#it's just me gushing over Lucifer in this fight

[keets-writing-corner]

Love how Lucifer just manhandles Adam during their 'fight' despite everyone else getting their asses kicked. Plus him effortlessly destroying him when Charlie's in danger is really sweet.

gawd me too anon me too

that was everything me to me. like everything. It was built up so well too

we spent the whole season building up alastor as this massive powerhouse, eldritch, nobody messes with him. Only one who tried picking a fight with him (Vox) got utterly humiliated and everyone else was clearly outclassed. Except for Lucifer where Alastor merely just went with annoying instead of power challenging. Like we got vibes okay yeah makes sense that the King of Hell isn't intimidated by anyone, even if it's alastor, but Alastor got TWO wtf moments in Dad Beat Dad one with Husk and one with defending the hotel

other than that, it was pretty much, nobody messes with him cuz he will mess you up

and he fights Adam evenly sorta for a bit before Adam pulls out the "I'm an angel which is stronger than any demon" card and alastor gets his ass handed to him.

Like what a way to set up how strong ADAM is, having him beat Alastor. And then no one else in the hotel is as strong as Alastor was, so everyone's struggling. Charlie at least gets one good hit in but her inexperience kicks her in the ass and then Lucifer just shows up and

like hot DAMN that was just one hit! He broke Adam's mask, the force was enough to send him FLYING across the roof top, and bounce so hard against the billboard he BROKE THE SKYLIGHT

That was just a "HANDS OFF MY BABY" warning too, like LOOK at that face, that's not a "fight me" face it's a "if you touch my baby again, I will screw you so bad your bones will need therapy and you never recover"

Lucifer not even .2 seconds later, just upon seeing Charlie

and then yeah, Lucifer was NOT taking the fight with Adam serious at all, like the dude was taunting him, mocking him, dodging all of his attacks, just shapeshifting like Adam was a joke LIKE LOOK AT THIS

Lucifer isn't even scared, he's just "oh there's a wall there"

His FACE IM DYING he's legit like "wowwww you just tried shoving me into a wall? really? didn't have any other ideas? Soooooo original of you. I will mock you now"

HIS HANDS ARE BEHIND HIS BACK HE FOR REAL SAID HE COULD TAKE ADAM WITH BOTH HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK

rewatching rn for the screenshots, he's legit just shapeshifting for the fun of it. 70% of the time nothing has happened, he's just dodging adam and shapeshifting while doing it, like he doesn't need to be doing that this is 100% mockery.

And then the iconic

like omgggg this is soooo satisfying and amazing to watch. Like the set up of Adam being powerful was great, and then we just get this absolute trolling from Lucifer cuz he really doesn't care about Adam

And listen the trolling is great and all, but when Adam makes the mistake of not heeding Lucifer's warning of messing with his baby, and then does it a second time

RIP Adam just getting one shot-ed like that but hnnnnnggggg we got to see Lucifer fully pissed and it was GREAT

And somehow my favorite part wasn't even watching Lucifer go absolute ham on Adam, it was that even at his absolute most rage fueled moment, snarling like a beast where he was going to and fully intended on making good on his threat about messing with his baby

just one shoulder touch from Charlie and he's immediately chill. Like it's instantaneous, like how much do you love someone to be able to be absolutely livid, about to incinerate someone levels of rage only to immediately be "o oki! No more violence!" the second that person touches you???

Ugh I love them so much! Like everything about that fight, but especially how Lucifer can just go from absolutely the most dangerous person in one second and then OWO SOFT the next just by looking at Charlie

oops this post got long... IMSORRYYYYY other than "More than Anything" and the phonecall with charlie this is one of the scenes I replay the most, I love them so much

Characters going absolutely feral over loved ones is just aasdfadffalklkmafdjalsg 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #charlie morningstar #is this even an analysis #it's just me #oh wait forgot a tag #anon ask #anyways #it's just me gushing over Lucifer in this fight #and also a little bit of the writing #establishing a character's power level by first establishing ANOTHER character's power level and having that one beaten #is already pretty good #especially when executed correctly #but they did it with the same character #TWICE #like #YESSSSSSS #*insert flaming elmo gif here* #Lucifer had to be nerfed with depression #otherwise he'd be too powerful #jk jk #but for real

[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

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted

Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Shocker! The bleeding heart princess turned out no to be so rainbows and sparkles, she keeps a secret, a soul she owns, a bet and a terrible terror that keeps the demons inside the Hazbin Hotel well fed. Warnings: Blood

Honestly? I don't know if continuing this, let's see how it goes, otherwise I'll arrange this to be a one-shot with another end, and continue other works.

The dust kicked up every time you jumped to avoid the thrusts of her trident. It was becoming more and more difficult for you to move, with the blood falling down your side, your vision becoming cloudy, your back getting closer and closer to the destroyed foundations of what was once a building, until you were trapped.

Falling to your knees you looked up at her red glowing eyes, the two beasts fell to her side, their growl resonating deep within your bones. “I gave you a chance” she sure did, “I wanted us to be friends” her trident fell against your side, only one of the three knifes grazing your skin, “But you just had to, right?” tears fell down her eyes, straight into the dirt under her heels.

“I…I underestimated you” you coughed out blood with a smile, “Go ahead, kill me” she proved to be more of a challenge, you should’ve picked your fights a bit wiser. “You are lost, Y/n, let me help you” she stilled the trident, trying not to deepen the already open wound, “All this fight, and you still want to help me? Why?” you growled, “Let's make it fun, how about a bet?” your lion ears perked up.

“Ten years, you'll work for me at my Hotel, and if I can manage to convince you to find something good to do with yourself, I’ll set you free” she ignited a warm yellow flame on her hand, it danced around her palm without hurting her, “What will happen after if you fail?” you hesitated to take her hand, “You tell me” she already knew your answer, “I’ll kill you” she smiled, her eyes relaxing and shifting colors, “Sounds fair to me”.

You finally took her hand, the flame shifted into a dark hue going up both hers and your arm, the deal sealing itself on your eyes, changing them from red sclera to a black ones, your pupils remaining a white-silver hue.

It was a big relief when the trident left your side, the already warm metal left an uncomfortable empty and cold feeling, “You’re awfully confident” you shrugged, placing your hand over the cut, “Well, we have a long time ahead of us, don’t we?” she took it upon herself to support you on your opposite side, helping you stand from the debris.

7 years later

When the hotel fell apart you received an order, “Take everything inside and take it to safety” and so you did, all that was pictures, pets, luggage, everything, you gathered it far from the fight, then she told you to stay put until further notice.

You took a walk around, trying to go unnoticed as you were ordered, going into your phone adding a lot of new kitchen supplies into a virtual cart, when a groan made you look towards the Radio Demon’s crashed studio. After taking a hit of Adam’s guitar-axe, you thought it was amazing that he remained alive,

“Princess, Smiley is alive” your connection through your deal was truly an advantage when far away, “Try to see if he’s okay, try to stay out of sight, and if he needs assistance, help him” he was obviously not okay, but you had an order, so you made your way across the sulfuric smelling debris, until you reached the door of his studio, pushing it lightly, shadow launched at you, attempting to scare you away, failing terribly.

“I have an order to check if you are, quote unquote, “okay” demon” the shadow smiled and moved away, allowing you in. Shadows painted over your body a veil, which he could not see through, only the silver light your eyes emitted.

You peeked to your right from the door to see Alastor sitting on the floor, back against his desk, trying to hide a big gush on his chest with his hands, “Are you “Okay”?” he shot you a look that you could call a ‘Fuck you’ and a ‘You have to be kidding me’ mix.

“Are you in need of assistance?” again he didn’t answer directly, he just growled making his prongs a lot bigger, “This intimidation skit will not work on me sir, so answer, yes or no” his ears bent down and stayed flat behind his head, “No” he muttered, refusing any help from your part, “Okay then” his shadow opened the door for you, after a small curtsy to the gesture, you moved away from the rubble, the rocks making tiny crushing sounds under your heel.

His shadow caught up with you, mimicking a stop sign with his arm, “What?” then he made a figure with Alastor’s shape, a needle closing up his wound and then the same demon all smiling and walking, “So you want me to patch him up” the shadow nodded, the smile wider and cheery, “What’s in for me? He refused help, why would I go through all that trouble for free?” then he checkmated you with Charlie’s shape, he threatened to tell on you, “Good try joker, but you ain’t got shit on me”.

“Wait, yes” you heard the plea from the echo that the radio cabin made.

You made your way back to the demon, as soon as he saw you he took a look at his shadow before his prongs grew any bigger, then at you taking off his shirt, he continued growling and whining until you got fed up with the static and the guttural noises, “Dry up, will you?” an old way to say shut up and a heavy smack in between his ears took Alastor by surprise, turning his static into light jazz music.

Coming out of the veil he could see your hands, the tips of your fingers were a burned black color, your hands a much lighter color in contrast, light yellow, he would dare to even call it pastel, but due to the poor light he couldn’t decide on hues. Your nails were retractable ones, he noticed how you stopped before you touched the fabric of his coat, your nails went back into your fingers and then you proceeded.

 “I’ll stitch it up, but that’s all, if you shower avoid extreme temperatures, and apply alcohol near the edges to keep it from infections” you instructed while partially removing his garments, leaving both his dress shirt and coat hanging down his elbows. The shadow provided you with a curved needle and suture thread, a very resistant one at that.

“What the blazes!?” he shrieked when you undid his belt, only to tie his hands behind his back with it, “I don’t want you messing my work up” you explained, making a pop with your mouth at the end.

As the needle went through his skin, you found weird not hearing a single peep off of him, then you discovered he was biting his lip, to the point it bled down his chin. “If you need to yell, do so, you’ll only hurt yourself if you continue doing that” his ears went back again, like a plea to make the pain go away, at the same time that embarrassment shot against his spine like a lightning. Then he yelled into the opposite side, to avoid receiving another smack.

When you finished closing the large gash, the shadow wrapped it up in bandages, “There you go” you stood up, dusting your knees before turning on your heels. He cleared his throat bitterly to draw your attention to the fact that he was still tied up, only to receive a disinterested giggle and your utter lack of concern.

“I’ve killed pests for less than this attitude you’re insulting me with” he thought that with an implied threat he would get rid of his binds and also get a little sign of fear from you, sadly his magic was weak, and so was the remaining strength he had, so he couldn’t free himself no matter how much he tugged on the leather.

He had a little bit of hope he could induce some authority toward you, but all he got was his hair pulled backwards and the cold steel of an axe pressed against his neck.

He took a couple of seconds to ask himself, how come you were behind him in less than a second? And also swallow the fact that now he was the one being threatened.

“Knowing how to pick your fights, may save your life one day” The edge Of the blade made a sharp noise while being dragged up slowly up his neck, stopping under his chin. “You’ve chosen badly twice in a day, and barely walked alive of the first one” you tugged just a little bit harder on his hair, just to place your authority over his will.

“Tell me, are you dumb enough to bite the hand that stitched you, and die because your bruised ego and your big mouth are taking control of your rational thinking?” you couldn’t measure the amount of hate his stare held, but he attentively took your advice at heart, so he relaxed his eyes and his smile turned less demonic, only answering your question with a soft no with his head.

Withdrawing the axe from his neck, you used the point to let the buckle lose without breaking it, allowing the belt to fall down his wrists. “Start picking your fights more wisely, boy, afterlife 101” you mocked while ruffling his hair right in between his ears.

“Now, I don’t think someone will ask, but if they do, we never had this conversation, rep wise” he nodded, “You better-“ his tongue tied on itself, he reckon your face being inches away from his, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul, deer-est” you chuckled at your own wordplay, while all he could do was stare at your eyes.

“Who are you?” You assumed for a long time that hell had already forgotten you, after thirty years without making yourself present, who wouldn't?  Plus, he looked a lot younger than you, he lived on earth at least ten years longer than you, lucky bastard.

“No one” before he could make an attempt to grab the veil, you jumped out the door, disappearing from his sight into the mountain of rubble.

When Alastor made his way back to the new Hotel, he felt tempted to ask around about what he just witnessed, but preferred to keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t admit in front of the others that the Radio Demon got assisted and handled as a whiny child, so instead he remained the smiley guy he is.

All the rooms got sorted later in the night, with a snap of his fingers everything in the new room looked exactly as it did in the old one. He placed the ruined coat and dress shirt on a chair, resorting to a grey suit he had lying around, “I should start broadcasting” he muttered to himself, making his way to his brand new station situated in the left wing of the Hotel.

After a few hours he came back to his quarters to refresh, when suddenly a sight caught on his eyes before he entered the bathroom. His red coat patched with an almost religious delicacy; he could barely notice the new red thread that tied everything together. Even the broken parts of the tail of his coat were fixed, it looked almost exactly the same as it did when he bought it in his time being alive all those years ago, the same with his dress shirt.

Next to the fixed items there was a note that read:

“Now you may kill looking real spiffy. Regards from in between the walls.

PS: Thank you for not telling on me.

- Axe-man”.

No one would catch the Radio Demon blushing, but Alastor didn’t mind at the moment.

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2

*Dry up: shut up

*Spiffy: An elegant appearance

#hazbin alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel fanart #cursed cat alastor #lucifer hazbin x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel

[debonairprincesposts]

BEHOLD BABES! THE SCRUMPTIOUS ANGST I PROMISED.

My heart hurt while writing this idk man. I love him but I wanna see him hurt then comfort him. Am I a sadist for that? Don’t matter either way.

Enjoy the angst (☞ ͡ ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡ ͡°)☞

Tw: Panic, blood, severed limb, difficulty breathing. Don’t like, don’t read.

Proceed at your own discretion.

Takes place in the 8th episode

Saying that Lucifer was worried is an understatement. Heaven had basically declared war against his daughter and her hotel. As much as he wants to be there, he cannot act unless Charlie herself gets hurt. And if they’re planning on hurting her, there’s no guarantee that they won’t come to his home to hurt his 15 year old son as well.

“I’ll be fine, Dad,” Says (Name) as he tries to comfort Lucifer. “Charlie is the one that needs your help right now.”

“I know that,” Lucifer sighs. “I just want to make sure that you’ll be alright.” He looks up at his son with concern swirling in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Dad.” Says (Name) as he flexes his arm muscles, “I’m a big boy! I can handle myself. Besides- I’ve been taking combat lessons from uncle Ozzie, I’ll be okay.” He smiles trying to reassure Lucifer.

Lucifer smiles at the silliness of his boy. “Alright then- You better be alive when I come back, kiddo.” He says as his smile drops to a concerned frown.

“Promise ” (Name) smiles. “Now, get going- Don’t want to be late now, do you? Don’t forget to give me a call when you’re done.”

Lucifer hugs (Name) as he says, “Of course! I’ll call you right after everything is taken care of.” He lets go as he steps back.

“Good luck, Dad.” (Name) waves with a smile.

Lucifer salutes him before he takes off with a grin.

——————————————-

After the fight, Lucifer helps rebuild the hotel. He tries to call (Name) to tell him about the events that partook a few minutes prior, but (Name) is not answering any of his calls. Panic begins to well in his chest. (Name) always answers his calls. He’s never not picked up, ever. In a hurry, he tells Charlie he’s leaving as he quickly makes a portal back to his castle.

As he steps out of the portal, he’s met with destruction all over the place, the castle doesn’t seem to be harmed much but the gardens and fountains surrounding it are in complete shambles. As he follows the path of destruction, he spots (Name)’s phone on the ground, screen all cracked, and is that blood? His breath catches in his throat as he summons his wings and swiftly makes his way to the supposed scene of the fight, now fully panicking.

No- no no no- Please let him be okay. I cannot lose anyone else.

As he continues his flight to the other side of the castle, he spots something in the peripheral of his vision that makes him immediately halt in mid air in absolute terror, a wing that looks frighteningly similar to his son’s, golden blood gushing from the severed limb. His breaths are shaky as he slowly goes down on one knee, mind racing, emotions spiraling, gently cradling the black and red, now mostly gold from the blood, bleeding wing in his arms, staring at it for a couple seconds processing that the appendage he currently has cradled in his arms belongs to his son. He snaps out of it with a gasping breath as he bolts towards the scene of the fight.

Please please please- Please be alive- Please!

Several bodies of dead angels litter the ground of his garden, blood staining the grass that once was a lovely shade of green with gold. He searches frantically, eyes bolting all around the place with bated breath.

“(Name)!” He calls out, voice trembling, filled with absolute dread, clutching the wing in his arms even tighter, still with a gentle hold.

Once he finally finds who he’s looking for, his blood runs cold, eyes widening, breath stopping as he struggles to breathe, air completely escaping his lungs.

No-

The sight of his son laying in the remains of the destroyed fountain, golden blood leaking from where his severed wing used to sit, sends anxiety through his chest, tears obscuring his vision.

No no no NO NO!!!

Eyes wide in fear, breaths coming out in gasps as more panic begins to well in his chest. (Name) does not seem to be moving at all, much less breathing. Concerningly still as he lays on his side, his back facing Lucifer showing the place where his wing got cut off from. (Name)’s shirt is cut up, stained with golden blood that seems to be flowing from his side, more blood gushing from the area his wing used to be. At least his other five seem to be intact.

Lucifer lets the wing drop from his grip as he practically trips over his feet, making his way over, then drops to his knees near (Name), and cradles his upper body towards himself.

He perches (Name)’s head on his shoulder. “(Name)?” Lucifer gently slaps (Name)’s face as he hopes for a reaction, any kind of reaction. He just needs to know that he’s still alive. However, he’s starting to doubt that as more time goes by.

More injuries span across his front, with a gash from the bottom of his left jaw all the way down to his collarbone. Blood trailing down the side of his mouth. Another scratch on his cheek, and his side seems to have been stabbed. Golden blood mixed with the water around them as the water seemed to glisten with angelic blood and Lucifer’s tears. As he holds (Name) tight, attempting to heal him with his angelic magic, he hopes that all this is just a really vivid nightmare. He cannot lose anyone else in his life. Not his son. He would gladly sacrifice himself if it meant his son and daughter would get to live. He gently slaps (Name)’s cheek again in hopes of him opening his eyes.

"Come on, (Name)..." he says, tears streaming down his cheeks, voice cracking as he chokes back a sob. "Open your eyes for me, buddy."

Blood smears all over his hands and clothes, but he has half a mind to pay those any attention.

Damnit! How much is heaven going to take from him before they are satisfied with his suffering? Are the thousands of years of being stuck in his own mistake not enough?

His angelic healing appears to have a positive effect on (Name)’s wounds. They’re healing, he’s breathing, no matter how shallow. That’s a relief. Lucifer got there on time. He made it on time. He couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if he was even just a second late.

His worries are set aside for now as he lets his fury consume his mind for the moment.

If a war is what heaven wants,

Putting his arms underneath (Name)’s knees and upper back while being careful of his wings, as he carries him, making his way inside his somewhat unscathed castle.

A war is what heaven will get.

Help support your favorite author by buying then a ko-fi!

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer x male reader #lucifer angst #lucifer magne #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #angst #hazbin angst #x male reader #x reader #dad lucifer #tw blood #cw blood #tw severed limbs #panic #i just write anything that comes to mind #oneshot #oneshots

[misc-obeyme]

politely requesting the brothers and newly dateables reacting to mc proposing to them? alternatively, how each of them would propose to mc okaythankyou

Hi there, anon!

Ahh this made me feel things while I was writing it lol. I did their reactions to MC proposing to them. I didn't really go into how MC did it, really just their responses to the proposal. So you can kind of imagine how it happened.

Thank you for the request!

GN!MC proposes to the characters

Warnings: a surprising amount of crying lol, some kissing and such

Lucifer

He's so overcome that he forgets himself for a minute. Can't speak at first, just blushes a lot and gets that frown he gets when he's feeling too much emotion. Once he recovers from this initial flood of feeling, he's going to accept.

He's a little annoyed that you beat him to it. He likely already had plans to propose to you first. But he's so happy at that moment, he's willing to overlook it.

Definitely will get a little cocky. Of course you chose him to be your husband. Who else could it have been? After all, you're already wearing his ring, aren't you, MC? Thinks it's cute that you thought you didn't already belong to him.

If you're around other people, he will allow himself to get a little affectionate with you in the moment. Accepts your ring, lets you put it on his finger, kisses you briefly. But later, when you're alone, he is going to worship you. Because when it comes down to it, Lucifer wants nothing more than for him to belong to you.

Mammon

Shocked at first. Did not see it coming at all. Watch as his blush slowly deepens and his eyes gradually get watery as the realization of it washes over him.

When he can finally think again, he's so overwhelmed he still can't say much. Starts out just saying "yes yes yes" over and over again. Quietly at first, but then it increases in volume until he's fighting really hard to hold back his tears.

Eventually the happiness takes over and he starts laughing, too. Now he's laughing and crying and mumbling and he finally just throws his arms around you. He's so happy he starts swinging you around. Has the biggest grin on his face even though its still streaked with tears.

Mammon doesn't care where you are or who you're with, he pulls you into a deep kiss right there. All he sees is you and the future you're going to have together. Ya don't know how happy you've made him, MC. Doesn't want to let you go, needs to hold you for a while and just let it all sink in.

Leviathan

He's confused at first. Is this really happening? Are you sure you're asking the right person? Please, MC, you can't be serious!

You might have to reassure him that you are, in fact, being serious. Once he believes you, he's going to get so embarrassed. Blushes profusely and covers his face with his hands. Peeks at you from between his fingers. If you're really really sure, then yes of course he'll marry you!

If you ask in a way that has something to do with one of his interests (for example, you got a ring for each of you and they're labeled as player one and player two), he's going to gush about that for quite some time. It's easier to talk about how you asked than what you asked.

After Levi manages to calm down a little bit, he's going to want you to hold him close. He's still blushing like crazy and probably nervous about the whole thing, but he's also so happy you want to marry him.

Satan

Oh, MC. You have no idea how he's dreamed of this moment. Pulls out the ring he was planning to ask you with. Great minds think alike.

He's ready to exchange rings with you. He's not too overly demonstrative with his feelings since he's so used to attempting to keep his anger in check, he kind of suppresses everything. But you can still tell how happy he is. It's clear by the way he's looking at you with shining eyes.

Pulls you in close to him and whispers in your ear that marrying you would be a dream come true. Digresses quickly into romantic poetry. Don't interrupt him, just let him have this moment to recite poetry to you.

Satan's feelings are fully revealed when he refuses to leave your side for days. Constantly holding your hand in such a way that your rings are visible. Kisses your fingers on purpose and lingers over the ring on your finger. Make him blush like crazy by doing it back.

Asmodeus

Instant tears. Completely surprised, completely overwhelmed, doesn't even know how to react. Covers his mouth with both hands while the tears stream down his cheeks, stares at you with wide watery eyes.

Finally finds his voice and just repeats your name over and over. Oh, MC, MC, MC! Of course he'll marry you! Yes a thousand times yes! Flings his arms around you and covers you in kisses. He's so happy and he doesn't have any problem expressing his feelings. Let him shower you in love. Prepare yourself for later because he's not going to let you go for the foreseeable future.

Slip that ring on his finger and watch him just beam with happiness. It's so beautiful and you're so beautiful and he's so beautiful! This is truly the most amazing moment of his entire life.

Which means he's going to make the actual wedding surpass it. Goes into wedding planner mode as soon as he has his composure. Don't worry, Asmo will include you in every decision. Wants it to be absolutely perfect, but also wants it to be all about the two of you.

Beelzebub

Another crier, but he's quiet about it. Doesn't explode or gush or say much, but there are absolutely tears dripping down his cheeks. Brush them away gently to make him smile. Then he'll be able to compose himself enough to actually answer you.

You really want to marry him? Because nothing in the three worlds would make him happier, MC. He folds you into a hug and doesn't let go for some time. Needs to process what just happened.

Already thinking about wedding cake, though. And other such wedding food. Discuss this with him right now, it's very important. He's going to want input from all his brothers on this stuff, too. It's also kind of a tactic to help him calm down, he's still pretty overwhelmed by his love for you.

In the end, Beel's going to carry you off somewhere. Depending on where you were when you asked, he's going to want to find somewhere quiet and private because he just wants to kiss you over and over. Can't believe this has actually happened. Takes some time for it to really become reality to him.

Belphegor

Completely blindsides him. He's so surprised he doesn't know what to say at first. You've made him speechless. You might think he's just still half asleep, but no he is wide awake.

Quietly asks you if you're sure. Are you sure you want a lazy demon like him for a husband, MC? Are you really sure? He needs you to confirm.

When he finally realizes that you are serious and you want to marry him, his eyes get real wide and he says yes very firmly with a faint blush on his cheeks. Gets demanding. Give him that ring right now and then give him a kiss. Or ten.

Okay but also he's the baby of the family, so be prepared for brothers trying to take over wedding planning. Belphie lets them do it, too, for the most part. However, he is picky about things and will veto any and all of their ideas. You have the last say in the end.

Diavolo

Assuming that it's okay for him to marry a human and that there's no issue considering he is the next demon king and all of that, he's going to tear up immediately. As is so often the case, Diavolo is going to try very hard to keep his composure even though he's feeling all the feelings.

Successfully manages to hold back his tears, but does not succeed in holding back his signature laugh. Because he is delighted. Most likely never expected to be proposed to. Might have been scheming to propose to you, but this really is much better.

Takes your hands and meets your eyes. Yes, of course he'll marry you, MC. Nothing could possibly make him any happier. He's got a big smile and his gold eyes are shining brightly.

He's going to want to make a big announcement to anyone nearby because he wants everyone to know how lucky he is. But later, when you're alone, he's really going to let himself feel everything. Can't keep his hands off you for the next little while. Might even fall to his knees at your feet. Just wants you to know how much this means to him.

Barbatos

Oh… Oh, MC… rarely does something take him by surprise, but this… he was not expecting. You've flustered him. Take in that cute blush and happy smile.

Accepts graciously. It would be an honor to marry you. Out of all the people you could have chosen, he's overwhelmed that you've chosen him.

We know he's not one to be making a lot of fanfare about things, so this moment is quiet and sweet. Only later, when you're alone, does he get clingy with you, holding you close, kissing you constantly. Won't let you go for some time.

You're going to have to talk Barbatos out of catering the entire wedding himself, though. Initially won't trust anyone else to do it. If you can get Simeon to help, he might give in. You might just have to let him make the cake in the end.

Simeon

He's barely able to keep it together. Holds a hand to his mouth as he feels his eyes filling with tears. He manages to keep it in, wanting to stay composed. Can't stop thinking about the perfect life you'll have together.

Says yes firmly, gripping your hands like his life depends on it. MC, he has never known such happiness. You mean so much to him, but he never dared to imagine such a future with you.

Laughs as you put the ring on his finger. He's so happy he can't stop smiling. Wants to tell everyone you know, but he's not going to be overly demonstrative about it. He's quiet in his happiness, pleased just to be by your side. And his bright smile is enough to indicate how he feels.

Of course, when Simeon gets you alone, that's when he keeps you in his embrace. Covers you with kisses. Needs to be near you, to feel you close to him, to make sure you're really real and this is actually happening. Might ask you to tell him again that you want to marry him - he likes to hear you say it.

Solomon

Did not see it coming. Would never expect you to choose him. So his first reaction is to be conflicted. He desperately wants to say yes, but he's aware of the fact that you are still a regular human. Can he really handle another loss when you inevitably age and pass on?

In the end, though, he knows he can't say no. He loves you too much and here you are, risking everything by asking him to marry you. He's not going to crush you like that just because of his own concerns about a far off future.

If somehow you find a way to become immortal, this won't even be a thought. It's yes immediately and he's so thrilled - laughing at you for being so bold. He definitely gets cocky about it, amazed that you could choose him over everyone else.

Solomon acts all confident, but later on, when it's just the two of you, he is going to put his head in your lap and cry. For a long time, he never thought this was something he could ever truly have. And yet here you are. He's overwhelmed by the happiness of it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me fanfiction #request #anon request #misc writes

[obeymeimaginesandasks]

Obey Me Brothers Masterlist

This has been a long time coming, figured I should do one that encompasses all characters rather than just the Lucifer masterlist

Masterlist to Dateables

Masterlist to Incorrect Quotes

Brothers:

MC getting her period for the first time

Nicknames to MC in and out of bed

MC is famous idol in human world

First time showering with MC

How they celebrate their birthday

Are they a top, bottom or switch?

MC snuggling up to them

MC having no prior relationship experience

MC transformed into a child

Having a bad hair day

MC gushing over their younger siblings

Embarrassing things MC has caught them doing

MC attempts to have a date with a classmate

Horns sensitivity NSFW

MC creating the opening music video of the brothers

ADHD modes of food

NSFW headcanons

Appearance vs Reality

Accidentally scaring MC due to MC’s action

About to fight

MC transformed into a toddler

Comforting MC who’s had abusive relationships before

Watching Lucifer and MC dance

How they’re listed in MC’s phone

Should you fight them?

Hiding behind them due to creeper

Getting turned into toddlers

MC has past eating disorder

Past MC being a wild child

As pickup lines

As cats with gifs

Lucifer:

As a poem

Being a sub nsfw

MC stalked by a demon

MC in virgin killer sweater

His diamond being sensitive

MC being ticklish

MC genuinely laughing for the first time

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

MC has their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: Disney Duet

Nipple piercing NSFW

Drabble: Different Drunk

Drabble: Hold my damn hand

Mammon:

Meeting your Family

Being a dom nsfw

MC being ticklish

MC stalked by a demon

MC in virgin killer sweater

MC punching someone in fright

Drabble: You’re a fucking child fluff

MC genuinely laughing for the first time

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

Drabble: Drunk and Duet

MC gets their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: I don’t deserve you

Drabble: You make me nervous

Missed pickup line

Drabble: Defend

Drabble: Mine SFW and NSFW undercut

Drabble: I’m not clingy

Drabble: Let me concentrate

Leviathan:

MC with cutesy clothing

Pleasuring himself to you NSFW

MC being ticklish

Cosplaying TSL together

Drabble: I ship us

Drabble: Am I annoying? angst

Drabble: Disney Duet

Drabble: Tell me you need me

Drabble: You make me nervous

Drabble: Protector

Asmodeus:

MC being ticklish

MC in virgin killer sweater

MC punching someone in fright

MC stimming

Soft times

MC gets their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: Cheesy pickup lines

Satan:

MC being ticklish

Having the same birthday as MC

MC punching someone in fright

MC stimming

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

Drabble: Nervous and Drunk

Drabble: Mine

Drabble: You don’t say I love you angst

Drabble: Your dad doesn’t like me

Beelzebub:

MC stalked by a demon

MC punching someone in fright

MC being ticklish

MC stimming

MC genuinely laughing for the first time

Pleasuring himself to MC NSFW

MC gets their wings tattooed on them

Drabble: With salad

Drabble: Protector

Drabble: Make you happy

Belphegor:

Helping MC unwind sfw and nsfw

MC stalked by a demon

Pleasuring himself to you NSFW

MC punching someone in fright

MC being ticklish

Drabble: Deadly gorgeous

Breaking up and seeing them with Lucifer angst

Drabble: Come home angst

Drabble: Hold my damn hand

#obey me! #OBEY ME #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #Obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

[ittybittyluci]

YO YO WAIT! WAIT HOLD UP WAIT!

Hear me out on this as we delve into the realm of: I’m probably reading too much into it but imma gush anyways, because, BITCHES, I just had a revelation!

Said revelation has to do w/ Lucifer and him wearing his waistcoat. Just like— hear me out on this one.

Throughout the show, it feels like when he wears it, he’s like… not in a good mental state and/or putting on a show.

Don’t believe me? Alright then.

When we first meet Lucifer, he’s holed up in his office, DEEP in depression, making a shit ton of rubber ducks and freaking out. Then he goes to the hotel and the ENTIRE RIME is showboating and acting over the top trying to prove himself and not being honest about what his real problem w/ Charlie talking to Heaven is. Not a good mental state. AND the whole time he’s got his waistcoat. Even when he’s alone in his room.

THEN, we see him again in the battle where he’s come to defend his honour as King. So like, obvs he’s gonna have it he has a persona to maintain. But ALSO he’s fighting the man directly associated w/ his Fall, and by association the GUILT he has about his fall. So he probably wasn’t feeling too great THEN either. Was also wearing his waistcoat.

But after the battle (masterless cattle— sorry) Lucifer is… happier. He made it, he made a difference and now he’s here to help pick his daughter up and support her. They just won a battle against the angels and his child is happy that he’s there. Even in the wake of the destruction, he’s a pretty happy guy. No waistcoat.

WHY is this important you ask? WELL! It uh… it’s not. I just thought it was cool. But ALSO it allows me to make some grasping at straws theories and/or headcanons about his relationship with Lilith, and when exactly that (allegedly) began to fall apart.

These are photos from when Charlie was little. Lucifer is NOT wearing his jacket. The family looks happy, Luci is in a good mental place, they are out and about and enjoying life. Life is GOOD.

THESE are family photos of when Charlie was in her teens. And yes, I understand they are posing as the royal family here, but it’s also the ONLY pictures he has that we see of them together during this stage of Charlie’s life. He IS wearing his waistcoat. So, my grasping at straws ass is going to take THIS as the indication that things aren’t exactly alright on the home front OR in Lucifer’s head. The smiles are big and fake and don’t quite feel real.

So like… idk, I guess I’m just saying that I think it’s cool some things may allude to incidents in the past, and how we got to where we are today. How Luci is alone, and Lily is in Heaven. Again, IT’S PROBABLY NOT ACTUALLY THIS DEEP! But I can pretend okay 😭😭

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #i love luci #tumblr sexyman #hazbin hotel #apple daddy #lucifer #duck lord #short king #lucifer morningstar #angst? #angst fuel #idk man #I just love hyperanalyzing my favourite medias #and I wanted an excuse to talk about jacketless Lucifer because DAMN #I will NEVER be over that look

[ace-reviews]

WINTER 2024 ANIME RECOMMENDATIONS

I counted and there are 8.5 blonde ladies in either a lead or primary love interest role this season (8 if you count the one whose hair is sometimes black as half of one). Do what you will with this information. I only share it because it’s something that was ticking me off that I noticed.

Anyway, we’re trying out a new format this season: Instead of only recommending anime we’re not familiar with, we’re each picking one we are familiar with and one we went into completely blind.

ACE’S RECOMMENDATION #1: MR. VILLAIN’S DAY OFF

After the deluge of isekai that try to teach the importance of having a healthy work-life balance by having the lack of one kill off it’s main character in the first five minutes of the episode, it’s really nice to have something that teaches the same lesson by choosing to model what one looks like rather than killing anybody. It’s also got a lot of pandas in it, which is always nice.

ACE’S RECOMMENDATION #2: SENGOKU YOUKO

Satoshi Mizukami seemingly can’t catch a break with anime adaptations of his manga: Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer sucked and this one is being seriously overshadowed by all the other really good and/or long-looked-forward-to adaptations this season. (Planet With was an anime first so it escaped the curse.)

Anyway, please watch this and have your friends watch this and buy the Blu–Rays and have your friends buy the Blu-Rays so my dream of a (good!!!) Spirit Circle anime can someday come true.

---

CHARLIE’S RECOMMENDATION #1: SOLO LEVELING

(for the sake of our more sensitive readers, actual screenshots of the anime cannot be shown at this time)

If you like Cheat System anime, and don’t mind “a bit” of graphic violence (read: so much. There’s just so much violence.) , give this a shot. It’s based on one of the Korean manhua that made the genre what it is today, and as far as I’m concerned, they’ve done a good job being faithful to their source so far - they didn’t even give them Japanese names, you guys.

CHARLIE’S RECOMMENDATION #2: A SIGN OF AFFECTION

(adorable)

It’s cute, and disability rep is always a bonus. I like how they animated the sign language, which seems fairly realistic to me, someone who speaks no sign languages.

---

FEN’S RECOMMENDATION #1: LOOKING UP TO MAGICAL GIRLS

This is a series I’ve been following since there were only five chapters out in the manga, so I would like to preface this recommendation by saying I’m the only one who’s actually right about it. I’m a veteran, a true soul who’s stuck with it for the past x years since it first released, and as such everything I say about it is valid and correct and anything people who aren’t as familiar with it says is complete horseshit pulled out of their ass. This is a factual statement.

Mahou Shoujo ni Akogarete, which has been translated for the manga as “Looking up to Magical Girls” (correct) and by vile HIDIVE as “Gushing Over Magical Girls” (bad and wrong) is a trashy, over-indulgent yuri series for weird perverts that is good, actually, (genuinely), and if the adaptation manages to capture Onanaka Akihiko’s remarkably deft hand in weaving the series’ fetish gags with the story’s genuine moments of pathos and surprising character depth then the anime will also be good, actually.

Dude trust me.

FEN’S RECOMMENDATION #2: METALLIC ROUGE

This is an anime original series about super fighting robots on Mars doing a hitman shit on android rebels for the government and also yuri, maybe. ACAB includes Rouge Redstar, watch this show.

---

BONUS RECOMMENDATIONS: DUNGEON MESHI AND ‘TIS TIME FOR “TORTURE,” PRINCESS

A recommendation to watch Dungeon Meshi is the most redundant thing on the planet this season, but even so you should still watch Dungeon Meshi. Also, Fen and I had a bit of a back-and-forth over who would recommend Torture Princess since it was something she was familiar with and something I had only heard of and I wasn’t going to recommend it because I thought she would and she apparently chose not to recommend it because she thought I was going to so take it as a recommendation both from someone who is and someone who isn’t familiar with Torture Princess to watch Torture Princess.

#solo leveling #dungeon meshi #metallic rouge #sengoku youko #mr villain's day off #a sign of affection #looking up to magical girls #it's time for torture princess #winter 2023 #first impressions

[shinynewboots]

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 1

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Hello all! I have been obsessed with Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss for the past two weeks and got this plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone! So excited to be writing for this fandom! This chapter is relatively short but I wanted to go ahead and set the scene for the rest of the story. Hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny eventually

Chapter 2

“NO!” Lute screamed, running towards Adam. Golden blood dripped from her dismembered limb, leaving puddles of golden tears as it fell. She could no longer feel the searing pain in her arm. No, that pain now belonged in her chest at the sight of her beloved leader being stabbed in the back.

Adam lay face forward, golden blood gushing from his multiple stab wounds as the Damned could only stand and watch in awe as the small demon pulled her knife from Adam’s back.

Lute fell to her knees beside Adam and used all the force in her body to roll him over, the remains of her left arm hanging against her side. 

“Sir! Stay with me sir!” Lute screamed, almost demanding. Adam gave her a soft smile. It had been a long time since she had seen his face, but it was just as handsome as she had remembered. Blood dripped from his nose. His golden eyes were soft but empty, losing light. His hair was messy and full of dirt and debris. His beautiful heavenly robes were stained with blood.

“Adam!” She screamed. Had she ever called him that before? Tears welled in her eyes and she took in the sight of her beloved leader. His eyes closed, and his breathing grew shallow. 

“It’s over,” The Princess of Hell said in a dark tone behind her. Blood pulsed in Lute’s ears and saliva pooled in her mouth. 

“Take your little friends and go home,” Lucifer exclaimed, fire blowing from his mouth in a rage. His voice was low and threatening. All around them, the other exorcists had stopped fighting and Lute could feel all the eyes of Hell upon her. 

“Please,” Lucifer added, a snarky smile on his face. Lute breathed deeply and grabbed Adam’s halo.

“Retreat! All exorcists fall back.” She screamed. Exorcists filled the skies and fled the scene as though it were a crime. The group of Hellions watched on, triumphant looks upon their faces. 

Lute knew she could not leave him. He was better than all of these demons and sinners. He was Adam. He was the First Man. He was…everything.

Lute took in a deep breath and used all of her remaining strength to pull Adam onto her shoulders. It took a few tries as she could not balance him due to her loss of forearm. Finally, she felt secure enough with him on her shoulders. He was much bigger than her and would weigh her down as she flew but she had no choice. She couldn’t leave him. 

She unfurled her wings, beginning her ascent back to Heaven. Exorcists filled the skies, almost all back through the portal that Adam had originally opened. The fucking cowards had not even bothered to try and help her bring back the body of their leader. Fucking bitches. 

Lute could feel Adam’s blood soak into her back. She could no longer hear his breathing. He couldn’t be dead!

He was Adam!

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me Adam,” She whispered as though it were a prayer. Despite being an angel, she had not prayed in decades. What was there to pray for in heaven?

She flew much slower than she ever had, weighed down by Adam and her own exhaustion. Her arm was dripping blood back down to Hell like holy raindrops from above. All of the exorcists were back through the portal.

She was so close!

Just a little further!

But wait.

Why did the portal look like it was getting smaller the closer she got? 

Her eyes widened in realization as the portal closed leaving her flying toward the Pentagram sun, the sky around her empty.

How was this possible?!

She couldn’t open another portal.

She couldn’t—

Falling. 

She felt herself begin falling. 

Her eyes grew heavy. 

She was so tired. So dizzy. She just wanted to rest. 

NO!

Adam. 

Adam needed her. 

Adam was—

Falling too

Everything went dark. 

How long had it been since Lute had been in the dark?

“Dad!!” Lute heard someone scream. Hell Princess maybe?

Adam. 

She had to save Adam.

Adam—

#hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin #helluva boss #hazbin hotel adam #adam #hazbin hotel lute #adam x lute #hazbin hotel adam x lute

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I got this card:

And it's so fucking funny?

Because like;

Lucifer: You have my utmost gratitude for helping me with my paperwork. Without you I'd still be -

MC: Cool. Pay me.

-

MC & Lucifer running into Mephisto & Diavolo having the same energy as going out with your friend and running into his crush and his crush's ex together.

Lucifer literally went "WoW DiAvoLo FuNNy RuNnINg iNtO YoU anD MEpHiSTo HeRe. I DIdn'T thINk tHE TwO oF YoU SPeNT MuCH TiMe TOgEtHER!"

And Diavolo the oblivious fuck went, "No we meet up for dinner often :D "

Diavolo (the oblivious fuck): we should all have dinner together! The more the merrier!

Mephisto: Fuck No!

Lucifer: You heard him - Fuck No!

Diavolo: oh😢 MC?🥺

MC: Hell yes🥺(😈)

Lucifer remembering what his brothers want and ordering take out for them without any prompting? Diavolo commenting on how soft Lucifer's expression is? MC agreeing but Mephisto huffing and saying he looks the same?

Diavolo gushing about how amazing Barbatos is? Both of them seeing each other later and going ✨ 🥺 ✨ as if they hadn't seen each other in years

Mephisto gushing about his brother, how adorable & loving he is and Lucifer not relating at all vs Lucifer reluctantly yet fondly talking about what terrible horrible gremlins his brothers are and Mephisto not relating at all?

Diavolo stop stirring the fucking pot?????

You just know that Lucifer's "I didn't say that." was fast and sharp, out of his mouth before Mephisto even finished his own sentence.

If Lucifer wasn't the personification of Pride he'd have started a barroom brawl over this. He's absolutely the kind of person who's like, "Yeah I can say shit about them because they're my family but who the fuck are you" Which is very valid.

Also how insane do you have to be to have a dick measuring contest based around who has the better brother(s)?????

This interaction was genuinely so sweet? ;

• Diavolo understands him so well and picks up on how much he loves his brothers when the other two didn't? Neither of MC's dialogue options show that they understood how fondly Lucifer looked back on his brothers fighting (each about something that was quintessentially themselves) - the one above being negative and the other dialogue option being confused while they try to put a positive spin on it.

• Their back and forth banter? How comfortable Lucifer is with Diavolo? Specially compared with S1 where he was much more professional around Diavolo? How he's comfortable enough to let his walls down, show how much he cares about his brothers - again something he didn't do in S1. And I've written 1 1/2 long posts (1) (1/2) about this and Lucifer & Diavolo's relationship development since S1 so I won't go into it in much detail here but Lucifer doing all this means so much

• I'm 110% into the whole best friends who fall in love thing which is why I'm obsessed with MC & Mammon. And I kept reading this Devilgram and wondering why Diavolo's "You do know your expression has softened again, right?" line felt so familiar and then realised it's something I would have written in a mc x mammon fic. Which obviously made me feral which spawned this entire post. Hell, Mammon commenting on MC's expressions (usually soft, sometimes blank, sometimes pissed) is something that happens in canon multiple times.

• Both their expressions in the last screenshot

Some of the brothers & Barbatos hearing how much Lucifer/Diavolo loves them and being touched. Mammon blushing & stuttering during the entire part of the Devilgram where he turns up and yelling at MC for laughing at him = ❤

Bonus:

#obey me devilgram #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #shall we date? obey me! #swd obey me #dialuci #lucidia #lucifer x diavolo #diavolo x lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me mephistopheles #om diavolo #om lucifer #om mephistopheles #obey me! lucifer #obey me! diavolo #obey me! mephistopheles #om! lucifer #om! diavolo #om! mephistopheles #shall we date diavolo #shall we date lucifer #swd diavolo #swd lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me barbatos #shall we date obey me #swd obey me!

[queenofallimagines]

Hiya, I just read your Lucifer with a devotee ask and I was wondering if you could do the same with Leviathan or Diavolo from Obey Me?

Absolutely beloved! I am not sure how TF I didn’t see this?? (Writing really long Fics is actually so much work)

Leviathan:

- shook

- Literally at a loss

-Thinks you’re joking

- He will notice you, but def won’t notice that YOU are his Henry

- Probably will be like “you’re def not as good at them”

- And gushes about his Henry, and you’re just like 🤨📸

- All the brothers are surprised you follow him and look out for him so easily

- During the TSL arc the only time you’ve ever feared him was then

- after that you flat out don’t talk to him

- Avoid him

- He feels bad but not really bc “why would he feel bad about hurting a normie’s feelings”

- Your pact mark glows then too because I think if you were his devotee he would give you a pact easily after working with you for a while

- Levi was too upset to notice the searing pain in his chest when he attacked you

- Or how cold he felt right after

- Mammon nursing your sprained wrist, and you’re barely listening to him

- Well end up making you spill the beans, and he is FLOORED that you have a pact w Levi bc uh hello?? He’s your FIRST MAN??

- He will keep this a secret but the way more protective of you

- The house is low-key really awkward because of y'all too

- mammon giving Levi the stink eye

- Levi upset he’s feeling so many hurt feelings because he still don’t get y'all two are connected

- Gets REALLY depressed when his most beloved Henry isn’t picking up

- Like he can’t even feel your presence??

- Will barge into your room back in the human realm and move all the shit in your alter around wondering WTF is going on

- Maybe you’re at work or something, weird he didn’t know but okay

- Tries three more times, and you’re not there

- Worried something happened to you

- Gets super upset and Lucifer is like bro wtf is you sniffling for??

- dinner is wild bc when is the HOL not like a soap opera 😭

- Asmo is like the human you made a pact with??

- Asking Lucifer to check and see if your dead because he can only mildly feel your presence, but you’re not talking to him

- Mammon is uncharacteristically quiet

- He’s side eyeing the light blue mark glowing under the table (I HC that his would be in a place that’s always covered like right below your hipbone or like lower back and not more visible the other brothers marks)

- And then looking at you like “are you good?”

- Levi still babbling on about his Henry, and he’s upset they aren’t here

- Mammon is your protector, and he’s gonna stand on business about you EVERY time

- Also he can’t help not saying some slick shit 💀

- “Maybe if ya didn’t try to kill them your ‘precious’ Henry would want to talk to you

- Levi windows blue screen resetting Rn

- Satan messy bitch number 2 just hums and is like “I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t completely sure you were one of his followers”

- Asmo is gushing about how cute this is

- And ofc Levi is too awkward and anxious to even look you in the eye

- Dinner is still awkward but goes by smoother than before

- You go to your room to mind your business as you do, and you hear this timid ass knock on the door

- Like nobody in this house knocks that MF soft Levi IK it’s you

- Shuffles into your room w his head down and starts fumbling over his worlds

-“ you could have told me it was you…”

- “Didn’t think I had to. I never thought you would hurt me….”

- Shaking in his boots as he rambles out an apology and starts spiraling honestly

- You can barely hear him talking low as hell

- “Gah! And then I was bragging to you about YOU… How embarrassing!”

- You let him know you forgive him by teasing him

- “…….so….your so-called Henry was your most favorite?”

- He’s literally fighting for his life MC, please spare him

- Will act like hot shit lmao

- Monopolizing all your time too, like the other 6 bothers are exhausted

- Can’t even work towards getting belphie out of the attic because he’s always taking up your time

- “Sorry I’m borrowing them because we’re going top secret ritual stuff”

- “You are literally just going to play the new Ruri-Chan game”

- “OKAY AND???”

- Asmo sitting back and watching the chaos bc he knows y'all getting down and nasty on the regular

- “Someone go tell them to relax I can hear thumping because they’ve been gaming all morning”

- And he’s blowing your back out and realigning your chakras

- Like you can only cover up the scratch marks and hickeys with his clothes for so long

#my writing #x black reader #obey me #obey me x black reader #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obmswd #om leviathan #slight n*fw #devotee Au #I guess #these are really fun #I’m not gone I promise I’ve been revising this damn Lucifer short fic for eons #and writing this REALLY LONG isagi fic😭 #obey me shall we date leviathan #leviathan obey me

[zeke-in-devildom]

Dissonance - Chapter 9: The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment. Zeke personally found it slightly hard to breathe with how intense the auras of the three demons that just entered were. Asmo must have noticed how tense he’d gone because the demon shushed him softly before holding him tighter. The adrenaline from the attack was wearing off and Zeke was more than happy to press his face into the crook of Asmo’s neck while the demon ran gentle hands up and down his back.

“I won’t ask again.” Lucifer was still silently seething.

“I felt a surge of magical energy coming from this classroom. When I came inside that demon over there,” Solomon gestured to the lower demon slumped on the floor in arcane restraints, “Had Zeke held in the air by his face. I restrained the assailant and then summoned Asmo to help me calm Zeke down.”

“How did you know to call Asmo? Actually, how did you summon Asmo?” Watching the swirling magic as the demon had been summoned was fascinating, but also not something he thought he could replicate after just seeing it once. What about those words? He’d have to try to memorize the incantation. This was not going to happen again. Zeke would not be defenseless here, he refused to die at the hands of a demon. 

At least not without a fight.

“Asmo has been gushing about you to me basically since you got here yesterday. Actually, I wanted to check on you. I heard you had a very rough arrival.” Solomon was still hovering a bit, Zeke could feel him, but that was about all he could read from the sorcerer.

“Do you really have pacts with seventy-two demons?” Lucifer had told him yesterday that the other human had that many pacts. It was at least part of the reason Zeke had agreed to make the pact with Lucifer. If this human had dozens of pacts, then it was probably a good idea to have at least one - even if that one had been offered out of strict necessity.

“I do.” Solomon laughed. “In fact, I have pacts with Asmo and Barbatos. That was how I summoned Asmo. It's a rather difficult and involved process to summon a demon you don’t have a pact with.”

Pacts with Asmo and Barbatos? Zeke couldn’t imagine someone having a pact with Barbatos. The demon was so powerful! Then again, he had a pact with Lucifer, so was it really so far-fetched? A human that could make pacts with so many demons had to be pretty powerful too, and he could tell Solomon was very powerful just by his aura.

An aura that Zeke found himself barely able to begin to read. That again made him slightly uneasy. He never had trouble reading someone like this. Even the powerful demons were easy for him to comprehend through their auras.

“Back to the matter at hand.” Lucifer interrupted, striding over to them and kneeling down to gently pry Zeke away from Asmo, he didn’t resist as Lucifer softly lifted his chin and turned his head this way and that to get a proper look at his injuries. The blood was drying on his face and neck, the bleeding had stopped, and the wounds were shallow. Then in the softest gentlest voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Lucifer. I promise.” Zeke smiled at the demon. The Avatar of Pride could be very intimidating, but all Lucifer had done so far was make him feel incredibly safe. Solomon was looking at them weirdly. “I got separated from Beel and Belphie, that’s when the demon grabbed me and dragged me in here. I tried to scream but he covered my mouth.”

The mention of his two youngest brothers had Lucifer scowling again. Oh no, were they in trouble? Thinking about it for even half a second made it obvious that they would definitely be in trouble. Beel and Belphie had been the ones looking after him when this happened. Hopefully they wouldn’t get in too much trouble. 

“Asmo, you and Zeke are excused for the rest of the day. Take him home, tend to his injuries, and make sure he rests.” Lucifer seemed to be dismissing them, probably so he could focus on the demon that started the altercation. Zeke wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was to happen to him. Oh, when did Barbatos leave? His attacker was gone too. Diavolo and Barbatos must have been handling that while Lucifer got their side of events so they knew what had happened and just how to punish the offender.

“I should go with them.” Solomon said, then hastily added at Lucifer’s glare, “I am human too. Do any of you really know how to treat human injuries?”

Lucifer looked like he wanted to object. He really, really did.

“I think that is a good idea. Solomon, you’re also excused. Please look after Zeke for us.” Diavolo jumped in helpfully.

“Fine. Zeke, a moment please.” Lucifer helped him to stand up and pulled him away from the others so he could speak quietly to him. “Solomon is your fellow human here, so I will not forbid you to associate with him, but be warned that he is not to be trusted. He is the type to subjugate even greater demons to his will. If he thinks he can use you to further his own ends, he likely will.”

Zeke could only blink owlishly at Lucifer. The demon really painted a not flattering picture of the other human. Then again, his gut feeling was also a little off-put by Solomon, but that could just be because he had never met a human like Solomon. Most humans couldn’t use magic, and the few Zeke had encountered hadn’t been very powerful at all.

“I’ll be careful.” Zeke reassured him. He had planned to be at least a little cautious around the other human even before Lucifer’s warning. Still, Solomon had definitely saved his life, so he was prepared to give the benefit of the doubt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three of them left the classroom together. Asmo was still fussing over him. They stopped at the nearest bathroom to clean away as much blood as they could. Walking around with human blood on them was just asking for another attack. It would have been like dangling a haunch of meat in front of a pack of starving dogs. Zeke marveled as he watched the magic swirl around himself again, Solomon using a spell to heal the minor wounds near instantly.

“You have to teach me how to do that, that’s amazing.” Zeke’s promise to be cautious around the sorcerer was going to be hard to keep, considering he was practically staring at him with stars in his eyes. He wanted to learn magic so badly.

“Hm. Well you’ll learn a lot of magic here, but you are rather behind compared to other students. You know, I was just thinking I might need a new apprentice. What do you think? We’ll only be in Devildom for a year, and that’s not enough time to really get into more than basic magic. Once we return to the human realm I can continue your magical education. I’ll give you extra lessons and tutoring while we’re still here, of course.”

“You would take me as an apprentice? Just like that? What’s the catch?” Zeke felt a flash of unease. Nobody did things for him just because, there was always a reason. Sure, the brothers had been super doting on him, but they had been charged with his safekeeping during the exchange program. They had a reason to be nice to him.

“Not very trusting, are you? That’s good. Don’t lose that, especially here. You’re right to be cautious. I am considered the greatest human sorcerer to have ever lived. I haven’t taken an apprentice in centuries.” Wait. 

“Did you just say centuries?” How was that even possible?

“I’m immortal. I’ve been around for millennia. Did nobody mention that to you before?” Solomon had this mischievous smile as he said the words.

“No, it must have slipped their minds.” Zeke shot Asmo a betrayed look. The demon had been fixing himself in the mirror. He’d gotten blood on him.

“Sorry, hon. I hadn’t really thought to talk to you about Solomon. I just figured you’d meet in class today and that would be that. I forget that he isn’t really normal as far as humans go.” Zeke snorted at that, as if he was normal for humans. At least they had that in common.

“Well regardless, I would offer to take you as an apprentice for a few reasons. The first being that Asmo speaks so highly of you. That wouldn’t mean much if it weren’t for the fact that you have immense magical potential. That magical surge I felt in that classroom didn’t come from the demon that attacked you. You gathered up quite an impressive amount of magic, but just didn’t know how to utilize it. The final reason is you are psychic. Even among sorcerers and witches psychics are exceedingly rare.” Zeke blinked, not knowing any of that.

“So when I tried to fight back physically I was also trying to fight back magically?” That made sense, in a way. Zeke had felt something while he struggled. He had assumed it was Lucifer’s power through his pact, and it probably was at least partly that, but if he had magic of his own that would be amazing.

“Yes, precisely. I almost didn’t interfere when I initially felt the magic surge. It was so strange, for a moment I thought that it was a spat between two demons, then I thought maybe Luke or Simeon was using magic, but there was a human quality there too. I’m glad that I decided to check on the situation. Oh, Luke and Simeon are the names of the angel exchange students.” Solomon helpfully supplied. 

So he had thought there was an angel in the room? That made no sense. Why would he mistake something like that? Asmo looked mildly uncomfortable but seemed to be staying out of the conversation as it was a matter between Zeke and Solomon.

“Anyway, I’ve told you my reasons for offering. I think you could shape into a very powerful sorcerer, and if you don’t become a sorcerer you are likely to be a very powerful witch. So really, it benefits me greatly to become your mentor. If you become powerful and well-known then I will have been the sorcerer that shaped you.” Well that made sense to Zeke, there was probably some prestige attached to mentoring apprentices that go on to be very powerful in their own right. That went both ways though, because he would be the apprentice of the greatest human sorcerer to have ever lived.

“You know what? I’m in.” He wanted to be a sorcerer. “Teach me everything.”

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me oc #obey me zeke #obey me ezekiel jada pendergast #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me dissonance

[delphi-dreamin]

“You’re so short!”

“Put some inches in me then!”

This is...purely crack. I mean, the Asmo section is kinda sweet. But the rest of this is lead-up to nothing but crack. Because I wanted to and I can. 

Not proofread, mildly suggestive

Heading back to her room after dinner, Delphi follows the familiar path on autopilot. She has so much work to do before she can go to bed it’s honestly pathetic. How the hell she had let herself get so behind on her schoolwork, she had no idea. Well, that’s not entirely true. She had some idea. With an internal giggle, she remembers the last three nights spent in Lucifer’s office. She had been attempting to work on her Devildom History project. But, well. Things had happened. And she wasn’t upset about it.

Looking up, she squeaks as a walking mountain of snacks nearly bowls her over.

“Oh, Delphi! I didn’t see you there,” Beelzebub says, sidestepping her as deftly as he can with the armload of snacks. “You’re so small I couldn’t see you around my snacks.”

She sighs, “Sorry, Beel. I’ll announce my presence next time.”

She picks up a dropped snack cake and places it back in the pile, then turns away. Beel frowns, watching as she continues down the hall to her room. “That isn’t what I meant…” he mutters.

Delphi looks up at the fourth shelf in the library, frowning. She can see the book she needs. She can almost reach it. But it’s just beyond her grasp. Green leather with gilded lettering, slightly faded from centuries of use. She thinks she remembers the levitation spell Solomon had given her, but she’d rather not try it with Satan’s books. It would be a nightmare if she managed to fuck it up.

It’s hopeless, she decides with a heavy sigh.

Just as she’s about to give up and go back to her room, a pale hand reaches up and grabs the book from the shelf, handing it to her. The long, slender fingers, tipped in green polish, can only belong to one demon.

She sighs again, “Thank you, Satan.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a pleasant smile. “You looked like you could use some help, and I could help, so…”

“I didn’t need it that badly,” she mutters, turning on her heel and walking out of the library.

Satan’s eyes flash with anger briefly before he calms again and shakes his head. He’s sure she didn’t mean anything by it.

“Delphi darling, I just love doing your makeup,” Asmo gushes. “Your features are just so cute and small!”

She sits on Asmodeus’s bathroom counter patiently, looking up at the ceiling as he fills in her lower waterline with eyeliner.

“Asmo, I’m not that small,” she protests. “I’m only four inches shorter than you!”

Delphi fights to stay still and not roll her eyes. She knows how badly his eyeliner pencil hurts when he pokes her eye with it and she doesn’t feel like being stabbed today.

“Barefoot, hon,” the Avatar of Lust reminds her.

“Oh not you, too!” she groans. “You’re all so obsessed with how ‘small’ I am! Beel and Lucifer are both six-foot-fuck-you, and Levi, Satan, and Belphie aren’t too much shorter. But even you and Mammon! I’m four inches shorter than you and five shorter than Mammon! And still both of you insist on going on and on about how tiny I am! Mammon rests his arm on my head! Sure I’m short even by human standards, but I’m not a child!”

“Hon,” Asmo tries to comfort her, putting a hand on her knee, “it’s not that we think you’re a child! We’re just all so enamored with you! And the fact that you’re so much smaller than most of us is just part of what makes us love you so much!”

Delphi sighs, looking down at her lap. “Of course I love you all, too. But constantly being reminded how short I am isn’t exactly fun. It’s demeaning…”

“Oh, darling,” Asmo takes her face in his hands and kisses her forehead softly. “None of us would ever! I promise you, if any of us ever mentions your height, it comes from a place of love. Okay?”

Breakfast had gone by without incident, surprisingly enough. There were no pranks, no arguments, and even the normally grumpy demons were in uncharacteristically good moods. Delphi sat in her usual seat between Mammon and Lucifer, chatting amicably with both as Lucifer drank his coffee and Mammon shoveled his breakfast into his mouth.

Delphi nods, giving him a small smile.

She’s giggling at something Mammon tried to say around a mouthful of bread when Asmo jumps up exclaiming, “Delphi! We have to go! We’re going to be late!”

She looks at her D.D.D. and sighs, “You’re right. Let’s go!”

As she rises from her seat, Lucifer looks down at her feet and frowns. Before she can leave, he grabs her wrist. He begins to stand, asking, “How tall are those heels?”

“Uh, good question,” Delphi flounders, looking to Asmo for help.

“Six inches,” he supplies, grabbing his plate and heading for the kitchen.

“Why?” she asks, looking up at Lucifer, her head tilted and one eyebrow quirked.

Lucifer chuckles, putting a hand on the top of her head. “No reason. You’re just still small, is all.”

Delphi gives Asmo a sidelong glance, frowning. The Avatar of Lust just shrugs as if to say, “Let him have it.”

“Put some inches in me, then,” Delphi challenges, smirking up at Lucifer’s smug face.

He grins in response. “How many inches would you like?”

She shrugs, “Seven and a half fit like a glove.”

Lucifer’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, his pale cheeks and ears pink. Mammon chokes, Beel clapping his back with a questioning look to Belphie. His twin is laughing so hard that he doubles over and falls out of his seat. Satan and Levi are both so red that Delphi thinks one of them might burst a blood vessel.

Without another word, she turns around and heads toward the entrance hall, linking arms with Asmo on the way. He gives her a discreet high-five as they make it out the door, giggling all the while.

#I wrote all of this just for that punchline #love me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me oc #MC!Delphi

[misty-purple-haze]

Hey so idk if you take request but if you do can you please do the obey me brothers w/ a MC whose favorite anime is Demon Slayer and forces the brothers to watch w/ them ? If you haven't seen Demon Slayer maybe an anime that's demon-centric

Ooo nice idea! I’ve seen demon slayer and I must say, tanjiro is best boy fr.

I hope you like this!

MC who watches demon slayer

Lucifer :

Mc why must you do this to the old man

He is not only tired and exhausted but you now force him to watch this with you? He must admit though, the visuals are breathtaking and calming to see

He may not admit it but he gets too invested in the story and when you do ask him about it he merely plays it off with an embarrassed blush on his face

“I must admit, this does seem like a good show Mc.”

Mammon :

He really has seen much anime with Leviathan sometimes so he agrees to sit with you and watches just because

I feel like he would love and hate it? Like the visuals are fantastic. But an anime about literally killing demons seems kinda jarring to him

He also sees it as a way of spending time with you but he will deny it. Do not believe him cause the boy is honestly happy he gets to sit by you tbh

“Hey Mc, let’s watch that anime again. What do you mean you feel like I don’t like it? I like it cause I like you- I MEAN THE ANIME”

Leviathan :

One word: yES

You two are honestly the most chaotic duo when it comes to this anime. Like yall do so mANY references that others are like : ???

Honestly, baby boy is over the moon cause you and him are finally getting some time alone like hello?? And may I add: MATCHING COSPLAYS

“Hey Henry, the new episode dropped out! Come on will you? Also, I got the new merch you wanted. N-n-no I’m not blushing!”

Satan :

He’s invested. That’s it. Mans invested in every damn thing about it.

He loves the characters, the animation style, the story, the scenes, everything.

I feel like he would probably analyse all the breathing techniques, the powers of the upper moons, the fights. Plus, he gets to sit with you, it’s definitely a win win

“Hey Mc. Are you free? Let’s watch that anime again. What was it called? Ah right, demon slayer”

Asmodeus :

Honestly ? YES. I feel like this man would be like, super excited over anything with you and you asking him for an anime? yES. Just don’t watch late in the night tho. He needs to get his beauty sleep and so do you

He adores every single character and gushes about them with you. And aesthetic demon slayer merch? Fuck yes.

Yall do matching cosplays all the damn time and y’all look so good I swear-

“Mc~ let’s watch the new episode pleaseeee~”

Beezlebub & Belphegor :

New routine. Being cuddled by the twins while watching Demonslayer is y’all’s norm now. You can’t escape from demon slayer Thursday now.

Beel feeds you food while Belphie just cuddles you. You’re in heaven, and life’s good :)

Yall also do little pillow forts, decorate it with fairy lights, get some snacks and a cozy blanket with the window open letting in cold air while y’all just huddle up together. Bliss. With the twins coddling and kissing you everyone and then. yES

“Mc? Belphie asked me to fetch you as it’s time for our anime, come, let’s go okay?”

#obey me #obey me x mc #lucifer #mammon #asmodeus #beezlebub #satan #belphegor #leviathan #answers #obey me fluff

[wendigonamecaller]

Deadly Kiss.

Desc: Asher wasn't a bad person. She was quiet, well behaved, and had a gentle beauty about her that naturally made people flock to her. Asher was a good person, until she was given a reason not to be. 2002, she's only 22, never willingly been intimate with anyone, when police stumble upon her body in the Tennessee senator's home, a single gunshot wound to her head and a gun in her corpses grasp. She wakes up in hell, with a new appearance and powers, which present her with new opportunities, until she meets Angel Dust and becomes mixed up in Charlie Morningstar's hotel, unevitably becoming mixed up with Alastor.

Taglist: @sparrowrye

Pt. 13: Who Owns Who?

Alastor and Asher were taking their time walking back to the parlor, until a loud noise and the hotel rumbling startled them. "Close your eyes, my dear." Alastor instructed.

Asher closes her eyes and feels her surroundings shift a few times before Alastor's hand leaves her lower back. Asher opens her eyes and sees the hotel in the middle of chaos, loan sharks were attacking and Mimzy was cowering.

"Of course." Asher growled, severely pissed that Husker was right and still got his shit almost beat in by Alastor, which makes her lips lift slightly into a snarl.

All because of this pudgy showgirl that obviously wasn't in her prime anymore. Asher teleported in front of the bar, smiling sadly at Husker before reaching over and grabbing Mimzy by the neckline of her dress and hauling her over the bar top with only one arm as Alastor shifted forms and took off after the loan sharks.

"Give me one good reason not to fuck you up." Asher snarled, ears puffing out their fur and standing stiffly on the top of her head.

Mimzy doesn't get to answer as Midnight pulls Asher off of the much shorter girl. Mimzy sneaks her way out of the hotel towards Alastor who was now done fighting and was just relaxing in the view of his carnage. He makes Mimzy leave, before re-entering the now chaotic hotel.

-♡

"I work for her you can't just do that Light!" Midnight snapped, attempting and failing to tower over Asher as everyone watched.

Asher's ears twitched and her right eye turned gold. "She brought bullshit to this hotel, which may I remind you is my home right now, and you expect me not to get pissed? I've made better progress in under a month here than I've ever made anywhere else." Asher says, voice oddly calm.

Alastor tilts his head as he watches and Husker gets ready to grab Midnight and throw her out. "What, you wanna get a free ticket to heaven after killing more than you should've as a human? That's not how that fucking works Ash." Midnight growls, before regretting it as Asher's other eye glows gold and turquoise chains appear on Midnights neck and wrists, knocking her to her knees.

The entire hotel goes rigid as Asher yanks on the chains, forcing Midnight down fully. "I sincerely hope you didn't mean that as an insult, Midnight. Even so, if you ever say that again.." She begins, approaching Midnight slowly.

"I will bind your soul with a pact so that the only time you ever see the light of Hell is when I'm using you for background entertainment, otherwise I will rip you apart piece by bitter fucking piece and devour you like the meal you're running from becoming." Asher growls, her claws extending dangerously long and her demonic horns and wings making an appearance as her eyes turn from gold to red and her gray skin darkens to black.

"Yes ma'am, I understand." Midnight murmured, her fur fluffed out in alarm and fear.

"Excellent, you're dismissed." Asher says, going back to normal.

She turns around, finding the hotel beginning to relax. Angel Dust laughs, Charlie looks in shock, Vaggie's expression is dark but she can see the fear, Husker is utterly terrified by the display, Nifty looks like she's gushing and Alastor's eyes hold surprise briefly before going back to his chaos loving self.

Lucifer laughs before stepping forward. "Magnificent, a doe owning a fox soul, and owning it delightfully in a menacing way. My dear, are you an overlord?" Lucifer asked, standing awfully close to Asher.

"No, I am not. I had a chance to be, but I have better things to do than kill twenty four seven all because Vox is a hungry bastard." Asher says.

"Absolutely darling." Lucifer says, kissing Asher's knuckles.

Asher pulls her hand away, slyly wiping her hand on her shirt. Alastor prances into Asher's line of sight, his smile was strained and she could vaguely see how a vain in his temple was pulsing with an effort to not massacre the Devil.

He reached out and fixed the laples of the waist coat he'd let her wear to hide her tail. He dusts off her shoulder and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, a fleeting moment of intimacy passing between them and Asher feels her pulse speed up once more.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc

[amtrak12]

Lucifer Rewatch Liveblog: 1.02

We’re doing it again! And again I am so nervous about it. And also trying to stop myself out of embarrassment -- not the liveblogging part. No, just watching the episode in general. Who are you embarrassed by, Amber? Who’s going to judge you for what you’re watching in your own home? NO ONE! GET OVER YOURSELF!

Anyway. Ep 2. The paparazzi ep, which I only know because I’ve already rewatched it once. But after this, I don’t remember anything about S1 so we’ll get to be surprised together about what plot pops up next. :P

And.... *plays*

All evangelical street preachers are terrible. But I hate this faker just as much as the real ones. I'm on Lucifer's side here. He deserves the Devil face.

It's so cute when Linda thinks this Devil stuff is all a metaphor. Simpler times, right, Linda? ;)

Healed from feelings of humanity -- *Marcia Brady face* Sure, Lucifer.

OMG that was a Crazy Ex-Girlfriend billboard in the background! CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND SIGHTING!!! :D :D :D

Chloe is the absolute worst at being sneaky ROTFL

Aw. Give it a year and Maze and Chloe will be roomies :) Tell them that here and they'll both threaten to punch you lol

Lucifer once again completely fails to register that Chloe is playing him. Such a dumb-dumb (affectionately mocking)

(Chloe is just as ridiculous, though, thinking Lucifer would be wearing a bullet proof vest as part of his everyday wear. Granted, I’m sure she’s down to the dregs as far as plausible explanations go for how Lucifer could walk away unharmed after being shot multiple times. But also we saw Chloe get shot while wearing a bullet proof vest in S3 and she still got knocked back and knocked out for several minutes, which, through internet osmosis, I’m fairly certain is realistic with how bullet proof vests work in real life? So are you even still in the dregs, there, Chloe or are you now pulling straws out of your butt just to grasp at them?)

I was curious about who on the force would still call Chloe with a tip, but then I realized it was Dan lol. That makes sense.

Chloe easily follows Lucifer's lead even after telling him no. She only pretends to have self control. :P

*snorts* That look from Dan is 20% annoyed Lucifer is hanging out with Chloe and 80% pissed because he had to listen to Trixie talk for hours the other night about a two minute run-in with Lucifer where she gushed on and on about how awesome Lucifer is. ROTFL

"Is this the fight you want to pick?" -- It'll be nice when Dan gets a new refrain cause repeating himself two eps in a row is both annoying and very 'in case you missed the pilot, here's a quick recap' which is equally annoying.

Hi Amenadiel! (said with Trixie cheer) It will be nice when you get a new refrain too. Which happens sooner than I remembered because I rewatched the finale too last month for fic research and he was pretty much regular Amenadiel already which was... shocking. I could’ve sworn that took longer.

(Speaking of shocking, let me tell you, my first time through the early eps, I was FLOORED to realize Chloe and Dan were only separated in S1. I was under the assumption they were divorced the entire run of the show! I didn’t realize they were still married in the beginning. Fucking wild.)

The hilarious part is God probably isn't saying shit about any of this. This is all Amenadiel thinking he knows what Absentee Dad wants just like Uriel did in S2. (and look where that got Uriel....)

I know it hasn't come up yet, but they really didn't do the praying thing to contact angels after S1, did they? I mean they showed angels answering human prayers (very badly lol) in S5, but never prayers to contact another angel. Probably because Amenadiel and Lucifer had cell phones and no other angels were on earth. But still, I wish they had kept it. I like it.

Ninja chemist by night -- damn this girl is both imaginative and smart. And obsessed with ninjas even before befriending Maze. Excellent. No wonder they became instant besties.

CHLOE YOU ASKED ABOUT THE EIFFEL TOWER WHEN YOUR DAUGHTER WAS IN EARSHOT! THAT'S ON YOU! lmao

This whole conversation with the paparazzo is just Lucifer being all 'I came out to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked (by pesky human empathy) :(' I like it. Good shit.

Back to ‘just S1 things’, I'm fine with this weird Hell coin being a pilot season one-off though. It doesn't make any kind of world-building sense to me but if it's just for a season, I can roll with it.

'Are you coming or what?' -- :D Let the partnership begin!!!

Man, being a kid in LA must suck being right on top of Hollywood. The gossip mill must be out of control! And the brutal bullying about which parent has the more famous job. Or do the kids in LA bully each other about other things and consciously roll their eyes and shove the Hollywood stuff away because it’s so mundane and boring? I don’t know how school cliques work outside of the small ass Illinois town I grew up in.

How do these people always remember license plate numbers after seeing them for two seconds? Can't relate.

Maze just glaring and slicing an apple in the corner is perfection. Love my girl <3

But Dan, if Chloe isn't following him and you (allegedly *side eyes*) aren't following him, then how do you know the perp is missing? o_O

It's also cute when Lucifer was so convinced humans couldn't change cause he had spent too many eons in Hell where no one managed to stop running from their guilt. They're all so naive and innocent in S1, aren't they? :)

Leverage did this gun showdown better. But Leverage is as close to a perfect show as I've ever seen and this is Lucifer’s second episode ever so that's not really a fair comparison.

'Luci... you should've taken the offer.' -- Amenadiel... you shouldn't bring dead humans back to life so they can kill your brother for you. (See? Two can play the blame game :P)

Trixie already knowing about Hot Tub High School is reason #3 that I accept the fan theory that Trixie has always believed Lucifer is really the Devil. The girl understands things like reality and the truth.

(Trixie already knowing about the movie is also evidence #8 that Chloe and Dan are :S as parents. How does a 7/8 year old have that kind of unfettered access to the internet? What is happening with my niblings' generation??? MONITOR YOUR CHILDREN'S INTERNET SO YOU CAN TEACH THEM HOW TO PROPERLY USE IT! ffs)

No comment on the Jimmy scene. His freakout and Lucifer disappearing and popping back up somewhere else in the blink of an eye only weigh on Chloe's mind enough for her to shoot Lucifer later in the season, but not enough for her to believe he's really the Devil until S4. I’ve also seen it a few too many times in fan vids. Oops!

IT’S OVER! \0/ I’ve successfully liveblogged two whole episodes!! WHOO!! It definitely worked better to let the episode roll and take quick notes on the side that I went back and fleshed out after the episode finished. I’m going to stick with that method of liveblogging.

Catch you in the next one!

#Amber watches Lucifer