#we were the red devils

[isabelpsaroslunnen]

Two of my friends and I recently went on a road trip, and since the other two were trying to stay awake in the second half on the journey, they suggested that I entertain them with a dramatic reading of My Immortal (following from my reading some iconic excerpts from The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable-Girl via Smart Bitches, Trashy Books). We had a blast re-discovering the deep lore of Enoby, Willow/Raven, Dumblydore, Vampire, Snap and Loopin, and the rest, along with the unexpected brief crossover with Back to the Future that I'd completely forgotten in the many years since last time I read it.

Anyway, one of these friends is also a big D&D and BG3 fan, and we got to talking about Enoby in D&D terms and then had the brainwave of using the many mods we've found and downloaded together to recreate her as closely as possible. Behold our genius:

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[feisaru]

Beloved Mephisto,

You know naught about love.

(But Mephisto did in fact know

About the suffering brought about by this thing we call "love"

You just believed him to be incapable of it

Too arrogant for it, perhaps

Dear Gretchen,

You failed to notice

In your ignorance

That the devil might feel too)

[papirouge]

i think one of the reason ill never take the "attack on white cis man" thing is that a "culture" whose purpose is to mock & degrade its own people is nothing exceptional or unique to White cis male

Black women in the western diaspora have to deal with the influence of rap/hood culture, degrading them into the most abject behavior (thankfully Africa is for the most part spared from this trash)

I think Sexxy Red being the growing star of the rap rn tells everything about how bad it's become for us

and you know how the same men (crying over the "oppression" they face) usually react to it? that it's only but Black people's own fault for entertaining this mess, how Black hood culture is trash, etc. Which is true on some level if we're being honest, but then why don't they keep the same energy whenever they whine about the medias and corporations (allegedly destroying the image of the White cis man) owned by WHITE.CIS.MALES and try to make it EVERYONE'S PROBLEM?? last time I checked those CEOs aren't blue haired queers or woke "leftists". They push that agenda because they have an objective benefit to do so. And the irony is that it's most likely the same demographics owning rap music companies (I heard the there was an overlap between companies owning rap music majors and those having stakes in the prison industrial, which is absolutely not surprising). This hard reality is the reason why so many white men try to cope by pulling out crazy conspiracies trying to prove how aktchually the Jews control the world (and manipulate those poooor white puppets) : they refuse to accept that white would destroy themselves by their own greediness. Which is a trait they're more comfortable imputting onto African who sold each others as slaves :)

In the end of the day, it's just karma biting their butt. They're just mad because *this time*, they're the ones having to deal with a bad PR. And ngl it's pretty entertaining to see them being humbled :)

[cxnsolatio]

TAG DROP!!

CHARACTER & GROUP TAGS

✚ | ❝ you're standing in the wings ; there you wait for the curtain to fall ❞ { c / donquixote doflamingo }

✚ | ❝ silent screams laughing here ; dying to tell you the truth ❞ { c / donquixote rosinante }

✚ | ❝ not alone with a dream / just a want to be free ; with a need to belong / i am the clansman ❞ { c / monkey d. luffy }

✚ | ❝ teach me the art of war ; for i shall bring more than you bargained for ❞ { c / roronoa zoro }

✚ | ❝ but brutus wasn't kind / wasn't strawberries that were red ; he wasn't cutting bread ❞ { c / eustass kid }

✚ | ❝  just for a second a glimpse of my father I see ; and in a movement he beckons to me ❞ { c / usopp }

✚ | ❝ i see the ghosts of navigators but they are lost / as they sail into the sunset they'll count the cost ❞ { c / brook }

✚ | ❝ but a ghost lives in my veins ; silent the terror that reigned marbled in stone ❞ { c / sanji }

✚ | ❝ nowhere left to run ; navigator's son / chasing rainbows all my days ❞ { c / bepo }

✚ | ❝ face up ; make your stand / and realise you're living in the golden years ❞ { c / shachi }

✚ | ❝ say goodbye to gravity and say goodbye to death / hello to eternity and live for every breath ❞ { c / penguin }

✚ | ❝ can i tempt you? come with me / be devil may care ; fulfill your dream ❞ { c / ikkaku }

✚ | ❝ unknowingly blessed and as his life unfolds / slowly unveiling the power he holds ❞ { c / tony tony chopper }

✚ | ❝ you watch the world exploding every single night ; dancing in the sun / a newborn in the light ❞ { c / nico robin }

✚ | ❝ they dared to go, where no one would try / they chose to fly where eagles dare ❞ { g / straw hat pirates }

✚ | ❝ when it comes to the time are we partners in crime? when it comes to the time ; we'll be ready to die ❞ { g / heart pirates }

OTHER TAGS

✚ | ❝ and the ship it sinks like lead into the sea / and the hermit shrives the mariner of his sins ❞ { v / contemporary }

✚ | ❝ we fly a flag in some foreign earth ; we sailed away like our fathers before ❞ { v / ??? }

✚ | ❝ can i play with madness? the prophet stared at his crystal ball ❞ { crack }

[lichagf]

truly baffled by the people on twitter who didn’t know there was a devil in the badge jfksbfnsjfn like what tf did you think fred the red was lmaooo

[tender-rosiey]

smack, smack — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: special thanks to the beautiful @stinkyme for inspiring me to actually write this and for fangirling over the idea with me <3

gojo satoru, like any dad, got his fair share of ‘bullying’ from his daughter, his 5 months old baby.

some dads get peed on, others get their hair pulled, and others get their nose bitten on the daily. it's a little something to make them suffer a bit like the mothers had to during the pregnancy.

your husband, however, is always getting smacked in the face whenever he has his blindfold on, and I mean harshly smacked in the face and unforgiving scratching.

the first time it happened was when he was going to school. he was ready, uniform on and everything, but he simply had to say goodbye to his two girls.

skipping to your shared bedroom, he placed two big smooches on your face. then, after much of pulling him off you, he went to smooch his little girl. a big unmatched grin was on his face as he looked down at her in her crib.

he picked her up, cooing softly at her, “what a pretty girl, just as pretty as your mama, huh?”

satoru then laid her gently against his chest and started rocking her softly, while humming. after a while, he felt her stir a little in his arms. she sleepily looks up at him, and he smiles down at her, “good morning, baby—“

now, your daughter was used to seeing her dad without the blindfold. she was used to getting met by her dad's bright blue eyes.

so when a strange unknown man was holding her up instead of her papa, she started wailing and screaming, repeatedly smacking him in the face.

whenever her little—strong—hand landed on the blindfold, she would try to pull it off with all her baby might. you scrambled out of your bed at the loud screeches and screams of both your husband and your daughter.

you saw how satoru was desperately trying to, as gently as possible, make her release her grip. you stumbled on your words, before yelling, “your blindfold! take off your blindfold off!”

“I! am! trying!” he yelps as she continues slapping the hell out of his face.

you hurry and take his blindfold off, swiftly throwing it to the side. he started rocking her, smiling despite the red marks and scratches all over his handsome face, “it’s me, daddy! you see me?”

almost magically, your daughter calmed down in an instant with the occasional hiccup from her previous crying. he smiled, “there you go; that’s my girl.”

she gently made grabby hands at him, and he quickly pulled her back into his chest. your daughter instantly snuggled into his shoulder and hid her face in his neck.

you stared at him for a moment, “well, at least we know that she bloody hates that blindfold.”

it honestly kind of adds up.

you remember the many times that your daughter was generally distressed or fussy and instantly calmed down when she saw her dad’s eyes. you also remember that one time your daughter was actually zoning out while looking at satoru’s eyes, her own safe place.

satoru chuckles with a shrug, “I have you as my savior, anyway.”

“you can’t always count on me to be the one to save you from our daughter’s monstrously strong grip.”

and he can’t.

no one is brave enough to try and to fight back a baby, let alone the strongest sorcerer’s baby.

that attack happens way more than satoru would like. for example, whenever you’re busy, he takes his little princess to the school with him. in general, everyone helps in taking care of the little angel (devil in some cases).

however, god forbid she sees satoru coming back from a mission with his blindfold on.

it took some time for your husband to learn his lesson and immediately take his blindfold off before he entered the school. until then, he was prone to his daughter’s crazy strong hand smacking his face till his entire face is painted red and not the cute kind.

satoru never believed in his students to save him, except for yuuji. the first time it happened around the students, most of them were either laughing or speechless.

yuuji did try to save his sensei from his smacking machine of a daughter, but ended up getting smacked himself.

your husband did hope that, maybe, nanami’s heart would soften, and he would finally help him.

nanami’s heart did soften, just not for satoru. instead, your daughter now has a special soft spot in nanami’s heart, as he did in hers, but that isn’t our topic for today.

the amount of times you would enter the room to find nanami chuckling or smiling at your husband getting beaten to a pulp by your baby. satoru could be sobbing, “nanami, please! save me!”

and nanami would simply smile—sadistically—and hum, “I don’t think I will.”

you’re pretty sure that nanami believes this is god’s way of punishing your husband for all the mischief he caused.

ignoring that, it grips your heart how satoru’s face would brighten up the moment he saw you. he would run up to you, giving you the baby to calm her down while he gives his face a rest.

and your little girl was smiling and giving you her version of cheek kisses.

your husband recovered quickly though, and took her back, his blindfold finally off. he doesn’t do it without pecking your lips though, “my savior.”     

then he gets lost in his own world with his little girl, and their laughs and giggles filled the room. her hands were gently holding her dad’s face as she squeals, and satoru’s heart soars as he forgets about his beating from a moment ago.

now, that doesn’t mean that his dear students don’t make fun of him for always losing against his little girl. during one of the recent teasings, he simply huffed, “you never tried the grip of a baby! tell them, yuuji!”

yuuji shudders as he remembers how long the slap mark lasted, “she is one hell of a strong baby.”

it’s one thing for panda and nobara to laugh, it’s another for megumi and maki to do so as well. your husband’s ego simply couldn’t take it anymore. he took his baby in his arms and gathered the baby bags, sparing one last glance at his ‘bullies’.

and so your husband dramatically exits the room, “I need my wife! I can’t with you people anymore!”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

check out my buy me a coffee!

[xxlelaxx]

Situations have situationed cause God forbid my family be normal about stuff...

But I've had some interesting conversations yesterday and am now considering how to proceed in handling one Person.

The issue is that they are mentally ill and mentally ill people do stuff they regret.. but at the same time I've had it. And they've had it rough. I know you do stupid shit when caught up in stuff..

but at the same time... I think I spent a big chunk of my life getting manipulated by that person and I'm not sure that they even care... Like they suffered and were hurt, yes, but they keep blaming everyone and ignoring the things around us. Hell, my sister and I got told that we are the reason for them developing an eating disorder cause they would horde all the "special snacks" (we didn't have a lot of money) and refuse to share while we always did. All we wanted was them to share and stop being a selfish ass (an issue this person still has). My sister has long lasting issues with this cause they kept stealing her food??? And they complained about being locked up as a kid (definitely wrong) and being made to feel like an animal (also very wrong) but they would attack us in a very scary and feral way. Like we had no choice except them hurting us a lot unless we locked them up. It was wrong but nobody was helping and at some point you're over being hurt. They refuse to acknowledge that they used to hurt us... like they would kick us (mainly my sister I kicked back) and threaten us with physical violence to the point. At some point I started fighting them for fun so they would get it out of their system. Like consensual beating between siblings (also wrong, but nobody knew and it helped). They even sought me out to have those fights cause they helped them calm down and we had signals for when things got too heated or personal. That doesn't make the things that happened okay, but it's not like everyone was evil and just hurt the little baby. And now they keep having angry breakdowns and destroying stuff and making us feel bad about it even though they got themselves into that situation and they refuse to take responsibility for anything they do. How is it our fault that they have anger issues??? I've told them before that I get anger being too much but this could be seen as something being manipulative (which I had forgotten about but this also isn't the first time). It is starting to feel like they do it on purpose cause this just happens when they don't wanna do stuff. (Same as with using self harm as a way to pressure us to act like they want). And now supposedly it's our fault for triggering them??? But they ignore the well established and known triggers of others? Like there have been situations where they purposely triggered my sister and they never really apologized??? And we haven't even been rude. We've been very nice about this situation which many people would not have been in an attempt to save their relationship with some friends they met in the last year. They keep backstabbing us for other people but going off about loyalty as if they even know what that word means. And they also talk down about us sometimes cause a therapist made the mistake to tell them they had a high IQ. Now they believe they are so much smarter than everyone else but are not able to do their own resume for a job they needed half a month ago because they struggle so much with their ADHD... Which at this point I also can't hear anymore. Like it's disabling but can you please stop pretending that everyone else is beneath you when you literally cannot do anything on your own and rely on those people you shit talk to do things for you??? You're not better just like they aren't better for being able to do things you can't do. This is just rude. Also everyone around you not behaving like you want to is not because they are stupid but because humans are different???

Like we've apologized for what we did in the past several times but I'm over being blamed for everything cause someone can't make real tangible progress in 5 years of therapy... And especially for things that just aren't my fault or they refuse to communicate. We're not here to be punching bags and fixing their mistakes and never really getting anything back. That's not how life or relationships work.

Another thing is that I know this therapist was someone elses therapist and they did the exact same thing. They were told multiple times their behavior was manipulative and they were aware of it and kept doing it. Also because they were "so smart". So I think the therapist might be enabling this behavior.

I really wanna be supportive and understanding for their sake but I don't know for how long I can listen to being blamed for everything while everyone pretends they do no wrong... Cause honestly they broke a fucking chair into six pieces and blamed us for self harming while this situation is fully their own responsibility.. like they are a grown up. Not a kid anymore. This was preventable if they had acted according to the role they assumed in this whole situation. This is the second time we are going through this and the first time they agreed to taking up that role. A role that was obvious they would have to assume to get what they wanted out of this. If you can't handle the responsibility you don't get to reap the benefits. That's just how it is. And if you know you are not capable of those things, don't get into those situations.

Like for once in your life take accountability instead of pretending everyone else is to blame and out to get you while life has been giving you chances for free just cause you are male presenting and have a very supportive family.

[wysteria-bloom]

⚝ "oh shit you're crying okay"

Hazbin Hotel boys react to you crying at a party

Warnings : mentions of val. hate that motherfucker.

Genre : angst, comfort, fluff

A/n : bro I jump between fandom obsessions too much I need help. Why am I simping for THE DEVIL from THE BIBLE and A TV-HEAD MAN 😭😭 actually devastated with myself. Anyways Vox and Alastor's may be a bit longer because... yeah. Angel-Dust's is a friend relationship but you can interpret it differently if you are a dude lol

Characters : angel-dust, husk, alastor, vox, lucifer

▢ angel dust 𔘓

When he walked into the bathroom, he was shocked at first at the sight of you, feeling fear grip his heart.

Had Val got his hands on you when he was distracted? He would never forgive himself if he had-

"Toots, ya can't jus' go an' disappear on me like that," He began softly as he closed the bathroom door, locking it for privacy," had me tearin' out my hair."

You sniffed as you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks swollen from tears," s-sorry..." you whimpered out, curling in on yourself a little more.

He grimaced at the dirty floor you were sitting on before maneuvering around you sit next to you, one of his arms pulling you into his side-embrace comfortingly.

"This party's fuckin' shitty, ain't it? Sorry for bringin' ya here, doll." He sighed out, hand caressing your side softly.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from sobbing as you shook your head vehemently," i-it's not that, Angel... you were only trying to cheer me up..." you furiously wiped at your eyes to stop more tears from falling," I just-... Fucking hate everything down here..."

He hummed, head leaning on top of yours," cheers to that." He droned out with a frown.

You looked up at him, his heart squeezing at the innocent look on your face. You weren't supposed to be down in a place like this, there was no way.

"Can we just... go get ice cream or something?" You then gulped, waving a hand," b-but if you're having fun-"

"Nah. I'd rather do one of Charlie's trust exercises than be in this shit-hole." He stood up smoothly and pulled you with him, keeping you close to him as he grinned toothily," I would kill for an ice cream right now."

▢ alastor ⍋

He didn't willingly want to be here, in fact he stayed for a total of 15 minutes to please Charlie before escaping outside to leave.

But the sight of you sitting on the steps outside sniffling to yourself made him pause in his long strides.

You had your head hung low, a red plastic cup sitting at your side alone.

You were prime for manipulation.

But... Alastor found himself being sympathetic. He breathed out a sigh before walking over to you," my, what do we have here? My dear, being out in the open in such a vulnerable state is a bold choice!" He exclaimed, grinning down at you, but it wasn't as sharp as it usually was.

You jumped at his sudden presence," Jesus-!" You looked up.

"Not quite!"

You seemed to relax at the sight of the red-haired demon and sighed in relief," Alastor..." you gave him a weak smile, wiping away at your tears," Wh-what brings you out here, huh? Needed fresh air?"

He sat down on the steps with you," As a matter of fact, I was planning my great escape from this wretched event!" He tilted his head at you, hair falling along with him as he regarded you with a knowing glint in his eyes," I believe you're well acquainted with the feeling, hmm?"

Your smile fell as you huffed, deciding it was useless to keep up a happy persona around Alastor when he was so good at reading right through you," You could say that."

"What bothers you so, my dear?" He gave you a closed-eyed smile, tugging at your cheek like an annoying auntie would do," perhaps your favourite radio demon can be of service to you."

He earned a giggle from you as you waved his hand away amusedly, making his expression soften at the sound.

"You're the only radio demon I know." You raised a brow at him in amusement.

He nodded with an exageratted shrug," I wouldn't have it any other way, dear."

You smiled genuinely at him, feeling your worries already disappearing," parties suck." You answered his previous question.

"Aha!" His smile looked like a grimace and his fluffy ears flattened as if an unpleasant memory was reminded to him," agreed."

"They're gross."

"Tell me about it!"

"And the people in it make me want to kill myself. Again."

He snapped his fingers at you," I knew we had something in common! Well-said, cher, very well-said~!" He pressed a hand to his heart - as if he had one.

As you laughed, your tears dried up and you leaned back a little," as for you being of service?..." You trailed off, referring back to his earlier inquiry. A soft smile made its way to your lips," I think you've helped enough already, Al."

The red demon's posture seemed to stiffen but relax, his grin curving gently which was his way of softening it," Wonderful to hear, my dear."

He gave you a gentle pat to the shoulder and you had never felt so comforted in that moment.

▢ husk ꩜

Before even attending the party, he knew something was up with you. You weren't smiling as much on the way there, and you were jumpy at his comforting touches.

Even so, you insited that you wanted to spend time with everyone at the party despite his assurances that you could stay home.

When he found you crying in the bathroom, he froze in his spot before grumbling to himself and closing the door behind him, not before giving a growl and a deadly glare at the demon that was whining about needing a piss.

He led you gently from the ground to a standing position before settling you on the toilet seat.

The silence between you both was soft and comforting, hanging in the air like a gentle caress of wind.

He got down on his knees in front of you and began to wipe away at your tears, a deep frown settled on his face.

You only stared into his eyes with your glassy ones, bottom lip trembling," my makeup probably looks so fucking gross..." you sobbed.

Husk snorted," should be the least of your worries, doll." When you finally stopped crying he huffed and flicked your forehead," you have some serious FOMO." He grumbled out, an amused smirk on his fluffy face.

You sniffled and nodded, choking back more tears," I know."

"And you need to know when to stop if you're uncomfortable."

You nodded again," I know.."

His brows furrowed," and you still look pretty with your makeup running down your face." His reassurance was sweet and charming despite the disgruntled expression on his face.

A watery smile broke onto your lips,"... Thank you." You breathed out softly.

"Wanna get the fuck outta here? There's a nice bar I know a few blocks away we could drink at. Just the two of us."

You hummed," Sounds awesome."

▢ vox ᯤ

When he agreed to go to this stupid party for Val, he wasn't expecting to run into something like this.

His greatest enemy, you, was sat outside with your head in your hands as you sobbed and cursed to yourself.

To be honest he was torn between making fun of you or just taking advantage of the situation and killing you.

But there was that little voice in the back of his coding that screamed to comfort you.

He groaned and ran his hands down his face," fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life..." He muttered to himself as he walked over to you.

He stood behind you and watched as you paused to look up at him, face puffy and pathetic.

He grinned wryly at the sight," Holy shit you're an ugly crier." He stated without thinking.

Your wide eyes turned half-lidded as you turned your attention away from him," Go fuck yourself, Vox. I'm not in the mood for your whiny baby shit." You grumbled out.

"Hey, hey. Whiny baby is too far, sweetheart. Take the insults down a few notches, yeah?" He then sat down next to you," treating me like this when about to comfort you. The fuckin' nerve of you."

You gave him a deadly glare, growling," Vox, leave. I told you I'm not in the fucking m-" you were interrupted by being pulled into a sudden embrace, making you shut up immediately.

There was a long awkward silence as you were pulled into Vox's side in a side-hug.

Then you spoke with a small voice,"... what is this." Was more of a demand than a question.

"Comfort." Vox replied casually when he was fucking sweating buckets.

"........ huh...." you bit your lip as you felt tears sting at your eyes,"... alright."

You leaned into him unknowingly, making him gush a little to himself. Why the fuck was he being soft right now? He didn't know.

"You looked hot tonight. All dolled up." He gritted out.

"Yeah? Looked? Past-tense?"

He nodded," you look like a wet-rag now."

You snorted," fuck you, man." You grumbled, and leaned your head onto his shoulder," fuck, I'm pathetic..."

"Yeah. But it's okay." He replied as comfortingly as he could but it just came out awkwardly," y'know parties are supposed to be fun? Why are you crying?"

"I hate my life? Or lack thereof?"

He hummed with a nod," Fair enough." Then he smiled widely," guess we have one thing in common, huh?"

You looked up at him before you sent him a slightly amused smirk," do we?"

He cleared his throat at your expression and looked away quickly, blush on his screen,"I-I mean.. yeah. Fucking sucks down here. Literal shit hole." Then he shrugged, trying to brush off the stutter of his heart," but... but at least you're not like... alone or whatever the fuck."

You stared for a moment, eyes softening as you nodded in agreement,"... Yeah. At least there's that, huh?"

You leaned back into his embrace with less tension in your body as Vox began to relax alongside you.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

He came to this party just to make a brief appearance for his daughter's celebration of the hotel being rebuilt to be honest.

But he took quick note of how you had left very suddenly, mumbling to him about needing to take a breather outside. He was worried, of course, but he just left you in your lonesome until he got worried when you didn't return for 20 minutes.

When he walked outside onto the balcony of the hotel his eyes widened in horror at the sigh of you sobbing to yourself.

"Oh shit you're crying okay ummm," He walked over to you quickly, playing with his fingers awkwardly," Honey is everything okay? Do...do you need a hug?"

"Shit... sorry..." you mumbled looking up at him ashamedly from the floor, smiling pathetically as tears trailed down your cheeks," I.. I'm sorry you have to see me like this..."

He frowned deeply, his nervousness subsiding as he crouched down in front of you," Don't apologise for something so silly." He mumbled, grabbing on your hand and gently squeezing," what's wrong? Is it something I can help with?"

His concern was incredibly sweet and touching, not something you would expect from the King of Hell.

But here he was comforting you like you were the most precious treasure to him. And you were... aside from Charlie, for obvious reasons.

You sniffled and felt your tears gathering again at his concern, you bottom lip trembling. At the sight, he frowned," Oh, love... oh honey..." He brought you into a hug, arms wrapping securely around you as he let his wings embrace you as well," I'm here now... always will be..."

You nodded against him as you just cried your heart out.

[seafarersdream]

Heck yeah Freddie Fox!!!!what if reader plays Gwayne and Alicent sister, but their chemistry is sooooo good that the creators had to cut their scenes together because "they're Hightowers, not Targaryens"🤣🤣🤣and the cast are having the time of their lives with that

Me and the Devil (Freddie Fox x Y/N)

Y/N L/N, who stars as Lady Eleanor Hightower, has an absolutely electric chemistry with her on-screen brother, Freddie Fox, who plays Ser Gwayne Hightower, much to the amusement and exasperation of the HOTD cast and crew.

TW // Strong language and profanities, incestuous undertones, sexual tension and innuendos.

The sun was rising behind the walls of the Red Keep, casting long, creeping shadows over the Outer Courtyard. Lady Eleanor Hightower, clad in the deep, grieving olive of her house, stood with an air of weary grace beside her sister, Dowager Queen Alicent. Her face was a picture of calm, though her eyes were heavy with the sorrow of loss and the weight of recent weeks.

“Do you think he’ll bring that dreadful horse again?” Eleanor asked, her voice soft but dripping with that sharp edge she never quite lost, even in mourning.

Alicent’s lips twitched, but she held her composure. "If he does, I’ll have it stabled outside the walls. I’m not having that beast piss all over the courtyard again."

The rumble of hooves on cobblestones drew their attention. The gates opened, and a column of knights in shining armor, bearing the sigil of House Hightower, entered the courtyard. At their head was Ser Gwayne Hightower, his helm tucked under one arm, revealing the tousled auburn hair and devil-may-care grin that Eleanor had grown so used to seeing—when he wasn’t hiding it behind an arrogant smirk.

“Well, well, look who it is. The fairest blooms of Oldtown,” Gwayne drawled, striding over like he owned all Seven Kingdoms. “Alicent, you’re still holding up the realm with that iron fist of yours. And Eleanor…” His eyes trailed over her, lingering just a fraction too long, “Looking every bit the grieving widow. Tell me, how does it feel to be free of that hideous arsehole, late Lord Hastwyck? May the Seven forgive him.”

Eleanor shot him a withering look, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “About as good as it feels to watch you strut around like you haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ellie,” Freddie retorted, still in character, his grin widening. “Thought all that mourning might’ve taken the edge off your bite, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, a smirk that could rival his playing on her lips. “And you, brother, seem as full of yourself as ever. Did the trip here inflate your ego even further?”

Gwayne grinned wider, flashing teeth. “Careful, little sister, or I’ll think you missed me.”

Alicent, tired of their verbal sparring, interjected. “Gwayne, you’ve arrived at an important time. Ser Criston Cole has replaced our father as Hand, and there is much work to be done.”

Gwayne’s grin faded into a sneer. “Ser Criston Cole? That jumped-up cunt of a knight? What, are we that desperate, we’re pulling nobodies out of the arse-end of the Kingsguard now?”

The crew, who had been trying to keep it together, finally lost it. Laughter rang out across the courtyard, cameramen shaking their heads as they tried to stay steady.

“Cut! Fucking hell, cut!” Geeta Patel called out, struggling to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She stepped forward, waving her hands as she approached the trio. “Alright, Freddie, Y/N, that was... Jesus Christ, that was incredible. But you’re not Jaime and Cersei Lannister, alright? You’re Hightowers. That kind of sibling chemistry doesn’t fly in this family. Tone down the ‘let’s fuck each other senseless’ vibes, okay?”

Freddie turned to Y/N, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Hear that, darling? We’re too bloody hot for Westeros.”

Geeta rolled her eyes, but she was smiling despite herself. “I swear, you two are going to give me aneurysm. Just... try to remember you’re siblings. No more of that smoldering shit. The Hightowers don’t do what the Targaryens do, alright?”

Freddie put on a mock-serious face, hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to be the picture of brotherly love. No more dirty looks, no more—“

“Smoldering looks, you tosser,” Y/N corrected, elbowing him in the ribs. “And good luck with that.”

The crew was still giggling, a few members openly impressed. “Honestly, we haven’t seen chemistry like this since Game of Thrones,” one of the grips muttered, shaking his head. “It’s fucking unreal.”

As Geeta returned to her chair, giving notes to the crew, Freddie leaned in closer to Y/N. “Honestly, how are we supposed to act like siblings when you keep giving me those eyes?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance. “You mean the same eyes you’re giving me right now? Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Freddie chuckled, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “Well then how about we really give them something to talk about?”

Y/N swatted at him playfully. “Behave yourself, Fox. Or I’ll tell Geeta.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Before Freddie could fire back, Geeta’s voice rang out again. “Alright, enough banter, you two. Places! And for fuck’s sake, remember—you’re Hightowers, not Targaryens or Lannisters!”

Freddie straightened up, slipping back into his role as Ser Gwayne, but not before giving Y/N one last, devilish wink. “For now,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. She shot him a look that promised retribution later.

As the cameras rolled once more, they slipped effortlessly back into character, their banter sizzling with that same crackling chemistry that had the entire crew both laughing and marveling at just how damn good these two were together—siblings or not.

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On a different day, Geeta Patel was giving final instructions to Olivia Cooke and to Fabien Frankel. “Alright, Olivia, Fabien,” Geeta began, her tone calm. “This scene is all about the farewell. Criston, you’re asking for Alicent’s favor before you leave for war. This is a significant moment between you two. We need it to be subtle, yet powerful. Got it?”

Fabien nodded, his expression serious. “Got it, Geeta.”

Olivia smiled. “Ready when you are.”

Geeta gave them a satisfied nod and turned to the crew. “Okay, everyone, positions! Let’s make this one count.”

As the cameras rolled, Criston Cole approached Alicent with a grave expression, his armor gleaming in the dying light. He bowed low, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone respectful, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper.

Alicent looked at him with those sharp, knowing eyes, giving him a slight nod. “May the Seven guide you, good knight,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “And lead you not to shadow and death.”

Criston bowed his head even lower, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I thank Your Grace for her prayers,” he replied, his voice filled with reverence.

Alicent turned as if to leave, her gown sweeping the stones with a soft rustle. But before she could take more than a step, Criston’s voice called her back. “And I would request,” he said, his words halting her in her tracks, “that Her Grace grant me her favor. That her Lord Commander may go into battle with her blessings… in his heart.”

The scene hung heavy in the air, the tension thick between them as Criston’s plea echoed through the courtyard. Alicent hesitated, her hand brushing against the delicate fabric of her sleeve as she turned back to him, her eyes locking onto his. There was a moment of silence, a breath suspended in time, as everyone waited to see what she would do.

She finally reached into her sleeve, pulling out the small, delicate handkerchief embroidered with her initials. The camera zoomed in, capturing the intricate details, the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she held it out to him. “Take this,” she murmured, her voice carrying a subtle tremor, “as a token of my favor. Return victorious, Ser Criston. And know that you carry my thoughts with you.”

Criston bowed his head, taking the handkerchief. “Your Grace,” he replied, his voice rough, “I shall return with your favor in my heart and the victory of your cause in my hands.”

The scene was supposed to be the focal point of the episode—an understated farewell between the Dowager Queen and her paramour.

Or at least, that was the plan.

In the background, Eleanor and Gwayne were supposed to be having a far simpler exchange—just a quick farewell between siblings, nothing more.

The moment the camera panned to them, what was meant to be a brief, subdued farewell exploded into something far more dramatic.

“Eleanor, my sweet sister,” Gwayne declared, sweeping her up in an exaggerated embrace, his voice loud enough to carry across the courtyard. “How will I ever endure the horrors of war without your smile to guide me through the darkness?”

Y/N played right into it. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with fake tears. “Gwayne, you reckless fool, you’d better come back to me—or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”

The crew exchanged glances, trying desperately to keep their laughter in check as the two continued to ad-lib their way through what was supposed to be a simple goodbye.

Gwayne placed a hand on Eleanor’s cheek, his expression one of melodramatic intensity. “If I do not return, tell the world I died with your name on my lips.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone from the crew muttered, barely audible over the sound of snickering.

Geeta Patel, perched in her director’s chair, pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Cut! CUT!” she finally called out, though her voice was tinged with reluctant amusement. “Freddie, Y/N, what the bloody hell was that? You’re supposed to be siblings, not star-crossed lovers.”

Freddie turned to Y/N with a grin that could only be described as wicked. “Sorry, Geeta, got a bit carried away there. Can you blame me? Look at her—who wouldn’t fall madly in love?”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Fox. It’s called acting.”

Geeta threw up her hands in defeat. “I swear, you two are the bane of my existence. How am I supposed to get a serious scene out of you when you keep turning everything into a bloody pantomime?”

The crew was struggling to keep it together. Even Olivia, standing nearby as Alicent, was biting her lip, trying to stay in character despite the ridiculousness happening behind her.

Freddie chuckled. “Geeta, darling, I think what we’re doing here is revolutionary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, though she was clearly enjoying herself. “What he’s trying to say, Geeta, is that we’re just too damn good together. Maybe it’s time to change the script.”

“Or maybe,” Geeta retorted, her tone playful despite her frustration, “you two could try actually sticking to the script for once. I’m pretty sure HBO isn’t paying you to improvise a Lannister-style farewell.”

Freddie turned to Y/N, pretending to consider it. “What do you think, Eleanor? Should we behave ourselves this time?”

Y/N gave a mock sigh, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her costume. “I suppose we could try.”

Geeta couldn’t help but shake her head as she gestured for the crew to reset. “Alright, let’s take it from the top. And this time, keep it in your pants, Hightower freaks.”

Cameras rolled once more, the scene resumed, with Criston and Alicent taking center stage as intended from the start.

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The camera opens on a sleek, modern studio set, the familiar logo of Max glowing softly in the background. Y/N and Freddie are seated side by side, relaxed and comfortable, both dressed casually but stylishly—Y/N in a chic blouse and jeans, Freddie in his usual mix of sharp yet slightly rumpled attire.

The interviewer, a young woman with a cheerful demeanor, smiled warmly at them. “Thank you both for joining us today. Why don’t we start with some introductions?”

“Hello, everyone! I’m Y/N L/N, and I play Lady Eleanor Hightower on House of the Dragon,” Y/N says, her voice smooth and confident as she introduces herself.

Freddie chimes in right after. “And I’m Freddie Fox, and I play Ser Gwayne Hightower, Eleanor’s incredibly charming, dashingly handsome older brother.”

Y/N snorts, nudging him with her elbow. “You forgot modest, Freddie. Always so modest.”

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying their banter. “It’s great to have you both here. So, as you know, House of the Dragon has a massive fandom, and one of the things they love to do is theorize and create ships outside of the canon. They really get invested in the chemistry between characters—and, let’s be honest, between the actors as well.”

Freddie and Y/N exchange a look, both trying to suppress knowing smiles.

The interviewer continues with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, naturally, people are starting to wonder—could we be seeing the next Kit Harington and Rose Leslie? You know, screen partners turning into real-life partners?”

Freddie, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, suddenly turned in his seat, getting down on one knee in front of Y/N. With an exaggeratedly serious expression, he took her hand. “Y/N, dearest Lady Eleanor, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? I promise to annoy you, to steal your snacks, and to outshine you in every single scene we ever do together.”

Y/N bursts out laughing, placing a hand over her heart as if genuinely touched. “Oh, Freddie, how could I ever say no to such a heartfelt proposal? But I must warn you—I take up all the covers at night, and I’m not above hiding the remote if you try to switch to football during one of our movie nights.”

The interviewer is cracking up now, along with the crew behind the cameras. “I didn’t expect this, but I’m loving it! You two are absolutely priceless.”

Freddie stood up, still holding Y/N’s hand, and they both gave a bow to the camera. “Well, you know," he says, turning back to the interviewer, “it’s all about keeping the fans on their toes. Can’t make it too easy for them to figure out what’s going on, right?”

Y/N grins. “Exactly. We like to keep things... interesting.”

The interviewer, still grinning, leans in. “So, should we start planning the wedding, or...?”

Freddie looked thoughtfully at Y/N, tapping his chin. “Well, we’re thinking of something small. Just us, a couple of dragons, and maybe a White Walker to officiate. Keep it intimate, you know?”

Y/N nodded sagely. “Very exclusive. Only the crème de la crème of Westeros.”

The interviewer shakes her head, thoroughly entertained. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve just given the fandom even more fuel for their theories! On a serious note, though, it’s clear you two have incredible chemistry. What’s it like working together on set?”

Y/N smiled warmly at Freddie before answering. “Honestly, it’s a blast. Freddie and I just click, and I think that shows on screen. We’ve got a great rapport, and it’s always fun bringing these characters to life together.”

Freddie nodded, adding, “Yeah, we give each other a lot of shit, but that’s part of what makes it work. We trust each other, and that allows us to really push the boundaries in our scenes—sometimes a bit too much, according to Geeta,” he added with a wink.

The interviewer wraps it up, still chuckling. “Well, it’s been an absolute blast talking with you both. Can’t wait to see what chaos you bring to House of the Dragon next season.”

As the camera pulls back and the lights dim, Freddie and Y/N share a quick, conspiratorial glance, knowing they’d just given the fandom more than enough to talk about—and probably a few new fanfics to write as well.

When the interview dropped on the internet, the fandom absolutely exploded. Social media was flooded with clips of Freddie’s mock proposal, and the internet lost its collective mind.

Fans were dissecting every moment of the interview, from the playful banter to the way Freddie had gazed up at Y/N during his over-the-top proposal. The comments sections were filled with fans declaring that they were “shipping” the two even harder now, some even demanding that someone should cast them both in a romcom.

Amid the chaos, Y/N decided to fan the flames a bit more. She posted a cheeky selfie on Instagram, looking effortlessly stunning as always, with a caption that read, “The coolest of the Hightower siblings.”

It didn’t take long for Freddie to jump in on the fun. He reposted her selfie to his own Instagram story, adding the caption, “THE future Mrs. Fox.”

The internet went into overdrive. Fans were tagging each other, sharing screenshots, and even their House of the Dragon co-stars started chiming in with their own comments, playing along with the joke. The whole thing had taken on a life of its own, and it was clear that Y/N and Freddie had become the fandom’s favorite new obsession.

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During a press event, when Rhys Ifans, the man behind Otto Hightower, was asked about his thoughts on Freddie and Y/N’s antics, his face split into a wide, unabashed grin.

“Well, as Otto,” he began, dropping into character with a serious tone, “I have to say, it’s a major fucking ick. Completely inappropriate! Gwayne and Eleanor getting all... cozy? That would make Otto want to strangle someone. He’d be straight to the quill, penning some strongly worded letters to sort that shit out.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, knowing exactly how Otto Hightower would react to such scandal.

“But as Rhys?” he continued, his tone shifting to one of genuine enthusiasm, “I’m all in! I mean, have you seen those two together? The chemistry is off the bloody charts! If they don’t end up getting married after all this, I’ll be sorely disappointed. They’re perfect for each other—on and off the screen.”

His lighthearted comment sent the room into a ripple of laughter, with everyone loving the idea of Rhys being a secret shipper of Freddie and Y/N.

Within hours, his quote—“Ick as Otto, but fuck yes as Rhys!”—became the battle cry of the fandom, plastered across memes, gifs, and fan art that flooded every corner of the internet. It wasn't just spreading; it was detonating.

The whole situation exploded into a full-blown phenomenon, with fans practically canonizing Rhys as the unofficial president of the Freddie and Y/N ship. People started tagging him in everything, from wild fan theories to NSFW fanfiction, with captions like “Rhys would approve” or “Otto hates it, but Rhys lives for it.”

It was unhinged, chaotic, and utterly glorious. Rhys’s endorsement didn’t just add fuel to the fire; it threw in a grenade, making the whole thing go nuclear.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil,

I know you probably get a lot of these every day, and there's no pressure to respond, just know you inadvertently made me feel pretty.

Context, I'm chronically ill and can't work out or be very active most of the time. I'm currently the heaviest I've ever been, especially around Halloween. I decided to dress as a Fem!Crowley for Halloween, despite being so heavy.

And yet, when I got on the wig and the sunglasses and did my eyes up all gold and red, holding my favorite drink to look like wine and holding my gfs potted plant like a baby... I felt so gorgeous. I felt like the prettiest little gal on the planet. I felt like a dashing little devil. I wore that costume to school, and I didn't even care that people were staring at me????

So thank you so much for creating these wonderful beautiful characters that let people feel more confident than we normally would!!

You look gorgeous. I'm glad Crowley helped you feel beautiful.

[vroomvroomwee]

Crowley is Lucifer

(Ok I know some of you don't believe this theory but I highly suggest you give this a quick read anyway. I tried to make it short and easy and I'll be going chronologically, from s1 all through s2)

- First, let's get this out of the way, Lucifer and Satan aren't neccesarilly the same person. Even in the show the devil that appeared in s1 has only ever been reffered to as Satan, not even once as Lucifer.

- In the bible Lucifer was the one to tempt Eve with the apple, and who do we know that does that in the show. Crowley is literally THE snake from Eden.

- An obvious one perhaps, but the red hair is also a giveaway

- In the bible Jesus was tempted by the devil for 30 days, in the show Crowley says "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world", so that's another role Lucifer has that Crowley had in the show

- It's well known (even mentioned in the Sandman) that Lucifer was the most beautiful of all angels, and our demon is played by no other than David Tennant

Now on to season 2 because there's a LOT to unpack here

- He litterally started the engine of the universe which was one of Lucifers roles

- He's the first to say "let there be light", which is pretty fucking huge since that is Gods line

- "I worked closely with upstairs on it" even in the first scene they're telling us Crowley is an angel of very very high rank

- He fell for asking questions, which is litterally what Lucifer fell for, for questioning God. This in and of itself should be a pretty big indicator. "I only ever asked questions"

- Shax: "a miracle of enourmous power only the mightiest of archangels can perform"

Crowley: "How do you know I didn't do it"

And Shax just... doesn't counter that. She looks even skeptical, as if it COULD be a possibility, unlike Uriel who says to Aziraphale don't excpect us to believe you did it. Shax litterally doesn't shut the option down which confirms Crowley has the power not only of an archangel but of the mightiest kind

- In the bookshop with Gabriel/Jim he says "I don't remember. It [gravity] seemed like a good idea when we were all talking about it"

- "You're welcome to come in, you might even spot an archangel" don't tell me this was Crowley just egging Shax on and not being sneaky

- The fact that he could sense the demons coming. "Somethings wrong""It's coming in waves", when Aziraphale couldn't. It could be a demon thing but we saw Sandalphon, an archangel of lower rank, in the first season mention "something smells evil" so obviously angels can sense demons too, they just have to be powerful enough. And keep in mind Sandalphon was already in the book shop for quite some time, Crowley sensed them even before they had arrived (he also sensed the hell hound who was some fucking miles away)

- The.fucking.folder. "You have to be a throne or dominion above" and this dude opens these clasified documents like it's nothing. If this isn't an indicator of his high position as an angel I don't know what is.

- He's worked with Saraqael, another very high ranking angel

- "I'm the only first order archangel in the room"... and the camera imediately pans to Crowley, and for anyone who's read the book and watched the show you know that rarely anything is coincidental

- When the Metatron says they can't lose another prince of heaven. This... this fucking line. So it's relatively well known that Gabriel and Lucifer are brothers, and if Gabriel is one of the princes of heaven I wonder who the other one could be. "Two princes of heaven". And the Metatrons words were very careful, he doesn't say lost as in heaven can't find him, he says it in the context that they won't be sending Gabriel to hell since they won't lose another prince to downstairs

- In the bookshop when no one can identify the Metatron he turns to Crowley who imediately recognises him. Now you have this dude, who's literally on top of the angel hierarchy and is responsible for running heaven and the connection to God themself, surrounded by archangels and a principality you spoke to face to face with just a few years ago and... none of them can tell who you are, the only one who does is the literal demon. That tells us that Crowley has not only seen him in this form, but has probably worked with the Metaron himself personally. "Always asking damn fool questions", 10 million angels and he remembers what this one particular angel was like 6000 years ago

- Crowley is also very reluctant to reveal his identity as an angel. Now if he were just an ordinary angel of no real significance he wouldn't have a problem revealing his name, but... if his name was one that's the literal representation of all evil in this world, then it is understandable he keeps it a secret, in fear he might scare Aziraphale away

- And I wanted to leave the best for last. So you remember in the book when Crowley has to sign his name to start Armaggedon, and Hastur tells him "no, your real name" after which he reluctantly writes it. Now in the book we never see him write anything, but in the show we see him write a sygil, something that looks very mich like an L. An L... A FUCKING L. And now I wonder how this theory didn't come up sooner.

(Also he can fucking stop time, like dafuq)

Edit:

- "Oh looky here it's Lucifer and the guys" we all thought he was talking about someone else, he's just refferencing things other angels have said about HIM. FUCK

- I keep seing people saying Crowleys memories were wiped because he couldn't remember Saraqael and Furfur. But I think people forget, demons lie. He's lying to make them think he's not that angel they worked with, that he's not Lucifer. (In season 1 we hear him a few times refferencing his life as an angel, so he does remember most of it)

- Also saying if the Raphael theory were true then as showrunners they would have mentioned him somewhere for those not that familiar with the bible (or don't read much fanfiction). The refferences for Crowleys past are so so vague that it would be too sudden and confusing if he were Raphael. But there is one name that everyone is familiar with, no matter who you are how old you are or where you're from, a name that needs no introduction.

Edit 2:

- Back to him being the most beautiful angel, I don't think it was ever quite explained how every single demon when they're in hell looks... awful, but Crowley doesn't. Beelzebub has the spores all over their face, Hastur the maggots and the sh-, Dagon the scales etc. But Crowley doesn't, not even when he's in hell, he's always just so, well, pretty.

- I saw a few people asking about how Lucifer started the rebellion and Crowley wouldn't do that. I think it's the same Crowley who wouldn't get stuck in traffic after creating the M25, or the same Crowley that wanted to call Aziraphale after bringing down the entire London network, "you told them you invented the spanish inquisition, and started the second world war""so the humans beat me to it that's not my fault", "so all this is your demonic work?""no, the humans thought it up themselves nothing to do with me"

- Also I think Satan's in charge of hell not Crowley the same way the Metatron's in charge of heaven and not Gabriel (and who can very easily demote angels if he so wishes)

Edit 3:

- like some of you pointed out Lucifer is also known/means Light-bringer. And Crowley was the first to say "let there be light."

- The file he opens with Muriel is Gabriels file, a class A archangel, so if he knows the password to that it means that either he's on the same level as Gabriel, or above him.

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v;

word count: 8k

part ii; part iii; part iv; part v; part vi; part vii (finale)

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between Kooks and Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever. 

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, driven by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie.

Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile and stupid against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of the Cameron's. Ward Cameron, the man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder. Because in his sick twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Great.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly checked your options but there weren't many. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

You took a deep breath, trying not to lose your shit. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face. 

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking. 

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit. Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch.

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he walked towards you.

You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that settled in your bones. It felt like you were being hunted.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at any given moment.

You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people. 

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him. You were always a litte too good for your own good.

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again. 

His laugh was bitter, like you were trying to humor him,"You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“ 

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but all you felt was fear.

The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading. 

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming.

Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body burning with desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.” 

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting.

His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the way you’d felt.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had.

If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you. 

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!” 

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would care. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you were a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently.

Your brother would probably assume you were dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean mocked you from beyond.

The days melded into one another, marked only by the delivery of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some clarity, some hint of what your future looked like, but his visits offered nothing but insults or complete silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention. 

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward announced, "We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. You knew he enjoyed watching people squirm around like worthless worms.

"Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The answer was very clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, that stupid frown always attached to his face.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. You were a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists. 

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you. 

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't ignore the feeling of impending doom. Were you going to die there? In between pristine beaches and swaying palm trees?

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you there was still a slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. Eventually.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, watching their prey.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman. 

“This will be your home for the time being" Ward said it like he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. A lunatic.

You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile and there was little fight left in you from how tired you'd been feeling.

“Rafe will be keeping you company."

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration.

Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a reminder of the power he had over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father. 

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face, like this was your fault and not theirs.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," You hissed, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.” 

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to.

He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You knew he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him. 

"Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

He only started at you, eyes bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again.

You had to get out. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation.

You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department. 

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit. 

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine.

Rafe's visits, Ward's passive aggressive threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward.

You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently.

Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother. 

You couldn't help but feel a little pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.  It was easy to spot the cracks in his armor if you spent enough time in the same room, the secretive moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence.

It gave you whiplash. 

You began to argue less with him, your animosity giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask. 

His eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words. At this point he just sounded tired. 

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find.

"You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention. 

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone. 

Again. 

The days continued to pass, but something changed. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for him too.

You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act. 

Another day began with the same oppressive humid heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had that day. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. Very healthy.

He stood with his back to you, staring out the window. 

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet. 

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, wondering if it was some kind of trick question.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it. 

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him. 

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

"Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his unresolved inner conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It was heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”.

"Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

“It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.” 

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad. 

"We always have a choice," you countered, "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly.

Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was because of your last conversation or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle.

Still, every interaction seemed to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing little glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air is still, the only sound is the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You have been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house is quiet, Ward is gone and you haven’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you know how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork. 

You can it. 

This is your chance, and you can’t afford to waste it.

You move silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seems to echo in the stillness, and you hold your breath, praying you won’t get caught.

Your heart races as you slowly turn the handle of the front door, wincing at the faint click that accompanies the action. Once outside, you glance around, ensuring the coast is clear, then make your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach.

The plan is simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You keep low, moving quickly but cautiously, like a cat. The boat is within reach when a noise behind you makes your blood run cold. 

The crunch of gravel underfoot is unmistakable.

You turn sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerges from the shadows. The asshole who got you here in the first place. He’s closer than you had anticipated.

Your heart pounds, adrenaline moving through your veins as you break into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouts, his voice carrying across the trees. You don’t dare to look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You feel a searing pain in your arm, but you can’t stop. You push through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rings out, but you are too focused to notice where it lands. You reach the boat, hands trembling as you fumble with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensifies, but you force yourself to keep moving, when suddenly, a heavy hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around.

You struggle, kicking and thrashing, but he’s stronger. He pulls you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioes for backup. It feels all to familiar. You hate very second of it.

"Got her," he says into the radio, his terrible breath hot against your ear. You try to wriggle free, but his grip only tightens. Moments later, two more guards arrive, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The sting in your arm is painful reminder of your failed attempt as they pull you inside, your brief taste of freedom slipping away. You were so fucking close.

Moments feel like hours as you sit in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. They didn't even try to stop the bleeding.

The quiet murmurs of the guards outside are interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flies open, and there stands Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barks. His gaze scans the room, landing on you. 

The sight of the blood staining your arm makes his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He storms towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he all but demands.

Before you could answer, he whirls around to face the guards who re-enters the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouts, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchange nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammers out. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twists with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice drips with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who caught you tries to explain, but Rafe cuts him off.

“Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turns back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he takes in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain is making you delirious.

 “We need to get that cleaned up,” he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holsters his gun and gently takes your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards look on, unsure of what to do or say. 

Rafe shoots them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snaps. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men leave, Rafe's demeanor changes. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, making younguer, hardens back into anger. He runs a hand through his long hair, pacing the small room before finally stopping in front of you.

He looks pissed.

He sneers at you, his voice dripping with exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spats out, practically screaming in your face, "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You try to speak, to defend yourself, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His words come fast, "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

The monologue doesn't stop there.

His fists clench at his sides, "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stops himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to control his temper while he paces around th room, unable to stay put, "You're just reckless," he continues, his voice quieter but still seething, "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

What?

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you call after him, your voice trembling. You don't know if it's the pain or the weird pull in your stomach making you feel all weird and fuzzy inside.

He stops in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you,"I don't," he retorts, "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You take a step towards him, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, not buying his bullshit speech.

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," his voice is dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose.

“Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twists showcasing his wrath, and he takes a step towards you, closing the distance.

"Shut up!” he growls. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shoot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He takes another step, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he can finish, you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching.

“I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gives you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his pretty features contorted. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts. His hands come up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hisses, like the snake he is.

"And you’re a coward.”

The next moment happens without much thinking. Without any thinking, really.

Rafe’s grip tightens, fingers didding into your skin and before you can process what is happening, his lips crash into yours with a ferocity that you never saw coming. His mouth is demanding, almost punishing, and you, like an idiot, kiss him back, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you want to push him away.

The kiss is all rough and desperate, there's only room for anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. You should know better.

And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there is a stupid spark—as if you are both too messed up to understand how much you need each other. Each fingertip of his leaves an imprint wherever he touches, a silent declaration of the strength he’s restraining. And some sick twisted part of you finds that attractive.

It’s like he’s fighting to contain this fury within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both. But you want it.

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… 

All you want are his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roam slowly over your lower back, over your waist again. You breathe out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pull him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes. And while you grew up hating that particular combination, it worked on him.

He pulls away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinks down at you. You watch him lick his bottom lip, swollen, wet with both of your spits, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His blue eyes flare with renewed anger, turning almost black—something darker, more primal. Your words are like a match to gasoline. He doesn’t answer verbally; instead, he takes a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift motion, Rafe carries you to the dining table, and you barely have time to register the cool wood against your back before he’s on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matches your own. There’s no tenderness there, only raw need.

He pries your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kisses you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers grip your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation flutters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he presses flush against your center.

His hands move with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. Your hands tangle in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepens. Everything around you fades into background noise as the room spins, his body so close making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips.

You tug at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just can’t wait. He lets out a deep, sexy growl that makes a shiver run down your spine. His hands are all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they go. It feels like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way he hadn't before.

"You're impossible," he mutters against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leans down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you are amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round.

"And you’re an asshole,” your voice comes out breathless.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you reply, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back on you, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But you don’t want control. You want to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you've been through and just feel. Live a little and forget about your problems.

Rafe seems to sense it, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifts you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction is exquisite, a delicious tease that leaves you wanting even more.

"Rafe," you breathe, and he almost falls to his knees at the soft whimper that leaves your lips, unable to stop the jerk of his hips forward.

He responds instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kisses you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. The table creakes under your combined weight, but neither of you care. Your hand grab his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There’s a wildness there, and for the first time in your life, you like it.

You reach up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the grown out stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, leaves a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slips from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth graze your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you pants, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tighten around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. 

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat.

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You open your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you are the one in charge, but the intention dies the moment Rafe cups you through your shorts.

A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat.

Heat blooms in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that floods your skin and leaves you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierce into yours, watching as he presses the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your pussy and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asks, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.”

He moves your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel him touch you for the first time. You can't think properly while he's doing this. Your brain feels to mushy to form a proper sentence.

“Yeah, thought so.” 

All that matters is the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whisper again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that has fueled you for so long.

But even as you say it, you know it’s was a lie. Partly.

You hate how much you need him right now, how much you crave his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’ve been locked away from society for too long. That’s the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirks, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"No, you don’t.” 

You do. At least you used to, everything is confusing now.

He teases you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that makes your heart race.

You bite back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need is so overwhelming, you nearly give in.

“Fuck you," you spit out, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckles darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes your hips buck against his hand. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

"That's right," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escapes your lips, and you arch into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers move expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that makes you breathless. Every touch, every stroke is designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you are nothing but a trembling, pleading mess. You hate that he's so good.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasp, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "P-Please, I need you."

You'd be embarrassed later.

His smirk widens, and he pulls his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He doesn’t make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he frees himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water. 

Without a word, he positions himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance.

"You ready for me?"

You nod, your eyes locking with his, "Please.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. The sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you cry out. Your back arches involuntarily, your lips parting as he enters you, filling you completely in a way you have never imagined.

He rolls his hips firmly against yours, and your head tips back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You never felt so full. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath, giving you another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm.

His movements are hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. Not that you want slow.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaks and groans beneath you, but you don’t care.

All that matters is the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering hips. His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You can feel him losing control, his need matching your own. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can pretend you aren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growls, his voice all rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really want to shut him out, you just can’t fight the crazy pull he has over you. His voice is like a force of nature. You open your eyes against your better judgment.

Seeing him above you, his face twisting with raw need and determination sends chills down your spine. His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with this unyielding intensity you never seen before and that leaves you breathless. No one had ever looked at you like that during sex.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. It makes you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck. Y-You're sucking me in so nicely, huh?"

With each thrust, he drives you closer to your orgasm, your body responding to him in ways you can’t hold back. The pleasure is overwhelming, it leaves you gasping, moaning, begging for more. You don't even know what you're doing anymore. His name slips from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answers with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world has narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

"Rafe," you whimper, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm—I can't..."

He understands.

His pace quickens even more, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commands his voice a whisper against your earlobe that sends shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words push you over the edge, and you come with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release is like nothing you ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that makes you lose it. So this was what great sex felt like?

Rafe follows you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that leaves him shaking on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rides out his orgasm, groaning as his movements slow down, until he finally stills, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there is something almost tender about him.

“Y-You—“ He sighs, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

“Rafe...“

Before you can process his words, before you can question or argue, his lips are on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle. 

Devastating almost. 

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Right. He'd fucked you good enough to forget about the pain. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporates, leaving you with the realization of your situation.

You just fucked Rafe Cameron. On a table. After being shot.

You push at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hiss through clenched teeth, “Then do something about it."

He just stands there, staring at you as if he has never seen you before. As if he’s truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hate every second of it because your heart is practically leaping out of your chest.

No one has ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shakes his head, coming closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needs to ensure that you are real, that everything’s real.

“We’re getting out.”

You want to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it’s the only thing that matters. Even if it sounds stupid. You need it, at least for now.

“Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[bottomcyclonus]

My sister is a total cunt and around when we were kids, 12 (her) and 15 (me), she became a really big fan of that Jesus guy, but in a ‘if you wear lipstick that’s TOO red you’re clearly a whore who is doing naughty things with the devil’ and ‘all “dark” animals like black cats, snakes, rats, spiders, and bats were sent by the devil himself”. W e had an older home, and the way it was set up is that one of our vents had a chute that went over the porch, and you could look down it and see basically right over the porch itself. This is relevant because I, at the time, really wanted a cat and our parents were considering it. However, cheese cunt (my nickname for her which she hated <3) saw me looking at an adoption page for a black cat. She absolutely lost it and said that I was trying to bring the devil into our home and that I was going to hell and that that cat was evil and going to claw out my eyes in my sleep. We got in a BIG fight over that. By the time we moved out there were still puncture marks in the wall from where she went at me with a fork. Back to the porch and vent. Kind of. I _needed_ to get this bitch, so I recruited two of my good friends who I knew would be ready to commit a fuckery. One of them had a pet snake (which I think she found in her yard and abducted adopted) and she fed him frozen mice and whatnot. Obviously we weren’t going to involve her snake, but the frozen mice? Those were fair game. Her job was to bring the mice and help behind the scenes. My other friend, he’s a big guy, intimidating if you don’t know him, *his* job was to be the devil. We’d found a dead bat in my attic (again old house) and made it look alive with popsicle sticks, then tied it to a string wound through the vent. We planned the fuckery for when our parents were staying at a hotel for their anniversary, so we were home alone all weekend. We had a pizza box as bait outside, with the frozen mice inside arranged in a pentagram. My guy friend was dressed up in a stereotypical grim reaper outfit, big black cloak, white ghoulish face, lantern, the works. We waited around until night, then he rang the door bell and hid, with the pizza box left on the porch, just far out enough that you would have to step outside. Me and my friend were in the bathroom when then happened so that my sister would have to go look. In reality, she was waiting above, ready with the bat, and I was hiding behind the garage door, which was right next to our front door. The moment I hear my sister let go of the door I gently closed it and locked it on her. I heard her scream and the sound of her dropping the pizza box, which was my friends cue to drop the bat on her and dance it around. At this point she’s freaking out and trying to get back inside, screaming and shrieking. I turn off the porch light, and from the shadows across the street, emerges my friend, face dimly lit by the lantern in his hand. I had to muffle my laughter with my fist in my mouth cause my sister is yelling like she’s going to die, which yeah, I can see her thinking that. All my friend had to do was walk across the street and point at her to get her to start crying, and she bolted into our backyard, where she tried to get in through the back door that was unfortunately for her, locked, courtesy of me. We made her stay out there for an hour or so, giving us time to put everything back to normal and sober ourselves up from laughing so hard. Then I let her back in and acted like I didn’t know anything. We got the cat and I named him Pizza.

THIS IS A TRANSFORMERS BLOG

[jinkiezzsstuff]

At First Sight 3

Part: [1] [2]

Alastor x doe!fem!reader (gender neuteral pronouns)

warnings: 18+ SMUT, tentacles inclusion, tentacle bondage, predatory prey kink, breeding kink, creampie, male and female masturbation, in heat trope, tentacle masturbation, squirting, dirty talk, choking kink a tiny tiny amount, horror aspects, size kink if you squint, pregnancy although not in depth, you and al become parents, jealous alastor, alastor and lucifer hate eachother, lucifer disagrees with your relationship, swearing, babies given a name, girl dad alastor, NOT PROOF READ LADS I WAS LAZY, lemme know what i missed xoxox

taglist: @readergirlstuff @purplerose291 @chirimeimei @sirens-and-moonflowers

word count: 7.3K

Alastor had to bite his tongue through many instances in his life he rather not bite his tongue through, but this was by far the hardest he’s ever had to hold back. Lucifer pulled you into a strong hug, cooing at how much you’d grown and changed, pinching your cheeks and kissing your head. Even Alastor’s shadows edged out angrily across the floor at the devil, however you seemed to pay no mind to your newly wedded’s distaste in the devils affections. In fact you were laughing and playfully swatting at Lucifer for treating you so childishly.

Moulting into a shadow slithering across the floor like a snake, he crept up beside you and when he fully formed from the black goop, he waited not a second to pull you into him, and when he did you gave him a dreamy love sick look. Lucifer's face wasn’t shy in his display of disgust, eyes darting to you and Alastor, mouth ajar. “No.” Lucifer uttered in theatrical horror, jumping back and pointing his cane at Alastor. Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Alastor puffed with pride. “Yes.” Alastor practically growled, meanwhile rolled your eyes at both of their idiotic behaviour.

“I mean Charlie said you had an…. interesting taste in men but HIM?!” You grinned nervously at the king, his face soured as he glared at Al. You were in the midst of saying some good old recovery words to ease Lucifers mind, when Alastor pipped up, head held high as he spoke. “Yes indeedy! This little darling and I have become quite the pair. A married pair.” Alastors words were sharp and punctual, like spears tossed forcefully right at the king himself.

You’ve been in Lucifers life so long you might as well be a second daughter, now this deer fuck is stealing both his biological daughter and the one he practically adopted? Lucifer was steaming and you were caught between the two, you knew you were mated to Alastor, but that didn’t change how near and dear the king was to you.

“Guys,” You ushered in a hushed tone bringing your hand up, looking quite meek between the two seething demons. “Please relax, it’s not that serious. Alastor is my mate Luc-” As you were in the middle of calmly explaining the situation Lucifer jumped up like the ground had burnt him, horns shooting out of his head. “His what?!” Lucifer shouted, wings splaying out, tone demonic. Alastor chuckled, his static overlay enhanced as he fixed his monocle. “Yes, I just knew this doe had to be mine when I laid eyes on her! Oh my what a night we had.” In any other situation, on any other day, Alastor couldn’t have those words waterboarded out of him, but just in spite of the devil, he knew he ought to push his own boundaries.

The devil face morphed into shock horror as he tugged at his hat in pure stress, meanwhile Alastor stood tall and smug, with a shit eating grin on his face. You could tell Alastor was going to exploit your relationship just to piss Lucifer off. “What the holy fuck!” The king exclaimed, running in a quick circle, trying to grasp the situation. By now Lucifers entire demonic form was out, eyes blood red, horns at full length, wings flapping occasionally behind him. Thankfully Alastor wasn’t visibly upset, keeping his form and tone fixed. “Guys, Luce, relax! I wanted Alastor the moment I saw him, trust me I know what he’s done and who he is, but there was something about him. You know I’m not that stupid hellion who falls for anybody’s charms, Alastors got something.”

Lucifer didn’t seem to care for your reasoning, instead he glared at Alastor even harder, and pointed his index and middle finger toward his own eyes, and then Alastors. “I’m watching you deer dick.” Then Lucifer turned and stormed off, ignoring your call to come back and relax. Sighing your platinum ears flattened against your hair and head, posture falling. “Come now my dear, don’t dwell on that silly little man’s equally silly and little emotional control! We’re married now! We should be celebrating our fantastical venture into domestic romance!”

Although Alastor was right, the timing was wrong, and his voice was too happy for your state. “I know, but he’s like a second dad, I want him to like you and it stresses me that he doesn’t.” Alastor hums, gently guiding you back upstairs to your now shared bedroom. “Things tend to change with time sweetheart, let this be one of those things that change with time. He can see how good we are together and how good I am for this hotel!” You hummed falling into his side, your tail wagging happily as you reached the bedroom.

“I was also hoping he’d be able to lend us some advice but now I'm doubtful.” The door closed behind you and him, you immediately kicked your shoes off to free the hooves. “What advice dear?” Alastor asked softly, attention focused on untying his bow tie. “Well i’m quite concerned about getting pregnant with a fawn, and I want to know if our mating it’s demon or animal specific.”

The air got tight at the mention of children, and immediately you looked over to him watching his movements stall. His coat was now off leaving him in just his vest and button up. Sighing you rubbed your hand forcefully your forehead, mushing your skin around in an attempt to relieve the conflict in your head. “You mustn’t talk like that, little doe.” Alastors tone was stern, pointed and lacking all radio static, it was just his raw vocals that sounded almost raspy. You felt a few emotions at the way he said that, upset, angry, shocked.

Momentarily you scolded yourself for being so ludacris, this was Alastor! A serial killing, cannibalistic overlord who dealt in black magic, not your fairy prince; there were going to be big bumps and hurdles along the journey and you shouldn’t twist yourself up in a rose coloured fantasy. “Would it be that bad for you?” You couldn’t help but ask, your gaze averted instead focused on the intricate details of the wooden floor.

Alastor growled, slithering up beside you, using his magic to his advantage. “Now my dear don’t look so glum, you’re the first being of any kind to capture my heart. Shouldn’t that be something my dear?” You melted into his side when his arms came up to wrap around your figure. You stayed silent for a moment, not wanting to say the wrong thing and upset either of you. “It just felt saddening I guess, to have you react like that. I know a child is so much work, it is its own being; but when you reacted that way it felt like rejection of me, and us as a couple. Like i’m not good enough to be mated to.” Tears began to gather in your eyes, and you tried your best to keep them at bay, not wanting to cry about something so silly.

Your ears lay flat above your head, Alastor slowly petting the space between them as you spoke. Guiding you to your shared bed, Alastor sat you down, and then himself beside you. “My sweet doe,” Alastor said, smooth as butter, nuzzling himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. “If you so desire a child, we can certainly play into the fantasy, however we haven’t a clue whether it’s truly possible for me to reproduce!”

Resting your head atop his, feeling his soft ears flick and fold, his hair soft and scented with a masculine foresty shampoo. “Alastor,” You whined, making him chuckle darkly. “What about the mating stuff?” Alastor blew air on your shoulder before dragging his sharp teeth up your exposed neck. “My dear I'm sure you and I can figure it out together, no need for some silly devil. Besides we’re the two mated, we know deep down what we’re supposed to do, we knew when we first met each other we were meant to be.” Alastor leaned back from you, cupping your cheek.

You smiled at him enjoying the hazed lidded look Alastor had in his eye. “You have to be nice to Lucifer though.” Alastor growled lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest loudly. It sent shock waves through you, hearing such an animalistic sound from him. “It’s extremely hard to be nice when it’s so easy to make him upset!” Rolling your eyes, you brought your hands up to his face and held his face as he held yours. His ears flattened to each side as his eyebrows quirked, you felt a little bit of pride at the sight, it had only been a few weeks since you’ve been together but Alastor was already way more relaxed around you, to the point of freely showing emotions through movements in his tail and ears.

Pulling him toward you, you gave a soft kiss, which he immediately returned with a hum of approval. Alastors body inches nearer to yours, pressing himself next to you. Alastor broke the kiss, looking down at you with bedroom eyes, you returned the look, grinning at him coyly.

~

Lucifer fumed, stomping around, a week had passed since Lucifer found out you and that god awful creature were a pair. He insisted on staying at the hotel in order to keep an eye on the demon; assure that you were safe. Lucifer kept a keen eye on Alastor, like a fly on the wall, but from what Lucifer could tell, Alastor was a perfect gentleman! It pissed him off entirely. Alastor bent over backwards for you, making your breakfast and coffee every morning, helping you style your hair, helping you dress, assisting you with tasks you loathed completing, hell one night Lucifer caught Alastor teaching you how to play the piano, and when you got angry at your consistent failures, Alastor would reassure you lovingly and patiently.

It drove Lucifer insane because as much as he cared for you, he selfishly wanted Alastor to be a bad partner, giving reason as to why he should leave his two daughters and the hotel alone! But everytime he looked for a flaw he found none, half the time he found himself impressed, Alastor knew what to say, and was confident in his charm. “Dad, you gotta relax! YN is fine.” Charlie said worriedly, placing a hand on her fathers shoulder. Lucifer sighed, slamming his head against the bar table. “They want to have kids, Charlie!” The man sulked, voice muffled by the wooden bar he tried to morph and become one with. “WHAT!? Oh my gosh! That would be amazing! Why wouldn’t she tell me?!” Charlie at this point was violently shaking her father with excitement, a slight bounce in her as she shook him.

Lucifer looked off to the side, guilt evident in his eyes. “They didn’t tell anyone; I overheard.” Today in fact, he overheard the two of you in the back of the hotel, having a picnic in the garden. You had your head in Alastors lap as he pet your hair and ears occasionally, and told you stories from when he was alive; which you greatly enjoyed since you’d been born in hell. When he began to speak about his mother the conversion shifted to parenthood, and then children. Originally Lucifer didn’t intend to stay long, he simply slithered through the grass to eavesdrop a bit, make sure all was well and leave.

But he couldn’t leave when he heard what Alastor had to say. “Y’know dear, I never considered having children, but then again, I never considered being married either. I’ve thought about children now, of course, ha ha,” Alastor laughed boisterously. You could tell it was to cover up the nerves he felt inwardly, but Lucifer found him to be insufferable and inconsiderate. “We don’t know if we can Al,” You said softly, reaching your hand to Alastors cheek. Alastor quirked a brow amusement visibly shining in his eyes that searched your face for something. “We’d just have to wait until mating season darling.” Lucifer gagged at that, you however didn’t quite understand and it made Alastor coo about how adorable you are.

“Oh so we’re not supposed to know they’re gonna try for a baby?” Charlie asked stunned, backing away from her father. “No,” He moaned, slamming his head back down on the table. Charlie gave her dad a look but brushed it off, this was very exciting for her, she’d only tell Vaggie, that way the two could both subtly baby proof the hotel!

~

Autumn in hell roamed around and it was one hell of a year, the hotel went under attack, Lucifer then made himself a whole quarter of the hotel his, and Alastor followed suit with his radio tower, Sir Pentious died, Adam died, there was so much hectic chaos you could barely keep up. Not to mention the beginning of October left you feeling odd, to say the least. You couldn’t completely understand why, not much changed in the recent days, aside from a few sinners checking in. Nothing bad happened between you and Alastor either; things have been fantastic, the two of you would have the occasional spat about morality and manipulation, but Alastor had your soul and was your mate, so in the end you’d give in to him, and he in his own way to you.

One of your biggest points of contention was Alastors multi-beneficial behaviour, if he was going to do something you knew it was double edged, one side benefiting him and the other side doing what he was supposed to with the illusion of being gracious. One of the biggest arguments was kids; Alastor talked about having them in ways that benefited him, how it would rank him above other sinners, he’d have bloodline in hell which would grant him further authority beyond the pride ring, he could train his offspring to be like him. In short, Alastor didn’t want children, he wanted mini hims, to run around killing and eating others.

You tried your best to convince him that a child was no means to power, but he truly couldn’t understand the point of having them besides that. You tried not to blame him, understanding he wasn’t a fairy prince he was Alastor, and you loved him for that, but at times dealing with his psycho was frustrating.

You’ve noticed him acting strange today, he insisted you wore his clothes he’d been wearing the day before, you thought that was the strangest thing and tried to squeeze the reasoning as to why he wanted you to wear his worn dirty clothes. Unfortunately you never fully got the answer out of him, aside from him tutting that he wanted to make ‘that devil’ seethe, so you did. It wasn’t like it really bothered you, hell he even went out of his way to magic the clothes to fit your frame baggily. You wore one of his washed out red button ups, and his slacks, thankfully you found the fit to be somewhat chic and enjoyed the idea of prancing around in clothes that were his, and smelt like him.

Walking down to the lobby like you did everyday, you were greeted by Alastor holding your cup of coffee as always, this time however his appearance looked worrisome. “What’s wrong Al?” You exclaimed rushing over to him, gazing up to him because his form was just slightly elongated. “Nothing my dear! Just a little bit of frazzle this morning!” You didn’t believe that for one second; his antlers were out and looked like they were peeling, his eyes were black and turned to dials, his neck elongated, smile strained and his hair puffed. “Was it you and Lucifer having some marital spat again?” You joke, taking your cup of coffee and following him into the kitchen.

“No dear, please refrain from commenting about that filthy devil, it’s insulting to replace you with him. It’s simply the change of seasons.” Setting his coffee on the counter top, he leaned on it, arms folded and looked over to you. Your ears folded down, a confused look taking over your face. “Is it a deer thing? I woke up feeling strange too, I’m sweating more than usual, and it’s hot, and sometimes my body will start tingling!” You explain hurriedly, slightly worried at what was going on.

Alastor swallowed, smile straining, he wasn’t equipped with how to handle the situation. “Well dear,” Alastor stalled, momentarily scratching the loose felt on his antler. You gazed at him waiting for a response, but it never came, he just filled the air with static, eyeing you up and down. “Hello, Al? I would prefer to know, you look stressed.” You urged leaning toward him, Alastor inhaled deeply, and exhaled a growl. Your body reacted instantly to the noise, feeling a travelling sensation of heat shoot from your groin to your head making you feel dizzy. “If we are to talk about such things, it will not be here.” He snapped eyes closed tightly, fists clenched, you had no clue what was up with him. Just as you were about to urge him further, Lucifer came skipping into the kitchen whistling a tune. “Oh heyyy guys!” Lucifer exclaimed in a valley girl-esque voice, strutting up to the two of you.

“Morning big daddy.” You say jokingly, it wasn’t that big of a deal to you two; you always referred to Lucifer by either his name or some variation of dad. Alastor however didn’t find this to be funny, you and lucifer watched as Alastor grew taller, his static deafening. “Uhhh morning pumpkin,” Lucifer muttered, eyes focused on Alastor as he spoke. You heard the clacking of heels against the floor and your attention turned to the door. Angel paused at the entrance looking between Al and Lucifer. At this point Alastor leered over Lucifer, bent abnormally so, you were eyeing Angel between the gap Alastor left open. You mouthed ‘help’ at Angel, but he only grimaced and slowly backed off. “Do not refer to them that way.”

The air thickened, Alastor was tall and violent looking, there was black substance leaking from between his yellow teeth, the lights were dimmed and flickering, while his radio played creepy and glitchy old timey music. His voice was nearly unrecognisable as he grit his words out at Lucifer, and for the first time in hell, you felt terrified of a sinner. Most of the seven sins weren’t this eerie when they got mad, neither were the hellborns, they mainly just killed whoever crossed them; no one had shown their true demonic powers in front of you before.

“Woah there, big fella… uh, alright! I’ll just leave you two to it! And i’ll be gone!” And just like that Lucifer scurried off in an extremely comical way. Alastor, despite Lucifer gone didn’t come back to himself, still hunched over breathing deeply, static crackling through the air. You didn’t exactly know what to do in this situation, so for a moment you just stood watching. Eventually, after about two minutes of silence, Alastor shrunk, ever so slightly, still tall and creepy but not nearly as much as before. The static ceased, and the lights returned to the usual brightness, Alastor looked down at you, his usual red eyes back. “I’m so sorry dear, I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

You swallowed harshly, you had a strange mix of fear and arousal swirling within you that you weren’t ready to share with the demon, so instead you shook your head, unconvincingly so. “No not at all Al, how come that made you so upset?” A soft record scratch came from him when you asked. “What ever do you mean?” He innocently asked, tone lifted in false innocence. Crossing your arms together, hip propped out, you eyed him closely trying to gage what you were dealing with. As your eyes ran from his antlers down, you stopped crudely at his hips, noting the strain that appeared.

Alastor wasn’t big on sex, and to be fair you didn’t exactly have a high libido either, you preferred make out sessions and sweet romance, not necessarily needing sex. So it wasn’t often you’d see him in such a state, normally he only showed arousal when he was actively involved with you. Without warning he leaned over you, hands splayed across the counter behind you, trapping you between him and the counter. “Naughty little doe, can’t keep your eyes off me?” Alastor mocked darkly, his breath brushing against your cheek. The way he contorted down from his stretched height didn’t look anatomically possible, and despite the terrifying look of him you felt giddy and cheeky, with the urge to egg him on further.

You couldn’t stop the smirk that crawled its way onto your face, biting your lip in an attempt to curb it, unfortunately Alastor saw. Forcefully he grabbed your cheeks with his claws, yanking your face upward to face him properly. “My dear, I’ve been playing nice but i can see the mischief in your eyes-” Before he could finish you flattened your fingers and palm flat against the bulge in his pants. Alastor stilled as you gave him a pout, doe eyes blinking up at him and your white ears pulled back.

Alastor growled at the sight, shamefully bucking into your warm hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it, you're so handsome, y’know?” You whined, your other hand placed on his forearm beside you. Alastor grunted, something you rarely heard from him. “Upstairs, go.” He replied flatly, staring beyond your head at the cabinets above. Giggling manically, you ducked under his arms and sprinted to your shared room. Your body felt on fire and you could feel the arousal between your legs. As you rushed up the stairs you bumped into Angel who grabbed you by the shoulders. “Woah there toots, where ya headed now so cracked out, are things with big red all good?” Before you could respond, Alastors demonic form made way down the hall, shadows crawling out from his feet and knocking out the lights.

“Oh yeah okay, makes sense.” Angel said in a hurry, before taking off leaving you to your own devices. Laughing aloud with a giant grin on your face you continued sprinting down the hall, just barely out of Alastors grasp. His radio was a good tell on how close he was to you, the static was going crazy nearly giving you a headache. You broke out into an anxious run, unable to fight off the anticipation of what would happen. When you got to the room, you ran inside shutting the door. You glanced around and decided a good hiding place would definitely be the most cliche, not under the bed but under a computer desk. You squished yourself underneath the desk, which was incredibly uncomfortable and pulled the chair in to cover you as much as you could.

The door suddenly creaked open, the shadows consumed the floor, the lights dying out. Alastors static couldn’t be heard, but you could hear and feel the vibrations of his footsteps around the room. “Oh sweet thing, I know you don’t truly want to hide from me. Why don’t you come on out to me?” His voice was smooth compared to before, the static left his voice, leaving his unique and rich voice all bare to your ears. The burning sensation in your body worsened and it felt torturous to deny your body any friction, you knew if you moved you were done for.

Despite not being in real danger, your heart kicked up in speed when you heard his nails drag across the wooden desk above, his hooves coming into sight at the corner. Alastor pulled out the chair, humming to himself as he sat down. You held your breath as you watched him spread his lags out, shadows darker than the dark room swarming up behind him. You watched him unbuckle his belt lazily, his head obscured from your view, only his clawed hand and crotch in sight. “Up,” He ordered once his belt was undone, and his shirt untucked. Slithering out from under the desk, you used his thighs to balance and help you lift yourself up. Before you could fully get up he grabbed you by the neck and tugged you into a firey kiss. His teeth scraped against yours, and his tongue instantly took over your mouth, exploring and tainting every inch of your mouth.

You moaned into him as his other hand gripped your hip, digging his nails deep into it. Yanking your body up, you now sat on his lap just below the large bulge he’d been teasing you with. You jerked your hips forward, yearning the friction of him against you. Alastor pulled away a string of saliva still connecting the two of you together, you whined throwing your head back slightly in defiance. You’d never wanted someone so badly before, it was even worse then the first time you’d met Al. Panting you wrapped your arms around his neck, humping him mindlessly, the only focus being on cumming. “Look at you,” Alastor sneered, gripping your hips and pushing you down against him. “So desperate, you’ve got no restraint. I’m disappointed in you, little doe.”

You croaked out what could only be described as a plea, but really it just sounded like a meek shout. Above the two of you Alastors antlers grew out, looking large and broad. “Y’know what time it is my dear.” Alastor groaned watching sweat slip down your chest, eye twitching as he held himself back. “Answer me.” He ordered sticking his nails into your tights, you gasped and moaned finding more pleasure in the act then pain. “No,” You cried softly and breathlessly. At that Alastor brought his head down to nuzzle the top of your head, careful of his antlers, and whispered in your ear. “Mating season.” You stuttered breathing out a “ha” noise, lacking humour and instead being replaced by desperation. In this position you could smell only his scent, and the arousal you left in the air, it made you feel dizzy with lust. You knew what this meant and it edged you further to the fall; he was going to mate you; breed you. You cried his name and begged for nothing, just tugging at his coat and begging for him, and only him.

The demon chuckled darkly moving away from your hair, and with lidded eyes he looked down at you, messily humping him, nearly on the verge of tears. What a sight to behold. His tentacles emerged lifting you above his lap, just enough for him to get his slacks off. Once off, he leaned back, you hoisted in the air still squirming, he practically lit up with a light bulb of an idea. Gripping himself through his boxers, Alastor slowly stroked himself; grinning cheekily up at you as he did so, seeing how instantaneously you were captivated by him. Without your knowledge, the tentacles worked around you, undoing, and slowly pulling off your (alastors), slacks. With one tentacle around your waist, two under each arm, and two underneath your knees keeping your legs pulled apart, there was too many tentacles to notice that your pants and underwear were being discarded.

Not to mention Alastor had you enamoured with the way he stroked himself, humming out noises of approval, just for you. You moaned when you felt the coldness of a tentacle inch up the entirety of your vulva, practically cupping your entire heat. You let out a guttural groan at the sensation, immediately jerking into his magic. “Oh fuck Alastor,” You cried shaking as the tip of the tentacle swirled your clit. Alastor watched you tentatively, enjoying all the ways your body reacted.

Alastor loved watching how your toes curled, or how your stomach would clench visibly, or how you feebly tried to pull your legs together. He sped his movements, enjoying the feeling of himself through his boxers, a little dribble of cum staining a wet spot on his drawers. Alastor rarely jerked off, but god did it feel good to put on a show for you, he loved the ways your eyes only focused on him, never moving away from what he was doing. Alastor saw you were coming close to the end, but if you were to cum, it was going to be around him. With the flick of a wrist, the tentacles plopped you back on his thighs, disappearing and making you cry out.

“Alastor please, please, please, I need you,” You whined bucking up into the air. Alastor grabbed your wrists that were flinging around slightly trying to keep yourself stable. Alastor would be the first to admit, it was extremely hard to keep his smile right now, he wanted to give you other expressions to burn into your brain. “Look at me darling.” Alastor cooed, not enjoying the fact your eyes were squeezed tightly shut. You were still mumbling incoherent pleas as you cracked them open, being greeted by Alastors chest and lazily leaned back figure, he was still stretched out to an abnormal degree which gave you and him more leeway. The way he looked at you as if you were a god, it made your stomach flutter, not to mention how he made you feel so effortlessly small, which in a way felt nice, especially with him.

“You’re so gorgeous dear, I hope our children have your eyes,” You curled forward against your will, gripping his shirt like it was your lifeline. You nearly came at his forwardness not to mention the certainty in his voice, and he found it to be oh so adorable. Carefully he lifted you and lined himself up with you, thanks to the help of his tentacles. Inhaling deeply, he briefly enjoyed the smell of your scent throughout the room, from your sweat, to your fragrances, to your arousal, it all intoxicated him all at once with need. Slowly he sat you down on him, you had made yourself so wet there was barely any resistance, you did however clench making it extremely difficult for Alastor to hold back.

Groaning loudly, the demon smiled wide, straining to keep his composure. You had fallen against his chest, gripping onto him tightly, mouth ajar, drool dripping, and eyes shut tightly, you were in bliss. The only thing your mind could comprehend was him, all of him, and having him breed you, mate you, fill you full of him. At that thought your hips involuntarily bucked up, your clit brushing against the curly pubic hair he had, that trailed up to his bellybutton. Alastor drew in a breath, leaning his head back against the large seat behind him, feeling electrified by your walls around him. Feet planted on the floor Alastor used his footing to fuck up into you harshly, jerking your body upward as he did so. You cried out his name, letting him use your body as he pleased, and use he did. Alastors gentleman ways were far behind him at this moment, his mind was clouded with one purpose and that was to breed you. He harshly jerked his hips up into you, bouncing you up and down on top of him at his own will and pace.

His head was still laid back on the head rest, exposing his neck to you. Speedily, as he jerked up into you, you focused on undoing the buttons of his collared shirt, your mind set on leaving bites and hickeys all along him. Once you gained access to his neck fully, you dived in moaning and dragging your teeth against his warm flesh. This caused him to snap forward, his arms caging you from behind, pushing you into him future. You licked, kissed and bit at his neck occasionally groaning his name, Alastor started to pant violently, growling every so often. Lifting his hips off the chair with you still there, he stood up, his tentacles assisting where ever he needed. With the new posture granted new access, and a new pace. With your legs wrapped his waist you could feel his his tail that wagged and stiffened repeatedly against you, it made your own wiggle in response.

Alastor was a true demon now, pushing your upper half backward, you fumbled afraid to fall and hit your head on the desk, but instead you were pleased to feel four tentacles holding you up, and keeping you from falling. Alastor dragged his claws down your now exposed chest, straight down to your clit, marking the trail down your skin with a discoloured line. It gave you goosebumps and you clenched in anticipation, as his movements had stunted a little bit ago. Finally his eyes met yours, clouded with lust and a deeper red colour than before, speaking of which- he could barely keep them open, so fucked out in his own lust. His movements began, slow and deep at first, his eyes never looking away from yours, and you were too hypnotised by his to even think about looking anywhere else but him. Alastor made sure with every thrust you felt it through your entire body, every prod was deep and forceful, and it worked making you see stars. You cried out clenching your legs around him as he finally began to pick up the pace, jolting your body with ever thrust.

As he rapidly picked up the pace, you moaned, whined and grunted out high pitched noises of pleasure that you never knew you could make. Alastor was growling, and grunting, teeth bared as he jackhammered into you, skin slapping filling the silent room. Bending forward to lean over you, he nipped and bit at your chest leaving prominite triangular teeth marks that were unmistakably his. With the current angle he hit a spot in you that caused you to squeal, screaming his name at the top of your lungs, you reflexively gabbed his antlers. “More, more,” You cried squeezing onto the thick antlers. Alastor moaned, not growled or grunted, moaned. His pitch was lifted and his eyes closed in bliss as he began to hump you desperately, his legs jittery from the excitement. Panting, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, which weren’t facing him but instead the wall, your head turned away shyly. Grabbing your face, he forced your head in his direction and crash his lips against yours.

It was an opened mouth kiss with no rhythm, just teeth, tongue and desire. You both moaned and panted into each others mouths, and each time Alastor let out a breathless moan, you clenched around him. Wrapping his arms around you, Alastor pulled his mouth away noses still touching. “I c-can’t dear, not gonna last.” Alastor gritted, making you whine and mutter incoherently, you were already gushing fluids all down his legs and balls like a water fountain. “Oh fuck,” Alastor moaned his static glitching in and out. His pace suddenly quickened to a sickening degree, every thrust he let out a breathy growl. “Gonna breed you,” He muttered against your lips before crashing them against you, with the senstaion of wet pubic hair bumping against your swollen clit, and his body heat suffocating you, you couldn’t hold out any longer. The coil snapped in you, liquid gushing rapidly out of you painting his cock with your fluids, your body violently convulsed against him, screeching his name like a wild animals.

Alastors eyes turned to dials as his pace quickened, your orgasm bringing his own on as he felt the pressure break, without care he continually hammered into you, moaning and groaning your name into the nape of your neck. Around the room the lights violently flickered and flashed various colours, the radio off to the side flicking on and off with a strange tune. The amount of cum he strung out felt inhuman, and it felt like it was bloating you up. After a few moments of him whining and fucking into you, his cum so bountiful it ended up leaking out of you with every pump. Eventually he stilled falling against you and his tentacles that were also shaking with strain and exhaustion. The flickering lights and crazy stereo glitching ceasing. Alastor gripped you tightly, his shadows encasing the two of you, and releasing you on your shared bed. Alastor hadn’t pulled out of you, instead he pulled you closer, his body snapping back to his regular size, and snuggled himself into your back.

You were barely responsive, still dazed and confused trying to catch your breath. Alastor played with your fingers absentmindedly, kissing your exposed shoulder. Sighing happily, you wiggled yourself back up into him. “I love you dear.” Alastor muttered, silently voice muffled from the fact his face was buried against your shoulder. “I love you too.” You felt him freeze against you, suppose he didn’t expect you to be coherent enough for you to realize or respond.

~

“I just think there’s something more going on ere’.” Angel teased grinning at you, Lucifer hand his head down against the bar, Charlie and Vaggie sat on the couch, Vaggie looked tired and pissed off. Husk was, well Husk, and Nifty was nowhere to be seen. “What do you mean?” You say innocently sitting at a chair with your morning coffee by your side. “Oh please! The whole seven rings heard you two!” The king wailed, grabbing his hat so hard it may have ripped. You felt heat crawl up your neck at the claim, surely you weren’t that loud right? “Oh ya! The whole hotels hydro went out, thanks a lot strawberry pimp, made my stereo go all haywire.” Angel snickered poking your thigh with a raise of his eyebrows. Alastor stood tall behind you, a relaxed smile on his face. “I had to hear you two moan all morning yesterday!” Lucifer cried out throwing himself off the chair dramatically throwing himself around in despair. Alastor growled beside you, and when you glanced up you were surprised to see his ears pinned back.

“Guys cmon, you’re making me uncomfortable.” You say, you weren’t at all uncomfortable, but you worried that Alastor may have been, and you knew he wouldn’t enjoy being pushed under the bus and presented as weak to sexual teasing. Charlie thankfully ushered her father a way, and Vaggie walked off with her giving both you and Alastor a glare. The room was momentarily silent once they left, you eyed Angel, and Husk throwing back alcohol at the bar. “So, kids eh?” Immediately Alastor morphed into his demonic form at Angels words. You gave Angel a look but he wasn’t afraid of either of you, instead he giggled and skipped over to Husk.

~

Cuddled down in your brand new duvets, compliments of Lucifer, you waited for your husband to get back. Thankfully Alastor was always punctual and never kept you waiting long. Beside you on the left side of the bed was a crib, decked out in soft pinks and reds, with black accents all around. Attached to the crib was a demonic mobile, with little wooden runes, teeth, and horn hung on it handmade by Alastor. You had given birth to your baby only a week ago, and Alastor was doting, and a little obsessed. He wouldn’t let you leave the hotel, and very rarely the room. If you did leave you were followed by him, his shadows and Husk. He’d been out today all day, doing a special broadcast which involved slaughtering dozens of citizens and broadcasting it just as a friendly reminder as to not get in his way, or mess with him.

It felt a little wrong, Alastor had told you his plans and when you looked down at your baby girls face you couldn’t deny him, you wanted people to stay away, so neither of you told Charlie or Lucifer where he’d be going, just that he’d be gone. And he was supposed to return shortly, you made sure to listen in on his torturous journey, slightly enjoying how hot he sounded. Beside you, Mara, your baby girl, stirred making baby noises as she did so. Leaning over you peaked in to see if she was actually awake or simply shuffling and making noises in her sleep. When you looked over you were greeted with big (e/c) baby eyes of your daughter, she had alastors hair and ears, but thankfully lacked his yellow teeth, you loved your husband but it was uh, his aesthetic. Scooping her up you cooed to her and placed her on your bare chest, petting the tiny wisps of red hair that sprout from her head. She was warm, and smelt like brand new baby, fresh skin, with fragments of yourself and Alastor lingering. Being a deer certainly heightened the pregnancy process, and Alastors fears of being like the wild bucks above on earth were quickly dismissed.

Alastor was enamoured with Mara the moment you found out you were pregnant, it was a very trying time considering everybody was absolutely against it or absolutely infatuated, you had people telling n the news obsessively writing articles about you two, Vox was absolutely up your guys’ ass, and Lucifer was his own little problem. He never left Alastor alone always hounding him on how to be a good dad and to not ‘eat the baby’, which always made the room go silent. Alastor suddenly materialized in the room, black shadows crawling away from his form as he stepped in. Immediately his eyes zeroed in on you and Mara, eyes brightening at the sight. Slinking over to the bed, Alastor slid in beside you arm coming around your shoulder while the other pet the baby’s head and little ears. “She’s just a beauty! Oh if only my mother could meet her.” You looked over to him at that, a little surprised at that, you were very aware he was a mommas boy but never had you thought of the fact he’s been so far from her for so long, and that he may inwardly desire to have her back in his life.

Little hands came up and grabbed onto Alastors long fingered claw, brining it to her mouth, Mara began to ‘chew’ on him. You grinned happily at the sight, Alastor chuckling beside you. “So, I was listening over the radio, but regardless, how’d it go?” You ask twisting your body toward him, he hummed pulling his hands away from Mara. “Oh it was spectacular, everything went swimmingly. I briefly met up with Rosie and relayed the news, she's absolutely thrilled at the birth of Mara, says we must come by with her for lunch.”

“Will you let that happen, I haven’t seen the outside in days.” Alastor hummed flatly giving you a playful cut eye. “Perhaps a day will be fine.” You snorted, focusing your attention back on the baby, placing a kiss on her forehead. “So, whadaya think, grandpa Luc-” Alastor quickly interjected. “Immediately no, but go on.” You laughed aloud, shaking your head at his behaviour. “Grandpa Luci, Uncle Angel, Uncle Husk, Auntie Charlie, Aunt Vaggie, then we have Cousin Nifty, andddd.” You trail off thinking about who else could be added to the equation. “Godmother Rosie?” Alastor pipped up, seeming genuinely happy, you agreed instantly, loving the idea of Rosie being the godmother should anything happen to you two. Or Lucifer, or Charlie.

Alastor gently gestured to the baby, signaling he wanted to hold her, so you passed her over delicately watching as she melted into Alastors chest. “So dear,” Alastor said with a mischievous tone, head tilting towards you. “Shall we feed her deer meat? I think it’s good to start em young!” You groaned, and rolled your eyes it seemed your first fatal relationship argument was kids, and now the next will be what to feed them.

[lqveharrington]

Lucky King? | L.M.

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

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x wife!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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