#but it actually works on most lesser demons
Note
So is Frisk an actual demon or do they just pretend to be one to avoid getting killed?
They are Human! The whole costume thing is the brothers's idea (safety measure)
#ask#ask me#demon au#frisk#demon au frisk#they thought sans was messing with them#but it actually works on most lesser demons
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Learning To Adapt
context: readjusting dealt with MC, learning to adapt features how each of the brothers try to adjust to life after you disappeared, let me know if y’all want a dateables version! again some, short and somewhat angsty headcanons, enjoy!
come back to me
Your room is always visited every day by Lucifer. His visits are early in the morning and they usually consist of checking and cleaning your room for even the slightest speck of dirt or dust.
When you come back he doesn’t want a messy room on your to-do list. That and just being in your room gives him a little peace of mind, that a part of you is still here with him. Even if you aren’t actually there to reassure him you’re okay.
Lucifer will make the mistake of buying you something while he’s out shopping and it’s only when he returns does he realize his mistake. Because of this a box of things intended for you is collecting dust in the corner of his room
The piano is another thing that collects dust in the house. With you not there what reason does he have to play it? Even the thought of actually playing it makes him walk out of the room.
Of course, like usual his coping mechanism throughout this time period is to drown himself in work to the point of collapsing. Nothing new here. If anything he needs to show his brothers that he can keep it together; for they’re sake and his.
Mammon checks his pact mark in the mirror every day when he gets up. That’s the first thing he will do when he’s fully awake. Once you left and it started to fade all hell broke loose Due to this he constantly freaks out about it now.
He won’t let anyone touch him if they’re in the vicinity of his pact mark. Mammon actually moves away quite quickly, worried that the slightest touch might make it fade for good.
Any piece of clothing you stole from him, he decides to take it back and wear it. It smells like you and it’s the only way he actually stays calm, if not be warned of violent outbursts every once and awhile.
Much to his brother’s surprise he actually doesn’t hole himself up in his room. He instead picked up a few jobs and took the liberty of taking care of his brothers when Lucifer was too exhausted. Though at times he felt even more exhausted than Lucifer.
Mammon spends the most time in your room out of all of the brothers. Sometimes he’ll ignore his room for days and just stay in yours till Lucifer kicks him out. Though he just goes right back when the oldest leaves.
Levi constantly checks in and logs into your accounts for any games you have. He wants to make sure you don’t miss anything. A new event came out? Don’t worry he’ll speed run it and get everything for you. A new skin came out? Don’t worry you have it now.
He becomes so immersed in making sure you have a good ranking in a game or you get all the things he’ll believe you’ll want instead of actually taking care of himself. So when Lucifer and Mammon finally pull him away he collapses from sheer exhaustion.
He doesn’t leave his room per usual, the only other room he heads to if he gets up is yours. However, he walks in and then proceeds to hole himself up in there too until his brothers drag him out.
Lothan has been summoned many times when his brothers tick him off so the house is always a bit damp now.
Levi takes this time to finish the cosplays you both were working on, however, as he’s in the middle of sewing yours many emotions come on all at once and he becomes angry with you for leaving him.
He does understand that you didn’t have a choice and it’s not your fault at all, but he still becomes upset about the current situation and rips the costume. Once his breakdown is over he then cries at the destruction he’s caused.
Satan finds himself more irritated with everything these days. One wrong word from a lesser demon and he’s in his demon form causing a rampage across the Devildom.
Or one snarky remark from his brothers and a whole wall at the house of lamentation is suddenly is gone.
This man is irritated with everyone and everything. The only thing he finds comfort in now is the cats you both would feed in the alleys of some Devildom streets. However each time he goes to feed the cats, his wrath will boil up and he goes on a rampage due to the memories of you and him.
Not worry because he won’t finish any books you two were currently reading, instead, all those books get stacked neatly in your room for when you get back.
All the cleaning progress you made in his room went to waste because of how many times he’s had angry tantrums in his room.
The thought of cleaning his things does cross his mind, but then it makes him think of you and he decides against it, soon throwing more books around in a fit or rage.
He’s having trouble processing that your gone. After all this is his first time “losing” someone so dear to him, so give him time.
Asmo finds himself using everything he had to drag himself out of bed. He still does his regular routines but they take much longer now because he can’t find any purpose behind them anymore.
At first he went out and partied till he dropped or had to get picked up by Lucifer or Mammon. However while he was at a certain club, a demon had asked him where you were, since you both go clubbing together. And upon hearing the question Asmo literally broke down in the club, and hadn’t gone back since.
He’ll still wait by each classroom door to go pick you up. Asmo always made it a point to walk you to every class even if his was on the other side of RAD so he’ll still continue to wait for you due to it being such a habit for him.
However as soon as he sees the last student exit and there’s no sign of you he then remembers that your not there. Sighing he heads to class by himself, not particularly concerned if he’s late anymore.
Asmo tries his hardest to delude himself that Solomon will bring you back soon, each time he wakes up he wishes that this whole ordeal was just a horrible dream.
Whenever dinner comes around at the House of Lamentation each brother is forced to eat, per Lucifer’s demands. However as each of them put food on their plates, a separate plate of food is set at the end of the table in your spot along with silverware and a drink.
Throughout dinner, the food doesn’t go touched by anyone and once they all finish eating Beel takes the plate wraps it, then places it in the fridge with the rest of your leftover dinners.
They soon take up most of the fridge room but Beel forbids anyone from throwing them out. Including Lucifer.
No one is allowed to touch anything that had your name on it, Beel makes sure of that. Every single snack or dessert you had in the fridge or pantry is still there for when you come back. It doesn’t matter if it expired or not Beel refuses to throw them out.
Beel often floods a corner of the pantry with snacks you favored, and again doesn’t allow anyone to touch them. Every time he goes shopping he’ll buy you something as well, it’s become a problem for Lucifer since not many things fit in the pantry anymore so Beel can only be on grocery duty now if someone is with him.
When he has trouble sleeping Beel will look up to his ceiling and speak to himself as if he were speaking to you. He hopes you’ll reunite soon so he can tell you just how much he misses you and loves you. He’s dying to hear you say you love him.
Belphie curses you in his sleep. The youngest demon brother believes if he just sleeps throughout this whole period he won’t have to deal with the fact your not here.
Instead he tries to escape to his dreams, but in turn he finds you there greeting him with a smile. It hurts to see your smile.
Due to this he’ll often wake up in a cold sweat or to Beel shaking him awake out of concern. He then sighs and decides against sleeping for awhile. Which doesn’t turn out to be good for him in the long run.
Dark circles become more and more prominent as he goes some days without sleep. Belphie never took loss well, in fact he hated the whole thought of not being able to see you asleep next to him when he did awake.
He refuses to go to the planetarium for awhile due to being reminded of you. In the beginning he also stayed clear of your room too. However as the days pasted if his older brothers didn’t occupy the room he’d try to get a nap in your bed. It was difficult though.
There was a period of time he locked himself in the attic with a hope that maybe you’d come find him again in the spot you both first met. Much to his dismay Lucifer and Mammon found him and dragged the grumpy youngest back to his room.
part 2.
#obey me nb#obey me nightbringer#obey me nightbringer angst#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me angst#omswd#demon brothers#obey me luficer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me mc
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headcanons about the little d's
sfw (fluffy nonsense) | 1.3k words | gn!reader
content/warnings: mentioned relationships with the demon brothers and the dateables. mostly fluff, some possessive/jealous behaviours if you squint.
No. 1 (when you’re dating the Avatar of Pride)
He’s not the largest of the Little Ds, but he’s the one that acts the most dignified.
He assumes leadership over the other lesser demons when Barbatos isn’t around and gives No. 2 the most lectures about being a proper lesser demon.
The other Little Ds notice No. 1 acts differently when you’re staying at the castle. He preens for you, floating near your side like a puffed-up balloon as he escorts you to the guest bedroom you’ll be staying in.
He’s more affectionate when he knows the other Little Ds are busy elsewhere (he gets flustered when they tease him about how sweet he is towards you).
He can be a little foul-tempered if No. 4 is slacking on his chores and trying to get your attention instead.
No. 2 (when you’re dating the Avatar of Greed)
He’s so fond of you, and he doesn’t hide it the way some of his lesser demon siblings do; even if you’re not dating Mammon, No. 2 loves spending time with you.
He likes to call Mammon Papa for two reasons:
— He is the Avatar of Greed, and No. 2 looks up to him as the embodiment of their shared sin even if he won’t admit it out loud.
— It annoys Mammon which is lots of fun!
No. 2 tattles on Mammon whenever he tries to steal valuables from the Demon Lord’s castle. Once the others are distracted, he can finally talk to you without them interrupting!
The castle has its own lost & found of sorts, forgotten valuables the rich demon lords leave behind. He’ll sort through the latest batch of forgotten belongings and try to give them to you as gifts. Isn’t he thoughtful? (You always refuse, but you pat his head or give him a hug for thinking about you which is almost better!)
No. 3 (when you’re dating the Avatar of Envy)
He gets jealous of Leviathan when you haven’t visited the castle lately. He also doesn’t like it when you spend too much time with the other Little Ds.
He makes sure that you or Levi have a TV in your guest room whenever you have to spend the night at the castle. He likes to sit in your lap while you watch movies or play games.
He feels like he doesn’t do his chores as well as the other demons do and worries you’re disappointed in him. (Barbatos actually thinks he’s one of the best workers little Ds. He tends to stick to himself and focus on his work and isn’t as prone to distractions like the others are.)
He doesn’t like working during the castle’s large dances or parties, unless you’re going to be there—he’ll try to stay near you if you are. Otherwise, he finds other chores he can do elsewhere in the castle where he can be alone and not have to deal with anyone else.
No. 4 (when you’re dating the Avatar of Wrath)
He’s easily distracted when something annoys or angers him. He’s usually given non-cleaning chores since he's kind of terrible at it (he tends to break things a lot during his little tantrums).
He does make an excellent escort for you because he can be trusted to keep you safe.
He fights a lot with No. 1 and they are constantly butting heads over who’s in charge and the right way to do things when Barbatos isn’t around.
He chases away other demons that he thinks are too close to you—not just other Little D’s either, but any demon he thinks you should stay away from (basically all of them except for Satan—usually).
He brings you books to read when you stay overnight at the castle. He doesn’t mention that some of them are borrowed without permission from Diavolo’s private library or the secret castle vaults. He can usually return them before anyone even notices so it's your little secret!
No. 5 (when you’re dating the Avatar of Lust)
Little Ds normally don’t care about their appearances, but No. 5 insists he needs to be bathed before your arrival because he wants to look his best for you!
The other Little Ds don’t take him seriously and Barbatos doesn’t always have time. He’s very sad when you arrive and you usually offer to help him instead when he explains why he’s upset. The others are so mean to him, but you’re so kind~
He showers you with compliments and helps Diavolo and Barbatos pick out gifts for you that he thinks you would like.
His affection and possessiveness towards you is much higher than most of the other Little Ds because he shares a feedback loop of emotions with Asmodeus.
His sin gives him the unique ability to sense when others are attracted to you, even if Asmo isn’t around.
No. 5 tells Asmo everything that happens at the castle when he can’t be there with you—the angel who’s too touchy for his own good, the sorcerer that flirts with you shamelessly, even the way Mr. Barbatos treats you better than anyone else…
No. 6 (when you’re dating the Avatar of Gluttony)
He’s the largest of the Little D’s but surprisingly quick. He’s also very strong.
His favourite chores are anything that lets him work in the kitchen but sometimes he gets hungry. He didn’t mean to take a bite out of the cake Barbatos just finished decorating, honest! :(
Sometimes he’ll fix your plate for you so you get the best food before anyone else can…yes, even Beel.
He usually hovers around your chair at mealtimes so he can get you anything else you might need (and maybe you can sneak him some of your food when you think Barbatos isn’t looking). <3
If you’re staying at the castle overnight, he brings late night snacks to your room.
No. 7 (when you’re dating the Avatar of Sloth)
He’s lazy and sleeps a lot, but he’s usually the quickest to finish his chores: the sooner he’s done, the sooner he can rest!
He’s small enough that he likes to rest on your shoulder for a little snooze. He’s not very heavy and you don’t mind, right? <3
He likes helping Barbatos prepare your guest room so he can make sure your blankets and pillows are the softest ones available. (Sometimes he tries to sneak spare bedding from Diavolo's personal linens, but Barbatos usually catches him.)
Normally he sleeps with the other Little Ds but when you’re at the castle, he sneaks into the room you share with Belphie and curls at the foot of the bed. If he sleeps near you, he can make sure you have nice dreams.
Other Little D headcanons:
Their size is mostly determined by age and their power/strength of their sin.
They’re all fond of you even if you’re not dating their corresponding Avatar of Sin, but their feelings for you are amplified when you are.
They’re very suspicious of the non-demons who act too friendly towards you. They will try to persuade you why you should choose a demon for your prospective romantic partner instead. They will also try to sabotage those relationships or act aggressive/hostile towards the angel/human partner you’ve chosen.
If Diavolo or Barbatos have strong feelings for you, you’ll find yourself being invited to the castle a lot more. You’ll also hear endless praise about what a good mate the young prince would be, or how handsome and kind their boss is.
(They think they’re being subtle, but they’re reeeeally not.)
read more: how the little ds act when you are dating barbatos | obey me masterlist
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Can we get the obey me boys(the brothers + dia, barbs, solomon, and simeon) reacting to mc having severe period cramps? Would they get all demon-y at the smell of blood?
Love your stuff btw!
Signed,
a yandere junkie~
I'll do two for now
🖤🖤🖤🖤
Period | Yandere Obey Me
For those in the devildom having a draw for chaos and mortal pain it’s quite normal for blood to bring about a different kind of reaction. But to the surprise of no one period blood and the whole menstrual cycle is a complete bafflement to all who catch a whiff. Don’t worry though, you have the brother and your various friends. This surely won’t strike any of them to have an unusual streak in emotion and self-control, right?:
Lucifer
“It’s that time I’m suspecting?”
“Yes.”
“Understood rest easy, take your time to rest my dear.”
“A-are you sure?”
“Of course I'm sure. Do you doubt my promise to keep you?”
One of the most casual about it
He absolutely has done research for this exact occasion
But nothing is like experience in taking care of you himself
As well as the compulsion that has him being just as reactive as you
“You seem a bit different today Lucifer…”
“Am I? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oooh is that a gift from (Y/n)--”
“dON’t ToUCh tHaT!”
“...”
“...”
“Sorry, I don’t know what’s with me this week.”
You’re not with him that’s what
For all the necessities he delivers he’s been keeping his distance
Taking the advice of the human care books he gave you your space
After all who better to deal with the human-female innerworkings than a human-female herself
But something feels wrong more than usual
And it only seems to stop when he returns to your side at the end of the day
“Perhaps the hormones that are at work in you create a…guardian of sorts…out of me.”
He doesn’t really understand, all he knows is that when you were preparing to go to RAD he frantically calmly decided you’d not be attending
His excuse reasoning? That he would hate for any lesser demon to feel what he’s feeling
That and he’d actually try to kill anyone who shows such similar inclination to protect you
“If anyone should stay to soothe you in this great time of need. I’m not above massacring any threats to you while you’re at your most vulnerable..”
Generally he’s quite tame
…compared to his brothers
Diavolo
“Hey (Y/n) why’d you run off like that I thought we were having a good time.”
“Diavolo!?”
“Oh…hey (Y/n) if you’re hurt it’s okay to tell us we have tons of things that help heal humans.”
“Ugh! No that’s not what’s happening here!”
“Don’t be embarrassed here i’ll help!”
“Aghghgh!!!! Barbatos! Barb–Ah! Don’t you dare!”
A scolding and prompt lesson from Barbatos is very much in order
For someone so adamant on urging the blending of their worlds he doesn’t really know about this side of humanity
And unfortunately he’s never been one for backseat learning
“(Y/n), we’ve spoken and Diavolo would like to propose a hands-on-lesson with you about your menstrual cycle.”
“Uhm what kind of lesson?”
“One that will require he familiarize himself with all aspects of this process. Something that would preferably stimulate the five senses.”
“....”
“....”
“....Lucifer!!!! Solomon!!!”
Even better it has to do with you
What better way to strengthen your bond by having to monitor you
Not only for your safety but for all of humanity
“Hey later on we should definitely watch that movie together!”
“Oh yeah I thin–”
“I’m sorry but she cannot!”
“What why not?”
“Because she’s coming with me! The best place for a woman on muenster cycle is with me at the royal palace.”
“Uhm that’s not tr-”
“Here I’ll take you now!”
He’s going to be hard to teach
But once you sit him down or snap at him one too many times
He’ll decide listening to you is the best course of action
In turn it will definitely build a relationship between you two
It may not be as romantic as he planned
But he’ll take it….for now
After all there’s one every month
“That was fun! I can’t wait until the next time!”
Because he’s actively testing for it he might find some demons and creatures that react to it
But he won’t actively experiment with you in danger
Because it’s just not a good look to brutally murder every other subject of his that has a reaction he doesn’t like
“Next month I’ll have to convince them to let me get a swab or whole container full that’d be really hot.”
#yandere obey me#yandere x reader#yandere x you#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yanderexrea#yandere#yanderes#obey me shall we date#yandere obey me lucifer#yandere lucifer#yandere lucifer x reader#yandere diavolo#yandere diavolo x reader#yandere obey me diavolo#yandere obey me shall we date
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Alastor x Fem Reader
(gift for @colourstreakgryffin Happy Valentine's Day!)
If someone had told him a couple months ago that he would fall in love with the MOST unlikely girl that had ever graced hell...He'd have told you to never speak such nonsense to him again, probably would have scoffed, told them they were insane, and dismissed it from memory bank forever. Him, a proud pillar of hell, with a girl like her?? HA! What nonsense...
Or was it?
Not to him right now it wasn't as she kissed him and held his hands and he found himself not fighting against it. What was wrong with him!?
It felt like a two part problem in his mind. On one hand it was as if he was betraying his loyalty to his duties and everything that it stood for, for falling for such a girl. While on the other hand it was a betrayal of his own emotions for denying his affection for her in the first place. He grew weaker by the day, losing sleep over his inner turmoil. It wasn't long before people started to notice, dark circles appearing under his eyes and his usual scowl deepening as his mood worsened. No one dared to actually ask him what was the matter, but he could feel their concerned stares and worried glances. Even so, he held out, pushing thoughts of her away as he tried to go on with his life. Just ignore her, he told himself. He would feel better once he forgot about her. But no matter what she wouldn't leave his mind or him alone. Oh WHY did he have to be plague his existence. He once tried yelling at her to just GO AWAY!! To leave him alone because she didn't need to be anywhere near him....It ended up with him breaking down in the middle of the hallway crying and all those sleepless nights catching up to him finally. His acts were slipping, he was acting like a baby, and it was ALL her fault. She wouldn't listen and go away like some stalker. After that he had passed out from his yelling fit and woken up in the lobby due to exhaustion.....And to her crying and holding his hand. Ironic wasn't it.
And he made a noble effort to ever forget about that incident, but it was all for naught.
He reached his tipping point about a month into his rejection to the monster. He was exhausted, eyes sore and bloodshot, and his work still wavering concerning all their superiors. Lost in his thoughts on the way to lunch, he heard a single word. His name. That made him stop in his tracks. His head snapping up in recognition, eyes widening. No! Not her! Not now! The last thing he wanted was the taller she demon to back him against the wall and talk her pretty little head off. He felt like he was suffocating. He barely slept for days. He couldn't take it- The voices were becoming so much his head was going to explode-
"Alastor? You don't look so good."
That was the last thing he heard before he passed out for a second time that month. She had carried him. CARRIED HIM!! HIM!! All the way back home filled with worry. Don't ask him why she didn't just take him to the nurse again or just leave him there. If the overlord was just found passed out against the wall it would've been less humiliating than a girl to carry him all the way to his bed where he remained when he woke up and numbly laid there as she went off chattering again. He didn't know what he was thinking when he suddenly exploded at her letting everything out. Maybe it was his frustration? The stress and strain he was feeling from her relentless presence? Maybe the days of little to no sleep? His mind zoned out as he mindlessly yelled at her but he certainly wasn't expecting it to end up with her kissing him and him being compliant to her affections. Leaning into her warmth and all around easing the stress he was always. Good grief what did he say? At one point she pulled away and he attempted to kiss her again which ended embarrassingly thanks to his lesser height which ended up with himself missing her lips and pecking her jawline which sent her beautiful face into giggles and the soft hands cupping his already crying and red face rubbed away at the stressful tears.
"You shouldn't beat yourself over like a little crush. I would've been happy to know either way.Oh. Please don't cry."
He wasn't sure why he felt so assured or comforted right now, but for now he leaned into those soft hands holding him up with the pretty angelic face of his relief.
#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#radio demon#the radio demon#alastor x you#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader
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The Fuck's Up With Mammon?
Ok, so, in the grand history of Christian folklore, there are dozens of different ways that the society of Hell and its various demons can be structured. One of the most popular is The Seven Princes of Hell, which divides Hell between seven ruling demons, each of which represents the seven deadly sins (and is opposed by saints who represent the seven heavenly virtues). It's fun because it's got a solid theological theme and not too many working parts - seven is a more digestible number than nine or, like, however the fuck your sort out all the demons in the Lesser Key of Solomon, each of which has some arbitrary number of legions of demon soldiers under their command, and the deadly sins theme gives you a clear way to make each prince's domain stand out.
(Obviously I'm a bit biased here, since I used a modified version of the Seven Princes of Hell for my own story about demons, but still, I think the point stands.)
Now, who the seven princes of Hell are can differ. Binsfield, the guy who coined the name, lists them as follows:
Lucifer, Prince of Pride
Mammon, Prince of Greed
Asmodeus, Prince of Lust
Leviathan, Prince of Envy
Beelzebub, Prince of Gluttony
Satan, Prince of Wrath
Belphegor, Prince of Sloth
However, there are earlier versions of the seven princes that rearrange things. Beelzebub has been given the sin of Envy at times, Belphegor has been given gluttony, and both Belial and Abaddon/Apollyon have taken the role of prince of Sloth. With me so far?
Right, ok, so here's the thing: ALL of these demons have shit going on in folklore outside of their role as potential princes of Hell. Well, all except one. To wit:
Lucifer, despite being a translation error, quickly became the front-runner in the grand race of "Who is THE Devil in the Bible, i.e. the leader of Hell itself?" It helps that said translation error was made by King James in his version of the Bible, which, while a terrible translation, is an amazing piece of poetry in its own right and beloved by many Christians because of it. Notably, Lucifer is The Devil of Paradise Lost, which is up there with Dante's The Divine Comedy in being one of the most important and influential depictions of Hell of all time.
Beelzebub is one of the oldest demons in all of demonology, predating Christianity itself, and is pretty close to Lucifer in the race for "Who is THE Devil," with arguably a better claim to the position despite Lucifer being the more popular candidate for the role.
Satan gets kudos for being one of the few devils that's ACTUALLY named in the Bible... even if it's less a name in context and more a title akin to "prosecuting attorney." Because of that, he's arguably got the greatest claim to being The Devil, and in most works where a different devil gets the title, Satan is treated as one of his alternate titles anyway.
Asmodeus was set up in folklore to be The Devil, and has a pretty strong claim to the title because of that. He's also clearly what Dante based his description of the devil's physical appearance on, with his three different colored heads and all, and that gives him some major props.
Leviathan is also a rare demon who gets mentioned in the Bible, although in the Bible it's pretty clear he's not a demon but rather a big sea monster, and a lot of Christian folklore treats him as such instead of as a demon. So that's a pretty big "other thing going on" for him - sometimes he's not even a demon, but more of a godzilla.
Belphegor was mentioned in a good number of texts predating the concept of arranging demons by the seven deadly sins, and while he was mostly a minor demon (akin to most of the other residents of the Lesser Key of Solomon, like Shax or Marchosias or what have you), that's still something. Becoming a Prince of Hell gave him a greater claim to fame, but still, he had a career before it.
Abaddon/Apollyon is one of those demons whose name is ALSO a synonym for Hell itself, which is a pretty big deal. He can be a demon, or he can be hell, or he can be BOTH, like in the takes where Hell has a literal mouth to swallow sinners and is portrayed as kind of a living monster in its own right. He also got to be The Devil in Pilgrim's Progress, and that's pretty cool.
Belial is one of the absolute earliest demons, having been cast as The Devil in the Book of Enoch, which is kind of the O.G. Abrahamic demon story (as much as any written story could be the source of it, anyway). Thus, while Belial may not have the most popular claim to being The Devil, he arguably has the best claim to it, or at least the earliest. Also, Belial is just as often depicted as a lady demon as he is a male demon, which means Belial is the best candidate for a Princess of Hell.
But that leaves... Mammon. And as far as I can tell in all my research, Mammon's claim to fame is and has always been being the Demon of Greed. Like Lucifer, his existence is owed to a translation of the Bible personifying something that was not originally a person - "mammon" was just supposed to mean money and other material wealth, but then it became, well, Mammon, the demonic personification of Greed.
He's the demon who was made for his sin, rather than being given it after his creation. The only demon whose existence purely hinges on needing a personification of a sin, the only one who has no other shit going on. Lucifer, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, they all have rich histories as demons in folklore, but Mammon? He's just greed.
And that's weird to me. Were there no other, more popular demons who could embody the concept? How does Mammon feel having nothing else to him beyond his sin? It's kinda weird, right?
I've got no greater point to this, I just thought it'd be fun to share.
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Hi!
So I just finish watching the 7th episode of Hazbin Hotel and I just couldn't help myself! I was wondering if I could request (separately) romantic headcanons for Rosie and Carmilla with a male imp reader? Ngl, Helluva Boss still has a hold on me and I just find the relationship between lower class demons and royalty demons really charming! :) And I would die for Rosie and Carmilla
A/N: I’ll be honest, I struggled a lot with this one which is why its on the shorter side. I just didn’t know how to approach it. While I did my best, I’ll admit i’m worried i might not have done this request justice. It has a lot of potential, but i’m not sure i was able to tap into that. I’ll let you guys decide that though.
Characters: Rosie, Carmilla (separate)
Type: Headcanons (x imp m!reader, General)
Rosie
In terms of actual romance I don’t think much would change. She may be a little less tempted to take a bite out of you so to speak compared to if you were a sinner demon, but that’s pretty much it.
Rosie might be an overlord, and a sinner demon to boot, but she knows, to a degree, how it feels to be treated as lesser than. Cannibals are often outcasted by other sinners in hell, other demons were weary around them. It was to the point that they’re designated their own district, Cannibal Town.
That being said, she would never let you feel that way. With her, she would make sure that you were treated as an equal, no matter the company. She herself has friends in high places, and if it were something you wanted,
Cannibal town is a strong community, proud to follow Rosie’s lead, so you wouldn’t really get any slack for being an imp, or for being in a relationship with Rosie. From them at least. Other sinners were a different matter. Most looked down on imps.
Rosie however, despite being one of the weaker overlords, still held sway. While she couldn’t do much about her fellow overlords, she could at least silence lower sinners.
Carmilla
Just like with Rosie, the actual romance wouldn’t differ much, though she would worry about you more. You’re an imp, they’re less durable than sinners and she can’t bear to see those she loves hurt. That worry is only increased when you travel to other rings where she can’t go along with you to make sure you’re alright.
Carmilla has had dealings with imps for a long time now, they were one of her biggest sources of clientele after all. In fact, that was how she initially met you.
At the time you had been working with some up and coming mob boss on the greed ring, but to be able to keep up with other already established gangs, you needed weapons. And a lot of them. That’s where you came in. The boss had approached you, one of the newbies, to go up to the pride ring and start a supply contract with Carmilla. Why he picked you of all the other members was beyond you.
Meeting the overlord was quite the experience to say the least. She thought it was cute how nervous you were. It was obvious you were new to dealing with well, deals. You stuttered, avoided eye contact, She specifically requested for you to be the main contact and things went from there.
When it comes to your relationship with Carmilla, a lot of imps simply thought you were trying to get in good with one of the biggest arms dealers in hell. Others thought you had entered into some sort of deal with the overlord. Not many would openly speak out about it however. No one wanted to get their weapon supply cut off. She’d done it before, the arms dealer would do it again in a heart beat.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin headcanons#hazbin imagine#carmilla carmine x reader#carmilla x reader#rosie x reader
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We've created a Monster Pt.II
Diavolo laughed at the screen of his DDD, hurriedly gesturing for Barbatos to join him.
'Come see this, Barbatos, Lucifer just shared the most delightful video!'
'I'm sure it must be of great importance for you to neglect your paperwork, my lord.'
Sheepishly, Diavolo turned to screen toward him, presenting the still image of an envy demon dwarfing their powerless exchange student.
'Oh my, lord this image is far from amusing.'
'Trust me, just press play.'
So he did, and was very much not expecting what came next. 'I see, it seems MC has grown rather more capable than I gave them credit for.'
'According to Lucifer they were rather unbothered by the threat, he even called a family meeting to address the event and MC just...laughed them off?'
Barbatos couldn't help but smile. 'How remarkable, expected though. MC has seen demons far more frightening than a lesser envy demon.'
'That's what they said to the brothers, though Lucifer seems to find it far less amusing than we do.'
'I imagine, it is not the sort of scenario he would find at all pleasant. Threat to our young human cause him a great deal of unrest.'
Diavolo grinned a conspirator's smile. 'Just him?'
'...fair point.'
'Why are the incantations so long? I'm trying to light a candle not summon a hurricane.' MC huffed, slouching into the armchair with the grimoire laid open across her thighs. 'It's like a religious text.'
'Magic's way of making sure you mean to get what you're asking for.' Solomon's smile was beguiling, almost sweet, but not.
He's a menace, and no one knows that better than MC, who's been taking magical instruction for him for months.
The sorcerer crossed his legs, flipping through a new spell book MC brought over from Satan. 'So, I hear you had some fun at RAD this morning.'
MC rolled their eyes, reluctantly going back to memorising incantations. 'You too? Does the entire Devildom know about that by now?'
'I'd say so, everyone who matters at least. We haven't told Luke, poor thing would loose his mind if he had actual proof of how dangerous the devildom really is for you.'
'I'm not in any danger, you're starting to sound like Lucifer.' MC huffed. 'Next thing I know you'll be off on a lecture about my lack of self preservation and needing to be careful.'
'I would never, watching you get in trouble is my favourite pass time.' He winked teasingly, kicking his shows up on the coffee table. 'I am curious though, what was going through your head when he threatened you? I remember being a little intimidated the first time a demon tried to kill me.'
'I'm honestly surprised you remember your first anything anymore.'
'Don't change the subject.' Tutted Solomon with that congenial smile of his that was neither friendly nor threatening. 'What were you thinking?'
MC sighed, closing the grimoire and turning their attention to the plate of cookies Luke left for them. 'It was annoying, I went into RAD early to get ahead on a project I was supposed to be working on with Simeon. Could have expected that reaction when I told him Levi wears envy way better. That time he tried to kill me gave me nightmares for days.'
'...MC, how many times have those lunatics nearly killed you?'
'Pfft, you think I keep count? Between Beel's tantrums, Mammon's schemes and just existing in Lucifer's radius I nearly die at least twice a week. It was way more when I first met them though.'
Solomon had to resist the urge to gape. His sense of normal may be a few thousand years past twisted, but this is... odd even for him. A human this young should not be this comfortable with domestic danger, let alone love those who put them there.
Several, times, a week.
MC carries on eating their cookies happily, reaching for another one when their eye catches something on the table, half hidden behind a book, but that beastly silhouette is unmistakeable, and they immediately curl into the chair as though they've been burned.
Pitching a whine to alert the house, their wide eyes fixate on the eight legged monstrosity, arms coiled tight around themselves as their skin immediately begins to crawl and twitch as though being assaulted by hundreds of the tiny beasts.
'What?! What is...oh, hello there.'
Solomon is almost left a aghast all over again. Here sits the most desensitised human he's ever met (besides himself), curled up in a ball, over a spider.
Fair be it a decent sized spider, probably the size of his thumb, but a mere spider nonetheless.
'You looked a 20-foot snake in the eye, you take Cerberus for evening walks with Lucifer...' he trailed off, carefully nudging the arachnid into an empty glass and caging it with a book '...and you're afraid of a spider?'
'Fuckin' right I am! And I'm not going to justify it to you so get rid of it before I set you on fire!'
Solomon laughed, and laughed until he couldn't hold himself upright anymore, wiping a tear from his eye, but when next he looked up, MC was still staring at the spider, eyes so full of genuine terror and brimming with tears, he felt guilt strike him.
'This...genuinely frightens you, doesn't it?'
MC nodded, lip jutted in an involuntary pout, skin raised in goose bumps. 'I wish it didn't.'
'Alright, I'm sorry. I'll get rid of it.'
And he did, and made a point of making sure everyone knew about MC's phobia, and didn't make fun of them for it.
Was it ironic that someone who looked death in the eye and waved was afraid of spiders? Absolutely, but no one chooses fear over comfort, and MC has chosen to be brave one too many times for anyone to begrudge them one or two irrational fears.
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Ashley Literally Did Nothing Wrong, Fuck You, Fight Me
Alt title: Ashley Graves: The most convenient scapegoat in the world
I'm going to espouse a take here that will no doubt be controversial, as you can tell by the title. This is a take I've created from my hollistic understanding of the events of the game, and isn't dependent on any one single point I make in this essay. Because of that, I want you to read it with an open mind; if you hyperfocus on one or two smaller details I might've gotten wrong or are fallaciously interpretated, and either use that to discount the whole essay or go into the comment section and immediately try to debunk my interpretation of that event, that'll make it obvious to me that you're not trying to seriously engage with the core of what I'm trying to say. Because unless quite literally everything I've said here is wrong, I feel confident in saying this:
Ashley Graves did nothing wrong.
Moreover, I think Ashley is on the level of people like Rossiu, Shinji Ikari, and Skylar White as far as people who are mistreated by their fandoms goes.
At first this was going to be an essay about how I don't think the demons are evil, using textual and thematic evidence to show that they're just part of a system that deals mostly fairly with humans and doesn't have any nefarious plans, or at least nefarious plans that stand to fuck anyone over. But then I realized that, goodness gracious, that is boring as shit to write! But I looked at what I had written already and realized that I could write something else with it: something better. I could sum up a lot of the points made in my prior essays and elaborate upon them in much more detail, showing why I think certain themes are obviously present within this game. And here, I intend on doing that.
I've spoken a lot before about how Ashley is a scapegoat for all of Andrew's worst habits; and to a lesser extent, her mother's. The game makes it seemingly obvious that she's the bad one, and generally just a Very Not Good person. It shows her and her brother committing many different acts that are, under most moral systems, wrong, and implicitly implies that she's the reason that Andrew ever did those things. It implies that she's corrupting him, that he could be better and refuses- or is unable to- due to her poking and prodding. But… is that the truth? Is that how their relationship actually works, in practice? I don't believe so. I think I've made it obvious by now that I believe the exact opposite!
I'm going to start off by tackling the morality behind their actions, especially relative to the world they're in. Specifically, I'm going to tackle how the game presents the morality of their actions from a thematic point of view, and any statements it may or may not make.
First of all, TCOAL plays with a lot of different taboos- demon summoning, cannibalism, incest, murder- but the game goes through great lengths to muddy the moral weight of the siblings' actions. Every single action they commit is portrayed in the most neutral possible light- killings were done in self defense (with one notable exception), or done to people who greatly wronged them, cannibalism was a necessity to survive (also with one notable exception), incest is shown to come from a marked improvement in their relationship- leading me to believe that this game is taking a hard morally nihilistic stance. Else, they'd be shown to suffer for their actions, when in reality, the literal exact opposite is happening; they are being rewarded for it. This isn't necessarily glorifying the actions, but instead showing that even the worst of actions can potentially be excused, but whether or not you do is up to the reader. Hence, nihilism, or at the very least, skepticism (as noted by Lisafication). There's an existentialist reading of this too, but I think much of that is contingent on the events of chapter 3 so I won't get into that here.
It contrasts this mostly nihilistic perspective on interpersonal taboos with the deep societal ills that drive people to commit such actions. Evil exists at every level of analysis here, but curiously, the only thing that are shown to do direct harm to others without having a justification of some kind- be it self-defense or retaliation- are those societal ills. There is no (morally) good reason to quarantine people, starve them, and harvest their organs. There's no good reason to burn all evidence and then put a hit on the ones who did escape. There's no good reason to extort sexual favors from someone in exchange for food. These are deep structural problems that force people to either retaliate/lash out or enable people's most exploitative or abusive habits lest they just let themselves die.
And thus, the obvious evils become much less obvious. The game makes a point of subverting the obvious or the well-known when it comes to morals, and I think it does so when it comes to everything else, too. Outside of those societal ills (so far, ch3 might have something else to say), every situation where someone could obviously be shown as the bad person in a situation is immensely more complex than it first appears. So much so that I'd argue that displaying said complexity and subverting simplicity to force/encourage people to analyze things deeper is one of the central themes of the game.
So why, exactly, does he blame so much on her? It's because Ashley is the world's most convenient scapegoat, and the game is well-aware of this and displays it in ways both obvious and not.
First off: the title screen has Ashley wielding the cleaver, establishing that she’s the violent one. It's covered in blood, too, implying that she's the one more driven to kill. The reality of this is the opposite; Andrew is the one with less hesitation to inflict violence on others, the cleaver is his weapon, and most of the kills in the story are done by him (and fully justified). Ashley might push him to do these violent acts, but… does she?
Her reaction to the death of the first warden is one of utter shock.
And her expression afterwards?
This is not the look of someone who enjoyed the fact that someone killed for her sake. This is not the look of someone who finds joy to be had in violence. It's not even the look of someone who is apathetic towards violence. It almost seems to express shame or guilt, but at the very least, she's timid over it. At the very least, it's an "oh shit, he actually had to do that for my sake" face. Not a "haha, I am making him worse!" face.
Not to mention, not only does Andrew kill the first Warden without a care in the world, he proactively kills the 302 lady to eliminate all witnesses, and because he believes Ashley would want him to. But Ashley actually grills him for it; she didn't want the 302 lady to die, although she hardly had good-person-reasons for it. But that's not my point. The point is that she is not the violent one between the two of them.
The door doesn't open in response to violence, remember?
The game intentionally misleads us.
And what happens when Ashley tries to make him take responsibility for all this violence? To point out that she didn't force him to do anything and that he chose to do all of it, including lock Nina in the box? She lashes out, hits him a few times… and then he goes to strangle her, and doesn't let go until she acknowledges that he has no reason for her to be around. He literally doesn't cease his threat to her life until she acknowledges she's useless to him.
I acknowledge that this isn't the most charitable framing for Andrew, and maybe too charitable for Ashley. After all, she wasn't indignant. She was mocking him. She found it hilarious. But I have reasons for that charitability that I'll go over towards the end. But even with that charitability in mind, I don't think my reading is too off base. Defaulting to laughter or mocking in stressful situations is just what Ashley does. She's not indignant about it; she just finds it hilarious that people keep pretending to be better than her, when they're not.
Andrew killed the 302 lady and used Ashley as a scapegoat to justify it; this is indisputable, stated in the text during the dream. This alone validates Ashley's point of view. There is no interpretation of this event that doesn't paint Andrew as every bit as unscrupulous as Ashley, and thinking she corrupted him into this- when it was both one of the first actions he did on his own in the story and something he explicitly uses Ashley as a scapegoat for- is just ridiculous. It's frankly unreasonable. She has every right to be sick of being used as a scapegoat. And at the very least, whether or not you accept the idea that Andrew only let Ashley go once she acknowledged that she's useless to him, he's still so taken aback by his misinterpretation of Ashley's desires that HE goes to strangle HER.
This is NOT Andrew triumphantly standing up to his abuser. This is both of their masks slipping; Andrew revealing how violent and insistent on keeping up his internal narrative that he is, and Ashley revealing that she's getting tired of being blamed for everything.
And then, when he finally lets her go… she hugs him, and acknowledges that she's happy that Nina is gone, which makes little sense at the face of it. Why would that be her first response to being let go, when it was ostensibly what made Andrew so upset to begin with?
I think, to her, it's a conciliatory gesture. As chapter 2 showed us, she's more than willing to take responsibility for violence to relieve Andrew of stress over it, as evidenced by her finishing off their parents. This is an earlier instance of that; by acknowledging she was happy that Nina was dead, she took responsibility for it. She willingly framed herself as a bad person here, so Andrew wouldn't have to be.
She let herself be the scapegoat, because it's all she ever knew. She put the mask back on.
This alone is enough to challenge the idea that Ashley 'corrupts' Andrew in any meaningful way. How, exactly, can you define it as corrupt when society itself is twisted enough to force these actions to survive? In a more sane world, a lot of their actions would've been bad, sure, but they're also actions that the siblings probably wouldn't have done in a more sane world. Ashley's actions aren't making Andrew worse, they're helping to ensure their survival. You could say that this is still corruptive in its own way, but at that point it seems like your reasoning is motivated by having already had that narrative rather than making a good-faith reading of their dynamic.
At no point did she actually make him worse; he was already like that and just used her as an excuse.
Next up is the Nina situation. This one is obviously cut and dry- Ashley manipulates Andrew into killing Nina because she wants no competition between the two of them. It's not Andrew's fault and Ashley was an evil abuser from the jump. Obvious, right?
No. It's really not.
It's pretty strongly implied that Ashley was mistreated by people her whole life. The Lemon Cupcake scene shows this in more detail, about how people always neglect or ignore her birthdays, but she also says that nobody likes her because she's weird and loud in the Nina flashback too. But unless something big happened in between the two flashbacks, none of this behavior indicates particularly maladaptive or even strange tendencies on Ashley's part. She's a needy, bratty child, and the closest thing to a friend she has- Nina- wants to take away the one thing from her that's a source of comfort and emotional validation.
It's not entirely rational, sure! But it also -makes perfect sense-. NOBODY treated her well throughout her entire life; it's strongly implied that Nina never did either, given Nina's reaction to Ashley being there and the lower left-hand painting past the Questionable door showing her being distant from the two of them. We can also see a star bouncing off of her head, and stars represent closeness in this game, so it shows there was an attempt made somewhere along the line, it's just not clear as to who made the attempt.
At the very least, Nina's reaction of disappointment fed into Ashley's preconceived notions of how people treat her, and how she deserves to be treated. Although, from what has been directly stated, rather than implied, Nina was nothing more than an innocent victim in this scenario; I don't mean to take that away from her.
"But she didn't care when Nina died?"
So? If Nina treated her like trash for most of her life, why should she care? She didn't expect Nina to die. It was just an acceptable consequence. You can say "That's not how normal kids act!" all you want, but there's a level of spite and apathy that comes with intense bullying and emotional neglect that I don't think you really understand unless you've been there to the extent someone like Ashley has implied to be.
Andrew, meanwhile, was the one who told Ashley that they had to lock Nina in the box to keep them in there. He's the one who looked for and found the stick to keep them locked in. You could say he was coerced by an abusive person into hurting someone, sure, but you'd be wrong. Cataclysmically wrong, even. Like, if you actually think that a seven year old girl (nobody wears overalls past the age of seven) can have anything approximating an abusive dynamic with her as the perpetrator with someone both older and stronger than her, you frankly have some issues with women you need to work out. That's simply not how abuse dynamics work at that age.
Andrew wasn't entirely responsible for it either, mind- he was just a kid who should never have been saddled with this kind of responsibility. But that's not my point; the point is that it enables other people, Andrew included, to use her as a scapegoat to avoid his own responsibility. All this scene does is retroactively justify any preconceptions you might've had about them from seeing their adult selves first. But the moment you start digging, it becomes much less obvious who's really culpable here. Andrew was, as evidenced by the blood oath scene, fully aware that he held the advantage over her in strength, and managed to give up nothing when making the oath while he made Ashley swear to silence. He was fully aware that he could've chosen to do better, but he refused, and instead opted to reinforce Ashley's insecurities for the sake of exerting control over her.
I've said before that the 302 lady was murdered without any input from Ashley, but this is also relevant on a meta-level because it's done without any input from the player, either. Both of the murders in chapter 1 were like that, whereas all that we, the player can choose to do in that chapter is either solve puzzles, or hilariously, die. The only person with control here is Andrew, the character, and this is reinforced by the fact that we have no control over him for much of the Nina flashback, too. He locks her in the box regardless of our input, even though Ashley spends a lot of time trying to convince him. The main difference between the Nina flashback and the scenes in the apartment is that Ashley had absolutely no idea that any of that was going to happen in the present, whereas it's something she wanted with Nina- which isn't that big of a difference when discussing how much agency she really has.
As much as the game frames Ashley as a manipulator- and much of the fanbase uncritically accepts- she is given shockingly little in-game control over many of the actions committed. Even in the case of the Hitman- as a good friend of mine pointed out- the only choice the player is given is whether or not to check the closet and be killed; an impulsive decision leading to a swift and unceremonious end. In the end, Andrew is the one given the choice to kill the hitman, and we can consciously choose whether or not his reaction is panicked or measured. No such choice is given to Ashley, as most of her reactions are impulsive and spontaneous rather than planned. This is not the makings of a standard "manipulative evil bitch" trope. She's pretty consistently portrayed as someone with poor impulse and emotional control who loudly and aggressively states her intent in every single scenario she's in.
And you can still call what she says and does manipulative despite that, sure, but at what point are you just pathologizing relatively normal (if extreme and highly emotional) social interactions for the sake of fitting into a narrative you already held?
We see Ashley's status as a scapegoat for people to use to pretend to be normal reach its most blatant with the parents. This time it's pretty cut and dry to anyone that doesn't already have it in their mind that Ashley is evil and unforgivable. Mrs. Graves explicitly brings up the possibility of a normal life without Ashley to Andrew in the basement, and claims that Ashley was at fault for shutting her out. She would've been a normal parent otherwise, right? Well, no; the game wastes no time in showing that this wasn't the case in the Burial ending.
From when Ashley was a baby, Mrs. Graves was already tired of her shit, and too emotionally exhausted to be a parent. Despite her attempts at blaming Ashley, she would've never been a normal parent unless Ashley was a golden child in the same way that Andrew was. And yet Ashley didn't even deny shutting her mom out. She didn't deny the chance to be used as a scapegoat; it was all she ever knew. The fact that Mrs. Graves had the audacity to claim that she was a saint when she was never prepared to be a parent for a child who didn't make it easy, and when she was willing to sell out her children and let them die for a life insurance payment is absolutely astounding.
This alone should've been enough to recontextualize everything we supposedly know about how responsible Ashley really is in all of this, but bad parents have a knack for being great at manipulating both family members and everyone viewing from the outside, including the people playing the game.
And almost including Andrew.
Andrew almost accepting the mom's offer is the single most tragic moment in the game, by far.
Dandy said it best in his video essay: By Ashley leaving Andrew alone with their parents, she showed that she is capable of changing. That she is capable of getting better. She showed that she loves and respects Andrew enough to be able to put aside her usual role as the scapegoat and allow him to make the decision that was for the best for both of them. And make no mistake, it was for the best; if the mom really DID sell out the siblings, and given the two of them were already on the run for supposedly being dead, there was no hope of any of this ever working out. They saw through the conspiracy and knew the truth of how the quarantine operations really worked. They were an active threat to one of the most powerful entities seen in the setting so far, to the point where they had a hitman sent after them.
Mrs. Graves had every reason to sell them out again, for their presence in a public setting was more than enough to put everyone in their family in danger. Mrs. Graves had every reason to believe that the normalcy she wanted was nothing that could ever be grasped again so long as her children were alive, and as such, it was clear that she had nothing to offer either Andrew or Ashley. Ashley trusted Andrew to see through their obvious manipulations and lies, and understand that the parents had nothing left to give them. She trusted him to love her more than the false promises their parents could give.
…And yet.
In spite of it all.
In spite of her love, in spite of clearly displaying that she can grow up and become a person that causes him less stress, and in spite of Ashley showing that all she wants now is their safety and security…
Andrew can still choose to consider Ashley the problem. He can still choose to use her as the scapegoat he always has.
He can still choose to see her as the one thing that caused him to be this way, that stands in between him and normalcy, when she, not once, forced him to do anything.
Were he to accept Mrs. Graves' offer, this would've been the single most tragic moment in the game. It almost was, and still stands to be, because he ignores every indication that things could be better for the sake of his own narrative, and a narrative echoed by much of the fandom.
But no matter what ending was picked, things could be better. They could've been better all along. Compared to chapter 1, their dynamic in chapter 2 is already much healthier. Their banter is less venomous, and while they still poke and prod each other in ways that aren't exactly great, they don't get into the same violent fights we saw in the 302 room. By all accounts, what happened in that room was an outlier. Even when they find themselves in their parents' house, where they stand to do the One Thing That Means They Would Never Be Normal Again, Ever (ignoring the fact that this is already a lost cause by then), Ashley doesn't get into any fights with Andrew in the same way she did back in the apartment. All she wants is affirmation and security. She doesn't even lay into her mom like she lays into Julia over the phone, even in their private conversations.
We’re led to believe that she’s still getting worse because the actions she’s taking are more extreme, but her attitudes and behaviors are much, much different. The actual actions they're taking are so obviously the right thing to do (both morally and practically) that I don't think it's until they eat their parents that you should make a double take and go "Wow, maybe these goblins actually are kinda fucked up," because until then, well… everything is justified! Perfectly so! Even then, eating their parents serves a purpose, even if not a mentally healthy one.
Maybe she’s calmer because she’s in control over the situation, but if the calls she made to Julia are any indication (independent of the theory that she didn’t actually say those things), were she unchanged as a person, she still would’ve lashed out at their mother over how much more useful she is to Andrew than their parents were, or something of that nature. Something about how nothing their mom offers could compete with what Ashley gives. But she makes no such claims. She feels no need to prove anything to her parents, or to reaffirm her place in Andrew’s life even in the face of her mother challenging it (or at least implying such a challenge). Regardless of her insecurities, she’s changed. It’s hard to see, but she has.
And then Andrew can ignore that and consider betraying her because he refuses to believe that she's willing to make their dynamic work, when she shows many different indications of being willing to concede as long as Andrew stops giving her mixed signals.
A friend of mine put it best, and I'm pretty much quoting her word for word here, because of how strongly I agree with it. When I look at Ashley, I find very few actual "flaws." I see familiar wounds.
The Burial ending, despite being triumphant and not nearly as "dark" as some people think, is still very, very sad. A lot of abusive dynamics are characterized by someone having to fight every step of the way to get what they need from the other person, usually some kind of emotional validation or relief. This is what happens between Andrew and Ashley for most of the game: Ashley wants Andrew to treat their relationship as special, to acknowledge there's something to it beyond just him going through the motions. And yet for most of the game, he refuses to, especially in chapter 1. And then, in Burial, when he does…
She's confused.
A lot of people view this as her being afraid of losing control over Andrew, since her "Andy," who she can push around, is gone. Andrew has changed, and the same tricks wouldn't work. But that's not what that is; it's not about control, it's about her finally getting what she wants from him without having to fight. She still thinks about using sex as leverage to keep him around, but that's because she's never understood what it's like to have someone actually want to be around her. And I speak from experience; when you no longer have to fight for every little bit of emotional validation or relief, when you no longer have to keep checking your messages to keep an argument going so you can finally be proven right, when you no longer have to force yourself to let go, to stop engaging, the reaction isn't happiness. It's not relief.
It's confusion. It's discontent.
Because something you've tied so much of yourself up in to is no longer there, despite it being more peaceful, it still feels wrong. The dynamic still has to be this way in your mind, because you've never known anything else. You latch on to whatever you can in order to justify that, and your actions are still heavily biased in favor of maintaining your place in that nonexistent dynamic. This isn't manipulation; it's trauma. And the fact that Ashley almost immediately understands that Andrew is changing is nothing short of a miracle. By consolidating past and present Andrew into a single person rather than splitting them into two, she showing that she can actually heal from that trauma. And all Andrew had to do to enable this is to acknowledge that she CAN change, that things CAN be better, and that everyone who claims to be better than her is full of shit.
I've analyzed the events of the story in a way that may seem needlessly antagonistic to some characters, and overly charitable to others. But I have to ask you, that if you disagree with anything I've said:
Where does that disagreement come from? What about my narrative clashes with your own? -Why- does it clash? Is it because the game presents your interpretation as obvious, whereas mine is not? Is it because you've experienced someone like Ashley before in your life, and you know it when you see it? Maybe you strongly identify with Andrew, and view his status as a doormat with no agency to be obvious? Or did you just accept the narrative that much of the fanbase has taken at face value, without further analysis other than building on top of it?
I don't believe these things to be contrarian; I've held most of these opinions since my first or second playthrough. I don't believe what I do because you don't, I believe what I do because I understand what Ashley has been through. I've experienced a lot of the specific traumas she had, such as deep feelings of isolation and being deprived of the emotional validation I need from the people who need to give it. I know what it's like to be misunderstood, to have who and what I am taken for granted, and to be terrified of being abandoned by the people I need the most. I see what I do because I understand.
And I want to give her that understanding that nobody gave me.
Maybe you should think about it. Why do you take it for granted that Andrew is a doormat who is strung along by Ashley? Why do you find it so odd when the trope of a woman corrupting a good man through leveraging sex is drawn into question? Why is Ashley seen as crazy, when all of her actions are so straightforward and rational? How is she corrupting him, when the single most needlessly violent act in the whole story- outside of the Nina flashback- is done without her influence? Why is Ashley seen as the abusive one when Andrew both threatens and resorts to physical violence and witholds emotional validation?
Weirdly personal tangent aside, Ashley and Andrew are two of the most well-written characters I have ever seen. They're not written like archetypes who interact with each other through a series of tropes; they're written like real people who's words and actions have astoundingly human motivations. They come from places that we can understand and relate to.
And just like people, they deserve respect. In spite of all they've done, they deserve love.
But make no mistake, Ashley is not the one stopping that love from happening. She just has the audacity to still want it in spite of everything telling her that she doesn't deserve it. We're led to believe she wants too much, but all she ever wanted was the bare minimum that she was never given.
And she has every right to be mad about it.
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Ok but what if striker has a s/o that is the seven deadly sins, gluttony who is curvy maybe both sfw and nsfw? 👀
Oooo- this is an interesting one! Aight bet, firstly though, I will say I’ll mostly base off the Beelzebub lore plus what we know for our reader! Like how most princesses/princes are tall, so Reader is much taller than any other demon they’re still curvy though.
As usual! NSFW under the read more cut!
spoiler warning though for the latest episode, Western Energy!
Striker’s Bee 🐝 | Beelzebub!Reader
Striker never expected to be where he is now, with one of the most powerful demons in Hell. Solely because his hatred towards uppercrust demons, like yourself.
But to him, you managed to prove to him that- there’s an exception to royals on rare occasion.
He still hates royals mostly, even with whatever you say.
But before that, Striker had met you traveling to the Gluttony ring for murderous affairs. Apparently one of his clients wanted a Hellhound dead, one of your home’s bodyguards.
You bore witness to the event on total accident, your first instinct was punish Striker as per usual with events like this.
But you were intrigued, you had heard of an event in the Richest Cup Café where an imp had attempted assassination on a Prince of the Ars Goetia.
Not being a member yourself, you had the freedom to investigate things drama-free.
Striker looked for a way to escape, but your powers prevented him from doing so. The bees of your glutinous hive prevented every nook and cranny escape.
Normally, Striker would fight until his last breathe- but he knew to hold off and wait for an opening instead. He’s may be cantankerous but he’s not idiotic.
He looked up at you, a tall curvy person who was the Prince/Princess/Majesty of Gluttony.
He only listened to you for the sake of getting out of there, until you offered to pay him for information on what’s going on. Because you do love hearing all about drama, who doesn’t? You needed your honey tea after all.
It lead from talking about what happened between Stolas and Stella, to a more normal conversation that lasted longer than you two realized.
You helped him get back to Wrath via conjuring a portal, then waved him off.
You treated him like a person, on equal grounds and didn’t belittle him- it was, strange. Albeit, he’d assume it would be for the sake of business as you did pay him for information.
Which as per usual led to conversations, meaning you two talked and communicated. You’d tried your best to make him feel- equal.
Because he despises being treated as lesser, or like a pet obviously. So don’t pick him up, or belittle him, using names you’d give to a dog he will pitch a fit.
He found himself actually liking you, and usually saying you’re not one of the other royal trash there is.
He’s love language towards you is acts or service, as he internally is ashamed he’s dating a royal. Because of how boastful he was about hating royals.
He probably wants it to be on the DL, not public and that’s good for you.
It’d be a lie to say he didn’t find you attractive, he loves holding your hips (if you shift to a smaller form) sometimes he slides an arm around your waist.
He does it with a smug smile on his face and a slight flick of his tail.
As for in the bedroom, there were complications at first- establishing boundaries were important. As Striker I can see him not liking to be bottomed on often, since he dislikes being out of control.
But he will have some moments where he is,but very few.
He’s always preferred being a dominant, which may seem awkward sometimes however with the height difference.
Y’all find work arounds, even if you have to shift to a lower height to make it less so.
He loves your body, he absolutely does- he loves kissing down your thighs
He likes fucking you rough to see your ass jiggle, it’s pleasing to him.
When you top him, he’s either a power bottom or a brat.
He refuses to get pegged by you, nah, not a day in hell. He’ll let you ride his face and hold your thighs on him.
If he’s gonna die to a royal, it gotta be this way he refuses any other way.
#striker x reader#striker x reader helluva boss#striker x y/n#striker / reader#striker x oc#striker helluva boss#helluva boss striker#helluva striker#striker#striker and reader#helluva boss#helluva boss x reader
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Forgotten Demon Twin 5/?
Prev | Next
“Are you going to tell mom and dad?” Danny asked, effectively killing the silence in the car.
“I should,” Jazz said while tightening her hold on the steering wheel. She sighed, “but I’m not.”
Some of the tension melted from Danny’s body.
“You are going to tell me everything, though, right? Or at least the cliff notes version? Just so I can have some peace of mind.”
“Smooth, Jazz.”
“I’m serious, Danny. You told these people your secret identity. Before telling mom and dad!”
“I didn’t mean to! Skulker attacked, and I had to have access to my full powers to protect them!”
“You were reckless. Why didn’t you wake me up before leaving the house?”
Jazz’s voice was starting to rise higher.
“You could’ve been kidnapped!”
Danny snorted.
“I’m serious, Danny.”
“I’m fine, Jazz. I can take care of myself.”
Silence reigned in the car again. They made it back to Fenton’s Work, but neither sibling made any moves to get out.
“What I’m about to tell you can kill you, Jazz, so this is your only chance to back down.”
Jazz said nothing and folded her hands over her lap. Danny sighed.
“I was born high in the Himalayan Mountains in a hidden city called Nanda Parbat. I wasn’t born normally. I was made in an artificial womb; I wasn’t supposed to exist. My mother is the daughter of the leader of a cult called the League of Assassins.”
Jazz took an audible deep breath but kept quiet.
“My brother was supposed to be the only one born. The perfect heir to the Demon’s Head, Ibn Al Xu’ffasch. The Son of the Bat. I was named the Spare,” Danny said bitterly, “I could never measure up to my perfect older brother. I cried after I killed. I wasn’t good at fighting; I was too soft, too weak.”
“Damian was perfect. Why would they need the runt of the litter? I was exiled at seven. My grandfather is, was over 500 years old. We think. He lost track of his actual age. He used something called the Lazarus Pits; now I know it is ectoplasm. He bathed in them to keep himself alive.
“You’re using the past tense.”
Danny nodded, “Damian told me he’s dead.”
Danny took a deep breath and continued.
“Since I was a waste of space, he sent me away to see how scientists interact with the Lazarus Waters outside the League. He ordered me to kill the first three people I ended up with. I don’t know why he didn’t with you guys, but I’m glad.”
“You, mom, dad, are the only true family I’ve ever known. I sent ‘reports’ that were the most basic of basic. They can be found online. Eventually, after being here for three years, they stopped writing back. I was so relieved that they seemed to have forgotten me. I understand if you think I’m a monster. I’m a killer, Jazz.”
Jazz hugged Danny.
“You’re not a monster, Danny, and you’re not a waste of space. You’re my baby brother, and I would kill for you,” she declared, meaning it.
She noticed how Danny talked about himself compared to Damian. He believed himself lesser. She didn’t believe it. Her little brother had taken up the mantle of protector of Amity and had become the Ghost King after protecting their small city from the threat of Pariah Dark. He was a hero; he deserved to be treated as such.
“Thanks, Jazz,” he hugged his sister back, enjoying the warmth.
He let go after a while.
“There’s more. There’s a reason Damian is known as the Son of the Bat. His, our birth father, Bruce Wayne, is Batman.”
____
Damian didn’t sleep that night. He wanted it to be morning as quickly as possible so his father would call the Fentons.
How did he go from forgetting his brother to being impatient to see him? It didn’t help that he felt…something when he saw how easily Danyal followed Jasmine.
(How would it have been if he had been close to his brother? Would Danyal have looked at Damian the same way he looked at Jasmine?)
He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t!
Damian walked into the sitting room. Father was already there, drinking a cup of coffee. He sat before his father and started chewing on some fruit.
They had gotten rooms in a themed hotel. Three guesses as to what the theme was. The whole damned city seemed obsessed with ghosts.
There was a picture of Phantom smiling into the camera.
Damian had done some research instead of sleeping. Apparently, Phantom was the main hero of Amity, though there was another heroine called the Red Huntress. There were mixed reviews of his brother. The younger generation viewed him as a hero (as they should.), while the older generation saw him as a menace.
There had been an article when Phantom had done a string of burglaries. Because of his red eyes, Damian had concluded his brother had most likely been mind-controlled. It happened. Even Superman has been mind-controlled.
“So, father, when will we be calling the Fentons.”
His father sighed and put down his coffee.
“Soon, Damian, but we must consider how we will approach this. Danny has already expressed his wishes. He doesn’t want to come with us.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve read into the Fentons; they’re menaces. The father has news segments for when he’s on the road! The mother has gone on record stating that all ghosts should be studied and are evil. Their papers are heavily prejudiced, with no scientific evidence to back it up. It’s clear Danyal is in danger here.”
“Damian, he’s happy here. He has people who love him.”
Damian crossed his arms, “He’s being a hero without any adult backup. He’s here alone facing Justice League-level threats.”
Bruce sighed. Damian brought up good points, but Bruce knew his son wasn’t thinking about Danny. He was thinking about assuaging his guilt. A part of Bruce wanted to do the same thing.
He could take care of Danny; he had the money. He had years of experience in the vigilante/hero business and could get other heroes to mentor his youngest son (God, another son he had failed.), but he had to consider Danny’s needs.
Bruce took a deep breath, “I’ll get your siblings. It’s time to call the Fenton.”
____
Danny woke up with a twisted stomach. It was so bad he couldn’t even eat his cereal. But he couldn’t leave either. He wanted to be there when Bruce called. Jazz sat in front of him and gave him weak smiles. Her bags were almost as bad as Danny’s.
Both Fenton siblings jumped when the phone rang.
Neither elder Fenton noticed their children’s mood.
“Fenton household,” Maddie answered.
“Hello,” Bruce’s smooth voice came through the phone. Danny thanked his advanced hearing, “May I speak to either Madeline or Jack Fenton, please?”
“Maddie Fenton speaking,” his mom said, “to whom am I speaking?”
“My name is Bruce Wayne,” his mom cut Bruce off.
“Bruce Wayne, as in Wayne from Wayne Enterprises,” his mother asked excitedly. Jack Fenton got up and put his ear close to the phone. Danny’s stomach got heavier.
“Did you finally take a look at our inventions and want to have a meeting to sponsor us?”
Considering Danny had destroyed any message his parents had sent to Wayne Enterprises for the express purpose they would never meet, the answer was no.
“No,” Bruce said, “Well, it’s hard for me to say, but I recently learned from my youngest that he has a twin. I have another son.”
Maddie and Jack looked at each other, confused.
“Yes, what does that have to do with us?”
“I have reason to believe that Daniel Fenton is my biological son, and I wish to take a DNA test.”
Next up, the Fentons officially meet Bruce and Damian Wayne
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I like to joke that Furfur was promoted at the end of season 2, because he goes in Aziraphale's bookshop with higher demons for apparently no valid reason since he's supposed to be a requisitions' demon.
Usually I get told that he was there just because three demons in the bookshop were needed (so they are as numerous as the angels) and that the screenwriters didn't feel the need to introduce a new powerful demon specifically for this scene.
And tbh it's probaby what happened. But what if I told you that I have arguments ! And it's all about the sash...
I don't know for you guys but in my country, people who wear these kind of things are either political figures like mayors, or people who won contests.
So, my theory is based on the idea that, like for humans, sashes (idk the plural for that word ;-;) are a sign of power among demons.
The first time we see Furfur, he wears his hell's outfit with the back brace. No sash here.
Then he goes to earth, and this time he has one. But he is still an admissions' demon at this point, you will say ? I know ! But did you notice that Furfur wears two different sashes in the series ? I always found it weird, why would he need two different ones ? Well, because one is a fake, and the other is an actual Chief Demon Sash.
The first one appears in 1941. But look at it : the motif looks like it has been sprayed on the tissue ; it looks weird, and a bit cheap (even for a demon). In this part of the story, Furfur already sees himself promoted and therefore dresses accordingly. But he isn't, he's just dreaming. So, this is the Fake Sash : he could have made it himself to follow his fantasy. Here, it isn't an actual high-ranking demon accessory.
He may be parading on earth, introducing himself as an important demon (he reffered himself as "a higher authority"), he doesn't push things too far and when he goes back in hell, he puts his lesser hell outfit again to face Dagon ; an actual powerful demon who, on the other hand, wears a sash in that scene.
When we see him again, he works in requisitions, and he wears his hell outfit ; no sash.
And then there's the bookshop scene, where we have the only three characters we saw wearing sashes in the series : Beelzebub, Dagon... and Furfur.
Here, the motif is sewed in the sash, it looks better. This, and the fact that he is wearing it in presence of two high-ranking demons, is the tiny detail that makes me think he was actually promoted. Here, he wears a real Chief Demon Sash.
Last argument : when Furfur speaks to Shax just before they go back in hell, he says that the dark council will be happy to learn thah Shax discovered a traitor, and Shax's response implies that he will be there ("Let's find out, shall *we* ?"). He is allowed to face the dark council now.
In season 1, the only character we see with a sash is Beelzebub, and she's introduced as the most highly ranked demon (Satan excluded). So, all this could be new S2 lore as we did not see Hastur, Ligur and Dagon with sashes in S1 even though they were dukes of hell. Hastur wasn't there this season, but if I'm right, if he was there we would have seen him with a sash too, like Dagon.
A weak point I see in my theory is Shax : even after being promoted, we did not see her with a sash. :<
That's it for my theory ! It could be just that the costume designers had fun with Furfur's character, but details have already been proven so important in this TV show...
I hope we will see Furfur again in S3 to figure this out!
#good omens 2#furfur good omens#furfur#also sorry for the extremely shitty english I wrote that in the middle of the night
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candy prompts: barbatos + sweet
before the angels take you on a little vacation to the celestial realm, barbatos has a gift for you.
pairing: barbatos x gn!reader
content: sfw. fluff. domestic bliss, mutual pining, a teensy bit of angst (he just loves you so much and he's gonna miss you~). oh, and kissing.
word count: 1.4k these are supposed to be short wtffff
The castle kitchen is bustling with activity when you push the door open and step inside. Luke and Barbatos both turn their heads and welcome you as they finish their little pet project. The young angel is especially excited to see you and he gestures towards the counter where all his hard work is displayed. "Look at how much we made! The other angels are going to be thrilled, don't you think?"
Luke has told you countless stories about Michael and the other angels he admires in the Celestial Realm, and most of them love sweets. However, you're not sure that explains why there's nearly a dozen pastry boxes stacked high on the countertop in front of you. You have no doubt they’re all filled to the brim with cookies and cupcakes and other sugary treats Luke wants to bring on this trip to visit his home realm.
It's possible Luke went overboard just a little bit, but you share an amused look with Barbatos over the angel's shoulder. Luke’s excitement is contagious and you can't help but return his giddy smile with one of your own.
"You know what? I'm sure all of your friends are going to be very excited when they see what you've made for them." You ruffle his hair and bite your lip to stifle a laugh when a poof of flour floats in the air around him and settles like a dusting of white snow on his shoulders.
Thinking practically, there's no way Luke can safely carry all these packages on his own; the tower of boxes is taller than he is! This many boxes would be a struggle even if you helped him, but it seems Barbatos has already solved the dilemma for you. He glances at something—someone—behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you recognize Number Two who pops up out of nowhere. He hovers over your shoulder and nuzzles your cheek in greeting.
(The Little Ds know by now that if they visit the kitchen when their boss and the young angel are baking together, they'll probably get to help taste-test their creations once they're finished. Barbatos warns Luke not to indulge them too much, but the angel can't resist slipping them cookies or bits of cake when the butler's back is turned.)
Barbatos watches fondly for a moment before he clears his throat to get the lesser demon's attention. "Please help Luke take these to the foyer, and do remember to be careful with them. The contents are quite delicate.”
Number Two gives his boss cheeky salute and a wide, toothy smile. With a surprising burst of speed, he rushes forward and takes the first few boxes from the top of the stack. The other lesser demons that were helping with the kitchen clean-up take the opportunity to abandon their chores and help carry the other boxes instead. They all cackle delightfully as the packages teeter precariously in their claw-like grips. Luke yelps nervously and bids you a hasty see you soon! before he rushes after them in a cloud of powdered sugar.
The kitchen is quiet once the others are gone, and something dark on the now-bare counter catches your attention. "Oh, it looks like they forgot one." The box is smaller than the others and decorated differently too. While the others were standard white boxes tied with gold ribbon, this one is black and tied with a bow of emerald-green.
Barbatos brushes your side when he steps up the counter and he looks pleased that he managed to surprise you. "Actually, this is a gift for you, dearest. I hope you'll enjoy it while you're gone." He tips his head towards the box and encourages you to open it. It looks too pretty to open, but you do as he asks and tug carefully on the ends of the bow before lifting the lid and peering inside.
It takes a moment for you to realize what you're looking at. There's a large tin of loose leaf tea, his personal custom blend. There's a row of individually-wrapped scones that smell faintly of cinnamon and vanilla bean. Nestled inside a layer of tissue paper is a small jar of midnight-berry jam; you already know it's made from fruit he picked himself in the castle gardens.
His presents for you have always been thoughtful, his sense of practicality perfectly blended with his own selfish desire to impress you somehow. You already cherish this gift as much as any other, despite its apparent simplicity.
To anyone else, this would be nothing more than a small selection of Devildom breakfast fare for your week-long excursion to the Celestial Realm.
To you, it's Barbatos's way of providing you with something comforting to drink if you feel homesick while you're gone. It's his regret that he can't be there with you and his hope that you'll eat well despite his absence. It's also a promise: like all mornings you've woken up in his bed to find warm tea and scones prepared on a tray nearby, it's because he's thinking of you, the other master he serves willingly with bated breath on bended knee.
For some reason your eyes are watery all of a sudden. The laugh that warbles from you fails to hide the way you sniffle and try to wipe your eyes without him noticing.
"Come here, love." Familiar hands settle lightly on your waist and draw you closer to him, and suddenly you regret agreeing to go on this stupid trip.
"Barbatos, I—" But whatever you're about to say seizes in your throat when someone knocks softly on the kitchen door.
"Sorry to interrupt," Simeon apologizes when he steps inside. He looks between you two guiltily. Barbatos's eyes snap up at the intrusion, and Simeon makes a wise choice to step back at the menacing growl reverberating in the demon's chest. "I wanted to let you know we're ready to leave when you are." He mouths sorry one more time before making a quick retreat. Even though he closes the door behind him, it's pointless—you're out of time for farewells.
A warm puff of air tickles your ear when Barbatos sighs quietly. Goodbyes aren't any easier for him, or at least they aren't when it comes to you.
"It's not often you travel somewhere I cannot follow." As he murmurs his vulnerable confession, his hands dip under the hem of your shirt, seeking the warm comfort of your bare skin. "I'll miss you more than you can imagine," he whispers, and he pauses with indecision.
To hell with it.
He steals a few more moments with you while he can. His warm breath fans lightly across your face when he leans towards you, followed by a soft brush of his lips against the corner of your mouth. The forked tips of his tail tickle your leg when he closes the distance and kisses you properly. It's unhurried and sweet at first, but then his tongue teases the seam of your lips and he answers your muffled sound with needy groans of his own.
Like his gift to you, kissing him feels like a promise that no one in the three realms could love you as fiercely as he does.
When he finally steps back so very reluctantly, your lips are glossy and plump. It soothes the instinctive urge to claim you somehow, and he takes a moment to admire how lovely you are. When he's satisfied, he laces his fingers with yours and leads you from the kitchen.
Simeon and Luke are waiting for you in the foyer when you arrive. The angels are eager to leave, but they don't dare complain about the delay. Even Barbatos knows he needs to see you off safely before he does something reckless.
(It's far too tempting to tuck you away in his room and keep you to himself. None of the others, except perhaps his Young Master, would dare barge into his space to find you.)
He offers insincere apologies to the others for delaying your departure while you pack his gift carefully with the rest of your belongings. You hum as you swipe your tongue across your lips, savoring the taste of him that lingers there. You don't notice that he mirrors the action himself, or that he stares at you with molten, greedy eyes as you step through the portal he conjures for you.
He carries on with his tasks as best he can after you're gone, and it's a surprisingly easy feat. Time passes so quickly when he gets lost in thought imagining all the ways he plans to cherish you when you return.
read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist
#obey me#obey me barbatos#obey me barbatos x reader#barbatos x reader#obey me x reader#x reader#gn!reader
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the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself
rating: 18+
pairing: max phillips x f!reader
word count: 5309
summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.
warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder
a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.
🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!
Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour.
There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.
Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round.
And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known.
Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity.
To your complete and utter annoyance.
You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?
One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it.
“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying.
Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”
Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”
She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.
“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”
“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth.
“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”
“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.”
Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.
Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.
“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?”
“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”
Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”
“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”
Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.”
Trish smacked him over the back of the head.
“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”
“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks.
Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious.
“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”
Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”
“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely.
“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”
“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”
“To Ned!” Ken yelled.
“To Ned!”
Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?”
Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”
At this, everyone groaned.
“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.
“Here, here!”
Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick.
“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”
“Is that right?”
Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat.
“That’s right.”
“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”
“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”
“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”
Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo.
Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap.
You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour.
Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –
What was that?
You stand up right on the third to last step, listening.
In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you.
And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.
God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.
You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement.
At least, the only person you can see.
You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing.
One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –
The stairs creaked.
The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”
As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.
Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all.
“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”
Okay, that was definitely breathing.
Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze.
Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here!
The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –
The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?
Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –
“Fucking let me in!”
The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way.
Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –
No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –
The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –
Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap.
It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –
“Got you.”
That voice.
That condescending, snide, bratty, little –
You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint.
Caravaggio, eat your heart out.
“Max, what the fuck was that?”
He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”
You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.
“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I what?”
“You scared –,”
That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall.
His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple.
Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.
“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”
“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”
His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth.
“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.”
“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise.
In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder.
Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.
And he knows exactly what that does to you.
You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.
“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier.
You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth.
Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt.
You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.
“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”
“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”
“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose.
“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?”
You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.”
Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,”
You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits.
The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around.
He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down.
“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat.
“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”
Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.
“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”
You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt.
“Please, Max, just –,”
“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .”
He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you.
The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation.
“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.”
It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear.
“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”
With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this.
This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.
“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”
You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily.
“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,”
Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you.
Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.
Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning.
Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.
“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”
“Can you handle it if I touch you?”
You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.”
“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.”
“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“You scared I’m gonna?”
“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs.
“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”
Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –
He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:
“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.”
His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours.
His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office.
This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be.
Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable.
He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin.
It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that.
He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.
He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks.
“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.”
“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.”
“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”
He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.”
“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours.
It is dangerous, your feelings for him.
He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes.
“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”
He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door.
His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.
You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water.
You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches.
Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords.
And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term.
Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.
He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.
You open the bathroom door and return to the world.
#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#bloodsucking bastards#max phillips smut#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal characters
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Okay so I briefly mentioned having a theory about this to @pandapantslovesyou in the notes on one of my posts and then completely forgot about it ✌️
The Witch Theory 🧙
Okay so from Obey Me! we know:
• Witches are somehow different from sorcerers.
• Sorcerers are registered at the Sorcerer's Society and need a licence to practice magic in The Human World
• There's always a distinction made when they (specially Mammon) talks about witches vs MC & Solomon (who are sorcerers)
• It's not a gender thing because MC (they/them pronouns in the game - undetermined gender depending on the players) is a sorcerer
• Sorcerers and Witches can both potentially make pacts with demons
• The demons and angels were at war for a long time. This affected their relationship with The Human World as well. By the end of the war the three worlds were at peace but (for the most part) kept closed off from each other:
a.) Despite The Celestial Realm, The Human World & The Devildom being the three big worlds and so Angels, Humans and Demons being the three main species, we've seen there are other species, capable of higher cognition, that have a smaller presence and so weren't as directly inlvolved in the war & have more freedom moving between the realms. Eg: Reapers who have contacts with humans & demons (& presumably angels as well), ghosts who live and work freely in the Devildom, fairies who lived in both the human world and Devildom but later moved out of the human world, banshees, centaurs, dragons, yetis/the snowmen
• Demons can further be broken down into sub-species (or if you want to be technical/biological about it; Angels, Humans Great Apes, Demons are different biological families. Demons can be broken down into different genera so the "lesser demons" mentioned in-game would be one genus. These can further be broken down into different specific species;) Such as the Sins, Incubi, Succubi, the little Ds and those little ant sized demons (these can't only be considered as different races/ethnicities the way humans have because there are very significant biological changes between them <ant-sized vs Sins> rather than being differentiated due to culture, environment/location & small changes in appearance, though it's quite possible the Devildom has different races/ethnicities as well <The Night Lantern People>. Most possibly the different species of the people of the Devildom acts as another factor in defining their different cultures and so defining their ethnicities)
b.) Until Diavolo's exchange program, which opened those boundaries back up. S1's exchange program can be considered something of a pilot study and, as with Simeon & Luke being the first angels in the Devildom, Solomon & MC are the first humans.
• Though the general citizens become more accepting of the presence of humans (and angels) in the Devildom, as the game & events progress, the exchange program is never expanded at a larger scale (with only two new students - neither a human). And even in S4 there are still those that are against the whole exchange program and everything it stands for.
• HOWEVER, witches are present in The Devildom. They're just casually there, despite originally being from The Human World, supposedly being human and humans outside of Solomon & MC not being allowed in The Devildom. Despite the brothers actually questioning how human Solomon can be considered given how old he is and MC displaying many non-human characteristics starting from S1 itself, neither are allowed to stay long term in the Devildom without supervision/without an affiliation to Diavolo/RAD because at the end of the day they're still more human than anything else. Witches however are just living in the Devildom with no seeming connection to RAD or the exchange program.
• Furthermore; Maddi arrives in The Devildom from The Human World. Given who she is (one of the oldest and most powerful witches) she should be considered one of the leading figures of the magic users in The Human World. Aka one of the most important figures, in this context, from one of the Big Three Worlds that have been maintaining a tenuous peace for thousands of years. Though The Human World isn't one of the main warring factions this should still be given at least a somewhat similar significance to Michael visiting The Devildom. At the very least Diavolo should be there to greet her given how peace & balance is his goal and rightfully she should be a main part of achieving that. BUT, though they treat her with respect and go out of their way to meet her wishes it's not given this significance. Diavolo deliberately doesn't come out to meet her and has apparently already met her during previous visits.
And those are all the canon facts.
The main theory then?
Witches aren't humans.
Or rather they're a subspecies of humans (or maybe more accurately they're, like humans, a species originating from the genus homo that never went extinct like the neanderthals & rest).
Appearance-wise they're more or less physically indistinguishable from humans. The main thing that seperates them is their magic.
They're much lesser in number than humans but unlike humans, where only a select few have magic, all witches have magic.
Their magic could be more natural? Whenever I think of witches I think of little cabins in the woods and large cauldrons and that always makes me think of nature. But more seriously, the sorcerers have their Society and need a licence to practice magic - this gives the impression of strict rules and a very rigid system. The game never makes a connection between the Sorcerer's Society and how witches practice magic. So what if this is because their magic is more natural and doesn't fit into the rigidity of the Sorcerer's Society.
They're different enough a species than humans (& much lesser in number) that they fall into that small group of species that weren't as affected by the post-war regulations. Meaning like the fairies they were able to travel easily to The Devildom despite living in The Human World
Anyway that's my theory 😮💨
All those words to essentially say that Obey Me!'s humans & witches have whatever The Owl House's humans & witches got going on
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me!#shall we date? obey me!#swd obey me#swd obey me!#shall we date obey me#obey me maddi#obey me diavolo#obey me michael#obey me solomon#obey me mc#om mc#obey me! mc#om! mc#my theory#my headcanon#obey me theory#obey me theories#obey me headcanons
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Their Perfect Dates HCs [Demon Edition]
Well.. demons + Benny
Rating: General
Angel Edition | Human Edition
Please remember: you can do hard things!
Belphegor
No gift, he’s from a time before that was a thing and does not care enough to check what the current trends are.
If you ask nice enough, he might bring you something next time.
Weirdly obsessed with humans however. (Just not in a ‘I wanna be like them’ way)
Find a cafe with outdoor seating in a highly populated area, and people watch.
Laugh at his jokes, and don’t be precious over your food/drink cause he’s gonna help himself.
‘Hot, not, not, HOT, extra hot.’
‘This is so good, have you tried this?’ ‘It was yours? Oh shit, sorry. At least you have good taste… in multiple ways’ (he’d wink at you then, if he could.)
‘Ew have those pants ever in fashion?’
‘Haha, did you see that kid face plant the side walk?! Get rekt’
Benny
He’s an old traditional man really, he’ll bring you a bouquet of daisies. Legitimately, if he could, he would ask your father for permission to take you out.
Cooking as has always been, and continues to be a big part of Benny's personality.
It doesn’t matter that the food no longer sustains him, because it keeps him connected to his home, and his history.
Plus, the way to any person's heart is through their stomach,
You’ll be in the kitchen together, cooking gumbo or jambalaya, and bananas foster for dessert.
If you don’t know how to cook, don’t worry. Benny is gonna take the lead anyway, he’ll teach you as much as you think you can handle.
He’s very respectful, but if you just so happen to brush against each other while working in the same space, well, that just can be helped now can it?
Or if you’re slightly in his way, sometimes he just needs to rest a gentle but firm hand on your hip and guide you to the side.
Or if you accidentally get something on your cheek? Your lip? He’ll have to get that for you.
Crowley
I’m picturing a rustic but sophisticated cabin in the woods.
Somewhere private, a safe space just for the two of you.
Something with a big, roaring fireplace.
A big, plush, velvety sofa, and an array of fluffy blankets, pillows, furs, rugs.
A fully stocked bar. ‘Don’t worry darling, you won’t have to lift a finger.’ He or a lesser demon will make all your drinks for you.
Just some real, 1 on 1 quality time together where you can both be vulnerable.
Whether you spend all night in deep conversation, cuddling, or getting even more intimate is your choice.
Meg
Would forget to bring you a gift, but if it goes well, she’ll likely give you one of her many pieces of jewelry, ‘Whatever you like most hun, just take it.’
I feel like she would actually really enjoy something creative, the messier the better.
Like finding a big open space, lowering the lights, laying down a big canvas, cracking open a bottle, and getting busy with some paints.
No brushes, just hands (or other body parts if you like).
Rowena
Gracing you with her presence is gift enough.
If anything, you should be bringing her a gift. Jewelry is always best, but she will settle for roses or red wine.
Rowena knows her worth, and if you don’t, then don’t waste her time.
She deserves nothing less than to be wined and dined somewhere very nice.
Followed by a show. The ballet or the opera.
Just imagine, the both of you dressed to the nines. Holding hands over the table, good food and drink, Rowena sharing stories from her time on earth.
Coffee or dessert? Both. Please and thank you.
Ruby
Would bring you candy, but you have to share.
Also a big foodie, but more eating, less cooking.
Like a street food market, or a boardwalk.
You can compete on the water guns and ring toss games to win each other prizes.
She’s only letting you win if there is something in it for her. – Particularly a prize that she wants.
Regardless of who wins what, you’re gonna be the one carrying everything.
Then stop at every food stand on the way.
Bonus points for somewhere that has proper french fries in large portions.
Afterwards, you can chat at the end of the peer, and/or make out under it.
#spn belphegor#belphegor x reader#benny lafitte#benny lafitte x reader#spn crowley#spn crowley x reader#meg masters#meg master x reader#rowena macleod#rowena macleod x reader#spn ruby#spn ruby x reader#supernatural#supernatural headcanons#gilverrwrites
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