflection. You could see the slight purple marks around your neck, see the tears spilling from your cheeks.. see that dark look on your features, like you actually would kill somebody.
Reeling back, you placed your knuckles to your lips. Maybe, to stop that lip from quivering so violently. That face in the mirror reminded you of everything you hated about this wretched place.
And, now, you were becoming just like him. You stepped backwards, trying to distance yourself from the reflection, before the back of your legs hit the side of your bed, and you sank into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into a ball as you sobbed the frustration out of you.
You could still feel the dark magic sizzling against your neck, as if it refused to release you of its hold just yet.
It wasn’t until you heard soft rapping of knuckles against glass did you lift your head. Turning towards the balcony doors, your eyes widen at the sight of the familiar figure standing outside. His silhouette illuminated by the dark red hues of the evening light, as he waved through the frosted glass.
“I see you over there! Can you let me in for a moment?” 
What was Lucifer doing here?! This was terrible timing for him to make an appearance! But, he knows you're there, can see your silhouette through the glass as you sit there on the bed. You sighed, quickly cleaning your face of tears, and taking a few deep breaths.
“Come in.” You called hoarsely, cracking the best smile you could muster.
The glass doors slowly pushed out of them, and Lucifer quietly shimmied through the cracks. He pivoted to face you, a large smile on his lips as he squinted at you through the darkness of your room.
“I’m so glad you’re here, I was just about to leave and then I remembered I never gave you your caramel apple!” 
Lucifer began to stroll forward, your face becoming less obscured in the shadows as he closed in. You tried to shrink away slightly, turning your knees away from him so he couldn’t see them quivering slightly.
“I put a layer of chocolate on it too, and so—wait, why are you crying?” His gaze intensified, as your face finally illuminated in the light.
“I-it’s nothing! I just had something in my eye!” You lied, cracking a wider smile.
“What are those marks on your neck?” Lucifer ignored your excuse, as he stalked closer to you. His eyes constantly scanning your figure looking for any more oddities. 
“Please, Lucifer.. I’m just tired and-”
“What is this?”
Lucifer had asked, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. Something more than the small purple marks.
You began to rub your thumbs together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.
You didn’t get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch. 
‘Please, just stop here,’ you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, ‘don’t ruin this moment by digging any farther.’
Your reaction only spurred him, however. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.
Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace. 
Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didn’t, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.
A soft golden light illuminated from Lucifer’s palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.
Backing away, he yanked a long, thin chain from your figure, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. As he stepped backwards, it only dragged across the floor, still connected to your neck as it lengthened.
A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.
Lucifer’s palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Lucifer’s unreadable expression.
The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death. 
Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.
Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind soul and rip it away from its owner. 
You weren’t some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that. 
Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.
Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.
That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Lucifer’s figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.
You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demon’s hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.
Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused him to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.
Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the king’s anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.
“Who did this?” He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demon’s name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him. 
You knew he wasn’t angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.
You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.
But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.
Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment. 
Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.
Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.
How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didn’t belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making? 
Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.
“I-I..” You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.
As your mouth shut in frustration, Lucifer’s anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.
He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved. 
Lucifer’s thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.
The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.
Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly. 
Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity. 
Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, you’d still be happy after the fact. 
Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demon’s side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Lucifer’s soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back. 
Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldn’t keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your lover’s hold forever.
Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are. 
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Lucifer’s feet carried him back to the lobby, his eyes glowing as he noticed the cat-demon, Husk, cleaning glasses behind the bar. He sharply turned in his direction, surely, this other being 
“You, bartender.” Lucifer hissed, as he lifted himself up onto the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. Acting as if only wanting to have a friendly chat with the demon. His claws extended slightly, as they tapped impatiently against the countertop. 
Husker looked up from the glass in his hands, his eyes bored and his mouth a thin line as he worked. It wasn’t until he saw Lucifer’s deadly expression did he drop the glass immediately, ears slightly pinned to his head, before straightening his back to address the king.
“I-uh, how can I help you, Your Majesty?” 
Lucifer’s lips upturned into a lopsided grin, those sharp teeth on full display. That’s right, some people have to remember exactly who they are dealing with.
“Where is your master?”
Husk paused, regarding Lucifer for a moment with an eyebrow raised. He was very aware of the tension between the two powerful demons, but he didn’t expect the King of Hell would go looking for Alastor.
“I’m not sure, sir. You could bring it up with Charlie when she gets back, I’m sure she knows more than little ol’ me.” 
Lucifer grimaced slightly at that. Of all the people in the hotel, his daughter was the last one he’d want to bring into this whole debacle.
“There’s got to be something you must know, bartender. He owns your soul too, does he not?”
“What, you think I keep track of the guy or something?” 
“No, but you should,” Lucifer snarled, leaning over the counter, causing Husk to reel back slightly, “it’s clear no one here keeps eyes on that filth, enough to stop him from hurting people in this very hotel.”
Husk seemed to deflate at that. Those long, feathery eyebrows of his lowering slightly as an unreadable expression crossed his face. He set the glass down, before sharply turning away from Lucifer.
“He’s usually in his room, by now,” Husk spoke quietly after a moment, “down the left hall, last door on the right. Ya can’t miss it.”
Lucifer didn’t give thanks, instead he tapped his cane at his side, and golden waves circled around him. In an instant, the King was gone, a few pieces of gold dust landing softly against the barstool. 
“Asshole.” Husk muttered, before popping open a bottle of liquor and lifting it to his lips.
Lucifer opened his eyes to see a large door in front of his face, green symbols glittered against its frame, etched into the wood with practiced precision.
Only Lucifer could see them, though. Only powerful wielders of such a force could see these runes. Magical spells, cast upon the room. Protection, defense, muffling, everything an evil guy could dream of.
Although, the demon’s magic was strange. Unfamiler, even. Seems like he’s been dabbling in a new form of sorcery.
Lucifer stood there, for a few moments. He didn’t knock at the door, or jiggle the handle. The Radio Demon was not the one in control here, so he simply waited impatiently for an answer.
“I know you’re in there, you rat.” Lucifer hissed, the horns poking from his head continuing to rise. “I know you can hear me. Why don’t you do us both a favor and show yourself, or are you too much of a coward now?” 
Slowly, the door to Alastor’s room creaked open. The interior obscured by thick shadows, with soft lights flickering from the edges of the room as Lucifer continued to stand there.
“Your Majesty!” A cheerful voice called from the shadows of the room, and Lucifer bared his teeth at the tone. “What an honor to have someone like you gracing my presence. Please, come in!”
Lifting his head high again, Lucifer took a confident step into the room. He had every right to be, even in the demon’s own abode, the King’s powers were unmatched. 
Lucifer’s lips curled into a sneer at the saccharine greeting. “Save the pleasantries, rat. We both know why I’m here.”
As Lucifer stepped further into the room, the door behind him remained wide open, the light from the hallway illuminating the King’s figure. Alastor’s silhouette still danced within the shadows, the glow of his red eyes illuminating the space as he carefully followed the King’s movements.
“Ah, but do we really, Your Majesty? Enlighten me.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “You have an uncanny knack to create suffering with everything you touch. Now, you pull the strings of innocent lives. Do you thirst for power that fucking badly, to make a deal for someone’s soul?”
“They made a deal on their own whim,” Alastor retorted, waving his hands in a sweeping motion, brushing off the accusation, “How could I say no to such an offer? I’m a demon, if you can recall.”
The lights in the room began to flicker with renewed life, and Alastor’s sharp grin only made the fallen angel want to tear it from his face.
“Demons like you deserve to be ground into dust.” Lucifer snarled, closing the distance between the two. He lifted his head, meeting Alastor’s piercing gaze. His claws wrapped around the Radio Demon’s black bow tie, and he harshly tugged him down to his eye level.
Alastor stared at the grip with a deathly silence, his face contorting into sharper features, his pupils taking the dialed form once more. 
Energy crackled in the room, a mix of both demon’s powers as the tension only continued to escalate. Alastor didn’t move from the hold, he knew better than to test that fate. 
The lines above Lucifer’s lips scrunching as he stared at the demon with disgust. “You steal the souls of those weaker than you to fill that emptiness in your own, it’s pathetic.”
“Maybe.” Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, before a green spark sizzled against his bow-tie, and it limply fell from his clothing in Lucifer grip. He turned away, stalking towards the cutting board on the counter.
“Don’t walk away from me, you freak. Lest I do everyone in this hotel a favor and remove you from existence right here.”
A dark chuckle bounced against the walls, filling the room as Alastor kept his back to Lucifer. “Ah, but if you kill me, they die too. Souls entwined with each other, you see. Such a dilemma, wouldn’t you say?”
Lucifer gritted his teeth, cursing his oversight. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
Alastor’s voice took on a sly tone. “But fear not, Your Majesty. I’m not without mercy. I understand the affection you hold for such a.. charming demon.”
Lucifer’s gaze hardened, suspicion clouding his features. “What do you want?”
“Why don’t we.. make a d̴̻͉̺̆è̴̛͎̟̖̻͐a̵̭̫͆͆̽l̸͓͍̽̆̀̕?” Alastor’s tone crackled with static, as he spun to face the fallen angel. His head tilting curiously to one side, watching Lucifer’s expression.
Lucifer laughed, an audible ha-ha as the words left Alastor’s lips. He twisted his cane between his fingers, his claws leaving small etched lines trailing behind his movements.
“A deal with you? Do you actually expect me to give you my soul?”
Alastor’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, not your soul, silly! It’s nothing too extravagant. Just a little exchange of power. After all, what’s a deal between demons?”
“And, what exactly does this deal entail?”
Alastor paused for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving. “I have.. a few affairs I never got to settle when I died. I’d like to be able to return to that filthy place, whenever and wherever I want.”
“That’s it?” Lucifer asked in disbelief, his head leaning back slightly as he processed the demon’s words. “You want access to the human realm? You’re standing before the King of Hell! Why not simply ask for my title?”
Damnit, Lucifer, is it really the time to get your pride twisted?
“Oh, I couldn’t be bothered to bare such responsibilities of a king. I’d take your strength in a heartbeat though, but we both know you aren’t powerful enough to bless me with such a gift.”
The mockery in Alastor’s tone of the fallen angels' lack of heavenly abilities, spurred Lucifer. Who’s horns were fully out for view now, that small fire licking hungrily between them.
“Well? What is it going to be, Your Majesty?” Alastor hummed, his nails clicking against the countertop. “Do you want their soul or not?”
A demon like Alastor, being granted the ability to leap from the realms? It was much different than giving Amsodueus’ little spawns access via that orange crystal, who didn’t hold the kind of magic the demon before him did. 
What would he do when he was up there? Steal more souls? Go on a slaughter spree? There was no telling with the twisted man before him.
But… it was Heaven’s problem. Wasn’t it? It was them who cast Lucifer away from the place he helped create, and now it was their job to clean up the messes.
“Why would you give me something of such value for something like that?” Lucifer asked after a  moment.
“Because your little lover is a deep pain in my side, always disrespecting and challenging my words. If it wasn’t for that silver tongue of theirs, I’d have killed them ages ago.”
Lucifer growled, golden flames dancing on his fingertips at Alastor’s words. 
“They also don’t have any value. No power, no status, just a beggar on the street when I found them all those years ago. You could say I only made such a deal because I pitied their pathetic existence.”
‘If this guy keeps talking, I might just have to kill him.’
Time stood still in that room for a moment, the ending of the song playing from the radio the only indicator that the realm was still moving around them.
“I’m waiting~” Alastor sung, both demons locking eyes with each other across the room instensly.
As Lucifer weighed the consequences, a firm line set on his lips as he nodded. "Very well, Alastor," he said, extending a hand towards the demon. "We have a deal."
Their hands met in a firm shake, and as their fingers intertwined, a surge of dark energy crackled between them. Wisps of shadow and flame danced around their clasped hands, swirling around the duo.
Alastor was lost in a maniacal fit of laughter, as large eyes and symbols danced around him. That smile on his lips changed, as lines of thread locking his teeth together, as if someone had forcefully stitched that grin in place.
The air itself seemed to tremble with the force of their agreement, and the room pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend around them as the terms of their pact solidified.
Suddenly, you burst into the room, your eyes widening in fear as you saw the two demon’s hands entwined. You placed a hand to your mouth in shock, as you realized exactly what they were doing.
“Oh, no no no NO!” You cried hoarsely against the loud rushing wind, pushing you against the wall. What kind of deal was Lucifer making?! 
With a final burst of darkness, the pact was sealed, and both demons drew back. Alastor’s eyes gleamed with newfound power. His aura crackled with renewed strength, and the demon’s grin widened with satisfaction.
His eyes landed on you, a twisted smirk on his lips as he vanished in a plume of smoke. The intensity of it causing your eyes to water, and to fall into a fit of coughs.
The echoes of their agreement lingered in the air in a mixture of green and gold sparks of energy. Lucifer stood alone in the room, before he took a step backwards, stumbling slightly as you reached him. 
Taking his arm, you yank him out of the room, into the hallway. You scan over his figure, your heartbeat quickening as you search for any kind of injuries.
“What did you do? You didn’t make a deal for your soul, did you?!” You cried in panic, your hands on both sides of Lucifer’s face as he blinked away the fog from behind his eyes.
“Of course, I didn’t.” Lucifer muttered between your palms, “I simply gave him some power that he can go fuck off with for the rest of eternity.”
“But.. he c-could—oh, why would you do that?! That was so stupi—”
Lucifer quickly wrapped his fingers around your forearms, shaking you gently to get you to look at him. The slits of his pupils trained intently on your look of distraught.
“For you!” He growled, and you slammed your mouth shut. His breath was ragged, his lips downturned into a painful frown as he watched your lip begin to quiver.
“I made a deal to exchange your soul for a little power, because I cannot bare seeing you suffer any longer. Do you get that? I walked into your bedroom, to find you bruised and in tears. Over what, spilled milk?!”
“I can take it, I've been taking it.” You cried, arms shaking as you fidgeted in his hold. Shame clawing at your throat. Why did you have to be so fucking useless when it came to things like this?
“No! Stop that. Stop lying to me! That ‘everything is fine and dandy’, when it’s not. I’m the goddamn King of Hell, and I can’t even protect you because you refuse to let anyone prove that you matter.”
Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, head leaning into your shoulder as he took a deep breath. Your scent easing his anger slowly as he sunk into your embrace.
“You matter so much to me, you and Charlie. If I have to make a deal with a douchebag like him, to save your soul, then so be it. I don’t care what he takes from me.” 
Tears spilled from your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to your knees, and it was your turn to lean into his embrace. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest.
You were finally free from that monster. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, couldn’t lay a finger on you without consequence. Yet, your tears were also of sadness. You had tried so hard to prevent this, to prevent Lucifer from being selfless and allowing Alastor to win. 
You felt hands gently rubbing at your back, a soothing motion that quelled your quivering figure slightly. It was so warm, like laying in front of a lively fireplace. You wanted to stay there forever.
You were so tired. The mental exhaustion that had been plaguing your mind all these months finally slamming into you, and you lay there limp against his embrace.
“Please.. please don’t cry. I love you, I love you.” Lucifer whispered softly, his voice cracking as he pulled you deeper into his hold. He kept repeating those words, ‘I love you’, as he placed soft kisses against your forehead.
You felt the soft touch of feathers graze against your ears, and cracked open an eye to see Lucifer’s wings engulfing the both of you. They nestled into you, rubbing against your cheek softly, lulling you into a sleepy daze.
“I’ve got you, I promise.” Lucifer whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, you’re loved, I'm so sorry.” 
You placed a soft kiss to his collarbone, and snuggled deeper into his chest. Thankfully, no one was around to bother the two of you as you sat on the floor in the hall.
Just five minutes. That’s all you needed, five minutes basking in his warmth, in his soft words of affection. Five minutes to promise yourself you’d never let him do something like this again.
And maybe, everything would be alright. 
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you guys 😭 i made sure this fic was cooked, damnit!! A little more fast-paced than usual, but I hope you can forgive me for that. i also could not settle on what kind of deal alastor wanted to make, so i blind drew out of a hat. i just wanted to bring in a little drama, and it’s hard when one of them is can be easily bodied haha
i honestly have to stop telling yall how long I think my fics will be bc i said “oh i want this to be as long as artist!reader pt. 4”, yet it’s roughly 6-7k over it someone kill me
let me know what you think 🫶
[Lucifer] taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home
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yanderenightmare · 6 months
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Mahito x darling
TW: NSFW, noncon, psychological torture, Mahito in and of himself
fem reader
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Mahito is so scary because you're the only one who sees him. 
You can't tell your friends, you can't call the cops, you can't even discuss it with your therapist for fear of being committed. 
You're all alone with him – half the time convinced you’re going insane.
He doesn't even need to kidnap you. Why would he? He likes your cozy apartment. To see you in your natural habitat with all your personal trinkets. Your books, your decorations, the contents of your fridge, your makeup, your clothes, not to mention the soft warmth of your bed…
Sure, his sewer has its charm, but you probably wouldn’t like it there very much. Not that it would stop him, but he’s sure you’d be boring if all you did was stay cooped up there all day. 
This is much more interesting. To be there when you come home from work, having trifled through all your belongings, dragged everything out – made a mess like a new puppy would. To watch you try to cling to your sanity, going about life, trying to live it normally even when he’s right there on your sofa wanting to dish about how much you loath your pissy boss or that loud neighbor and what fun it might be to kill them.
You brush him off as intrusive thoughts – a manifestation within your mind. That’s the only explanation that allows you to keep your wits with you.
But it’s become hard to bring anyone home. Even though others can't see him, he’ll walk about your friends and the odd date and comment on all the things they do, ridiculing them when they say something cheesy, feigning puking before giving it away with a snicker, then asking you why you bother hanging out with them at all. And you wonder if that’s what you really think… why else would a figment of your imagination say something like that?
No. You decide. He doesn’t represent your thoughts. He’s just… a roommate who knows no boundaries. 
Funny enough, you don’t really recognize that he’s any dangerous before you’re getting dressed after a shower, opening a drawer on your dresser you rarely look in – only to find it overfilled with dozens of tiny shrunken heads.
You scurry back on the floor with your hand clasped over your mouth until your back meets your bed – skin crawling. There’s no air left in your lungs from the shock to produce any such thing as a scream – so instead, you start heaving – then crying.
“Oh – I was wondering when you’d find them!” A cheer is heard from your bedroom threshold.
Your eyes pan to look at him – or it. Mahito, with a big grin on his face – clapping as though impressed by your performance.
“Wh-what – what is this?” You splutter, trying not to throw up – casting shifty glances over at the lump that had fallen to the floor – its face twisted with agony, unrecognizable, but you think you still knew… “What have you done?”
It doesn’t smell of rot, but something else – like unwashed clothing – sweat and piss and shit – you don’t understand how you hadn’t smelled it before. You don’t understand how you hadn’t heard it before – the moaning, though only in hoarse weak voices, still there, in a chorus, crying in pain.
“I’ve been studying them.” He says – casually, padding across the floor before bending down to pick the one up.
He looked at it with disappointment, throwing it up and catching it like one would a baseball – then clicked his tongue. 
“But I must say you’ve got boring taste… I don’t feel like I learned much of use from any of them at all.” 
He drops it to the floor in a fleshy splat, and you cringed anew – wanting to crawl away, wanting to get out, to call the police – maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to be committed – maybe there was something genuinely wrong with you…
Mahito doesn't share your concerns, though. He’s got his mind on other things. 
“I think I’ll learn better through practice.”
You don’t realize what he’s talking about before you’re being lifted up on the bed and then pushed down against it.
His lean but muscular frame has you dwarfed as he crawls after you – caging you between his arms and legs.
“I wouldn’t mind the floor, but I’m sure you’d prefer the bed. That’s how you humans usually like it, right?” He smiles – as though he’s doing you a favor. 
He’s taken off his usual tunic – showcasing a pale grey chest patchworked together in crude stitches – and you don’t really understand why you’d ever conjure something that looked like it. So human, yet still… so not. 
“I didn’t know what size you’d want – they were all so different – but I think bigger is better, isn’t it?”
It doesn’t register before you feel the weight of it on your stomach. 
Fat and warm, ridged with veins and hard against you. 
Looking down, feeling the situation settle on your skin like the raw cold – you realize, though you don’t understand it – Mahito isn’t just some imaginary friend. 
Whatever he is – he’s no such thing as a friend at all.
Your chest flares. “Mahito, no – ”
Your hands fly to try and push him off, but they’re easily caught. His fingers stretch inhumanly like playdough, using only one hand to reign in both wrists, pinning them to the pillow above you.
“No? Still too small?” He asks, as though your uproar had been a cry for more – his voice in a playful lilt. “I can make it bigger if you like~”
You squirm when the thing between your thighs grows an inch – swelling up into something fatter than your wrist – weighty and twitching atop you. 
It alone churns your guts, but the sight of his face gleaming so innocently makes it all so much worse. 
You whimper as he drags a rude finger through your folds – bluntly poking at your hole.
“You’re supposed to be wet, no?” He posed, keen eyes watching your face grimace in discomfort – drilling his digit inside you despite it. 
When knuckle-deep, he curled it, nail scraping into the gummy of your tender walls – making your whole body twist with an ache, shaking your head while sinking your teeth into your lip.
“Stop-” You croaked pitifully, still trying to wring your wrists free – but the hand keeping them jailed had hardened into something that was no longer skin.
He just yawned at your struggle. “So noisy...” Bored while looking down at you and the ugly way your lips curled at his crude fingering – but then his eyes widened. “Wait – oh! I get it now! So, this is what kissing is for…”
He didn’t give you much time to turn away before his mouth locked on yours – more in an attempt to swallow than to kiss, feeding you his tongue – which felt so much longer than it should be – winding through you until it licked your gag-reflex and made you choke.
You tensed in response, clenching the finger prodding you – and he took it as an invitation to squeeze another in – making you squeal out a sob in his mouth. 
But though it was a cruel ministration, it was enough to tickle the instinct – dragging wet out from within you, bathing the digits that now slid with greater ease in and out.
“See~ I told you I’d learn better through practice...” He mumbled against your lips – having felt the change – also noticing the quiet that befell you… looking so cute beneath him. 
He chuckled – the taste of your kiss still warm and wet on his lips.
“That really did shut you up, hm~ you humans are so funny.”
That thing resting heavily on your belly does a little jump, and you flinch with it. Left panting after being throat-fucked by a tongue – you’re really only able to shake your head as he slips the beastly thing down between your thighs – its fat head licking your clit on its way until kissing your entrance.
Two fingers haven't done you any justice – nothing could – to prep you for something of that size.
“I think this is correct…” He muses, nudging himself against the slim coin-sized hole – looking a little confused while he did so – though not exactly unsure of himself… more as though it was the whole procedure in and of itself that was at fault and not him. He was just following instructions, after all.
Sucking his teeth at the tautness, he continued to press the tip through you. 
A whine was ripped from your chest as it arched off the bed – thighs quaking on each side of his hips, kept spread despite wanting to force themselves shut.
“It’s better if you relax.” He offered then, though without much sympathy. Sounding almost jaded – as though you were keeping him waiting. 
But then a thumb pressed down on your clit, forcing another jolt to rush through you. 
“Women like to be touched here, right?” He rubbed crass circles into it – worse than amateurishly – rough patterns that bore no real intention of making you feel good. 
Then his mouth slid from your mouth, down your neck – only to sink teeth in your tit.
“And here~” He giggled while nomming your nipple, rolling the little nib between his teeth before flicking over it with his tongue again and again, sucking on it harshly.
None of it made you relax like he’d suggested. Either way, he continued to sink his length one thick chub at a time as fast as your hole allowed. And soon enough, he reached your end before your hole could reach his. But that was no issue…
The hand on your clit, cupped your mound instead – and beneath it, where warmth pooled, you felt inner things alter – change, rearrange, allowing the giant member inside you to sink deeper even though you knew there couldn’t possibly be any deeper to go.
“Wow~ look at that…” He awed when his pelvis smushed against your mound – kneading into your clit as he pressed a curious hand down on the bulge he was making in your belly.
Strings of drool stuck from his lips to your chest – and a sick look pooled in his eyes.
Thicker and thicker breaths left him. He swallowed thickly. Barely blinking.
“I think I get it now…” His voice had shed its humorous tone, now sounding soft with something you didn’t want to have the attention of. “It’s like our souls are playing together…” 
His hand stroked your stomach – like he was petting something.
“Feels good.”
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qweerhet · 2 years
Text
particular distaste lately for how, whenever i bring up hatred of fat and hairy people in primarily wlw spaces, there’s a running undercurrent that spans from just gently assuming i’m talking about butches, to saying shit like “just say butch, this is what butch used to mean before the Skinny White Androgynous Girls ruined it in 20whatever”
on many layers; the surface layer just being, no the fuck it did not, butch didn’t “used to” mean anything different than what it means now, and if you think it did, you’re buying into radfem revisionism that paints specifically the 1950s-60s white working class lesbian bars as the universally beloved halcyon days of yore that defined lesbianism for all communities forever. quit it with that shit.
but on a deeper level, i truly think that shunting all fat and hairy people off into needing to queer masculinity forever is... shitty? that’s just shitty? fat and hairy people can be femme. i know many fat and hairy femmes. fat and hairy people can be androgynous, can not relate to the butch-femme spectrum or social roles at all. the idea that if you’re fat and/or hairy you are uninterested in queering femininity or performing femininity to any degree is bigoted.
also, butch is not a body type. i’m sorry that you think skinny girls with side mullets aren’t queering masculinity enough for you, but the skinny butch who can’t lift an air conditioner is still a butch. butch has never been a description of a body type, get out of my house.
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chatsukimi · 2 months
Text
ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋꜱ
featuring: touchstarved!gojo, slight enemies to lovers. synopsis: gojo satoru can't understand why he keeps wanting to spar with you... until one time, you two get a little too close. masterlist
sparring with satoru is a pain above all else. yaga has been assigning you to hand to hand combat with satoru for weeks now- a suspiciously long amount of time without switching partners.
you kick, dodge a punch, and stare up at his shameless smile. each time you come close to landing a hit, he turns on infinity, then poof! your opportunity rushes out the window.
"no techniques allowed." you grit your teeth.
"oops." he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "sorry, forgot."
he certainly did not forget.
this time, he charges at your torso, his annoyingly long arm closing distance on your shoulder at breakneck speed. you feel the limb dislocate. you wince. using his upper hand, gojo grabs your arms and pins you to the gymnasium floor. the air is knocked out of your lungs.
he's panting, his blue eyes clambering over you, under him. like always, he's too close to you- so close you see your own figure in the reflection of his watery irises. you could lift your hand up an inch to brush the sweat from his forehead. always. way too close.
his fingers trail across your elbow up towards your collarbone- whoosh.
infinity on again. he lets out a long exhale, scrunching his eyes shut as though pained.
that's when gojo thinks he's safe.
only, he's not really.
instead of giving up, you close your hand around the infinity and pull the whole thing, gojo and his infinity, towards you. your legs drag around his hips.
his eyes widen.
your hand pushes his chest then in the brisk manoeuvre, you're on top of him.
you think you see his soul poke its head out his mouth, tipped ajar in shock.
you don't know why you do what you do next. in some depraved performance, your fingers close in on his windpipe. you don't squeeze; the imagery is enough to satisfy. snowy white eyelashes fluttering to meet your gaze, the groan echoing out from his throat, the tight strain in his chest as he breathes shallowly, letting you way too close.
"they're watching," he murmurs.
shoko and geto. fear washes over you, and you're about to let go-
his own hand closes around your wrist.
he's staring at you darkly, goading you to move.
"they're watching," he says again, his hands suddenly at your waist pulling you closer. his tongue flicks over his bottom lip.
you're almost laying on his chest, face to face with your own deadly consumption.
"how long have you been beating me up just to get this close?" you tease.
"huh?"
truly innocently desperately confused, satoru has the gall to tighten his grip, hoisting himself up until he's sitting to lean over you again- if only slightly.
"we're just sparring, aren't we?" and he's telling himself this as his nose bumps against yours. and he's lying to himself that the way he's exploring your body is an act of aggression, not an act of compulsion. "you've been playing dirty tricks on me, but i can do it better."
dirty tricks? you think you see the thought passing through his concentrated face.
unfair, unfair, unfair-
how dare you provoke him let down his infinity? who do you think you are? how could you break him down through just one touch, leave him barrelling towards you for more?
unfair, unfair, unfair-
his hand rests by your jaw, stroking up your cheek, taking his precious time.
because sparring with you is the only time satoru gets to touch you.
he forces all his common sense out of his brain as he whispers, frustration coursing through his tone, "you're weak. your form is full of openings." and he's almost kissing you-
"time out, time out." shoko's voice cuts through the haze.
you feel you two being dragged apart by shoko and geto. the latter frowns at the white haired menace who's temporarily lost his obnoxious pride, silent.
the moment is awkward for everyone except for him.
gojo cocks his head to the side, looking at geto. "we were just fighting?"
geto sighs. just fighting?
you shiver as gojo's expressionless stare sticks onto you. curious.
the fight is over already...
but then why does he want to kiss you still?
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contact-guy · 4 months
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lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.
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canon text under the cut:
An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.
Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.
“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”
“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”
“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”
He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.
“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.
“It is a curious collection.”
“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”
“These relics have a history then?”
“So much so that they are history.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.
“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”
I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”
“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.
-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual
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qingxin-dream · 10 months
Text
“Moonlight Showing”
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summary | lyney whisks you away after his performance, wanting to make the most of his last night with his secret lover for awhile. (art credits: @/kiyonvmi on twitter).
warnings | profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, exhibitionism/public sex (creampie), a sprinkle of dominance, breeding, honestly fairly vanilla otherwise bc lyney is such a sweetheart, lyney speaks a little french
genre | smut
word count | 1.6k
pairing | lyney x reader
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Long after the crowd had dispersed from the picturesque Opera Epiclese at the close of Lyney and Lynette’s show, the beautiful gardens lie vacant under the moon’s silvery gaze. All the guests and staff had long taken the aqua-bus back to the Court of Fontaine to return home. There was not a soul in sight at this late hour.
However, even as the city sleeps, Coppelius and Coppelia—a mechanical wonder gifted to the Opera by the Fontaine Research Institute—continue their romantic dance in the courtyard. They never failed to captivate any audience as the reflective metal of the star-crossed lovers glimmered under sun or moon, rain or shine.
Atop the many steps leading down to the outdoor stage is a hand-carved throne of stone hidden behind the cypress trees encircling the scene. From afar perhaps it appears that there are indeed still two people lingering from the night’s magical performance, sitting together to admire the lovely dance.
To any innocent passersby, the sight was undoubtedly endearing and romantic. There’s nothing quite like the rush of young love. It was a good thing no one was here to bear witness; and even better that your lover was so cunning and clever, choosing such a secluded spot to have you in his lap.
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Lyney’s gloved hands gripped the curve of your waist firmly, the pads of his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he sinks your hips back down onto his hardened cock with a soft grunt of pleasure. You were forced to hold onto the cool armrests of the throne to keep yourself steady, the unexpectedly cold surface causing your walls to spasm and flutter around him. Groaning lewdly in your ear, Lyney was practically hypnotized by the way the white ring of your essence coated the base of his cock.
Your poor little legs were shaking. You couldn’t count how many times Lyney had made you cum, and yet he was utterly insatiable tonight. The erotic mixture of your fluids lubricated every inch of cock nicely. His smug, seductive laughter was a beautiful soft melody in your ears as the magician teased the tip of his length at your entrance, watching the nuances of your orgasmic expression once more.
With the ends of your sexy little red dress lifted up in his right fist, his other hand smacked your ass loudly. “You wore this on purpose, didn’t you, mon amour?”
A bratty whine rumbled in your throat as he forced you to continue fucking yourself on his throbbing length. You couldn’t possibly muster up a coherent response in your cockdrunk state. Cute little pants adorned the sound of your sex slapping onto his pelvis lightly smeared with your juices.
Lyney yanked you back by the hip to bury his needy cock into you, abruptly pulling the front of your dress down so your breasts spilled out into the open air. He loved feeling the enticing, malleable flesh between his fingers, occasionally pinching your adorable nipples to earn a sweet little moan out of you.
“Oh, fuck,” he murmured from behind, taking his thumb under the string of your lacy thong to get an unobstructed view of how your slutty hole gripped and swallowed his cock over and over. Lyney’s voice was deep and honeyed, enough to have you whimpering under your breath in anticipation. “Don’t you cream on my tights now. You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, (Y/N).”
“Mm, mhmm,” you nod obediently, focusing intensely on the sensation of his cock continuously stretching your walls in the most delicious rhythm. You swear he must have memorized the exact spot that drove you wild. “Y-you fuck me… so good…”
“Mon amour, please, you’re doing all the work,” Lyney’s voice resounds lowly into the shell of your ear, smug and soft as velvet. He leans into your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. A seductive giggle warms your shoulder and sends shivers prickling down your spine. “Why don’t you let me work my magic, hm?”
You settle yourself completely onto his pretty cock, resting your back gently against his chest. Lyney continues to encourage you with sweet nothings, distracting you with his words of praise while gloved fingers cup underneath your plush thighs and spread your legs. He gently guides your legs apart to set your calves onto the cool armrests on either side of you.
You hear him draw in a sharp breath as your spongy walls suddenly tighten again. “Are you trying to milk me dry, mon cœur?”
“I’m sorry. C-can’t help it,” you mumble, practically a whimper as this position has your cunt clenching down and damn near feeling every curve and contour as Lyney’s cock angles into you from underneath.
He smirked, presenting the pink petals of your wet flower long decorated in cum to the empty gardens of the Opera Epiclese. Though it was just the two of you and the mechanical dancers below, the mere thought of anyone catching a glimpse of how his thick cock split you open was beyond thrilling to Lyney. Call it a showman’s pride in his performance.
And for Archon’s sake, every little bit of movement had you rolling your head back with a litany of soft-spoken profanities and prayers leaving your lips. Yet you found yourself curious, leaning forward slightly, mesmerized by the way he stuffed you nice and tight.
Lyney chuckled, always one to study and revel in his audience’s wonder, and even more so with his secret lover. He drank you in like fine wine, pupils dilating and swirling with endless pool of desire as you struggled to take him like this.
“Give me your fingers, ma chérie,” he asks, though his tone is surprisingly firm. It wasn’t really a question. You reached around your shoulder to offer him a shaky hand, your breath catching as something hot and wet envelopes your index and middle finger. “Touch yourself.”
Heat flushed your cheeks as Lyney’s warm saliva drips from your digits. Parting your folds, you liberally massaged in circles around your clit, already a bit swollen and puffy from your previous lovemaking sessions on the throne. You curse under your breath between moans, reaching further down to trace your fingers at the bottom of his cock and marvel at the way he disappears inside of you.
The magician groans faintly, the brush of your fingers leaving him extra sensitive as you grind your hips into him. His words come out as a desperate whisper in the night air, a plea only your delicate ears are privy to. “H-hah, fuck, it’s so perfect… ‘n’ made for me.”
Lyney’s hands trail down your sides lovingly, making sure you’re well adjusted to his length in this unique position. In the wake of his fleeting touch, he plants featherlight kisses wherever possible on your spine. He presses a final chaste kiss on your shoulder blade before leaning back, cupping the bottom of your thighs to support you.
“Call my name, mon cœur, that’s all I ask,” he groans, thrusting his cock fully into your dripping hole. You cry out, gasping as his tip reaches the deepest part of you and rubs against every lovely ridge of your walls. Lyney hushes your loud moan, not to deter you but rather to comfort you.
Caressing the innermost parts of your thigh, the magician effortlessly holds you from underneath to help you relax around his cock. He can see your back muscles loosen up, and he whispers to you, “Look up—look at the moon—she’s our spotlight, yeah?”
“Keep your pretty eyes on the heavens. I promise I’ll take you there,” Lyney coos, the timbre of his voice laced with longing. You were hopelessly ensnared in his web of passion and temptation, more than willing to submit to his saccharine words and whims. He smiled, praising you as your eyes drifted up to the full moon. “Je t'aime.”
Just as your reply was on the tip of your tongue, the magician squeezed the bottom of your thighs and finally bucked his hips up ruthlessly into your cunt. Despite how much Lyney prepared you for this position, he still stole your breath away. It was all you could do to meet the intensity of his thrusts. “L-Lyney…! Oh my god, fuck… keep going, p-please…”
Your orgasm was already stirring in the depths of your pelvis with Lyney pounding against your G-spot repeatedly without fail. His grip on the flesh of your hips became possessive, a low growl following his rapid thrusts. “Did I say to stop touching yourself? I want you a fucking mess on my cock.”
Apologies weren’t what he wanted. This was the final act of the night before you were to be separated for Archons knows how long. Lyney wasn’t about to waste this precious time without giving you the moon, the stars, and the whole damn universe—rocketing you to your climax after you fingers messily flitted across your clit.
“Lyney! I’m cumming, a-ah!” you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy and amazement, your legs quaking and threatening to collapse onto him. Waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you. You couldn’t believe how he relentlessly fucked your release into your sopping pussy, utterly blissed out and wishing for his seed like a whore.
Coaching you through your strongest orgasm yet, he exhales heavily and clutches you tightly, “That’s it, that’s it. Yeah… Sing for me, mon amour. You feel so, so good.”
Just as your climax reached its crescendo, Lyney’s cock twitched inside you and dribbled cum out of your abused hole when he pulled out. His fingers were buried into your skin, certainly enough to leave a bruise on your hips in the morning. Even though the magician was exhausted after the night’s worth of lovemaking, he spun you around and captured your lips softly—wanting to taste your post-orgasmic pants for air.
“It’s a shame,” Lyney chuckled warmly into your mouth, seemingly unable to detach himself from your decadent lips. “I really liked this dress on you.”
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thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.
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pinkflower2003 · 8 days
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Little Norris
Lando Norris X Reader
Masterlist - Ask Berry🍓
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The sun was shining brightly over the karting track, the air buzzing with excitement and the distinct smell of fuel. Today was a big day for your five-year-old son, Ethan. It was his first competitive karting race, and he couldn't have been more thrilled. Karting had always been a significant part of your family’s life, thanks to his dad, Lando Norris, who was not only an accomplished Formula 1 driver but also Ethan's hero.
Ethan had been talking about this day for weeks, practicing in his miniature kart with an enthusiasm that made Lando beam with pride. The sight of his son in his tiny racing suit, a smaller version of Lando’s, always brought a smile to your face. It was a reminder of how much Ethan idolised his dad, wanting to follow in his footsteps and race just like him.
This morning, as you helped Ethan get ready, Lando hovered nearby, his usual calm demeanor replaced by nervous energy. He was fussing over Ethan’s gear, double-checking everything to ensure it was perfect. You couldn’t help but laugh at his overprotectiveness.
“Lando, relax sweetheart” you said, placing a reassuring hand on his back, rubbing lightly. “Ethan is going to be great.”
Lando smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know. I just want everything to go perfectly for him.”
Ethan, noticing his dad’s anxiousness, looked up and grinned. “Dad, it’s okay. I’m ready!” He said, hugging one of his legs.
Lando crouched down to Ethan’s level, ruffling his hair. “I know you are, buddy. Just remember to have fun out there, okay?”
Ethan nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with excitement. “I will!”
The three of you made your way to the track, where the other young racers were getting ready. Ethan’s kart was positioned in its spot, the bright colors and number 4—a tribute to Lando’s racing number—standing out proudly. Lando’s presence drew some attention from the other parents and kids, but he was focused solely on Ethan.
As the race began, you could see the mix of pride and anxiety on Lando’s face. He was holding his phone, ready to film every moment. The sound of the karts revving up was loud, but not louder than Lando’s cheers as Ethan sped off the starting line.
“Go, Ethan! You’ve got this!” Lando shouted, his voice full of encouragement.
The race was intense, with the little racers showing impressive skills. Ethan was doing exceptionally well, navigating the twists and turns with a determination that mirrored his father’s. Lando’s excitement was palpable; he was the loudest supporter on the sidelines, cheering and offering advice whenever Ethan passed by.
“Keep it up, Ethan! You’re doing amazing!”
As the laps went by, Ethan maintained a strong position. You could see the pride in Lando’s eyes as he continued to film, capturing every moment of Ethan’s performance. The other parents around you smiled at Lando’s enthusiasm, clearly charmed by the famous driver’s devotion to his son.
Finally, the race came to an end, and Ethan crossed the finish line in first place. The crowd erupted in cheers, but none louder than Lando, who was practically jumping up and down with joy.
“He did it! He won!” Lando exclaimed, hugging you tightly, giving you a kiss before rushing over to lift Ethan into the air.
Ethan’s face was a mix of shock and delight as he realised he had won. He beamed down at Lando, who was grinning up at him with tears of pride in his eyes.
“Dad, I did it! I'm just like you!” Ethan shouted, wrapping his arms around Lando’s neck.
“You sure did, champ. I’m so proud of you,” Lando replied, his voice choked with emotion, holding his son, peppering his slightly chubby cheeks with kisses.
As Ethan stood on the podium, holding his little trophy high, Lando took countless photos, capturing the moment from every angle to be able to send to his friends and family. The pride in his eyes was unmistakable, and you knew this was a memory neither of them would ever forget.
----
The following weekend, the excitement continued as the McLaren team had arranged a special surprise for Lando and Ethan. The paddock was bustling with activity as everyone prepared for the upcoming race. Lando had his game face on, but there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes, knowing something special was in store. Ethan held onto his hand the whole time before Lando was to race, always wanting to see what was going on, where Lando was going, mimicking his every step.
As you arrived at the McLaren garage, you noticed a small crowd gathered, including team members and a few media personnel. In the center of the commotion was a miniature version of Lando’s racing gear—complete with a custom McLaren karting suit and helmet, all designed for Ethan.
Lando’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “What’s all this?” he asked, turning to the team with with a grin, Ethan saw too, his eyes widening to the size that you thought they could almost pop out of his head.
One of the team members stepped forward, holding the tiny suit. “This is for Ethan. We thought he deserved something special after his big win. YN told his all about it.” They said, smiling, as the rest of the team began clapping for your son.
Ethan’s eyes lit up as he saw the suit. “Is this for me?” he asked, looking up at Lando with wonder.
Lando knelt down to him, taking the suit and holding it up. “It sure is, buddy. Now you can look just like me when you race.”
Ethan’s excitement was contagious as he quickly put on the suit, the team helping him with the final adjustments. He looked up at Lando, who was beaming with pride.
“How do I look, Daddy?” Ethan asked, striking a pose.
“You look like a champion,” Lando replied, ruffling Ethan’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
The team then lifted Ethan into the air, chanting his name in celebration. “Little Norris! Little Norris!” they cheered, making Ethan giggle with delight. The reporters snapped photos, capturing the heartwarming moment between father and son.
As the race day progressed, Ethan stayed by Lando’s side, proudly wearing his new gear. The sight of the two of them together brought smiles to everyone’s faces, and the bond between them was evident to all.
Before Lando’s race began, he knelt down to Ethan’s level, looking into his eyes. “I’m going to be just like you were last weekend and try my hardest out there. Think you can cheer for me?”
Ethan nodded vigorously. “I’ll be the loudest, just like you were for me!”
Lando chuckled, hugging Ethan tightly. “That’s my boy.”
As Lando took his place on the grid, he glanced over to where you and Ethan were standing. You had put your son on your shoulders so he could see his daddy clearer. Ethan was waving enthusiastically, his small figure standing out in the crowd with his bright McLaren suit. Lando felt a surge of motivation, knowing his biggest fans were watching.
The race was intense, but Lando drove with a renewed sense of determination. Each lap was a testament to his skill and dedication, and he could hear Ethan’s cheers echoing in his mind, pushing him to do his best.
When the checkered flag waved, Lando crossed the finish line in third place. It wasn’t a win, but it was a hard-fought podium finish, and he felt immense pride as he made his way to the podium.
Ethan was waiting for him, beaming with excitement. As Lando stood on the podium, holding his trophy, he spotted Ethan in the crowd, waving and cheering. He lifted his trophy high, pointing towards Ethan, who was shouting with joy.
After the ceremony, Lando made his way over to Ethan, scooping him up into a hug. “You were amazing out there, Daddy!” Ethan exclaimed, his eyes shining with admiration.
“You’re the amazing one, Ethan,” Lando replied, kissing the top of his son’s head. “You’re my inspiration.”
The reporters captured the touching moment, the sight of Lando and Ethan together melting hearts around the world. It was a testament to the unbreakable bond between father and son, both on and off the track.
As the sun set over the circuit, you stood with Lando and Ethan, feeling a sense of contentment and pride. The journey of karting had only just begun for Ethan, but with Lando’s support and love, you knew he was in for an incredible ride.
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LandoNorris: Little Norris having more wins than me. Love you champ, prouder than I ever thought I could’ve been.
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Mclaren: Our favourite Norris (other than YN)
LandoNorris: ouch? but also same
OscarPiastri: do you guys have the same size racing suits?
YNNorris: Lando’s is a bit smaller than Ethan’s, Ethan keeps growing and Lando keeps shrinking, have to swap them all the time🙄
LandoNorris: this was suppose to be a nice post for our son and you continue to try and roast me. Rude.
DanielRicciardo: LITTLE NORRIS!! future world champ🗣️
CarlosSainz: proud of my godson ❤️
CharlesLeclerc: wtf since when were you his godfather??
YNNorris: since never, we just let him live the delusion
CarlosSainz: you told me I was allowed to be godfather?😖
LandoNorris: we just told you that so you’d stop asking us
CarlosSainz: who is his godfather tf?
OscarPiastri: hi, i think you would find that’s me
CarlosSainz: HIM???
F1: Future world champ right there, we love having him around and can’t wait to see his future❤️🏎️
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lyxandria · 5 months
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patience breeds success - dr. ratio x f!reader
cw: nsfw- mdni; smut; piv; multiple orgasms; missionary; mating press; prone bone; edging; overstimulation; size kink; begging; breeding kink; creampie; no protection used; dubcon; talk of pregnancy; praise kink (reader referred to as "good girl"); female-bodied reader.
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are you challenging me? he asks, his hips stopping mid-thrust.
yes, you reply breathless, annoyed he has stopped fucking you. dragging your hands down his muscular back, you dig your nails into the soft flesh of his backside. pushing his cock deeper in your pussy as you press your hips up to meet his.
are you aware who you are talking to? he scoffs at you as his tall body looms over yours. your body caged under his, his eyes narrow to slits as he stares at you with the ferocity of one of the great felines. 
of course i do. your pussy clenches, squeezing his shaft until he lets out a soft and delicious groan. you're dr. veritas ratio. a genius more intelligent than anyone else. a man who can do anything and everything he sets his mind to.
that's right, he chokes out with pride as you squeeze his cock again. 
and that's why I want you to fuck a baby inside me. you look up at him, your smile wicked. tempting. he wants to wipe that smug smile off your face.
and destroy you.
are you up for the challenge?
he dips his head low to meet yours. foreheads touching, his breath like fire on your lips, he lifts his hand and ghosts your cheek with his fingertips. you press your face into his touch, the gesture soft and tender.
he quickly covers your mouth with his as he moves his hand to your hip, his fingers digging into your precious skin, sure to leave bruises tomorrow.
i hope you know what you're asking for, he whispers between kisses. he pulls away as he withdraws his cock until only the tip remained inside you. he waits a moment, enjoying the soft look on your face, knowing it's the last time he will see it until he is done breeding you.
without warning, he slams his hips against yours, his balls smacking your ass, the air in your lungs pushed out as he buries himself deep inside your walls.
you best be prepared for what you asked for. his thrusts are merciless as he drills your pussy with his cock, his tip reaching deeper and deeper with each rough stroke.
his hand finds yours. his fngers interlacing with yours, he brings your joined hands to your belly. he presses your palm against your skin just a few inches below your belly button. do you feel me? is this deep enough, you think? 
you look down at your where your palm is, the outline of tip of his cock pushing up on your skin. your breath hitches, having never seen anything more sexy, you're afraid you’ll come right there and then.
as if reading your mind, he slows his strokes, denying you your release. Please, you beg. it feels so good.
not yet, he coos in your ear. i have a job to do tonight, and i've never failed in performing any task. you whimper and whine, your body thrashing against the sheets, seeking some form of relief from this crual frustration.
he slows his thrusts so much, your pussy is simply warming his cock. his gaze meets you, frustration, too, written all over his handsome features – clearly not the only one who is hungry and needy for more.
closing your eyes, you try to relax your body; he might have the upper hand now, but you have no intention of giving in and begging.
he takes advantage of your diminished senses and utilizes that precise moment to resume pounding your pussy.
biting on his shoulder, your body is wracked with pleasure as he ravishes you. veritas truly is the best at all he does – he is a skilled lover, knowing exactly where your sweet spot is. the one that when he hits just right, you scream out the most lewd and obscene noises as your pussy clamps down on his cock.
make as much noise as you like, he encourages as he continues to impale your sweet spot with his cock. your sounds are like sweet music to my ears.
unsure you could take anymore, you succumb to his cruelty, his hard thrusts getting rougher as he fucks you harder. 
that's it, he praises, you’re taking me so good. your pussy feels so good, so tight, he grunts as he slams his hips into yours the pleasure building inside you until it is overwhelming.
come for me. cream on my cock, he urges as he buries his cock deep inside you, your walls tightening and spasming as you cum all over his cock.
you are still riding the waves of ecstasy as he begins to rock his body against yours. he laughs when he notices a look of confusion on your face as you realize his cock is still buried inside you.
he starts to rail your blissed out body. unable to move much, your pussy becomes a glorified fleshlight for veritas to fuck as he sees fit. his pace increases, his shaft sliding deeper and deeper inside your tight walls. 
he slows his strokes, guiding one of your ankles over his shoulder. you're certain of this? his voice is gentle, all traces of his earlier audacity now gone. 
your eyes meet him and you nod. he gazes back at you intently, needing to hear the words you said to him earlier again.
i want you to breed me, you sighed, so desperate to be filled with his seed. i want you to fuck a baby into me tonight.
veritas smiles at you, eager to complete his task.
it would be my pleasure, he whispers. guiding your other ankle over his shoulder, your legs spread wide open, pussy exposed. he withdraws his cock fully, then rubs his cock along your slit.
please, you beg, desperate and needy. i need you to fill me up with your cum.
as you wish.
with your thighs spread, he slams into you, his cock easily sliding in with one hard thrust. his name is but a moan on your lips, your breasts bouncing vigorously with each rough stroke from his cock.
take it, he grunts as he pounds you, the pleasure building in both your bodies.
i can't wait, you whine loudly, needing your second release.
not yet, just a little longer. he snaps his hips against yours, his balls slapping your ass on each stroke. i know you can take me deeper. he presses his palm against your belly. almost there, he coaxed, his cock already so deep he is rearranging your insides. 
you're almost there, he praises you. just think of how beautiful you will look when your body swollen with my child.
titling your head back, you cry out as your orgasm rips through your body, your pussy creaming on his cock for a second time this evening.
only after you reach your peak does he increase his pace, his cock throbbing as his tip seeks your womb. with a loud grunt, he rams his cock inside you and fills you with his seed, painting your walls white.
your walls squeeze his shaft, milking him of every last drop, not wanting to waste any of his seed.
that was amazing, you whisper, your combined juices mixing and already flowing down your leg. despite his cock softening, he was still buried inside you.
the night is young, he says with a wicked grin. he pulls out, his cock semi-erect and rolls you onto your belly. wrapping a hand around his thick shaft, and it only takes a few hard tugs before he is hard again
climbing atop your prone body, he lines his cock to your entrance and begins to push inside.
no! you begin to protest, your body screaming in pain as he slowly thrusts inside you. it hurts. so big, can't fit all of you. your words are an incomprehensible mess as he continues to slide his length into your sore and abused hole.
he presses gentle kisses upon your cheek. shhh… he soothes. it's okay. i know you can take it all and make me fit inside your tight pussy. tears roll down your cheeks as he ignores your tears and continues to pound deeper inside your pussy. don't forget, you're the one who asked for this. you asked me – no, begged me – to fuck a baby inside you.
with one rough thrust, he buries his cock inside you, your body ripping in half as his cock is swallowed in your folds. 
ahhh… it hurts! you scream out as he pushes your thighs closer to your torso, bending and breaking your body in half.
he looks down and admires the sight below – his thick cock plunged deep in your tight pussy, your combined arousal leaving a ring of white around where your bodies are joined.
he kisses the rim of your ear, his kisses hot and biting, like the words whispered in your ear.
take a rest if you like. allow your body to pass out, if you can. you'll certainly need it; we will be at this until the sun comes up, my dear.
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mariasont · 2 months
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Bumper to Bumper - A.H
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a/n: this is so self-indulgent i am probably the worst fucking parker you've ever seen it's wild & i also just watched a vid of mgg parking someone's car and went feral so there's that
‧₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
pairings: aaron hotchner x reader (i don't think there is any use of pronouns just nicknames like honey)
warnings: none? rough day, reader is beefing with parking, tooth-rotting fluff
wc: 800
"Hotchner," came his voice, rough like sandpaper across the line, as you fought back the swell of tears, your lower lip caught in the anxious trap of your teeth.
Your eyes fixed on the parking spot before you, the very sight of it forming a lump in your throat as your frustration mounted. The morning had unfolded like a series of unfortunate events--your coffee machine had sputtered its last, your favorite book left forgotten on the porch to be ruined by the rain, and now, this parking spot seemed to mock you, its yellow lines almost pulsating with contempt. 
Your hand glided across your dampened cheek, exhaling a shaky breath as you juggled the phone between your ear and shoulder. "You know, I don't think I've said this enough, but you're an exceptional boss. Honestly, you're—"
You sensed the sigh in his breath before he spoke. "What do you need?"
"I know I'm late," you managed to get out, a small hiccup halting your sentence as you did everything in your power to avoid crying, but the waver in your voice gave you away. "But I have a good reason--"
Once more, he stopped you mid-sentence, as he often did. "Where are you? Is everything okay?"  
"I'm fine, it's silly."
"If something's wrong, I want to hear it. What's happening?"
"I just... I can't seem to park my car," you choke out, cheeks aflame with mortification. "I've been trying and failing, over and over, it's embarrassing. The spot's too tight, and of course, it's the only one left because 'M late."
"Hold on, I'll be right there," he said, and the line went dead.
You were left staring at your phone, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over you. You cringed, feeling smaller with each passing second, knowing he was swamped with work and here you were, unable to perform the simplest task of parking a car.
The moment you saw him step out of the building, your racing heart began to slow, his presence alone easing the knot of anxiety in your chest. He approached and opened the driver's door, and you were suddenly spilling over with apologies, the traces of tears still evident on your cheeks.
He looked at you with a gentleness that melted away the last of your defenses, reassuring you with a simple. "It's okay. I got it."
He took your place behind the wheel and parked the car with ease. As you stood there, you realized how his unwavering steadiness had become a pillar you leaned on more often than you'd like to admit. 
As he stepped out of the car, you approached, your voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you, and I'm sorry. I know it's such a small thing..."
He gave a slight sigh, one that seemed to brush away your concerns, a hint of a smile in his eyes and said, "There's nothing to apologize for. Don't be so hard on yourself," he reminded you gently, his hand coming to rest on the soft of your shoulder. 
A silent nod was all you could muster as you lifted your gaze to meet his. Your eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, and your nose, slightly pink from the number of tissues you had abused this morning. In a soft plea, you murmured, "Can I have a hug?"
Without a word, he simple open his arms, an unspoken invitation that you immediately accepted. As you nestled into his arms, your body relaxing as you inhaled his familiar scent. A soft sniffle escaped you as Hotch quietly said, "Five senses..."
You closed your eyes and focused on the sensory details--the comforting touch, his reassuring voice, the sight of his concerned gaze when you opened your eyes, the taste of the air mingled with his cologne, and the grounding scent of him. As your breathing evened out, he gently placed his hand on the pulse point at your neck, counting your heart rate in his mind. 
You stepped back, a sheepish grin spreading across your face. "I suppose driving school is next on my training agenda?"
Hotch's expression softened into a subtle smile. "I'd agree, considering I just got you that car, I'd prefer it if you got the chance to enjoy it first before crashing it," he teased back lightly. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
"Promise."
Hotch glanced at his watch, a decision forming in his eyes. "I think I can free up some time later. How about we get you another copy of your book?"
As your smile broke through the clouds of your frustration, it was as if the sun had pierced through the overcast sky of his day, bathing him in a light he never wanted to leave. "Really?" you responded, practically glowing with delight.
Hotch's heart swelled at the sight, feeling lighter than he had in ages. Gently, he cupped your face, drawing you closer to plant a tender kiss on your forehead. "I love you, honey," he said, his voice a low rumble.
You giggled, a little surprised by the public display of affection, you blushed, responding with a shy, "Love you too."
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realisticshop · 2 years
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ozzgin · 7 months
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Yandere! Monster x Reader [Werewolf]
In Romanian mythology, Pricolici is an evil spirit believed to be born after the death of wicked humans, able to transform into certain animals such as ferocious dogs and wolves. The etymology is unknown, although it's suspected to be of Dacian origin, thus going as far back in time as the 1st century BC. An ancient creature has set its predatory eyes on you.
Winner of the Folklore Monster Poll celebrating Romanian history!
TW: obsessive behavior, violence, death
[Horror Masterlist] [More Headcanons]
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He can tell it's a dream. Nonetheless, it always feels unbearably real. He can smell the incense, hear the hurried trample of feet underneath him. He wants to open his mouth and demand they stop. No words ever come out, the throat is dry and flattened by heavy despair. It's a dream, after all. The priests march on, and the spears are lifted. For a moment, he's blinded by their powerful, sharp glisten. As he gazes at the sacred circle, it occurs to him just how uncomfortable the shackles are. He becomes somewhat distracted by this irritating friction, so much he doesn't register the instructions given by the mysterious men. 
Centuries later, he would stumble upon an old history book by Herodotus that detailed his misfortune:
"The Getae are the bravest of the Thracians and the most just. They believe they are immortal, forever living, in the following sense: they think they do not die and that the one who dies joins Zalmoxis, a divine being. Every four years, they send a messenger to Zalmoxis, who is chosen by chance. They ask him to tell Zalmoxis what they want on that occasion. The mission is performed in the following way: men standing there for that purpose hold three spears; other people take the one who is sent to Zalmoxis by his hands and feet and fling him in the air on the spears. If he dies pierced, they think that the divinity is going to help them; if he does not die, it is he who is accused and they declare that he is a bad person. And, after he has been charged, they send another one. The messenger is told the requests while he is still alive."
The foreign hands tighten around his limbs and he takes a deep breath in, ready for the plunge. Truth be told, he's not too anxious. The first time was terrifying, but one becomes accustomed to death if it repeats itself, night after night as the years pass and millennia settle over it, like a thick blanket of ash and bone and dust. He doesn't remember the pain anymore, only the bitterness. The wrath. He had no business playing God's messenger. He hadn't wished to be choking on his own blood, rippling violently at the corners of his mouth as his eyes dart over the excited masses. There are claps and cheers, and hope, and peace. Just not for him. 
No matter, if they long so dearly after eternity, he'll become their very proof. A tangible undead, a creature of eternity. Let them gaze at their ardent desire as it claws their bowels out for the birds to feed on. Let them sing praise before their God as their soft throats detangle under his fangs. Before he knows it, the corpses lay mangled at his feet and he notices his horrid reflection swaying in the puddles of fresh blood. 
He has become a beast. 
And just like that, the nightmare ends. It always ends here. He pats the sweat off his forehead with the monotonous vigor of habit. It's already noon and the narrow street flocks with curious tourists and natives on their stroll. Every now and then he will venture into the city, just to get a glimpse of the world. He twists the knob and opens a window, enjoying the breeze that cools his skin. His tired eyes wander around with no purpose. 
That's when he sees you. Your wide, carefree smile as you converse with your friend. You're drawing circles along the edge of your coffee cup, propped over the table, entranced by your discussion. Your gentle laugh rings unexpectedly loud against his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, unable to contract a single muscle. 
"Oh, this trail is supposed to have some really nice sights." Your friend is shuffling through unfolded maps, spread out onto the small café table. "We should leave pretty early though, otherwise it'll get dark before the return."
You groan at the idea. Your friend responds with a chuckle. 
"Remember, our tour guide joked about werewolves roaming the outskirts. Do you want to be eaten?" She inquires with a cheeky grin. 
"You know I have a thing for monsters." You answer with a wink. 
The jokes carry on until the bill arrives, and you eventually stand up and merrily make your way down the street. For a brief moment you feel a cold shiver running down your spine, so you peek back inquisitively. Nothing out of the ordinary. 
Ah. By the time his focus returns, the sun is setting, reflecting its crimson rays over the old cobblestone. You've been gone for a while, so he must've been staring into the nothingness for good hours. He clears his throat, mildly embarrassed by his absent-mindedness. He isn't hungry, so he has trouble explaining his sudden captivation with a random human.
Even more bizarre is the consequence of the accidental encounter. The following nights are devoid of the usual torment. Has he ever had a peaceful slumber before? He can't recall. And yet here he is, vacantly eyeing the ceiling without the labored breath or cold shivers, faintly reminiscing about your amused expression. He frowns slightly at the realization that his recollection seems to contain less details compared to yesterday. Your face is smudged by the intense light of the noon, titled at an angle that allows no shadows to discern the features. What will he do when it's entirely gone? A faceless memory, anchored in the depths of his heart as a reminder of what could've been. Is there some universal law that dictates only misery remains unforgotten, or is he just exceptionally unlucky? Infuriating. 
The overwhelming sensation creeps upon him again. A primordial vengefulness that hasn't yet released him from its cold, bony fingers. For once, can't he be granted fairness? His jaw clenches and he marches out of the room. 
Tonight shall be a feast.
The lights are still on in the little tavern inn, and through the small windows he can make out the lively movement of the people inside. He glances at the waning moon one final time. The world may change, and the years may pass, but one thing has never left him throughout the centuries. Always bearing the same pallid, melancholic countenance, his taciturn companion rises, indifferent to the Universe. 
His back arches outwards, the bones tear and twist, the joints dislocate and the skin is giving way to coarse, thick fur. His eyes now carry an amber glow as they rest on the modest building. Without further hesitation, he pounces on the door and it folds like cardboard under his inhuman strength. The room goes quiet and all heads turn to him. He recognizes that look. A fleeting second of fear and curiosity, before true panic settles in. But they rarely have the time to scream. Just as the vocal chords contract and vibrate, their chests are trashed and limbs are tattered. Splattered visceral remains and blood coat the ground under his feral attack.
You squeeze your eyes closed and force your hands over your mouth to ensure your stillness to the massacre. You were just returning from the bathroom when you heard the wails and the wet sounds of mutilated flesh. You'd ducked behind the wall and hid under an end table. What the hell is that creature? You initially thought a wild wolf had somehow made its way into the tavern, but no animal can be this large. There is a backdoor, but on the other side of this hall. You'd have to sprint across the archway that leads into the main room. Then again, if it's this busy ripping the others apart...
No need to ponder your options much. Silence falls behind you, which means the creature must have finished its horrid sport early. His snout picks up a particular scent and he tenses up, expectantly. Could it be? 
The wooden parquet tiles creak under the weight of foreign footsteps; a human approaching you. You look up from under the table. Has someone dealt with the beast? Although you immediately regret revealing yourself. You freeze in your spot, hands propped on the ground, like prey awaiting execution. 
The man is unnaturally tall, having to crouch under the ceiling, with wild black hair and rough features. His chiseled face is painted red, and his clothing is torn apart and soaked in blood. His large hands end in sharp claws, and amid his ruffled locks you can distinguish animal ears. 
There you are.
Well, quite the irony to meet you here of all times and places. From this distance, you look even prettier. He bends over slightly to examine the details that have faded since the first encounter. A surreal experience, really. Seeing you kneel right in front of him and not as a figment of his imagination. He extends his fingers over your face and presses his nails in, leaving a vague trail of swollen, red skin. What a frail being you are.
"Your friend is alive, by the way." His deep, dissonant voice pierces the silence.
"O-oh." You gasp. You were so anxious you barely understood the meaning of his words.
"You may check on her if you so desire, however..." 
He considers it. Normally, even after allowing his anger to seep into cadavers and ruins, all he's left with is disgust and emptiness. Yet your presence seems to fill him with unfamiliar comfort. If one is drowning, is it truly selfish to hold onto the first thing that keeps them afloat? The only people who'd condemn such beggar are the ones that have never been underwater. They don't know what it's like to have your lungs tighten and collapse under the heavy pressure, waving your arms towards a surface that's never reached. 
"...You'll be coming with me afterwards."
You can only stare.
"Don't worry, I won't kill you." He attempts to simulate a smile. "I suppose I'm not too convincing like this", he jokes as he gestures towards his body, "But you have my word I'll never harm you."
"Why, though?" You manage to stutter, frowning in confusion. 
He's taken aback by your inquiry. Perhaps his statement is indeed more threatening than anything else. On the other hand, he hasn't conversed with humans in...longer than he can remember. What might pose as convincing in this case? Drawing out a rose and confessing his undying love among the bodies he murdered feels rather ridiculous. Suddenly, a passage he's once read comes to mind. At the time, it depressed him greatly. Now it feels like the only fitting reasoning.
"Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?"
"Isn't that from Stoker's Dracula? How is it-" 
You pause and search his eyes. Golden trenches of loneliness and gloom. Your heart is heavy and your mouth curls into a grimace the longer you stare into these pools swirling with agony. 
"I understand." Is all you can mutter as you stand up. 
Have you had a choice to begin with? Not even the frothing waves of a storming ocean can come between a dying man and his only raft. 
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yanderenightmare · 6 months
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Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru
TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, arranged marriage
fem reader
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You'd only been married to Suguru for a couple of months, but you’d known each other for longer – always with the knowledge that you’d be wed one day. 
It’s always made it a little nerve-wracking for you to see him, but he’s kept a smile on his face every time – polite and sweet – telling you how pretty you look in such a genuine way you’d never been able to hide how nervous it makes you.
It’s been awkward at times, but that’s to be expected when you get married so young to a person you know only from brief and scheduled altercations. 
Either way, he’s an awfully busy person and spends most of his time at Jujutsu Tech or out on missions. So even now, you don’t see him all that much. 
But when you do see him, he’s still nothing but kind and patient and respectful of you – much more humble than what you’d expect such a profoundly gifted jujutsu-sorcerer to be – where most men like him can't seem to shut up about themselves.
You’ve always felt like he’s been older than you, even though he isn’t. He has that mature air about him, such calm and suave. Even back when you were still kids, he’s been comfortable and confident, always so collected.
And now, older, after the wedding, when you’d performed marital duties, he’d been considerate. Whispering softly in your ear that you could take it at your own pace – holding your hips gently, never leading or handling you, just encouraging while you gingerly climbed up on his lap and started rolling your hips – feeling his bump even through all the layers of your wedding attire.
He’s a good kisser – softly and smoothly brushing his lips with yours, using his tongue like a third lip, softly teasing yours between his teeth. Not too rough, but not too boring either. Just enough to leave you a little breathless.
He’d asked if you were okay – his voice a melted hum, looking at you with sage eyes in wait before going any further. You’d been lost in them while nodding your head, breaths heavy and staggering – feeling warm and tingly all over. 
Then he’d asked if you wanted him to take over – still not making a move, only gently rubbing your hips – waiting for you to repeat your nodding before he’d begun pulling the knots to your fabrics, loosening them all slowly, one by one, like he was unwrapping a present. 
Soon, it all draped the floor and left you nervously goosefleshed. 
He’d lifted you so easily and laid you down softly, splayed with your back against the dune – then he’d continued kissing – going from your lips to your cheek, then your neck and chest, your stomach, and then there.
Making your breath quaver. Back arching off the bed, hands lifting the sheets in curled fingers. Feeling the soft warm tip of his tongue circle your clit – never having felt anything like it before.
You were quite certain you loved him…
Never in your life would you think he’d do this to you.
“Please, Suguru- don’t let him-” You cry, wanting to close your thighs to hide your panties from the pursuing blue-eyed predator in front of you. But your husband doesn’t let go.
You’re in his lap. Legs pinned and spread beneath his while he embraces you snugly from the back, keeping your tiny body pressed tightly against his chest – arms wrapped around your front, his hands at your sides, messaging your skin with those soothing touches while your smaller hands push at the unbudgeable thick muscles lining his forearms – pathetic whines leaving your lips. 
He’s so big and holds you so unfairly easy – paying no mind to your struggles. He just tugs your tiny torso closer to his chest, squishing your waist tightly, squeezing your tits together. His head rests next to yours, nuzzled in the grove between your neck and shoulder – his lips at your ear, calmly shushing you – as if cooing at you could make you stop fussing.
Gojo laughs; he takes the joke even when it puzzles you – finding it even funnier when you can’t wrap your pretty head around it, looking so cute and confused and distraught as to why and how your own husband could do this to you.
His slender fingers reach out to your face, squishing your cheeks between them – and your teary eyes look straight into his blue ones with that awfully beautiful look swirling inside them.
“Oh, he’s not gonna help you, little dummy~” He croons with a smile – his lips close to the pucker of yours, his breath heated. “He’s got his hands full helpin’ me.”
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