#aka lucifer right now

[bigfatbimbo]

Different anon but good lord breeding Lucifer sounds so hot

Imagine how much he literally cries, he goes fucking STUPID all he can say is "breed me breed me please" the king of hell reduced to a sobbing mess who's brain has been fucked out of his head and replaced with nothing but cum, man is full ready to give Charlie a sibling, he's just that needy and pathetic

a/n — Jesus fucking christ. The feminine urge to get this man pregnant is crazy right now.

Warnings — Pegging, breeding kink, dom!reader sub!Lucifer, his demon form comes out near the end, Implied afab!reader, aka use of a strap-on

“Oh dear god,” Lucifer whimpers as you slide your strap into him. 

He sat down on your lap while you held him there by his hips. His hands rested on your shoulders, gripping them ever so slightly harder now that your plastic cock was inside him.

“That’s it baby, start slow,” you coach as he hesitantly starts moving his hips. 

He moaned at the sensation. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time Lucifer had gotten pegged. But, he would be lying if he said he’d done anything like this recently. 

And the fact he was receiving this treatment from you added to the mind numbing pleasure. 

He hummed contently and started to speed up, feeling his mind get fuzzier each second. “Goodness,” he remarked, “‘forgot how good this—mmh— this felt.”

You rolled your hips and he moaned loudly, grinding down on your strap, nails digging into your shoulder blades.

“Aw baby, I won’t ever let you forget again. How’s that sound?” You kiss his neck and thrust up into him slowly.

He whined, desperately needing more of anything. He humped your strap at a faster pace. “Nngh, deeper, god please—“

“Someone’s eager,” you generously thrust up into him, drawing out a loud needy moan and making him cling to your neck. “So desperate to breed yourself on my cock, huh?”

Something about the way you phrased that makes his whole body shudder. The idea sounds so intimate, he craved it.

He nods into your neck and fails to bite back a whimper, subconsciously humping your strap faster. 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” you command, “Want me to fill you up real good?”

“Yes, yes of course I—“ he looses his train of thought when you thrust your plastic dick deeper into him. He whines terribly desperate. 

“Mhm, yes, breed me, please, breed me,” he pathetically cries, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

“Of course, baby. Whatever you want, my sweet boy,” his moan was cut off by you flipping him off your lap and onto the sofa, ass up and face pressed into pillows.

You get a better angle there, pushing the strap further into him than before, making him scream out and grip at the sides of the couch of support.

“Oh, fuck yes please. Breed me, god, just like that. Deeper, nngh—“ Lucifer drools into the pillow, incoherently babbling in the form of short moans. 

You drill into him roughly, “You sound so pathetic, pretty boy, begging for my cock like this,” You tease. He whimpers lowly.

“Begging to be bred and used by me. You like being filled up like this? I bet you’d even have my babies if I fucked you good enough in return,” your jeer is less of an insult and more of a taunt.

It was hard not to tease him. After all, you have the king of Hell ass up in the air and moaning like a bitch for your strap. 

Your recent comments had already gotten into his head because, especially in this state, he knew it was true. He whined pathetically and buried his face deeper into the already damp pillow.

At this point he heard you let out an unexplained gasp, and slow momentarily. Luckily for him, you sped up quickly afterwards.

“Yes, yes, fuck I need more, please—“ He moaned, muffled by the fabric of the cushions.

“More? Sweetheart, you don’t look like you can take much more,” you coo down at him. 

He picks his head up temporarily to see what you mean. It’s then that, after a moment, he became conscious of the state he was in. 

Not only had he looked pathetic, tears streaming down his face from puffy red eyes, all of the attention had also taken its toll on his physical appearance.

His eyes had became a demonic shade of red, his horns had already begun to halfway stick out from his head, piercing the couch fabric and leaving stuffing in the area below him.

In a matter of seconds, or in other words, a few thrusts from you, his wings would surely sprout out.

“What’s the matter?” You tug his hair slightly backwards, making him cry out, “Can’t handle all the attention? Don’t make me pull out, baby.”

The threat had brought more tears to his eyes, “Nonono! Please don’t— ungh—“ you rolled your hips roughly inside him “—fill me up please. Breed me, i’ll do anything. Fuck me, please breed me”

You smile down at him, “Alright, but only because you’ve been such a good boy so far,” Your hands stroke his newly sprouted wings and he yelps, before grasping desperately at the pillows below him.

“I’ll fuck you hard, sweetie. I’ll breed you nice and good too. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He moans and vigorously nods his head, sniffing loudly, collecting himself from the tears that were still in fact pouring. 

His climax was building up at a rapid pace, he might have already came once in the area below him, but he was far too fucked out to know. 

He loved this position more than anything in the world. He was completely open to you and your strap, ready and willing to be fucked and used.

Even though he knew it wasn’t possible, he forgot for a moment that you weren’t actually fucking him to breed him. After all, he wouldn’t mind having your baby.

a/n — So this was probably one of the filthiest things i’ve ever written now that I think about it. Might have been too much, I don’t know.

Pretty sure Lucifer liked it though.

Also! A specific anon wanted to be tagged in the pegging Lucifer fic so @sillypumpkins !!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #dom reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel

[deadghosy]

HOW HAZBIN HOTEL REACT TO ST. PATRICK’S DAY BY SINNER TEEN! READER

Prompt: sinner! Reader teaches the gang how St.Patrick day is like when they were alive.

MUHAHHA YOU ARE PINCHING BITCHES LEFT AND RIGHT😘☝🏾

I can see you just wearing hella green and pinching the others. Now only if you survive Alastor. Cause it’s cannon that he hates touch. But if you are like his child, he may spare you and want to know the tradition you did.

If you aren’t like a child to Alastor, you better pray to Lucifer that you aren’t getting eaten tonight cause you dipped the hell out of his room seeing his eyes turn to radio dials.

You dress the egg boiz up fancy in green suits and a nice leprechaun hats.❤️ it’s so cute as they just smile at you and hug your legs

Charlie had to talk to you about the pinching today, you softly pinched her as she talked. But you told her how in the modern world that there’s a day where people pinch each other if they don’t wear green on St.Patrick’s day. But once you told Charlie that a green four leaf clover meant good luck.

You better believe she went to Charlie Morningstar, to “GOOD LUCK CHARLIE”😭😭😭

She’s literally going to try and find one so her good luck can help the hotel. She dragged vaggie into this which made vaggie glare at you. You just smirk holding a green flower.

Charlie would go crazy with this small holiday thing as she makes you decorate the hotel in green for it. Hell, and you don’t hate as you help her out with doing the decorations and green painting.

After that, they all started to wear green during that March. Plus, your pinches are like death themselves because you actually accidentally paralyzed husky in his neck

Husk didn’t like the whole holiday until you told him about the drinking. The mf smiles and switched so fast it made you side eye him.

You’re giving the meanest, tightest, skin ripping pinch to Valentino in his damn sleep.

Heaven isn’t safe either 😈

LMAO IMAGINE ADAM WATCHING TV AND HE FEELS A PINCH ONLY TO TURN AROUND TO SEE A FUCKIN LEPRECHAUN- aka which is you

“WHAT THE SHIT?!”

“SURPISE MOTHAFUCKA!” And you just dip like that throwing down a green smoke bomb.

After that hell and heaven both had a meeting to make st.Patrick day a thing, cause how the tf did you get to heaven..no one knows. You are secretly a god/j

You also teach the residents it, like you teach the old school and probably the new school sinners what St.Patrick’s day is like for you.

Who knew a minor like you in hell was such a damn menace, cause straight after St.Patricks Day. People were scared to get pinch whilst you just walk around the hotel and pride ring.

#hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x child reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x platonic!reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x you #hazbin vaggie #hazbin husk #hazbin vox #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor #st. patricks day #funny little things #hazbin hotel x teen! reader #hazbin hotel x sinner #hazbin hotel x y/n

[thebowieconstricker]

Sweet Mornings

Lucifer Morningstar x reader oneshot

Request: Them cooking together and it ending in either him cuddling her so much that they forget about the food and it burns, or baking and that ends in a food fight and kisses. Bonus points, if it burns down the Hotels kitchen and Charlie freaks out.

Okay so this is the CUTEST FREAKING THING EVER??? Love this request sm sorry it took a million years whoops lol enjoy

Tags: Literally just pure fluff, pancakes, kinda language, whipped-cream-related violence, gender neutral reader

~~~

Warm, soft mornings in bed with your beloved partner were becoming more common ever since you and Lucifer had become a couple. Not only was he excellent at cuddles, but his wings made the most delightful blankets to fall asleep under. On this particular morning, you were slowly waking up, and the first thing you noticed was the gentle grip Lucifer had on your form, clinging to your waist even in his sleep. You glanced at the clock to your right as you laid on your back and softly giggled. It was 3:00 in the morning, aka the “devil’s hour”, as some called it, and here he was, asleep in your shared bed. You shifted a bit to stretch and Lucifer made a small noise.

“I’m just moving a bit.” You whispered, bringing up a hand to brush through his blonde locks.

“Mmm, nah, just stay here.” He reached his arm back over your stomach and grabbed your hip, pulling you against his side.

You smiled affectionately, and while you looked at his quite literally angelic face, you thought of an idea.

“Hey, Luci… you wanna make pancakes?”

His eyes sprang open and his eyebrows shot up. A wide grin broke out on his face and quicker than you could blink, he had pulled both you and himself up and off the bed. With a snap of his fingers, the two of you were dressed in comfortable robes with silly slippers. He wore a bright yellow pair with duck faces, because of course he did. Your slippers were of your favorite animal, which was one of the many gifts Lucifer had given you.

With a wave of his hand, Lucifer had magically transported the two of you to the kitchen downstairs. It was a rather large kitchen, plenty of shelves and cabinets stocked with ingredients. You adjusted your robe and began to move towards one of the cupboards when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your torso. Following close behind was the warm face of your lover, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

“Honey, we can’t cuddle and make pancakes.” You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he replied, “Who says we can’t?”

He snapped once more and suddenly, all of your necessary materials and ingredients appeared on the kitchen island.

“There ya go, now you’ve just gotta stand there.”

You laughed and shuffled to the island.

You quickly realized that this was going to be far more difficult than you originally anticipated. For some reason, Lucifer was determined to make the simple activity of pancake-making as tedious as possible for you. When you measured the flour, he insisted that you had poured too much, leading you to re-measure six times. The eggs that you cracked always had a bit of shell in them, and instead of helping, Lucifer would just magic you more. “I’ll keep my arms right here, thank you.” He said from behind you. He did, however, beg you to add more sugar. You finally had to put your foot down after the 3rd empty bag. Why did you trust his horrible advice? No one knows, but according to legend, he apparently knows what he’s doing when it comes to pancakes.

After you had finally created some kind of batter, you struggled over to the oven with Lucifer’s arms still around you. You carefully poured the mixtures onto the skillet after putting the eye on the ‘high’ setting, and with the warm, sweet smells from the food and the demon snuggling your back, you were starting to get pretty sleepy.

That’s when you noticed it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that Lucifer had magicked some whipped cream in a can. Obviously, for the purpose of a topping, but you had other plans. You were sure that Lucifer’s eyes were closed behind you (you had even heard him snore a couple of times). Stealthily, you reached for the whipped cream and uncapped the can. You shook it and poured a bit into your mouth, just for fun. Then, you made your real move. You sprayed a good amount on your hand and put the can down.

“Hey, Luci, is it brown enough?” You asked innocently.

“Hmm..? I uh-“ He rubbed his eyes behind you and leaned over your shoulder to take a look at your pancake. “Yeah, you should probably flip-“

You swung your hand around and threw the whipped cream so it landed squarely on his face.

“AH-“

Lucifer’s arms eat go from your waist as he stumbled backwards in shock. His arms reached for his face to feel the whipped cream. Realizing what it was, he smiled wickedly as a forked licked the sweets off his hand.

“Oh, you have no idea who you just fucked.”

You doubled over as you cried with laughter at the sight of him, and laughed even more at that statement.

“It’s- it’s fucked with, Luci-“

Suddenly, whipped cream had landed on your face, splattering on your robe. You heard his musical laughter in front of you and, just like that, it was on.

Lucifer had summoned cans and cans of whipped cream on either of your sides and the two of you ducked behind and hopped over the kitchen island, throwing whipped cream at each other and throwing any other food you could find in the kitchen. You found a sleeve of graham crackers and started chucking those at some point while Lucifer grabbed some of his fire breathing ducks to melt the sugary ammo before it hit him. You took one of your shoes off and began chasing him with it, half laughing and half threatening him, when he finally, finally, held up a white napkin, and called, “I surrender!”

You kept laughing as you tackled him in a hug, the two of you falling to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Luci, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You playfully said to him.

“Hurt? I’m offended you think I could even get hurt-“

“Then why’d you surrender?”

His arms snaked around your waist once again and he smirked.

“I guess I missed ya.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him swiftly, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to care about the hectic state of the kitchen. Your hand went to his hair and carefully caressed it, trying to tidying it a bit. When you finally broke away, he looked at you breathlessly.

“Don’t get so excited there, you just had some whipped cream on your face.” You said to him, smiling.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and another can appeared in his hand, spraying some on his lips without missing a beat.

“You dork.” You said, and kissed him again.

Then, suddenly, a voice from across the room.

“OH MY GOSH GUYS THERE’S A FIRE VAGGIE GET THE EXTINGUISHER-“

So, the two of you may have forgotten about the pancakes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader

[akystaracer22]

Maybe in Another Life We Would Hate Each Other a Little Less

A chance encounter sheds a little light on Adam that Lucifer couldn't have predicted, leading to a moment he thought he'd never have with the man.

Notes (Aka my thoughts while writing):

God is a dick and I wanna kill xem

Adam folds his wings like a bird because monkey see monkey do

Both these guys were traumatised by the same person and we don’t talk about it enough

Probably Guitarduck/Adamsapple but in a fledgeling platonic kinda way

Refer to my ref for what Adam looks like!

I listened to Rät while writing this and- it kind of fits Adam???

Jesus is God’s favourite child and it fucking shows

How tf did this become a sickfic????

Lucifer gets the experience of being me whenever I make the impulsive move to boot up Char.ai and talk to literally any of the AI’s, get aunt agonied bitch.

Oh my god Adam has middle child syndrome.

Can you tell I attended a Christian school when I was younger???

Adam was hiding just how fucked over he was from the wing rot but he’s not having a good time in this. Most of the latter half of the oneshot is him dazed from both the one set of wing rot and the feeling of someone touching his wing.

Shit emergency wing HC for Adam ig: His wings grow warmer corresponding to his mood, as in when he is in general happier his wings radiate warmth and when he’s in a foul mood they’re just normal or even a little cooler.

In saying that yes Lucifer’s wings glow when he’s happy

Word Count: 1902

Fic under cut!

“Fucking- Shit!”

Lucifer paused, looking behind him and backing up to peek through the crack in the door. This ought to be good.

Sure enough, he was right, this was entertaining.

Adam was ranting again.

Honestly it was a nearly daily thing by this point, probably the only good thing about his daughters decision to let Adam stay at the hotel. He loved his daughter, he really did, by Adam was… Adam.

Lucifer knew he was a lost cause.

But still, didn’t mean Lucifer couldn’t tease the hell out of the man since he was stuck down here with the rest of them.

Lucifer’s smirk at watching the first man rant quickly died as he took in the guys appearance, he looked…

“What is wrong with your wings.”

Adam jerked and twisted around, scowling at him and oops he said that out loud didn’t he.

“Piss off!”

Lucifer, in his typical fashion, did not piss off and instead entered the room, “No seriously what is wrong with your wings.”

Now that he was closer, the king was certain they didn’t look like that a week ago. The feathers, while already having looked like a wreck were duller and the colours seemed almost… muted. Ignoring the already horrific state Adam’s wing were in, they shouldn’t look THAT bad so why…

“Wait-”

“I said-!”

“Have you not been preening you wings?”

Adam went silent, staring wide eyed at Lucifer much to the kings confusion. A beat passed, then two.

“What the fuck is preening?”

Lucifer blinked, he wasn’t serious, was he?

Surely not.

.

.

.

“By the heavens you’re dead serious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Lucifer debated whether he should explain it or not. On one hand, it’s Adam. On the other, Wings were a serious thing. He’d even seen Husker cleaning his wings from time to time, for Adam to just not know…

“You know what? For once my hatred of you is outweighed by my need to show you what’s what,” The fallen seraphim huffed, closing the door behind him and summoning a chair to block it from the outside so Adam couldn’t escape. “Come on we’re fixing this travesty.”

“What part of fuck off you do you not understand?!” The first man snapped, his wings mantling as Lucifer rifled through the closet, dragging out one of the many jars of oil he’d had the foresight to put in most of the rooms, perks of being a guy with basic common sense.

“The part where you’re being stupid and my daughter started rubbing off on me,” Lucifer shot back, his own wings serving well to corral Adam towards the bed, “How you don’t know how to preen your wings is beyond me but that’s ending today.”

“Again- what are you blabbering about.”

Lucifer paused, hand hovering just over Adams feathers. Preening someone elses wings was… intimate. It was something reserved for friends, family, lovers, and stuff… not enemies. Was he really going to just go ahead and clean Adams wings for him?

The seraphim’s eyes flicked over to where the ruined wing was draped over the bed. The wing was already in bad enough shape as it was, if he didn’t do this then wing rot was bound to hit it at some point and-

He didn’t really have a choice, not if he didn’t want to watch someone die of wing rot again.

Adam went stiff under Lucifers touch as he started work on the mans functioning wing, it was the easiest to work with, not the mention the safest to start with. The injured wing would no doubt be sensitive to any interaction, so better to start small.

Ish.

Adam shuddered as Lucifer moved between feather’s, periodically reapplying preening oil as he went. He was right as usual, looking closer most of the barbules had been separated and needed to be locked together again. Grimacing, the seraphim gently scratched out what looked like dried blood from where it was hidden in the base of Adam’s Secondary coverts.

“What are you doing?” Adam whispered, his voice for once lacking it’s usual bite. Lucifer paused for a second in confusion before Adam’s wing flexed back into Lucifer’s hand, “Don’t stop!”

“Okay okay!” The king huffed, working on his primaries, “What I’m doing is called preening. It’s something beings with feathers do to clean them.”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, like birds,” Lucifer agreed, “The oil helps take care of bacteria, but you got to realign the feathers, get rid of the ones ready to moult, and fix the feathers that are out of sorts, though you can just shake the feathers to do that part quicker.”

“Mhm”

Lucifer shifted over to finally tackle the ruined wing and froze, a chill slinking down his spine. As he took in the state of the tattered appendage.

“Shit.”

This close the seraphim could see the red pimples under the thinning layer of feathers surrounding the injury, it was wing rot in its early stages.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Lucifer dove his fingers into the scapulars to shut Adam up while he discreetly conjured up some disinfectant for the rot, if he’s lucky he can treat it now and just get Charlie or Vaggie to deal with it now, knock it over the head before it becomes so visible the others can notice. He ignored Adam’s breath hitching as the seraphim started, just as predicted, the wing was sensitive from the damage done to it.

“But seriously you need to do this more, this is just horrific,” Lucifer grumbled to himself, not really caring if Adam listened, “Honestly I’m surprised this hasn’t happened to you before!”

“Mmmm tried once… I think?”

Lucifer, glanced at Adam’s face, it was pointed away from him, but he could still sense Adam’s attention was on him, “Yeah?”

“Saw the birds doin’ it and tried to copy ‘em,” Adam continued at the prompt, spreading his other wing, “It hurt so I stopped, didn’ know there was a method to this shit or someth’n.”

“You… nobody even tried to teach you?”

“I think they thought I knew,” Adam chuckled sourly, “I think they thought I fu’kin knew how to just- do this. ‘Cause I was meant to right?!” Another laugh, “I bit the fu’kin apple so I shou’da known this kinda shit! Apple of knowl’dge or what’ver.”

Lucifer, wisely, didn’t say anything, he just kept working on Adam’s ruined wing, applying the disinfectant, and fixing what few feathers were still healthy and removing the rest. If it was anyone else in this situation he’s wrap the wing and tell them to rest but… it was still Adam that was in this mess.

“I- why didn’t they teach me? Luci why didn’t they teach me this shit?”

“I… don’t know,” Lucifer replied carefully, deliberately skipping over the butchering of his name that sounded way to close to a nickname for comfort, “Come on, up you get he still got the underside to finish then I’ll be out.”

Adam grumbled but complied, sitting up a little to turn around as Lucifer summoned a pillow for Adam to lean back on. Rolling his neck Lucifer got to work on the auxiliary feathers, the lighter feathers were definitely in better shape, but then again that wasn’t exactly a high bar, and they still were looking rough.

“Jesus was prob’bly taught how to preen himself.”

Lucifer’s shoulders hitched as his wings tucked in against his back abruptly. Jesus… was a rough topic. For all sinners talked about him, Lucifer never met him but from the sinners around that time… it was never a fun conversation. Pretentious once kings cursing his name while hopeless commoners lined up for the exorcists blade, faithful until the end that Jesus would let them into heaven if they just believed in him.

… there was a pattern in there, wasn’t there. Like father like son, he supposed.

“Jesus was made from me and yet he’s God’s favourite fukin kid, course he’d fucking know how to preen,” Adam continued unimpeded, “Doesn’t matter if I was Gods first- Jesus was always fucking better than me.”

Okay! Lucifer was in no way prepared for this conversation, but he highly doubted Adam was even going to remember this conversation, so he just focused on the wings.

“…Luci, do they all hate me?”

Lucifer sincerely wished Anthony, or just anyone really would bust down the door at this moment, at least then he could get himself out of this conversation.

“Why do you think that?” the seraphim deflected, moving onto Adam’s good wing and going through his coverts.

“Because none of them ever fucking did this,” Adam waved his hand haphazardly before letting it rest on his chest, “You’re my enemy but you’re fixin’ my fu’kin wings because I’m too stupid and useless to just figure it out myself.”

“Not useless,” The words left Lucifer’s lips without his input, damn himself to double hell, but it managed to shut up Adam, so he kept on the thought train, “You’re not useless you were just never taught, it’s not your fault heaven doesn’t think.”

“Jesus-”

“Is God’s prodigal son and shouldn’t be counted.”

Adam huffed and leaned back on the pillow, “Why’re you good at this?”

“I’ve had aeon’s to learn, and over a decade of putting it in practice,” Lucifer thought about his daughter, a small smile making it’s way into his expression, she really was the best thing to happen to him.

He finished up with Adams good wing and moved onto finishing off the wrecked one. Applying the disinfectant to the infected spots on the underside before reaching for the preening oil again.

“Y’know, maybe in another life we would’ve hated each other less.”

Lucifer just laughed and started preening the wing, yeah right, maybe in a reality where the apple incident never happened, “You’re sick Adam, feverish even.”

“And you’re a wife-stealer.”

“Should have been better in bed.”

“Fuck you,”

Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the first man, earning a tired chuckle. Then the seraphim blinked at the sudden warmth radiating out from the feathers. What in the-?

“Oh… they haven’t done that in a while.”

Lucifer blinked up at Adam who was staring at his feathers in amazement, “Ackde-whuh?”

Adam leaned back and closed his eyes, “Yeah… sometimes they just get warm all of a sudden it’s weird. Hasn’t happened in a while though. Apparently it sometimes happened when Lute was around? I dunno why.”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times before letting out a small “huh” and running a hand through the ruined wing, it was definitely warmer.

Sighing, Lucifer let his hand fall away despite the wing chasing it, “Alright well your wings are definitely cleaner now, so I’ll be out of your hair now.”

The seraphim stood up to leave through the balcony, opening the window and almost stepping out when Adam called after him, still sounding exhausted.

“I can see why they left me for you.”

Lucifer paused, before smiling sardonically and looking back at Adam, who looked like he might have just passed out.

“Tell me that when you’re not delusional from illness and I might believe you.”

With that, Lucifer stepped out and left for his own room… though, if Adam woke up to a small plush duck on his nightstand, that was between Lucifer and the god that cast him down.

But there is one thing Lucifer will admit.

Maybe Charlie wasn't wrong about thinking Adam could be redeemed.

Pings:

@sleepy-hijinx @whatataha @cyborg0109 @birbisanon @legogator @overlord-rey @luckyburgerz @spiny-dogfishes @justakidicarus

#adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fandom #guitarduck #platonic #written by an asexual #fluff #fallen angel adam #fallen angel #wing fic #angst #tw swearing #tw mentions of wing rot #i wrote this #I wrote with on four hours of sleep powered by caffeine and a cold #adamsapple #ashes to ashes dust to dust

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Hey, can I request a Yandere Lute x Female! Demon! Reader? (with smut)

• y'know that battle at the hotel during extermination day? Can Lute kidnap the reader while they are distracted with other exorcists and take them away through the portal to heaven? Then she drags them to a bedroom in heaven and proceeds to fuck the reader roughly (maybe with oral, sex toys, fingering)

P.S I love your writing

A/n: yea! And I’m glad you’re enjoying it! Most of the lute requests I’ve gotten from others are forced sex (AKA Rape). But I write it so that’s fine. Just don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable!

I DO NOT SUPPORT RAPE OR YANDERE IRL

(P.S, I’m not sure if this would be before or after she lost her arm, so I made it after)

Yandere lute x female reader smut

Words: 2k

“Stupid Sinner”

Warnings: rape, toys, forced oral, oral, Yandere, blood(light), fingering, kidnapping, abuse, gay sex, name calling, slight praise??, biting, sobbing, Dacryphilia

It was a bloody battle. Exorcists flying here and there, trying to kill off the citizens from cannibal town and your friends. You were friends with Charlie and the others, as you’ve taken a spot at the hotel on the “road to redemption”.

You managed to kill off some of the exorcists, determined to save and protect the hotel and all your friends. Little did you know a certain exorcist has been watching your every move. Lute. You’ve heard a little about her from Charlie, knowing Lute is Adam’s right hand girl. Though you didn’t pay attention to her much throughout the fight, which you should have done.

Lute was watching you. With slight admiration for how easy you can kill her kind, but also she was angered by it, and…a little turned on. The moment she saw you her heart stopped. You gorgeous covered in the golden blood of her kind, though that pissed her off. You’re a sinner, and that can’t go unpunished.

Charlie’s father, Lucifer, and the others, were busy with Adam. While you were off to the side somewhere else, fighting some of the other exorcists, Lute took the chance to swoop in and snatch you from them, her one arm keeping her in her grasp. You try to shout but she tightened her arm around your chest, making it difficult to get a word out.

“I suggest you keep quiet, sinner.” She said menacingly with her signature smirk. The portal to heaven was wide open, allowing any of them to fly back in. Lute looked at you and then the battle scene, determining whether she should help Adam and the other exorcists, or take you home for some…punishment. She looked at you and couldn’t help it, she wanted you, sinner or not.

She flew into the portal and forced you into her housing. You panicked and had tears in your eyes, scared of her hurting or torturing you. “I-I’m sorry..” you apologized subconsciously.

“Quiet.” She growled and kicked you down, making sure you’re weak enough to not fight back. You grunt and hold your stomach, trying to push the tears down and not cry.you look up at her, your eyes filled with fear, confusion, and pleads, but she doesn’t care about that. Lite grips a handful of your hair harshly without any care, you let out a pained soft yelp and grab her hand, trying to pry it off. She chuckles mockingly at you. “Stupid sinner…you think you can overpower me? Huh? You’re too weak..just look at you now..pathetic and laying on the ground…” she glared down at your body. Then she smirked with an idea. “Might as well put you to work while you’re down there..” she said and let go of your hair.

You sigh in relief for a moment and hold the spot she pulled, as she went over and grabbed a chair, pulling it over to where you were. She grabbed some ropes, grabbing your wrists with her one arm, struggling a little, which you used to your advantage. You used your arm to grab hers, pulling her down. She grunts and glared at you, angered. “You little rat…” she kicked your chest hard, knocking the wind out of you, tears welled up in your eyes. “Just except your fate..you have no other purpose anyways..” she sneered and tied your wrists together as tight as possible.

You gasp sharply in pain and try to untie yourself “stop..” she said warningly..pulling you up by your hair with her arm.

This time, you couldn’t hold back, it hurt, a lot, and your hands were tied and you couldn’t do anything. You shut your eyes tightly and tried your best to not let those tears fall. “S-stop it please…” you begged. Lute rolled her eyes and set you in a kneeled position. Then she pulled off her tights, revealing her black laced panties and smooth pale skin. You tremble a little, confused of what’s going on. “What are you..?” You were cut off by Lute.

“Shush. Don’t speak or make a sound or I will end your pathetic little life, sinner” she sneered and took off her panties, revealing her wetness. You advert your eyes from her, looking down. She grabbed you chin with her arm and forced you to look up at her. “You will listen to my every word. No questions or hesitation, and maybe I’ll let you live peacefully here.” She tells you. You nod, your only focus was survival now that you were in the hand of this powerful exorcist.

“Good girl..learning so fast?” She smirked and said in an alluring way as she traced your jaw. You felt nothing but fear through your whole body, her praise only filling you with fear. She grabbed the collar of you shirt and pulled you closer to her, you could smell the sweat nectar in her core. “Open your mouth.” She demands and looked down at you intimidatingly, you shiver and tense at the look, looking down. You didn’t want to but this was your only way of survival.

You opened your mouth, obeying her command. “There we go..good girl..” she said effortlessly as her hand gripped the hair on the back of your head and pulled you closer to her wet pussy. You gulp as your mouth touched her wet, soft pussy, you let out a small whine…squirming a little under her. She lets out a satisfied sigh and closes her eyes, bucking her hips into you. “What are you waiting for? Start..” she waits impatiently for you to begin.

You tremble as your tongue starts to push around her pussy, tasting her sweat nectar and your saliva mixing with it. You closed your eyes tightly to block off the view. “Ohhh yea..just like that you little whore..keep going..” she growled softly and pushed your head even deeper into her warm core. Your tongue reached the inside of her tight entrance, forcing yourself to thrust in and out of her.

She moaned and gripped your hair hard, having no care of how much harm she would be casing you, only focusing on herself. “Fuck…you fucking cunt…hurry..” she rushed you..pulling your hair harshly as punishment. You let out a soft whimper and try your best to thrust your tongue faster. You feel her walls pulse and tighten around your wet tongue, Lutes thighs tightening around your head to keep you put. “Fuuuuck…” she moaned out and had her orgasm. “Swallow it..”

You could taste and feel her warm thick cum roll down your throat, some dripping down your chin. She finally allows you to pull away, pre-cum dripping down your chin, now drying there due to you having no way of wiping it off, your hands still tied. She stands up and licked you back down, you let out a grunt and try your best to stay silent. She grabbed your shirt and pulled you away into her room, roughly slamming you onto the bed on your stomach, your hips in the air. This time, she grabbed more restraints. “Spread your legs.” She demands.

You tremble and shakily spread your legs, your head burrowed in the sheets. She walked over and took your pants off roughly, tossing them without a care and then ripped your panties off, earning a shocked gasp from you when the cold air hit your exposed sex. You felt Lute grab your ankles, wrapping another rope around them and tied the other end to the beds poles, making sure you cousin’s move in any way.

Your breathing became heavy, you began to panic. She seemed to notice this and smirked, grabbing the largest strap she could find, putting it on and then climbing over you. “Aww~ don’t worry sweetheart…you’ll be just fine..” she said with no genuine care. You felt the cold rubber cock against your right core, trembling with fear, you did your best to not beg and beg for mercy, as Lute said to not speak. Without a warning she thrusts into your pussy, your breath hitched as she roughly violated your most sensitive part.

You hold in all your groaned and yells, or muffling them into the sheets. She used her only arm to hold herself up, lowering closer to your ear as she thrusted roughly. “You’re so tight..I’ll make sure I’m the only one who knows it..” she says to you and aggressively starts to kiss you neck, leaving marks and bites. You let out a pained moan, feeling the massive rubber cock hit your g-spot over and over again roughly. You let out whimpers and allow your tears to fall, not being able to take the pain.

She smirks at your weakness, thrusting even harder and moaning deeply into your ears to tease you. “That’s it…I’ll make you beg for this one day…” she chuckles darkly and continues to violate your now abused hole. You sob softly into the sheets, feeling your abused pussy hurting and hurting more, you felt as if you were getting split in two.

Your mind was telling you to not give in and let yourself cum big your body said different, your hole naturally tightening around the large rubber cock, close to climax. Lute smirked and laughed. “Your enjoying this? You little whore i knew it…don’t worry..I’ll make sure you get this everyday your with me..” she smirked and leaned down, now thrusting as hard as possible and biting the back of your neck, moaning against it.

You let out a louder cry as her teeth dig into your skin, drawing your red, warm, thick blood. She moaned at the warmth and bit you harder, thrusting harder into your pussy. Your pussy clutched around the rubber cock, finally having your orgasm. You pant under her, shaking and trembling uncontrollably, just praying and wishing it was over. But it wasn’t. The next thing you knew she sat up, pulling the rubber cock out of you roughly and then placing her one hand onto your thigh and squeezing it, then ducked her head under you and started to lick up all of your juices, causing you to let out a choked sob and moan.

Lute moaned against your pussy, sucking mercilessly at it and even biting it, you flinch and winced every time her teeth grazed your sensitive folds, causing you to tremble even more. She moved her hand up to your pussy, and then suddenly thrusted four fingers into your already abused pussy, you let out a muffled yelp into the sheets. “Aww baby..it’s not that bad..” she whispered back to you, her tone full of fake sweetness.

You sobbed more, she heard it and that turned her on even more, encouraging her to thrust harder. Her strong fingers hit and hit your g-spot as many times as possible and an unbelievable speed, this hurt more than the rubber cock. She was close to adding her own hand into you, your hurt trembling pussy couldn’t take anymore and some blood started to drop out, but that didn’t make Lute stop, it only made her want this more

You let out cries that were muffled into the sheets, your pussy naturally closing in on Lutes fingers, making her moan and thrust harder, your climax close. You finally released your orgasm again, dripping down Lutes fingers and into her face. She sits up and hungrily eats out your hurt, abused, and bleeding pussy, making every ounce of pre-cum like it was a delicious milkshake. She moaned and licked her lips and fingers. Panting, she gets up and unties your legs, then dragged you across her house.

Your face was covered in dried tears and the dried pre-cum form Lute on your chin. You were so sore, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk normally for awhile. She opened a door in her room far from any escapes, the room had nothing but a mattress in it. She placed you in the room, you still trembling and your hands still tied. She smirked and walked over to the door, a key in hand.

“See you tomorrow ~ sinner~”

A/n: uhhhhh, I don’t know if this was good but I hope you enjoyed!!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #human reader #demon reader #hazbin hatel lute #lute x reader smut #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #yandere #yandere hazbin hotel #lute x fem reader #lute Yandere

[angxlofvenus]

Hiii so I wanted to ask if you could write some headcanons about how the brothers would react if MC suddenly turned into a toddler (due to some forbidden book or Solomons cooking or whatever you want) like ,how would they react ,how would they take care of my ?

I hope this request makes sense ! I really like your writing

When You Become A Toddler

Thank you so much for the request! This was so cute to write about, Have a great rest of your day/night! Genre: Fluff Ship: Platonic brothers x reader TW: mentions of hurting Solomon, killing Solomon, Pretty much just threats on Solo's life, minimal cursing, eating Solomon's cooking, Turning into a child, Child reader

You should've known better by now... When Solomon brought you a Tupperware claiming it was Simeon's cooking, You knew it was risky but the food looked good! You only realized how badly you messed up after only one bite...

Lucifer

No. Not another one- He refuses

This man has pretty much raised 6 kids already, and while he may kill Solomon for this, He is the most experienced in helping you

He’s got this whole mom thing down to a T

Will probably just care for you like a normal Toddler

 It does get a teeny strenuous when he eventually needs to get back to work

No mc, you can not help him sign papers with your red Crayola crayon.

Once you’re back to normal, he’s mostly relieved, Though it was nice to reminisce on the good ol’ days when his brothers were still just young Cherubs

Mammon

First thought is, “Oh shit!”

Second thought is, “Lucifer’s gonna kill me!”

He may strangle Solomon right then and there

He is the second oldest so he’s got some experience under his belt

Immediately is picking you up and coddling you

Will totally become the best babysitter ever (aka letting you do pretty much whatever you want)

Wanna go spend Lucifer’s money? Hell yeah! Wanna go to the park? Let’s go!

Once you’re back to normal, He’s gonna deny Caring for you as closely as he did but he secretly enjoyed having someone younger around who actually likes him for a while (Luke…)

Levi

Nope, He can’t do this!!

Yes, He technically has 4 younger brothers, yes he knows how to take care of kids but still-

His room isn’t for kids, All of his precious collectibles!!

Is cursing the sorcerer's name

Y’all will end up watching some kid-friendly anime and playing some of his easier games

Will let you win too

After you’re back to normal, He will let out a sigh of relief, You weren’t a bad kid but, He likes you better grown up and not so destructive

Satan

As he is technically the youngest in age, He won’t be the most experienced

But- This man has read a couple things about kids so he isn’t totally helpless

Will be one of the better caretakers, He will keep you happy and calm throughout the day

He’ll find some more age-appropriate books to read to you 

Afterwards, He is happy you’re back to normal safely but it was nice to act so domestic for a bit, He will being having a ‘talk’ With Solomon :)

Asmo

Well, aren’t you cute!

Would also be a great babysitter in my opinion

Y’all will be having a fashion show, sorry I don’t make the rules

His phone is now full of pictures of just you and him being fashionistas 

Will 100% let you play with all his makeup and nail polish, Yes he’ll let you give him a makeover

No matter how bad the finished product looks, he will shower you in compliments on your skills

After you're back to normal, He’ll laugh about the situation with you and gush about how cute you were!

Beel

Now this guy is a family man so he’s immediately in protective mode

Will protect you with his life

Is maybe the best babysitter out of everyone

Will get everything you need, Blankets, coloring books, toys, You name it- He’s gonna get it for you

Will absolutely cook for you/ share his food if you ask nicely, He could never say no to that face!

Once you turn back, He is a little sad but overall just happy you’re healthy

He won’t let you anywhere near Solomon or his cooking for a while…

Belphie

Get somebody else to do it-

In all seriousness, he isn’t really good with kids

Will probably take you to the park or something so you can get all your energy out while he naps on a bench

Once y’all get back, He’ll give you his phone and just let you go wild while he sleeps

Will be nice enough to let you cuddle with him/ steal his cow pillow

He’ll be so happy when you’re back to normal, Not that you weren’t cute and all but he likes you better when you can care for yourself

He will definitely be out for blood though, Solomon isn’t going to get off that easily

Best babysitter to worst:

Beel Satan Lucifer Mammon  Asmo Levi belphie

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me x reader #self ship #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #ao3 #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me belphie #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obeymexreader #obey me headcanons #obeymexchildreader #child reader #fluff #janus'writings #janus'asks

[nocreativityfornames]

Barbatos and Solomon's first meeting and a theory of mine, aka: what if Solomon summoned Barbatos to save his friend?

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SWD S3 AND NB S1 AHEAD

Okay, so we've had pieces of info about their first meeting for a while now, but after collecting everything I could on these two to make my recent posts I was able to put them together and here it is.

First, there are the two times the story was briefly told in Obey Me! SWD, this one being from lesson 53-16 when Asmo discusses his first meeting with Solomon and then asks Barbatos about his:

And this next one being from lesson 49-A when Asmo asks about it for the first time and Solomon doesn't want to tell him:

And we learn what happened in the aftermath from Thirteen when she tells us about it in Obey Me! NB lesson 11-10:

So Solomon risked his life to summon Barbatos using an incantation and was left on the brink of death because of it, all because he "desperately needed his powers to control time", and after their interaction and whatever happened there, Barbatos took him to the Fountain of Knowledge and declared him the new protector of it.

By the way, they didn't make a pact during their first meeting but later on instead, or at least that's what I got from Barbatos saying:

I'm saying this because "eventually" is vague enough to be open to interpretation and could mean that they did make a pact during their first meeting and that it only took some bargaining for Barbatos to agree. But the way I saw it was that the pact was made later on.

So, the questions left unanswered from this are:

1 ) What made Solomon want to control time badly enough for him to seriously risk his life for it?

2 ) Did Barbatos help Solomon by using his powers to control time like he wanted him to?

Because it never says that Barbatos agreed to Solomon's "desperate need", and it doesn't say why Solomon was so desperate for it in the first place, only telling us that there was something he wanted enough to risk death for it.

But it does answer WHY later.

At first I thought we didn't have more info on their first meeting, but then I remembered this little moment from Obey Me! NB ( that I added to my post afterward and here's the screenshot from the post because I was too lazy to open the game and go to the lesson again ):

So Solomon almost died summoning Barbatos because he desperately needed his powers to control time after causing serious destruction to the Human World with his...?

Well, maybe, the passage does say that Barbatos appeared before him and not that he was purposely summoned by him, but it could be that the book is just depicting what people at the time thought happened, since it makes it sound like that was their first meeting when Barbatos himself said that Solomon summoning him was how they first met.

Anyway, let's assume I'm right and that's what happened and the reason why Solomon needed Barbatos was to fix the damage he did to the Human World unintentionally.

THE MAIN THEORY: Solomon summoned Barbatos to save his childhood friend's life, who was affected by Solomon's powers going out of control.

This is something that Solomon tells us in Obey Me! NB lesson 14-16, that he had a friend while he was locked up in the basement as a kid. He tells us the story of how they met and says that from then on the friend started visiting him regularly and that they would chat through the bars of the window basement and that's how their interactions went for however long. But then while telling us about them he suddenly stops:

And thus this became my current theory.

Solomon's powers, which have always vastly surpassed your usual human's, start getting out of control and becomes a threat to the world, endangering one of his loved ones ( much like MC's in S2 with Lucifer ). And desperate to save their life and out of what to do, he summons a demon he knows can control time to help him.

Judging by how Solomon struggles to tell the story to MC though, we can assume that it didn't end well.

Maybe Barbatos refused to save his friend/had no way to do it ( he can only travel through timelines and not actually go back and change the one where he is ) and Solomon had to accept the fact that they were dying and say goodbye and this was the moment when he made this promise to them to become a good sorcerer, learn how to control his powers and protect humanity.

Or maybe Barbatos did try to save them/told Solomon how to do it but it ended badly somehow and that's what brings Solomon pain when he tries to talk about it.

#I could've stopped at “maybe he summoned him to fix the damage he did to humanity” but hey-- why not go further? #we'll only know the answer when Solomon or Barbatos finally tell us the complete story #I want nb season 3 to come out so bad #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omnb #omswd #omswd lesson 53 #omswd lesson 49 #omnb lesson 14 #omnb lesson 16 #thoughts thoughts thoughts! (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me #☙ no creativity for names ✾

[xxxregulusblackxxx]

So I'm obsessing over Hazbin Hotel like all of the internet right now, but I've been a fan since the pilot and am caught up on Helluva Boss. I have a few things to rant about here.

1. ALEX BRIGHAM AND HIS OBSESSION WITH DEMONS. He's Beetlejuice in the broadway musical, he's Fizzorolie or however you spell his name in Helluva boss, he's Sir Pentious and ADAM THEE GOD DAMNED ADAM THE FIRST MAN In Hazbin hotel.

2. Husks voice actor is Keith David aka DR. FACILIER IN THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG!

3. Jack Kelly from Newsies on Broadway, filmed and put on Disney plus, Varian from Tangled the Series is Played by Jeremy Jordan, now if you're a theater kid you know who he is, you'd also be interested in knowing that he's LUCIFER that's right Lucifer Morningstar THE DEVIL HIMSELF

4. HUSKERDUST. I love this ship. Yes they are romantic and Vizzy has confirmed they are a slowburn relationship so if Anyone who interacts with me says they're platonic or found family I will be sending you to hell yourself

5. Alastor, first off he's canonical Aro Ace, just so ya know. Secondly he's such a good manipulator that he's manipulating fans into thinking he's not trying to fuck over the hotel and that he's not a villain. Which he is but he's still lovable. ALSO Alastor is Creole, he may have been white passing when alive but he's Creole and from Louisiana (I love Louisiana born men, my obsession with Leo Knut is proof of that) So just keep that in mind when drawing him. The transatlantic voice is something he would have learned, it's called All American speech and was used in Radio and TV, that's his voice under the radio affect.

6. The V's. Love them and hate them. I absolutely loth Val but at the same time Vox's screen brightens when he's trying to get Valentino's attention and that's really cute

7. Lute's Voice Actress played Elphaba in Wicked and her part in You didn't know is the absolute best part ever.

And Remember they're all in hell for a reason Sir Pentious is the only one who's truly good out of the Sinners

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #angel dust #lucifer #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #sir pentious #leo knut #mentioned #alastor #alex brightman #jeremy jordan #jack kelly #beetlejuice #yes I'm a theater kid stfu #im gonna go research all the VA's now #Blake Roman is so fine tho #like- one chance #please #Loser baby is living in my head rent free though #Blake voiced the egg men #Man has range #Again #one chance #... #i do simp for Lucifer tho #it is because of Jeremy Jordan #i simp for like all the cast tho

[belphies-hands-around-my-throat]

Obey Me Brothers + "Big Bro" Kink [+18]

Happy Valentines! Or not anymore... Well, it's a romance month for me! I have honestly no ideas about any cute scenarios so... me being horny. As you do. This time with the full cast of brothers... Although Belphie kind of... Got special treatment from me... As he does. *cough*

Warnings: Implied incest, duh (but only as roleplay here), dubcon (especially on Asmo and Belphie) but everyone is super into it, verbal manipulation with Belphie + him saying one thing and doing another but also in roleplay. Use of "MC" and "Sib/Sibling".

Author loving Belphie too much aka excessive Belphie content.

Also, just so nobody wastes their time, check the tags for dom/sub dynamics. Satan and Beel aren't there because I feel they don't fall into any here lol.

Lucifer ❤️

You say it teasingly because he's totally in his own "taking care of the family" mode again, while he's trying to do his work, solve your life problems, and help you with homework, all at the same time.

And his reaction?

No.

Not again.

He just sends you a withering look, completely not taking it seriously

You hang out with his brothers, after all, you were probably just messing with him

Privately, it's a bit of a different story

Still doesn't take it seriously but will sigh lovingly instead, messing with your hair

"Yes yes, big brother is going to take care of this."

Cue you blushing like an idiot

Cue him going "💡"

Laughs softly at it. But I mean, honestly, you should have been just honest with your desires.

He's gonna make sure to fulfill them completely now, after all~

Gets "gentle dom" and "service dom" in big brother mode. Really likes to pat your head and give you forehead kisses. Being a big brother means taking care of someone to him after all.

"Oh, like that?"

"Does that feel good?"

"Don't move. You don't have to worry about anything… Your big brother is taking care of you…"

Mammon 💛

You just say it randomly, to tease him.

His reaction is a mix of embarrassment and a kind of strangely pleased reaction.

Because you're family. You said so! - is his first thought

But also embarrassing because gez, it's embarrassing okay!

You will have to lay it thick that it's a kink. 

So you do - springing it on him during sex. A terrible idea, really. But you can turn it into a joke, he won't mind.

"W-What are you saying!" He stutters, he blushes, and huffs about it...

But his reaction... Is not bad. :>

He likes to be the "seduced" big bro. Really subby, "I can't give in to my desires!" type.

Naturally, it will make you bratty as hell, taking advantage.

Handcuffing him into the headboard with a giggle, climbing right into his lap, squirming your butt around, totally on purpose. With your shirt collar hanging open, and you will see his eyes flicker down, him blushing, trying to pretend like he didn't look at all.

"What's with ya, MC? Dumb prank, one Lucifer is enough, ya know? C'mon..."

But you will only grin, tilting your head teasingly.

"But don't you think I'm cute, big bro?"

He will only gulp in response.

Levi 🧡

He asked you to. It was a bad idea.

You were cosplaying a typical cutesy "little sibling", and you asked you to get in character... So you did... A little too well, shuffling your feet as if shy, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and saying;

"Is this good, big bro?"

Oh no.

Hell no.

Levi snaps a quick photo and promptly runs the fuck away.

Because he popped the biggest boner in his life in promptly 0.3 seconds. Seriously, he almost got dizzy.

You get a "💡"

He's a damn filthy pervert so he likes all types of little sibling treatment from you - from a cold tsundere act, to a cute innocent cinnamon roll, to a teasing brat.

Which, naturally, produces a bit of different flavors from him.

He's probably the biggest, open perv with a tsundere-type lil sibling.

"Tch, stop drooling, it's disgusting." While you sit on his lap as you play video games, and can't stop sniffing your hair, and you can feel his erection pressing into your back, and he wasn't drooling but he sure as hell is now. Pressing himself closer, lifting you up a bit so e can thrust right against your ass, his body shivering.

The innocent act makes him feel like the biggest pervert though.

"Y-You shouldn't touch those places, big bro..." While he quite shamelessly gropes around your chest, his hands trailing through your stomach to massage the inside of your thighs, hips, fingers rubbing right against your front. 

"D-Don't worry... I'm just measuring you... F-For cosplay, y-you know?" He says, flushed to high heavens, not even looking away from your body.

"Oh? Wanna see?~" You ask, grasping onto the hem of your maid dress that was certainly way too short, grinning at Levi, who spent the last fifteen minutes trying to not look at your legs, your revealed thighs... The absolute territory... And now this. "Then get on your knees, big bro~ And beg like a dog~!" You honestly expected more preamble but he looks at your face and just drops. It's a bit too heavy, and he's being a good boy so you decide not to tease him... Too much. Lifting up your maid skirt, high above your waistline, fully revealing your underwear, right in front of his face. "Fufu~~ Big bro is a dirty sibcon~~"

Asmo 🩷

He asked you to. It was a great idea.

Asmo really doesn't get to be the big bro a lot... Not in the official sense, his younger brothers rather mostly rather willing to swallow glass than be his cute little siblings.

So he gets an idea while painting your nails, gently blowing at the nail polish.

"Now you look like part of the family you know. So... How about you thank your new big brother for his hard work, okay hon?~"

He had his ideas before, little to no kinks he didn't want to try but...

When he feels lust waffling from you while you answer... Oooh, this was good.

He brings it up all the time, wanting to be called big brother, or even big sister, as long as it makes you squirm and flush and makes you so so adorable, he could eat you up!

Then one day, he catches you masturbating... And decides to be the right bastard about it. Because you didn't need to, or didn't tell him, so he has a right to tease you a bit!

He gently catches your hands while you stutter, heart beating like crazy with embarrassment, or because he startled you or because you were still so so turned on.

And you don't know what you expected... But he leans into your space, slides his own hand into your underwear, and... Oh.

"Big brother is going to teach you how to do it properly, okay?" He says, expertly playing with you with his delicate dexterous fingers. "Pay attention, silly... Or do you need him to make you feel good, hm? Because it doesn't feel that good when you do it alone?" He giggles. "Big bro is going to make you cum of his fingers everytime, if you only ask... Unless you need more?~"

Satan 💚

He does not hear that a lot... It's kind of amusing.

You say that while you two play with the cats. Because you notice how gentle and protective he is of them. And it just reminds you... So you put on a pair of cat ears, and decide to goof around a bit.

"Such a purrfect cat big brother, Satan. Pet me too, big bro~!" 

He has to cover his face not to laugh, and he sighs but does reach out and runs his fingers through your hair, petting along your neck like you were truly a cute little kitty cat.

He doesn't really expect it but from that day on, he kind of enjoys having a needy cat "little sibling". Makes him more affectionate towards you, and if you had problems asking for affection before, well, this role strangely boosts your bravery.

The turn towards sexual happens accidentally, actually... He just starts cuddling up to you, touches turning more intimate when he notices... You wearing the "cat sibling" headband... He freezes for a moment, his face turning red... And makes a gamble.

"... Do you need big brother's affection here too?" He asks quietly, gently petting lower...

Beel 💙

It starts because talking with him and Belphie, observing their interaction, you decide - he's way more of a proper big brother, than most of his brothers are.

So before asking him for any little favor, you add on a little "big bro", to reference that conversation, turn the phase into your secret praise of his character.

He's... Honestly a bit confused but since he also knows the context, well, he can't say he dislikes it.

It becomes such a natural part of your relationship, it's honestly only a matter of time before it slips out in bed...

And it does.

He's giving you head, and fuck, it's Beel quality head, meaning - he has been sloppily, hungrily sucking and licking you for at least an hour now, with no signs of stopping. You don't know how many times you came already, but somehow you don't even feel too overstimulated yet. Just hot, panting, feeling almost like you were floating, completely lost in his warm, wet, mouth.

"Ah... Feels good, big bro..." You mutter, not even aware of what you're saying... And his gaze snaps to your face, half-lidded eyes, look intense...

And he shudders. Grabs onto your thighs to bring you even closer, make you cum even more-

You're almost completely out of it before he's done... But you make sure to whisper and moan your private little praise for him all through.

Belphie 💜

You kind of call him this one out of the blue. Just realizing that he's the youngest one, that it's probably a foreign concept to him... So you say, half to yourself, half to him, not even respect him to react;

"Big bro Belphie."

And he just stops. And looks.

He did not hear that one for a long time

It takes him completely off guard, but it's not entirely, not really negative... Lilith didn't call him "big bro" a lot but still...

He laughs it off, and proceeds to turn goblin mode to tease you about it.

"Big bro Belphie... Is that what you want to call me now, MC?"

Cue your embarrassed "No!"

He laughs... And proceeds to remember it forever, using it against you when you two are alone.

Seriously, you can be studying in the public library, in a group with Satan and Mammon, and the moment they start doing a ruckus, Belpie will lean in close, just to whisper in your ear;

"Need your big bro to help you with that?~" 

And just smirk smugly, like a cat that got its cream, when they turn around to find you red in the face and speechless.

He really likes you embarrassed like that.

And you just gave him new material.

Really, that was the fuel but you light the match - because he gets whiny, and complains in the mornings so you just say:

"If you want to be a big brother so much, then start acting like it." Grumpily.

Ah, so that's how you two were going to play? 

"Well, big brother missed you in his dreams, so how about you give him a little initiative to get up?"

Aaaand you blush. But do give him a kiss. And then another and another when he asks.

Hm... Interesting.

He starts really liking it when you call him that. He's not sure why but it makes him feel all... Fluffy. And protective.

Then one day you wake up to the feel of his hands creeping up under your shirt slowly, massaging your nipples with a gentle caress before drifting down, along your hips, the elastic of your pajama pants, and...

"Belphie..." You whisper, and he lets out a small noise, pressing himself flush to your body, not letting you turn around, hot breath against the nape of your neck.

"... Big bro was having really dirty dreams about you, MC." He says, his voice slightly shaky, and he expects you to get annoyed to tell him to stop... But you don't. You freeze, and get red in the face, and he can feel your legs squeezing together. It makes him huff a quiet laugh in response. "So just let him touch you a bit, okay? Not gonna do more, promise..."

He will mutter and fuck, the hotness down in your belly is so intense you already feel like panting.

So you... You play along. With high, whining voice, both embarrassed and strangely... Tiltilated.

"Y-You can't touch me like this, it's not right..."

You can feel him shiver in response, his hips sifting almost against his will, pressing his erection into your thighs...

"Shh, it's okay... Big bro is just making himself feel good. You feel good too, right? Then rhere's nothing wrong about this..."

You put on the whining protests all the way through, despite your hips eagerly pressing back into him, body arching into his touch.

And he keeps with his reassurances, promising he won't do more, just let him touch you a bit... Just give him a kiss, and he will be satisfied. No, a proper one, be a good little sibling, and open your mouth...

He will just take off your pants okay? Just the pants? So you two can touch more, it's more comfortable anyway...

All the way until he's sliding into you, and your eyes roll back, and you swear you almost cum on the spot, body shaking, and reaching back to grasp onto his body, to pull him closer, unable to say anything, letting out quiet panting sobs of pleasure.

"It's gonna be our little secret, okay sib? It's okay, it's okay, we're just feeling good together... I'm gonna pull out, there's nothing to worry about..."

He doesn't, making sure to press himself all the way inside as he fills you up, warmth spreading inside, making you tremble...

You kind of... Fully come around after that.

#dom!lucifer #sub!mammon #switch!leviathan #dom!asmo #dom!belphie #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me belphegor #my writing #belphegor x reader #belphegor x you #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #leviathan x you #obey me lucifer x you #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mamon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x you #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmodeus x you #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me satan x you #obey me satan x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me smut #valentines day

[flicklikesstuff]

I’m probably just overanalysing this at this point, but this scene in “More than Anything” has had me thinking.

In this part, Charlie sings on how her father’s tales have inspired her to believe that she could save sinners and redeem them. And I found it interesting how they all have different reactions to this revelation.

(Sure it could just be them reacting to the father-daughter bonding moment, but Angel’s reaction has me thinking it’s more than just that. I think these guys are more reacting to the idea that Charlie believes she could save her friends.)

Pentious: He’s all teary-eyed, most likely highly touched at Charlie’s faith in him. Especially since he has been treated very awfully by the Vees. AKA his former idols. After all, it was also her that decided he’s worthy of a second chance.

Angel: He looks shocked and taken aback. I kinda doubt that kind of reaction was towards Charlie and Lucifer. I think it’s more on the fact that he now very clearly sees that this girl is really genuine and sincere about him. HIM. Of all people. To really be worth saving.

Husk: He looks tired or uninterested in the shot. But I think it would be interesting to interpret it as Husk, not thinking Charlie’s part in this song is meant to include him. It’s not meant for him. He believes there’s no hope for freedom or redemption waiting for him at all, especially in his current state.

Vaggie: What more can I say? She’s obviously really supportive and proud of her girlfriend. The fond look she’s giving Charlie this whole time is so sweet.

Alastor: Idk, he looks amused at the thought of Charlie still believing redemption is truly a thing. He never really believed in it in the first place, right? I’m pretty sure he’s silently enjoying how high Charlie’s hopes are before they come crashing down.

Niffty: Niffty is….well, just Niffty.

These are only my personal interpretations btw! You don’t have to interpret it in the same way. I just thought this was an interesting take I could bring up.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #hazbin #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vaggie #more than anything #flicker’s random thoughts

[showtoonzfan]

This is from the alleged cleanup artist anon again, so again…take all with a grain of salt but y’all IF this is true I can’t. When I first read the description for Lucifer’s character in the leaked pitch Bible, I had the theory that Lilith just left Lucifer because of his strained relationship with Charlie. The pilot clearly indicated that Lucifer was against Charlie’s wishes and didn’t understand her, so I assumed that’s what caused Lilith to part from him, thinking him and his ways were wrong, especially since in the pilot a poster reveals that she’s a concert artist who wants to go against the Angel’s rather than just letting them slaughter demons like Lucifer agreed to.

However even without this alleged info, Lucifer’s character sheet in the pitch Bible confirms that he’s no longer his pilot counterpart and is now rewritten as this soft goofy wet cat who wants to connect with his daughter rather than looking down on her like the pilot suggested. And I understand that ideas change from pilot to show, but man…does this piss me off on Lilith’s part. How are you going to go from Charlie calling her mom (looking for comfort and indicating that she had a closer relationship with her than she did with her dad) saying “I need advice I think dad was right about me”- to turning Lilith into the one who’s evil and hates Lucifer because he’s “gone soft”??? 💀

And of course this would be a different story if BOTH Lucifer and Lilith were characterized as bad, because they are the king and queen of hell after all. Like maybe they both see Charlie as a failure and don’t like her idea or sympathize with any other classes below them, but instead Vivziepop once again is creating a black and white relationship where one character is the one you should sympathize with and the other you should hate. The goofy soft “flawed but not that bad” male who cares for his daughter while his bitchy wife is evil just for the sake of being evil. Aka…Stolas and Stella, Viv is literally writing the same thing and all because she fucking despises her female characters and refuses to write complex characters without favoring one of them and leaving the other dry and underdeveloped.

Like even if this isn’t true I highly doubt Lilith will have a character. I 100% expect her to barley be in any scenes or be present, and when she is there she’s just this wealthy famous woman who’s obsessed with fame and fortune while being mean to Charlie/Lucifer. The relationship between Charlie and her will probably be nonexistent as well, mirroring Stella and Octavia.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin critical

[prideofcelestia]

❝you are so engrossed in your work that you ignore him without meaning to❞

« characters - mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor »

« gender neutral reader »

« headcanons »

MAMMON

He’s legit offended. His entry wasn’t quiet, you know? On top of that, he raced to your room before Asmo could come and blabber about how Mammon has a huge crush on you. The moment Mammon makes his appearance, he begins saying how he doesn’t like you, and that you must be too full of yourself to believe that the Great Mammon will ever fall for his servant, aka you. How can you not be concerned about that?! Now, he is worried that you don’t care enough about him to notice his words.

Wait! Are you actually angry at him…?

Letting go of his tsundere nature, he grabs your shoulders, gives you a good shake, and cries about how he truly and deeply loves you. Don’t ignore your first man, human!

LEVIATHAN

You always look and feel so moe! Playing a game beside you is the best! He manages to win a few levels before the silence bothers him, and he begins talking about the latest anime convention he’s excited about. When you tell him to shush without even looking at him, he feels pain equivalent to what an otaku feels at the loss of their most precious figurine. Completely hollow with no will to continue living. What did he do to deserve your mistreatment? Did you not read the manual, ‘The way to act around Leviathan 404’ that he specially wrote and printed for you? Point 100 clearly mentions that the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy is fragile and needs to be treated with care, especially when the person concerned is his Henry. You’re still his Henry, right? If yes, forfeit all mortal possessions and love him before he summons Lotan.

SATAN

He’s quick to notice that you’re engrossed in your work, and decides to wait for you to finish before mentioning his business. Being a busy demon himself, he respects that you have your own life outside offering therapy sessions to the brothers. It is only when he sees you grinning at your D.D.D even after a while has passed that he starts hearing a tick in his ears. Surely Satan isn’t so invisible that you can completely ignore his presence even though he’s standing mere feet away from you.

Were you… texting Lucifer? Of course not. That will be bizarre! He tries to calm down and decides to be diplomatic. If his coughs don’t get your attention, hopefully a table-shaped hole in your wall will.

ASMODEUS

He’s followed by a trail of your favourite fragrance.

“Oh [Name], look at me! I look more radiant than I did this morning. Don’t you just want to kiss me? If I could, I would never stop cuddling myself!”

When no answer comes, he pouts and takes a seat beside you. Eyeing what you’re working on, he inches closer to you, wraps an arm around you and whispers in your ear.

“[N-A-M-E] honey, why don’t you look at me for now? I am more attractive than your homework.”

“Not now, Asmo. A failing grade will be less attractive than you too so I must prevent that!”

“But your Asmo-chan needs you!”

“And I need to pass,” you say and push him away.

Asmo is hell bent on starting a line of lipstick that comes with homework notes engraved on the side of the tube. That way, you can admire the product, and more importantly him while also revising for your test.

BEELZEBUB

He drops by your room because he misses being close to you. He’s content being there, munching on snacks that he brought for the two of you. The silence is comfortable and he's happy to see you working hard. It's only when he has consumed his share that he looks at you with sad puppy dog eyes. [Name], complete your work fast or nothing will be left! He doesn’t really want to disturb you because you have a serious look on your face but he can’t control his hunger any longer, so he ventures to ask.

“[Name], here, I brought some food for you. Why don't you take a break and eat first?”

“Beel, did you say something? Sorry bubs, but I am busy. Can we talk later?”

He gulps once before eating all the food. Once you finish your work, you better give him head pats and console him, saying how you don’t think that he’s just a glutton and that you’re not mad that he ate everything. He tried this time. He really did.

BELPHEGOR

He enters your room with a flourish, closing the door shut more noisily than is needed. Look up and invite him to lie on your lap, like you usually do. When you don’t move and continue with your task, Belphie sulks and lies down beside you on the bed. He steals a glance at what you are doing because he’s extremely jealous of whoever or whatever is taking up your time. Time that should have been used to pamper him. Let it be! Sooner or later, you are bound to get tired, and then you will see him and offer to run your warm hands through his hair. When that moment never arrives, he gets up moodily, and tries to lie on your lap by force.

“Belphie, what are you doing?! I am busy right now.”

“And I am tired,” he says and somehow manages to get his head on your lap. Good luck getting your work done with him restraining you to that spot.

#obey me #gender neutral reader #obey me x reader #gender neutral mc #obey me x mc #obey me! #shion script #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #x mc #x reader

[nunalastor]

Title: The Fallen and The Falling (aka TF & TF)

Pairing: Adam / Lucifer

Author: Cursed Mod

Rating: PG

Word Count: 714

Summary: (A Drabble Compilation Probably)

This is one of many parts of an ongoing series that I'm writing about Lucifer and Fallen Adam. Other character and ships may appear. Who knows. I sure don't.

Warnings: Features aspects of Folk Catholicism specifically of the Latin American variety. Mild body horror and nonconsensual body modification.

No, this isn't beta'd or edited. Enjoy and ignore the formatting I'm on my phone.

~

Dust settled and the celebrations were in full swing, yet there was a stillness in the air immediately around Lucifer despite all of the faint music and chatter around the hotel and the city as a whole. This was what it was like to be winner, but the taste of victory was bittersweet on his tongue. There was still something he felt needed to do.

Lucifer allowed his feet to take him where they'd left Adam's body with a simple sheet covered him, though a breeze had started blowing that away. This was when Lucifer realized that this need was absolutely morbid, especially when he sat down next to the body. His intention to pull the sheet back over, maybe recite some words or humor heaven with the proper prayers. Something nice, something respectful. Maybe cover the body in a little bit of dirt before some cannibal came around to eat it.

Instead, he found himself marveling at Adam's face. The man looked as he always had, from the moment He formed him from the warm clay of the earth. Lucifer gently started tracing the slopes and curves on Adam’s face, was it wrong to admire such delicate work? Was it wrong to want to feel for the fingerprints of the Maker himself?

Adam's face still felt so soft and warm. He looked as though he were just sleeping off a long night, not devoid of the precious gift of life. Lucifer hummed as his traced Adam's soft lips, then skipped up to poke the tip of his nose, then slid his fingers to tap his closed eyelids and swooped his hand to push his hair back.

That was when the clay softened, and to his horror and amusement, horns grew peeking up from the soft locks, like those of a lamb. That was... probably not good.

Naturally, through his slight and growing panic he kept messing with Adam's structure, oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck! This was not what he wanted. He patted down the horns and held his hands down to make sure that they didn't pop back up, only for them to shift and change larger following his hands as he pulled them away. Lucifer grimaced and decided to pull the sheet right back over Adam’s face again. Maybe if he pretended it didn't happen nobody will know what he’d done. He glanced upward; half-expecting that thought to be challenged immediately but it wasn't.

“You’re a real fucking pain, you know that?” Lucifer said, dusting his hands off, the warm sticky feeling of clay bothering his hands. He more or less used the opportunity to wipe his hands on the sheet as he tucked it in under Adam more securely, “You know, it's funny. This might be the first time you've ever been tucked in.”

Why was he talking to the dead guy now? It was probably just nerves. Definitely, only nerves. On top of that, Adam’s body still felt warm. Was it because he was clay? Lucifer certainly did not recall Lilith ever feeling like that, nor was he responsible for her changes when they were cast down. Maybe it was because she never died. Lucifer settled into a kneeling position before Adam his pride clawing at him not to do this, but guilt overwhelmed him. He looked upwards again and folded his hands in the way that all perfect angels should.

“So…” Lucifer glanced around, as if somebody was going to show up and tell /him/ he was praying wrong. “Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.” He squinted harder upwards, “Do.. Do I do the response myself or…?”

Lucifer froze, his back tingled with a soul dropping chill, something was happening, he stayed frozen. He knew praying was a goddamn mistake even as a joke. There was a brightness about himself that clashed with the warmth exuding from Adam.

Then he heard the response, it came from under the sheets bored reciting of it at that. “Et lux perpetua luceat eis. Fidelium animae, per misericodiam Dei, requiescant in pace. Amen.”

Adam’s body sat up and immediately their foreheads crashed into each other with a forced that knock them both back from each other.

There was silence, and then there was screaming.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x adam #adamsapple #adam x lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Bible fanfiction? #nunalastor writes #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #fanfic

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

HELLOOOOOO

I have been semi stalking and poking my head into this account a lot since I adore fanfic anons content. And I would like to propose my own little AU and maybe fanfics for a later date (keyword, maybe since I may also post these onto my ao3) BUT LE CONSIDER:

Based semi on the AU from user AppleParty on Twitter, mainly just one idea, the one where Alastor is Lucifer’s personal guard, the rest is my own.

Basic gist: Alastor makes a deal with Lucifer. Lucifer grants Alastor all the power he desires, but Alastor has to vow to protect Charlie with his life and try and help parent her as Lucifer knows he is not in the right mental state to do so anymore. So Alastor ends up vanishing for 7+ years to help raise and protect the Princess of Hell, while also having a budding friendship with Lucifer (So Hell's Greatest Dad turns from dad off to a tongue and cheek teasing match).

Everything is fine and dandy, some of the same plot points from the pilot happen instead with the inclusion of Alastor. Vaggie and Alastor also have a more mutual respect but not friends yet relationship. The interview goes horribly wrong and Vaggie has to hold Alastor back from ripping Katie Killjoy’s head off. The scene in the limo is more tense as Angel is avoiding the piss off guard dog that is the radio demon now. Alastor tries to cheer Charlie up by cashing in some favors by calling up Nifty and Husk, probably in this AU, Husk is still not an overlord as Alastor owns his soul still, but Husk has more power and having to raise Charlie probably has matured Alastor more so him and Husk are more on even ground and Alastor looks at Husk as more as an advice giver when he needs it. Nifty is just Nifty. The two agree to work at the hotel as they are doing Alastor a favor and they believe in Charlie’s dream. Alastor is up for debate as he may only be doing this because he has to since he is her personal guard or he actually believes in it. The only thing he will say on the matter is he finds it entertaining and he can’t wait to see the chaos start.

All things are going good, they plan on celebrating and everything until a knock comes to the door. Alastor excuses himself, shooing off Vaggie to tell her she should be with her girlfriend, he will handle the matters. He goes to answer the door, being speaking in a manner tone until he opens his eyes and is greeted to

Vox

BECAUSE YEAH SPOILER ALERT THIS IS A STATICRADIO AU HAHAHAH

Alastor’s smile drops and he hisses in anger and slams the door shut in Vox’s face, not even giving the Overlord a chance to speak as he storms back into the lobby. Cue Charlie having to rush over and mediate everything and bring Vox in, who saw the interview on TV and wants to sponsor the hotel. Because well, hey it would be good money and it would be funny to see Charlie try and redeem sinners. But everyone can TELL there is tension between him and Alastor, like the scary kind of tension when you have no clue if person a is gonna lunge and rip out person b’s throat. But you know its there since they have a history together.

Cue all the hijinks that ensue as Alastor and Vox have to try and repair their relationship while also helping Charlie out with her dream. Also more chaos than normal since Alastor probably accompanies Charlie to more places than in canon.

But that is all hehe. Am gonna give myself a sign off so people know who I am soo

-⚔️aka “Hotel’s Radio Guard AU” (work in title au name) Anon!

I love your energy my friend, on this blog we appreciate fanfic anon, spamming, and all kinds of AUs

The beginning of this is similar to dadstaticradio au (except lucifer instead of lilith ofc) but there is no issue I take with that bc I love it

Also referring to Alastor as guard dog and "Niffty is just Niffty" made me laugh, if you ever do post on Ao3 pls tag me in it or sent a link in asks and I'll share it on your behalf

#ask #⚔️ anon #staticradio #fanfic #radioguard au

[bbeds-side-blog]

Why am I unironically drawn to staticapple goddammit. Inspired by this post and this post

Aka: in which Vox sees an opportunity to rub elbows with royalty, which is bound to be useful, right? And ends up with a crush. 800 words of pinning!Vox.

He had been supporting this hotel nonsense for months until, at last, his effort started to bring benefits.

At long last, Charlie had called her father for additional support.

Vox had expected many things from finally meeting with the devil himself.

“Charlie sent me a photo, so I brought you this! Thanks for helping out my little girl.”

Receiving a light blue rubber duck with little antennas that glowed neon-blue in the dark had not been part of it. Watching dumbfounded as all the other residents received rubber duck mini-versions of themselves was just as nonsensical.

But! Vox was a businessman first and foremost, and receiving a gift meant he could give one back without it being suspicious. A camera, a drone, a small TV— Vox scrolled internally through the list of options that popped up like annoying advertisements in his mind, until he settled on the perfect option that was less obvious for spying, and had the added benefit of being cute.

“This is an Emo AI Voxtek robot!” Vox presented proudly. “Say hi, little thing.”

“Hi!” the square looked up at the King of Hell — which was a feat on itself because damn was the fallen angel so fucking short — blue eyes blinking adorably as it moved its small head up and down. Without arms, it was the closest thing to a wave the thing could do.

“Aww, hi!” Lucifer cooed, grabbing the little thing. “Who’s a wittle guy? So wittle!”

The King was talking with the same baby voice he had used to greet the little red lambs. The fallen angel seemed all too happy to put the tiny thing over his head, now hidden by the white tophat, and Vox’s grin extended in victory as his cute little spy was taken back to the Royal Palace.

He would have intel nobody else had, HAHA fuck you Alastor!

(x)

He didn’t get shit.

Or well, not anything that could qualify as intel. Nothing that would give Vox any advantage. Lucifer had placed the charging station at his work desk, granting Vox a first row view of bare arms and an unbuttoned shirt as the short King made… cute little rubber ducks, one after the other.

He could be doing something else, literally anything else would be more valuable than investing time watching Lucifer making ducks, but there was something that drew him in like a sailor doomed by the siren’s call. Vox stared at the way the glove-less hands moved as they worked, the way a whisper of golden magic would be embedded into the things as the final step of the crafting process.

Fuck, why was Vox so transfixed on this crap?

“What do you do?” Lucifer grinned at the thing, eyes sparkling with life. The man laughed giddily when the duck grew sharp teeth and made biting gestures at his fingers.

“Ohhh, someone likes to bite!” Against all logic, Lucifer brought the duck with sharp teeth close to his cheek. “Bite kisses? Wanna give daddy kisses?”

Yes I do, Vox answered in his mind, one hand covering his mouth in silent horror at the revelation, the other hand playing with the little duck that glowed in the dark, thumb carefully pulling at the little antennas, because he was horribly, horribly transfixed with this joke of a show. Stupid, stupidly adorable man, what the fuck, why was the devil himself so damn cute—

The tiny robot made a little grunt of complaint, shaking in his place at the desk and thus, shaking the camera as well.

“Aww what’s up Wittle? Wanna kiss too?”

Yes, fuck yes, fuck why.

Vox lamented and complained in his head a thousand times as the little AI robot was picked up and smooched, and Lucifer laughed in his stupidly adorable way as “Wittle” — the name the King bestowed upon the little AI robot — wiggled and gave a pleased thrill in his hands.

“You’re adorable. I didn’t know human technology could be this cute.” Fuck him sideways Lucifer was rubbing his face against Wittle’s camera, fuck Vox wanted to kiss him, fuck everything, damn it!

“Maybe I should give it a try. The TVs don’t seem that interesting to me, but maybe there’s other stuff? I should ask Vox next time.”

Vox could give him a tour at Voxtek, showing off the things he thought the King may like, he could put the stuff at the upper shelves so Lucifer couldn’t reach and then Vox would have an excuse to lean close to him, extending an arm to help him bring down the— fuck. Ohh fuck.

Vox brought the stupid blue rubber duck to his face and groaned, utterly mortified.

He also offered the tour the next time the King visited the hotel, damn it.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #staticapple #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x vox