Sagau Idea

I'm not that good with writing YouPoV's so there may be some odd usage of they's and thems then switching to "you"'s. this'll be stock full of typos so be warned

Mentions of injury, implied murder, blood, and implied cult

It's been a long while since I've gotten into Self-aware genshin aus, reading the fluffiest scenes to straight up gore. And theres this concept I saw about where the creator (basically, you) can make any oc come to life and help them out. (this one read it s really good. They also expanded on it go read it too its a really neat build-up on it. this one)

And as a DnD enjoyer as well... there's this idea thats been brewing in my head whenever i think back to it.

What if in Imposter!au where they're being constantly being hunted... after getting cornered in one of the nations (in the Chasm for example) they get desperate and try out an idea they don't think would work.

While resting after being in the brink of death(again) in a place Teyvat has helped you conceal, your thoughts wander. You think, why is there even a Creator? There isn't supposed to be one. That kinda concept just disrupts everything they know about the game. It's a ridiculous concept. In your delirious state, you think, "I wish that just disappears... Then i wouldn't be..."

Then you remebered the curious ability you've recently unlocked in your "adventures". The ability to create characters, with some limitations. It took you quite a bit to adjust to your newfound ability and its caveats, resulting in a few heartbreaking loss on the way.

But as a DnD player, overcoming the death of your beloved characters quickly is a mental fortitude you've developed. And it's handy that you've already made a few characters for your past sessions before landing in Teyvat. It saved you from being one-shotted right from the start.

Although now... You're down to only one left.

"... I'm so tired..."

The mental stress of being in a constant state of danger, paranoia, hunger, pain, and exhaustion have worn you down to a point where you can't even think up of more characters to make up for the one's that have recently passed. You slipped up so bad because of sleeplessness that your last capable party of characters died and a hole was speared through your gut too.

As you lay bleeding on the cold ground, with only a talking mushroom to keep you company, you wrack your brain to put together a proper character but... you really can't. You can't even think straight. Not with the recent information you've found out.

The so-called Creator is now creating their very own characters, their very own people/army, through alchemy, and is now sending them after you, thus increasing your hunters by double. And on top of the already powerful vision-holders (of course they're powerful, you made them that way), you figured... "Ah... I'm fucked..."

Knowing you might as well be as good as done now, you didn't even bother bringing out the last of your characters to heal you. It's not like healing yourself will make you forget about this lifelong trauma--

... Forget?

...

A fleeting thought.

A dumb fleeting thought. A very dumb one at that.

One that will for sure backfire in your face if you do it wrong. And quite frankly, it could spell the end for this world, even for the one they call Creator.

... But it's not like you have anything else to lose.

And so, within the dim light of the mushroom, you painstakingly start to write. Word for word, cramming everything information you know, as deatiled as you can make it into bringing it into life. A character you've never tried making before. Something that could possibly end your suffering. Or make it worse.

You honestly don't know if you're doing it right. After all, you've never tried something like it before.

"What are you making this time?' the ever so curious mushroom asked.

You grin, a manic look in your eyes. "Either my stupidest... or my brightest idea yet."

It's not long befere you finished. You gaze upon your finished product and you have to say... it's even more fleshed out than your best characters. And that quick sketch you drew... you swear those hollow eyes are following you already. That may be just the blood loss talking.

"That's... one ugly worm you've drawn..." The mushroom hums, like it can just see the monstrosity that you've created.

You chuckle breathlessly, looking almost solemn with what you're about to do. Well... it' not wrong. But...

"This is my kid. Their name is... Falseh. Get along well with them... okay?"

0===|>>>>>.

The very ground trembles as the Lord of Geo strides through the dark tunnels, a dark look in his eyes and a spear in his hand. If his presence wasn't enough, the murderous intent rolling off of him in waves is enough to deter any beasts from crossing his path.

The imposter was last seen slinking around the depths of the Chasm by one of the Tianquan's agents. Although failing to execute the imposter the first chance they got with their incompetence, Morax have to commend the Qixing for being able to find them even in the depths of the earth.

For some reason, the land seems to reject his commands from time to time now. He was baffled as to why his beloved Maker is hindering him in fulfilling his given mission but he's just been informed that the land defiance of him is due to the imposter infecting the land with their vile abilities.

Now, he's even more hellbent on making sure to drive his spear through the imposters heart and presenting it to his Grace. He won't miss a second time.

His eyes sharpens as a he a cavern just up ahead, soft blue light spilling through entrance. Tightening his grip on his spear, the power of Geo gathers in his other, ready to skewer someone five times into death if he so wishes.

He steps through the entrance and immediately lands on a figure, leaning prone under a giant glowing mushroom. He relaxes a bit. He recognizes this place. It's a bit close to the Land of Verdure, Sumeru. He needs to be careful. He can't be caught flaunting his power on another Archons domain after all.

Approaching the figure, he gets a bit surprised as they twitch, looking up to him through their hair. They try to talk, but all they can manage are quiet wheezes.

'Oh. They're still breathing. That's good.' Zhongli kneels down beside them, looking them over. They look like they've been dragged through the Abyss and back. Their midriff is bandaged heavily but it's already bled through, forming a pool of their own blood below them. He frowns lightly. It must be quite a big injury if it's bleeding this much.

Wordlessly, he holds a hand over the injury and channels his power. He's not the most profficient in healing, but he should at least be able to stop the bleeding.

Mere moments later, he have plugged up the injury and the figure is now able to stand up.

"Th-Thank you so much Rex Lapis!" they bow down. Or at least, they bow down the best they can without opening their wound. "Any longer and I would've surely perished..."

Zhongli waves them off nonchalantly as he starts to walk back out the way he came. "It's best you get back to the surface. Your injury needs to be properly tended. And I can see that..."

His eyes drifts to the scattered bloody bandages and practically empty backpack. "You've run out of supplies. It is a virtue to you mortals to know when to give up. Remember that."

"Y-Yes sir Rex Lapis sir! I'll get back right away!" they start to quickly collect their things, haphazardly stuffing the bandages and handbook into the bag, being careful of their injury.

The Lord of Geo just watches for a moment before completely leaving, trusting that they won't make any stupid mistake and go back post haste.

After he has left, you pause in your packing, leaning against the mushroom and slowly sliding down with a shaky breath.

"Y-You... didn't you say he and the entirety of the world was hunting for you?" The mushroom hums in confusion, sharing your tension. "What was that? Heck, he was the one that put a hole through you and he healed you!"

You chuckle breathlessly, the manic look intensifying in your eyes as it dawns on you that it worked. That stupid idea of yours actually worked!

And if you can get to the Creator... you can make this whole concept disappear altogether. Forever.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see it. A large mass of hairless flesh writhing about, multiple tentacle-like appendages potruding out of it. It's slithering it's limbs about, coiling around the mushroom and and back again, and around you as well.

But when you turn your head to actually look, there's nothing there. All you can hear is what seems to be muffled humming, an eerie tune listlessly flowing through the air (but somehow, the sound is the most comforting thing ever).

"Oh it's nothing. I think... he just heard something that made him forget."

Personal Assistant Pt. 6

Oh wow, y’all still here? The filth hasn’t driven you away yet? Well, that’s good to hear bc we’re about to get real nasty up in here. Taglist at the end.

Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 5: here Part 7: here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader   Lucifer x Diavolo x Reader Wordcount: 5,300 ish Genre: Dirty, filthy smut Tags: Multiple Orgasms, Demon sex, Rough sex, Endless sex, Size Kink, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Mirror Sex, threesome Summary: An emergency arises and you must leave the office to assist a sister company in dire need.

Business Trip

The best time to break a human was after they had been lulled into a sense of false security.

Lucifer was oddly gentle the following weeks after having shared you with Diavolo. His demands felt less taxing on your body whenever he asked you to service him. He seemed to be more open to expressing how good you made him feel; and that fact alone made your heart sing. It gave your body time to recover from how roughly you were taken that night. Even after a whole weekend of rest, he could tell there was a bit of a limp in your gait.

The attraction you felt towards him continued to intensify when you noticed just how gentle of a lover he could be when he wanted to be. You were so used to being pushed to your limits every week that the momentary break in how you were treated left you feeling so appreciated by him. Even if it was just an illusion; you wanted to just believe he cared. 

You fell into a lull of comfort, expecting love making and not just a fuck out of him. His recent behavior had shown you that he was capable of having feelings for you. Or, at least that was what you had assumed. With your thoughts being clouded by your emotions, you deluded yourself into thinking that he was doting on you because he loved you as much as you loved him. 

If only you knew he was only biding his time until you were in the perfect state to break.

Emergencies never happened in the office. Not when Lucifer was in charge at least. So, when you got into work one day and he was angrily speaking to someone on the phone, you knew something major had happened. You waited patiently for him to finish before asking what happened and if there was any way you could help. 

“I need you to go somewhere for me. Consider it to be a business trip. ” He said, irritation clear in his voice. “It’ll only be for a day or two.” 

“Of course, where will I be going?” 

“Diavolo’s office.” He stated bluntly. Lucifer took a few deep breaths to soothe his temper before continuing. “Something’s happened to his own assistant and he’s too booked to handle the issue.” He heaved a sigh and shrugged. “You’re the only one we can trust to help in this situation.” 

You blinked, not sure how to decipher his words. Figuring it would be best to take it at face value; you moved to start packing things up for a business trip. Your mind reeled at possible hidden meanings and the intentions behind his request. You had never left his side before. Whatever was going on, it must have been a major issue to put both their reputations at risk. Nothing like this had happened before; so, you were rather lost in regards as to what to bring with you. In the end, you settled for a notepad and some pens. If Devilgram’s offices were anything like yours, they would be well equipped for you to do managerial duties without issue. 

“I have a ride arranged for you already. It should take a few hours to get to the office with traffic the way it is. Diavolo will fill you in on what you need to do.” Lucifer’s composure had returned and he gently ushered you to the elevator. “I’ll come get you later after hours. Just don’t disappoint me.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” He walked with you all the way to the black company car that was waiting in the parking garage for you. “Ah... “ he stopped you right before you went in. “Remember, you represent me. So be sure to do your best, no matter what.” 

“Yes, Lucifer. I’ll make you proud.” You reassured, getting into the car and preparing for the long ride through congested city traffic. 

~~ 

If there was one way to describe Diavolo’s office, it would be: chaotic. As soon as you walked in, there was a flurry of papers being shuffled, a loud curse followed by an equally loud laugh and the sound of something solid being kicked. Diavolo appeared behind what looked like a mountain of paperwork, sheepishly running his hand through his hair. “Oh, you’re here early. Good.” He started walking you to a separate corner of his office, talking a mile a minute. 

“So, my assistant is going through… some personal problems right now. Normally, I can help him through that, but they’ve scheduled me for a whole day of video conferences so I can’t do anything about it. And you know… how demons get when they… you know…” Diavolo visibly blushed, trying to get the words out. He stopped in front of an enclosure, his hand resting on the handle while he tried to figure out how to explain his situation to you. 

“I… Don’t understand…” You admitted, confused about what he was trying to hint at. 

“Oh?” His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline in surprise. “So, Lucifer hasn’t explained anything to you about what my assistant is going through?” 

“No… this morning was rather rushed in trying to get me here as soon as possible.” 

“Oh, well… come on in, let me explain it to you properly.” 

As soon as the door swung open, you could hear the sounds of someone desperately whining. Your eyes followed the sound until they lit upon a young man… no, a demon curled up on one of the plush couches of the lounge, completely naked and writhing around. His teal hair plastered to his flushed face, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He glanced up to the two of you, his eyes glazed over; it was almost as if he was staring right through you. Your eyes trailed down his body and stopped at his cock and you could feel yourself heat up, unable to tear your eyes away at its unique shape.  Okay, note to self, no two demon dicks look the same… 

“So, this is Barbatos.” Diavolo’s voice cut through your trance. “He’s my assistant, and normally he’d have this under control; but things happen.” The large man shrugged. “Demons go through a rather intense hormonal surge called a rut once every few decades or so. Sometimes they can feel it coming, other times, it’ll hit them like a truck. You can guess what happened this time.” 

“Ah… the latter.” You said, nodding slightly, finally able to move on from staring at Barbatos’ cock and notice his tail swishing back and forth in agitation. It was quite a sight to take in. You could only assume what Diavolo was about to ask of you; but you wanted to hear it from him instead of coming to conclusions on your own. 

“I can normally let him just ride this out, but we’ve got some really important meetings coming up this week that he has to attend, so you’re going to need to help take the edge off…” His hand rested on your shoulder. “If I didn’t have so many calls to take care of today, I wouldn’t have needed to call you over.” 

Barbatos whined again from where he laid, tears streaked down his face as he looked at you, pleading with his eyes. “Please… help…” 

Taking pity on his unfortunate situation, you took a tentative step forward, surprisingly calm for having such a giant bomb of information dropped on you. You reached out to him, gently pushing away his hair and he hissed at the contact, grabbing your hand and pulling you in for a deep, hungry kiss. The delicate horns on his head scratched your face, leaving long welts across your cheek. 

“Well, I think you have an idea of what you gotta do. My meeting starts in a few minutes so I gotta jet. I’ll check up on you when I get a chance to!” Diavolo’s tone was frustratingly chipper as he made his leave. “Oh, and don’t worry about making too much noise. I’ve jinxed this room to be soundproof.” He reassured before he closed the door and left you alone with his assistant. 

“I’m sorry…” Barbatos said in between his heavy pants. His taloned hands tore your clothes to shreds, his hormones taking control of his actions as he forcibly removed what you wore. You panicked; thinking about how you were going to get back with nothing on you. However, your worries had no place in a situation like this, especially when you felt Barbatos’ cock pressed against your thigh and he hissed in need, rolling his hips to meet yours.

You took another look at it, before taking it in your hand, following its twisted pattern from the base to tapered tip. It vaguely reminded you of a narwhal’s horn in how the muscles twisted together in a spiral to the tip which freely dripped cum. You ran your thumb across the tip, earning you a loud moan, Barbatos arched up, begging to be touched. His whole body was so sensitive from the rut that anything you did sent him deeper into a state of need. 

Your skirt and panties were the next things to be ripped off of you, leaving you as naked as he was. He wasted no time in positioning you above him and slamming you down on his cock; letting out a guttural moan when he was balls deep in you. With the way he was shaped, he drilled into you easily, sliding in and out of your slick folds. Despite his delicate frame, he was strong, controlling the pace by holding your body right where he wanted it and brutally thrusting into you. 

The ridges of his cock rubbed inside of you, making you gasp and moan. You felt yourself teetering and about to fall but something stopped you from doing so. His long tail tightly wrapped itself around your thigh, helping you stay stable. The demon beneath you looked at you with such heated hunger in your eyes, you felt yourself shiver, the pleasure his cock was giving you driven by his hormones served to heighten your own arousal. 

You shouted in surprise when you felt something probing at your asshole. Looking behind you, you noticed the tip of his long tail caressing your ass crack and probe tentatively at the tight hole there. You looked back at Barbatos and saw how glazed over his eyes were from finally getting some relief. He was acting on pure primal instinct, taking everything he needed to end the onslaught of desire that coursed through his veins. 

The tip of his tail coated itself in your essence that liberally flowed down your thighs before it went back to teasing your other hole. You gasped when you felt it press into you. He was still roughly fucking into your pussy as he pushed his tail further into you. His eyelids fluttered and his grip on your hips tightened as he started to stretch your tight hole open with slow even strokes. You didn’t have time to catch your breath as his cock hit every sweet spot in you and penetrated you deeply. Even if he didn’t have the same girth and length as Lucifer or Diavolo, the deep, spiraling ridges pressed against all the right places and made you cum without much effort. 

He didn’t let you breathe after your first orgasm, fucking you without abandon and still working you with his tail. It was then when you realized that his tail was forked, scissoring your hole and stretching your ass in order to fit more of it into you. With your essence aiding in lubrication, it didn’t take long before he was able to put a significant portion of his tail into you and you started reeling in the feeling of having both your holes filled. Gasping for a break, you braced an arm against the back of the couch, using it to keep you upright as Barbatos used you. 

He was insatiable, the heated need in his eyes didn’t dissipate even after he had cum into you. He kept going, fucking you through his orgasms and your own. Your whole body felt numb from all the times you had come undone around him. Each time it was explosive and raw, each time you thought it would be over; but, he kept going. At some point, the two of you found yourselves on the floor. You, on your hands and knees while Barbatos took you from behind, his tail working in rhythm to his cock to once again bring you to orgasm. 

You clawed at the soft carpet below you, crying from the overload of sensations. It was too much, you had lost count of the number of times you had been brought to climax. Yet, the hormones running rampant in the demon fucking you refused to be sated until you blacked out, unable to take anymore. 

Only then did the edge begin to wane. Even if he was still needy, Barbatos carefully curled his body around your unconscious one. His legs intertwined with yours as he kept his cock buried in you, keeping every bit of his seed inside. His tail which had fucked your asshole for hours now slowed its deep thrusts, slowly pulling out of you and giving your body some relief while you rested. 

In your sleep, he placed soft kisses on your shoulders, massaging your breasts and whispering quiet apologies for how roughly he had treated you. You mumbled in your sleep, shifting a bit to get into a better position. As you moved, the instinctual side of Barbatos roughly moved you back into place. Even if the worst of the rut had run its course, his hormones still made him possessive and nearly feral at any shift outside of his control. As soon as you had settled into his arms again and he was sure you weren’t going anywhere, he finally let your body get some much needed rest. 

He himself dozed in and out of consciousness. Even now, his body screamed for more despite how exhausted he was. The room reeked of sex and it only served to keep him hard inside of you no matter how many times he had released himself. His hips kept twitching, rocking into you driving his cock further into your warm depths as he craved contact and stimulation. His body was drained from being in a state of constant arousal. Now that he regained some sense of himself, he took his time in sliding his cock in and out of your abused hole. 

You were brought to another high in your dreams. In your mind, you saw and felt Lucifer caress you. It was his body pressed up against your own and his cock that was penetrating your core. Your body reacted to the images of your dreams, keeping you wet and willing as Barbatos fucked you slowly in your sleep. You remembered begging; you remembered the image of his magnificent demonic form before you and how it made your whole body sing in pleasure. Everything ached, but it was so worth it to feel every detail of his cock working your swollen walls. 

You gasped, feeling your orgasm rush through you and you were jolted back into reality. Barbatos still clung to you from behind, murmuring softly to you and treated you as if you were his most precious lover. He was barely awake, but you could see some light returning in his eyes whenever he blearily looked at you while he placed soft kisses along your jaw and your neck. His sharp teeth left marks all across your back as he marked you with love bites. The sudden shocks of pleasure kept you from sleeping for too long; but at least you were able to rest off the worst of the exhaustion.. 

“Oh? You’re already so calm?” Diavolo’s voice snapped you out of your daze and you glanced up to see him standing at the doorway. “Just finished up everything, so I came to check up on you to see how you were doing. Looks like you got through the hardest part.”

You weakly smiled at him as he walked in and closed the door behind him. “I think he’s sleeping.” You mumbled, gesturing to Barbatos behind you. 

“He can sleep on the couch, it’s much comfier there.” Diavolo bent down and picked up his assistant, finally pulling him out of you and you gasped at the sudden loss of dick inside of you. All the cum that had been kept in you flowed out, coating your thighs and the carpet below you. You heard Barbatos mumble something in protest, but he was too tired to really do much against his much more energetic boss. 

Once he had been put to rest on the couch, Diavolo turned to you. He sat down on the carpet and pulled you up to sit in his lap. “I’m sure that was very intense for you.” he murmured, planting gentle kisses on your temple while his large hands massaged your aching muscles. “I should apologize for putting you through that so suddenly.” 

You didn’t have the energy to really rebuke his apology. Even if it had all been a surprise to you; you couldn’t say that you didn’t enjoy it. Honestly, what happened was likely better than spending eight hours filing paperwork. You managed to at least make a sound of acknowledgement and nestled yourself against his broad chest, enjoying the gentle aftercare he was giving you. He made you drink water at regular intervals and fed you while you drifted in and out of sleep. You weren’t sure how long you were in that strange state of limbo, but Diavolo nursed you back to feeling somewhat human. 

When you awoke, you noticed that you were still cradled in Diavolo’s lap, but this time, he had significantly less clothing than before. Blinking to make sure that you weren’t dreaming, you were entirely too shocked to really process what you saw in the reflection of the full length mirror that was attached to the back of the lounge door. Your whole visit Diavolo’s headquarters had been such a whirlwind, you somehow managed to miss such a large fixture in the room. Your brain, still waking up, had to process the demon who’s lap you were sitting in. His chest was bare, whatever accessories he usually wore in this form had been removed already and laid safely to the side. 

You ogled at the intricate swirling patterns that traveled across his whole torso. Ignoring how much of a right mess you looked after being fucked out of your mind, you took time to admire the leathery wings that sprouted from his back and the grand horns that graced his head. “My apologies, I like to go back to this form whenever no one is around. It’s so much more comfortable to me than looking like a human.” He explained, chuckling softly at your shocked expression. 

“Oh…” you managed to get out, shifting a bit in his lap so you could get a proper look at his face. 

“You’re not scared?” 

“No… I think it’s very hard to be scared after seeing Lucifer and Barbatos.” You reasoned which earned a chuckle out of him. 

“Fair enough.” He conceded. His hand gently combed through your hair, getting out the worst of the knots and tangles. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve had better days.” You admitted, noting the distinct soreness your whole body experienced, especially between your legs. 

“I can imagine…” He said, pressing a kiss at your temple. “You did so well, especially on short notice. I’m truly impressed at how well Lucifer trained you.” 

“I… Thank you, my Lord.” You said, humbled by the praise and feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling spread across your chest. Hopefully that meant you were able to uphold Lucifer’s reputation through this ordeal. 

“Hmm… You’re very welcome.” he said, humming softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His hands traveled to your breasts giving them a tentative squeeze. “I know I said I soundproofed the room for you and Barbatos, but that was only for humans. I could still hear everything that happened in here.” 

Your body went from hot to cold, a shiver ran down your spine and you could feel your brain stop working. His hands, gently but firmly spread your legs wide. In the mirror, you could still see Barbatos’ cum dripping out of your sore and tired pussy. You could also see the massive bulge you were sitting on top of. “Would you mind taking care of one more problem?” He asked, gesturing to his crotch and making eye contact with you through the mirror. 

“I… I’ll do my best to please you.” You said, swallowing hard and wondering if your body could really take anymore. After the rest and the care Diavolo had given you, it really did feel much better; but you weren’t sure if you were quite ready to take another demon’s cock into you. 

“Ah.. no wonder he’s so attached to you. You’re just so willing to please.” He said, moving you off his lap only to quickly divest himself of his pants. The moment you saw what you had to work with, you licked your lips with uncertainty and felt  your body instinctually prepare itself to accept the massive cock that he had just unveiled. 

Diavolo kept you facing the mirror, straddling your legs on either side of his thick thighs. One hand at your abdomen, and another at your chest kept you upright as your shaking thighs started to sink onto his length. The blunt head of his cock spread your pussy wide open without any chance to ease into his girth and you immediately screamed. The soreness turned itself into pain as you tried to accept the demon lord’s cock into you. He hushed you, gently rubbing your breasts to keep you distracted from the pain. His strength kept you from collapsing. You looked forward, staring at the length that wasn’t in you yet and the knot that you would eventually have to accept. The tip of his cock had already disappeared into you, but he was about as thick as your forearm and almost as long. The large, pulsing knot at the base of his cock was at least the size of your fist. For the first time you worried about breaking in half.

“It’s okay… It’s okay…” He murmured softly, calming you down and distracting from how much you were about to take. “Just breathe slowly and you’ll have all of me soon.” he reassured. 

He kept his voice low and soft, lulling you into a state of peace. Eventually the pain faded and you allowed yourself to sink further in him. You watched in awe as every inch of him slowly disappeared into you in the mirror. Your pussy stretched and contracted to accommodate the tapered swell of his cock. He coached you through every breath, mumbling soft praises and what sounded like spells to take away whatever pain you might have felt from being stretched out so much. You could see the outline of his cock pressed up against your lower abdomen as he got close to bottoming out in you. “Good girl…” He purred, smiling softly at how beautiful you looked with his dick stuffed into you. 

He let you breathe, making sure that any discomfort was gone before he started moving inside of you. The moment you did, you felt as if you had been rearranged to accept his cock and everything that it brought along with it. The large ridge at the tip of his cock dragged itself along your sore walls, waking every tired nerve in your body. You moaned, leaning up against him and bracing yourself against his sturdy body while he moved you as he wished up and down his cock. Looking at the mirror, you saw how slick his shaft had become, coated with a mixture of your fluids and Barbatos’. 

It was mind numbing how slow he went; but it was likely to your benefit. You were sure to have been broken if he had taken you with the same veracity as his assistant had. It let you enjoy every sensation to its fullest and after a few passes, you were writing in his lap, moaning his name and gasping every time he was fully seated inside of you. There was still the matter of his knot, but that was an afterthought to what you were experiencing right then and there. 

His hand at your abdomen slid down to toy at your exposed clit which only added to the mind blowing sensations you were going through. You tried to call out his name but all that came out of you were gutural gasps. Your mouth stuck in a perpetual “O” as he only added more and more pleasure for you. “Mmm… that’s a good look.” He murmured rubbing circles at your clit and starting you on another pass up and down his cock. “When we get all the way back down, I want you to cum, okay?”

You only nodded in reply, watching your body rise and fall in the mirror, entranced at how easily he moved you up and down his dick. As he wished, the moment the last inch of his shaft disappeared into you, you came, clenching around him and crying out as white hot pleasure exploded inside of you. You spasmed, wheezing and crying, not even noticing the door had opened at that moment to welcome yet another person to the party. 

Lucifer gaped at the sight before him. He licked his lips, unsure how to present himself. He knew you would be in a rather compromising position once he arrived to pick you up, but he didn’t expect this. The sight of you taking Diavolo’s demon cock inside of you, the way you were stretched right to your limit and writhing in his grasp sent waves of desire to his own crotch. He hadn’t planned on joining, but with how quickly he was getting hard just by watching you cum, he found himself unbuckling his pants and kneeling in front of you.

“You make me so proud…” He purred, kissing sense back into you and you squealed into his mouth. You were so enraptured with your own climax, you hadn’t noticed him come in at all. His hand laced itself into your hair, deepening the kiss and there was a deep, dark urge in him that he no longer could control. 

It was time to push you past every limit he had ever set.

“I want to see you break…” He breathed as soon as the kiss was broken and you were given a second to regain your bearings. 

Diavolo behind you let out a low whistle at that admission, his brows raised in anticipation of what Lucifer had in mind. He leaned back, getting himself comfortable and eagerly awaited what sort of plan Lucifer had to break you and put you back together. 

Lucifer ran his length up and down your stretched slit, coating his cock with your juices. “Move.” He demanded, glaring up at Diavolo and the demon lord obliged, going back to the slow, languid pace he had set for you earlier. Watching your pussy stretch and take so much cock only served to make him harder and that need within him grew once again. 

On the second pass, just as you were midway down Diavolo’s cock, you felt something else pressed into you, forcing its way in to join the massive dick that was already stuffed into you. Lucifer’s eyes glowed red as he pushed you past your limit and you swore you felt yourself splitting in two with how much you were being asked to take. Garbled sounds of protest spilled from your lips, but he persisted. As Diavolo continued to sink you down, Lucifer’s own cock joined in your hole and when you were once again bottomed out on top of Diavolo’s knot, you had somehow managed to take them both. 

“Good… very good.” Lucifer groaned. He rolled his hips into you, shoving himself even deeper in you. 

A soundless scream came from your voice as they went further and moved to add that massive knot into you. With Diavolo firmly pushing you down onto him, the motion only embedded Lucifer deeper into you. The widest part of the knot approached and you didn’t want to see how wide you had been split open by the two demons. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all there was in your world was searing hot pain, pressure and pleasure mixed into one. 

And as the widest part slipped into you, the tie completed itself and your body no longer felt anything. As if your very soul had exited your body and you existed in a subspace in your mind. There was pleasure, yes, but there was an inexplicable fullness you couldn’t express. Your arms fell limp at your sides They would move soon, you knew that would be the case. Diavolo had already whispered something to Lucifer as you stared blankly at the ceiling, shutting out everything around you to simply experience what they were giving you. 

The movement at first was barely perceptible. Diavolo took charge, considering it was his knot you were taking. With the way Lucifer was crammed into your pussy, he was in no position to move as well. It was a slow rocking of his hips like waves crashing into a cliff. There was a ringing in your ears that tuned out all sound around you save for the frantic beating of your heart. The demon lord rocked his length in you, stirring that tell tale feeling of an orgasm building up in you.

You didn’t think you could clench around them, it was impossible with how full you felt. But the pressure of your climax demanded your muscles to do things you didn’t think you had the capacity to. Each little motion amplified itself, sending your mind into a blank bliss and you could tell the end was near. Your skin felt hot breath on it as the men neared their release as well. Blissfully, you heard Lucifer’s voice cut right through the hazy subspace. 

“Cum” 

You did as you were told, screaming until your voice was hoarse and when the high was over, all was black. 

~~

You awoke sprawled out on the seat of a limo. Your head on Lucifer’s lap. You tried to move but your muscles refused to comply. Lucifer gently pat your head, shushing you quietly. “You don’t have to move. It’s a long ride home.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Rest for now…” 

“My.. My clothes..” You croaked, your throat as sore as your body and barely able to make many coherent sounds. 

“It’s okay, Diavolo let you borrow his shirt. It’s big enough to keep you decent.” 

A surge of relief washed across your body at that fact. Even if it was just a shirt, it would at least be better than having to get home in nothing at all. You looked up at Lucifer who seemed so pleased. There was a small, soft smile on his face as he ran his fingers through your hair and doted on you. 

You tried to move again, if only to find a more comfortable position and found that Lucifer’s blazer had been protectively draped over your body to keep you warm. The familiar scent of his cologne and musk slowly lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

“Did I do okay?” You asked before you were fully unconscious. 

“You did perfectly. I couldn’t have asked for more.”  He reassured. His hand continued to meditatively pat your head as the limo took the long way home, giving you as much time as possible to let you rest peacefully. 

Having taken the time to break you so thoroughly, Lucifer couldn’t wait to start the process of putting you back together as he wished. 

~~ Taglist: @ptv-hades @bluelipsblueveins-blue @utopiamiroh @vanillaicebaby @taehyungtrasholiviahaneul99

Shattering Morality (oneshot)

Summary: In order to keep up productivity, Logan needs to put Patton into his place once more. The moral side knows it has to be done but it hurts when he feels the rejection, hears the hostile tone and cold words Logan uses. But as always,he can rely on his best friend to make it go away. Just this time, Virgil is using extra awkward methods to make him feel better. Too bad Morality starts finding a bunch of comfort in this dangerous Tags: U!logan, u!Virgil, u!sides!, abuse, emotional/verbal abuse, manipulation, false friends, encouraged self harm, isolation, emotional dependence, internalised self-deprecation, feelings of uselessness, cutting/self harm, blood, encouraging self-harming behaviour, persuasion, helplessness, self-blaming, twisted friendship, force, bruises, idealised self-harm, addiction, repression (own feelings, needs)(if there are any other things you would like me to tag, please please do so. I am open for suggestions and warnings! I want you to be safe so please do not proceed in case you recognise any potentially triggering content)Basically: this is a lot of Patton angst. ao3: *click me*

My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut:

Patton let out a shaky breath. It should not bother him so much. It should not eat away at him like this. Still, the feeling of dissolving from the inside, his heart slowly sizzling and hissing in pain, was there and left Patton to suffer in silence. Surely, he had promised to not keep all the bad feelings inside of him. Bottling up was bad. The idea of bottling up feelings sounded like fun. He could try to make happy feelings into bubbles and put them into bottles so he could send a feeling in a bottle to his beloved friends! He adored them and wanted them to know that they always had a piece of his heart with them. His lips flinched a bit, the corners of his mouth quickly shooting upwards before they immediately sunk into the neutral line. His body tried to smile. The moral side was used to smiling it all away but even his random happy thoughts just did not cut it anymore. Hah, cut. Like pie. Aw, it would be su-PIE to have some sweets at the moment. A little giggled tickled his throat but it faded as quick as it appeared within him. He was already steering towards the kitchen to go and get something to eat or maybe make a p- No. No, he should not! Logan told him to stop eating whenever he felt bad because it was bad for Thomas’ health... He was right but he still wanted to. Instead, he got a glass of water and drank. Adult things. Hydration was important and someone had to think of it so Thomas would not forget about it. Logan reminded them a lot and maybe .. maybe if he just did that instead, Logan would be happy with him and let him talk more during meetings and videos. Patton fidgeted with the cup in his hands instead of putting it into the dishwasher. Something... something.. His mind was working on something but he did not know what it was. It felt like a vague idea, a picture rather than words. Sometimes he thought in pictures, sometimes in words or both. But right now, he seemed to think in feelings. But his mind did not give him any understanding of the foul feeling within him. It was like his heart was a glass bowl with a fish in it. Like in The Fairly OddParents! But he did not have funny Cosmo and Wanda in his chest. Instead, there were dark creatures that flinched and sprinted without warning. Whenver he came close to getting a grip on these vaguely greyish emotions, they suddenly bounced away from him. Fishes had a tendency to move suddenly and rest a bit or slow down immensely. They were funky creatures and he did not know much about them. Even if he could actually manage to catch one, it would just glide out of his hands. They had tiny gills and were wet and almost slimy. These tiny creatures were impossible to catch. Not only that, the chance of him feeling them for a start was hard. The water in his glass bowl was not transparent like water. It was soiled by multiple layers of colours that reminded him of oil you needed for cars. Deep and dark in colour. Just.. unpleasant. He did not enjoy any of these thoughts. Maybe it would be easier if he just set his feelings aside for a moment. His fingers rubbed against the smooth surface of the glass cup in his hands. The moral side stared at it for a bit longer before finally putting it into the machine and closing it at last. Yeah, adult things. He was doing well. He was being a very good adult by trying to move on, keep going, to be productive instead of dwelling on all these feelings. Logan would be proud! Maybe he could tell him later after he had calmed down. For now, he thought that talking to Virgil and seeking refugee in his arms was probably the best thing to do. Then he would not be in the way of Logan and his plan to make Thomas more efficient and productive in general. Morality was doing great! The logical side had recently given him a compliment for keeping away so much. Thomas had started working more instead of hanging out with friends as he usually did. It pleased the planning part of Thomas’ personality. Well, if Patton staying in his room a lot more helped them all then he would gladly do that. He did not mind. His feet stepped forward. Patton knew the way to Virgil’s room blindly. He knew Logan wanted silence because he was working alone with Thomas - he had told Patton to get out of his way and play or whatever... yeah, the adults were talking so he should better stay away. He nearly tripped. A hand extended to support his stand by pushing against a nearby wall. He was so close to Virgil’s room. If it was for him only, he would just sink out and appear but Virgil did not like that and making him anxious made him upset and would affect Thomas. Again, Logan would be mad... So he could not do that. Patton took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It was shaky, intense. One would think he was used to his chest stinging so much by now but even at this moment he could not help but stop to suck in breath after breath, each deeper than the other. He was not a fish so he had to breathe. When he hurt a lot, he needed to breathe a lot, Virgil had told him. After some time, the pain would get less, usually. ...Often, it did but not always. It made the stinging a lot less worse! Still, it did not change the fact that he leaned against the wall once more, eyes closed and squinting wrinkles into his facial skin. He looked like a pug but not as adorable. ...aw... he wanted to cuddle a dog now.. dogs would never let him feel a lot of pain. It was okay. Logan only wanted to help him and Thomas! It was okay if it cut back on Patton’s appearances every now and then.... or.. well, always. But hey! It was for the sake of their beloved Thomas and his productivity! After all, it was logical. Patton was the one to obstruct him with all these feelings and that made Logan’s work really hard. Even Virgil seemed more relaxed with Patton more in his or his own room. Patton held his heart and rubbed his fingers against his skin, softly massaging into the pain. He could barely tell whether it made it worse or better but it gave him something to do. One deeper breath in. Mmmm. And a whole shaky breath out. Yes, yes. His lungs danced under his ribcage and his fingers worked the magic of drumming against his skin and lessen the stabbing sensation in his heart. When he thought about it, the agony seemed like a much heavier sensation than before but he quickly reprimanded himself. How could he be so thoughtless to just think about his feelings? Logan said to ignore it. He had to ignore it. It distracted Thomas! “Hahh”, Patton panted out. The pain was fading away, nearly gone. Like a snake, it was slowly sliding away, only a bit of tail trailing after the head. Almost gone. Patton continued breathing like the great adult he was. Four.... Seven.. Eight. He had the pattON memorised. It was oddly comforting. Not just the breathing but also the counting in his head were nice.. they made the hurt go away, they blew down the steam of his boiling pot of feelings with all these dying and screaming fishes inside. The moral side slowly let his hand slide towards the ground, his palm lifting itself from the stability first. Eventually, his fingers joined and even their tips’ soft pads broke contact with the concrete. Virgil. Yes, he wanted to go to Virgil and just hug it out and listen to these really funny songs his soft friend would play for him and giggle and jump around. The anxious side was not lazy at all with how much he bounced around his room in rhythm to the loud music he often jammed to. Ah, kids these days. He loved him, no matter what. Even as a teenager, he loved Virgil and all the other light sides. Foot steps could be heard as he finally set himself into motion again. At last, he made it over to Virgil’s room. As polite as always, Patton made sure to knock first. Two times. Then he waited for a while. “Virgil, it is meee~  It is me, mangorality!” He could hear a snort before the door opened and Virgil stood before him, just a bit taller than Patton himself. “Patton! Come in!” The emo stepped aside and Patton took the hint to come inside and look around. As always, he took a moment to appreciate the interior. Virgil did change his interior a slight bit every time the season changed a bit or something special came up. Halloween was a special thing. The room always had some spider webs. There were dark curtains, band and film posters. Patton had made him a drawing based on the Disney film liked so much - Black Cauldron, he one without all the singing. It was on his nightstand in a little framed photo. He did not have to check, he knew it was there. He could feel it, could rely on it. Virgil cherished their friendship. Whenever Morality came into his room, he could feel the slight tickles of anxiety intensifying his emotions but at the same time, he would have Virgil and his comforting, calm energy around. It was nice. It was pearls running over his chest, slowly trailing down and combining to a weight on him that just felt like a warm hand on his heart. “What up, popsicle?” The guest fell into a tirade of giggles and carefully shifted closer to Virgil. His favourite Kylo friend did not budge away at all but laid an arm around him. He was pulled in and immediately snuggled closer to the signature warmth of a black-hooded cuddle buddy. The shadowy fishes in his heart seemed to be outshone by the warmth and light Virgil sparked within Patton with the simple mutuality of some physical contact. It was not even skin-to-skin. Still, he was melting. “Ah, you know.. We worked on some ideas together! Thomas asked for help and Logan was there too but Thomas said we headbutt again and then Logan ..” Patton sighed. “Logan made me leave because I made Thomas unproductive again.” His voice dropped and so did his body. It sagged against Virgil with heaviness and made the anxious side tug the fatherly man over to his bed. It was this time of the day again. The atmosphere of the room seemed to change. The layers of darkness were gone in Patton’s fishy heart but they now haunted the width of Virgil’s room with foggy transparency. “I-it.. it hurts so much!” Bubbles of water welled up in Patton’s eyes. Hot, uncontrolled and messy. They spilled from his eyes and all over his cheeks, storming down his face in rivers as they wet his skin and stained the usually oh so happy mask. Breathing was hard, it ..it hurt. It was agony to suck in oxygen. Existence was pain. There was nothing but darkness and hurt in Patton. Hurt hurt hurt So much hurt It hurt!! “Patton, no! No”, Virgil interjected. His thick, dark voice stabbed through the angry voices and cracks in Patton’s heart. The barrier of dark layers was cut through and for a moment, the tightness in his chest was just a bit better. There was cities and hordes of people on his chest, still. Whole worlds and every crime and guilt to ever be imagined and committed. He struggled to breath, to be. His blind hands reached for Virgil who was holding him still and allowed his bestest friend to touch his chest and let him eventually find his shoulders. Virgil did not let himself be distracted. He drew his friend into his arms, into his lap and cuddled him. “It is okay, Pat, really.” “NO!” The moral side screeched and curled as if in physical pain. His head slid down from Virgil’s shoulder to his chest and he forced the oxygen out of his constricting lungs. They did not want him to live either. It hurt.. it hurt.. it hurt so so bad. Breathing felt like swallowing when your throat was all swollen and red and hurt like during the flu. “Why does he hate me, Virgil, why does he hurt me so much. He hates me, he hates me! He does not even want me to be around Thomas, he glares at me the second I show up and he ignores everything I say! He only ever pays attention when Thomas himself repeats what I said and you know that he just shoots him down on these occasions” Patton wrung for breath, his words stuck in his throat. He was swallowing on his own complaints, on his desperation and his fears. That is what he got for disclosing instead of pretending to be okay. Why.. why.. Why did Logan give him a cat onesie when he wanted him gone? When he kept making him leave or actively excluded him from videos. He had prevented Thomas from summoning him on multiple occasions by just appearing himself instead of letting Patton appear. He was blocking them off. Why.. Why? WHY?! Patton’s body shook and he flinched. He felt the whipping agony of Logan’s word cutting into the flesh of his mind. Red, burning streaks appeared inside of him and he could basically feel his chest build actual scar tissue. Probably crap. Yeah, he was full of poop, according to Logan. All feelings, no logic. “Patton, you need to breathe, breathe with me” The voice was so distant, so blurry and wild. Patton barely recognised the sound to be a coherent noise, a voiced sentence of meaning by that. The lifeline before him was a messy bunch of notes, a disturbance. It stirred up the bad feelings of him even worse. “V-Vi... What did I do..?” His breath hitched and his next attempt at a sentence simply ended in a mess of stutters and sobs. “Shhhhh...” Virgil persistently squished his friend in his arms. Patton grunted in discomfort but his wiggles only made Virgil hug him harder. “Vir-” The anxious side looked down at him and put a hand on his back, pressing it from the other side towards his chest. Patton cried harder. He could not even breathe and his head was only fire and glowing dizziness Even his ears were smoking with tears and frustration. Feelings really were that strong. Patton’s body continued to flare his skin up with goosebumps. Shudders and dizzy spells hit Patton and the violent sobs still rippled through his vulnerable form. Virgil squeezed him from time to time and told him to be quiet when he started to speak up. Eventually, even opening his mouth had his friend shush him without missing a beat. But it hurt. His chest cleared up but it was so tight. He did not remember the last time he had drawn an unrestricted breath, when he had full lungs and energetic breathing rather than shallow or violent spasms of his muscles. Patton was calmer. His body was limb between Virgil’s legs and he curled up like a miserable fetus stretching for their absent caretaker’s love. They were alone on the diaper changing table. Patton was not alone. Virgil was there... But in some ways, he was truly lonely and not even his best friend being there with him, letting him lean against his chest and rest on his body could really have him feel like he was not completely alone in this world. “Fuck Logan. He is not here.” Patton inhaled. Language. He did not have the heart to say it. The way Virgil held him was a finger on his lips and he wanted to be silent forever. Logan would want that too. They all wanted him to be silent. Roman just gave him weird looks but did not really say much. Instead of correcting Virgil, the fatherly figure considered simply nodding. It was always better to nod and agree. When he did that, everyone liked him. Especially when he smiled too or maybe made some jokes to keep up a good mood. It helped the sides, it helped Thomas and his audience. “I have just the thing to help you out. It is pretty private.. uh..”, VIrgil’s voice went from clear to dark and it dipped deeper. “If I show you, you have to be quiet about it.” His hands dug into Patton’s body. A whine escaped his lips, broke the seal of silence he had wanted to keep so much. Fine. “S-sure kiddo!” Virgil’s black fingernails retreated a bit but the pressure was still there. It was lighter, though. His friend just wanted to hug him a lot because he wanted to help him and that was how he showed it. Maybe he should teach Virgil how to hug people better... He probably did not exactly learn that from the others. Patton swallowed the thick mass that was his doubt. It was crawling down his throat, heavy and lethargic in its movement. Nothing was harder to swallow than moments like this when people gave him vibes he knew better than to ignore. Still, he wanted to believe the best to happen. People were inherently good so he could trust others, especially his friends. On top of that, Virgil was clearly his best friend. “Alright”, Virgil spoke. His words seemed so heavy as they launched from his tongue and right into the ground. “I will show you.” He shifted a bit and let go off Patton. The moral side inhaled deeply, the heavy feeling on his chest away for long enough so he could breathe freely and properly. Now that Virgil did not hug him anymore, he could adjust a bit but as soon as his body shifted, one of Virgil’s arms, that was still loosely around his hip, immediately fastened around him like a safety belt. You move rapidly, it restrains you in order to safely keep you within the vehicle - in case of a crash. And it was more than just restricting, it was limiting, it was holding him back and hid rips were creaking and squeaking under the torture of so much force pushing against his chest. They were curling and arching, threatening to give in. Patton gasped at the sudden pressure applied to his body and he shrunk into himself. At the same time, his best friend, the dark little emoshine returned, a little box in his hand. “I got you, Patton. I will never let you go.” The usually oh-so happy and pappy man feared that he would never be able to smile through the icy shiver that ran through his body, chilling him down and making him tremble and sniffle. He could not help but dread these words. Otherwise so sweet-sounding and lovely to his heart, he could not bring himself to be flattered. He was terrified. When Virgil did not try to scare them, he certainly did an even better job at it than he usually did already. After all, he still was anxiety and not just a shimmering gem that needed to be freed from his cage of hardened dirt that dared tainting his beauty and true shine. “W-what’cha got there, kiddo?” His voice was hopeful, it was the little shine of light breaking through the spaces of the blinds that blocked out all the sun and other sources of illumination. There was darkness only, even with his weak attempts at making it through, his voice was swallowed by the room around him. “Because we are friends. We are best friends, right?” Virgil’s long fingers curled around the metal box. It was just small enough to fit into his hand judging from how broad it was but it was longer than his hands. The arms around Patton framed his sides but he was not held so tightly anymore. Patton hummed in agreement. The slender digits pushed against the opening of the box and broke it open, splitting the two sides. “O-of course, Vi-we are friends.” His voice was shaking with his body. Actually, his whole soul seemed to tremble before the box. Virgil’s hands revealed the insides of a box after he pulled the sides apart and laid the contents open, letting the scarce light of the day illuminate the area. The metal box had even more metal inside. A little silverish thing was shining inside and a bit of cloth and some band-aids were there as well. A small tube of sanitising solution was packed next to it. “Virgil?” The former darkside left the innocent box or horrors in Patton’s lap and retreated to hug him again, his hands choking his existence. He was already close to tears. It was still better than talking to Logan... His friend did not speak, he just gave Patton’s cheek a little cheek and nudged his side once more. “Take it. I promise it will help.” Patton’s shuddering heart complied. It calmed itself when the moral side melted into the little bit of affection he was shown. “Okay.” He pressed his lips together and licked them. His mind was unsure whether he was trying to think about this again or just stalling but the taste of fear would not leave his tongue anyway, no matter how much he rubbed it against his lips and tried to wash it free from his sin, his flaws and faults. “I trust you, Virgil. I would always trust you.” The other side eased his grip on him and closed his eyes, relishing in the image of being loved, of being the accepted and trusted side. His lips spread into a smile. “You can do it, Patton. Take it and feel the magic. It will draw all your fears away.” Patton let out an unsteady breath and carefully reached forward, gracing the box as he took the little blade up with his smooth fingers. His caring hands held the sharp thing up and he took the time to lean in and look at the tool. It felt so easy to focus on the cutting edge, the silver steel and the gleaming shine of promise and relief. For some reason, he felt.. absolutely captivated by the little something before him. “But w-...what do I do with it? It looks very nice” His tongue pressed against his gums and decided to stop himself any more than that. Not that he really knew what else to say. Virgil grabbed the blade with one hand and wrapped his other hand around Patton’s wrist. “You gotta use that cardigan of yours later, my little popstar.” Patton wanted to ask what this what about and why he would say such things but before he could even look back at his friend, he felt a sharp pain literally cut through him. His skin split apart where Virgil ran the edgy side of the tool over his exposed arm. His arm flinched, wanting to pull away from the stinging pain. It did not hurt much, it was just intense, it was so so intense and present. This was the kind of pain to wake you up and suck in a breath rather than groan at the dullness and constancy of it. Red pearls started blooming from the cut through his skin, little strings of tissue could be seen but they quickly drowned in the wine red liquid filling up the sudden abyss within his arm that was created through Virgil’s intervention. His pulse spiked up and he pressed his back against Virgil’s chest. “Virgil!” Patton did not even what to say, how to articulate his thoughts, form any words at all. It was all blank. His mind ran out of him like the blood flowing out of his arm and slowly travelling down his skin to drip onto the dark sheets below him. Patton hiccuped and sniffled, his body already retreating into his fetal position for protection. He was ready to tolerate worse. Heart pumping and blood flowing, the first tears rolled over his curves cheeks as he instinctively pushed into Virgil’s arms further. “m sorreh”, he squeaked into his own arms. The sounds were mostly swallowed away by his desperate hiccups and wretched sobs. Red life juice dripped everywhere, burning at Patton’s open wound and screeching in alarm at the injury. Virgil pushed him back into place. “It is okay, keep going”, he instructed, calmly as always but his voice doubling a slightest bit, “I don’t care about the blood, it’s just some fucking sheets.” His mouth fell open to restrict Virgil’s speech and reprimand him. Using such filthy words was not good for any of them - especially Thomas. But instead he let out a gasped breath and shook his head. Still, he moved into position as before and Virgil made sure to pad his arm clean with a cotton pad. The movements were clean, secure. The white balls sucked up all the crimson crime and slowly removed every sign of sin Patton had spilled with his mistakes. He wanted to apologise again but decided to swallow it again. Along with the tears, he just drank up all questions and panic so it would be good. If he tried hard enough, everything would be okay, it would be great and fine and all would be great. Thomas would love him again and Logan would be nice if he tried hard enough... just trying more and more until it would work again. Instead, he caught the little instrument of pain Virgil plopped into his hands after nudging him into a proper position. As before, he put the blade down, close to the injury on his arm. The blood was rather dried by now and white balls tainted in red were between his crossed legs. Slowly, Patton pressed the stinging feeling further into his skin until he pushed through, closing his eyes and holding his breath as he let the sharpness run through his arm once more. As before, blood bubbled up in large amounts, pushing forward to cover up all the exposed skin he had forced apart. More dark juiced flew over his arm, decorating his pants, Virgil’s bed and Patton’ heart. The arms around him returned but this time they felt soft and supportive. The tears were standing in his eyes, patient and Patton-pending. The streaks on his cheeks were dried and felt hard when the moral side’s lips twitched to make space for sucking in a large potion of oxygen. “Good, Patton. Let all your bad feelings spill out of you”, Virgil spoke softly. The man gently nudged him. It was a silent command to keep going and before Patton knew it, he had draw the blade a few more times until he was dizzy and exhausted, heartache faded and vision blurry. Virgil held and supported him through it all and now busied himself in softly patting and massaging his shoulders as his friend struggled to regain proper conscious. With all his energy leaving him, Patton did feel better. Tears and blood were dried by now and his problems seemed so far away, he wondered whether Logan had ever been anything but gentle and considerate with him. “You did well, my dear” Patton heard the subtle mumbles coming from the other and he gave a barely visible nod. A few sounds escaped his mouth as and he let himself sink further into Virgil’s chest, a sweet bliss of being free of worries and mental pain blessed him. The physical pain was still burning into him. It was like eating very spicy things but his arm was his tongue and it was very concentrated and hot for certain areas. The stinging was persistent, especially with Virgil applying certain pressure to it as he cleaned the streaks and cliffs of injury. “I hope you are feeling better at all or something. I got other methods, too.. you just have to be quiet about it.” Virgil dipped a ball of cotton into sanitising solution and carefully shushed his blabbering friend who was still too far gone to react appropriately. “This will sting a lot, prepare for it”, he warned and carefully secured Patton’s abused arm with his own other hand. “Breath in, now” With his last words, he proceeded to press the damp fluffy ball against his arm. Without missing a beat, Patton hissed at the sensation, the sudden intense burning undeniably torturous as it did not leave him any space to take refugee to. “Ow ow ow ow ow!!”, he whined rapidly, his words merging into one lazy string of sounds that could not be spliced. Virgil’s steel grip on him returned and he pushed Patton back into the spit between his own legs that were clad in black ripped jeans as always. “I am almost done, stop being a baby. You are free from all the bad feelings, so be happy about it!” The Tempest Tongue had Patton quieted down. His mind was too fuzzy to disobey, too out of it to argue and point out that he was not overreacting but there was another thing holding him back. Virgil was right. Even after this event, he found himself returning to Virgil’s room for bruising hugs and stinging wounds. There was always the worst part, the stinging and flaming clean-up afterwards and obviously the hissed words and strict voice Virgil used on him. Eventually, he learned how to do it alone but it was nicer with someone else around and hug him. He learned how to hide away and excuse things such as wearing his cardigan because it was so cold or fit his new aesthetic. Logan said he looked more serious and he agreed. Still, he did not get a place to talk to Thomas much. At least he knew how to cope with the rejection pains by now. Without the pain, he made sure to freshly cut himself some slack every now and then. Literally.

I have a research paper I should be working on so anyway here’s why all grown up from bare: a pop opera makes me cry

(this is based off the 2013 LA version because that’s my favorite- idk how it compares to other versions) 

You’ve seen all those “in this essay” posts- now get ready for: the essay. 

First off: “hi” “if you say so” is a really funny exchange considering what’s about to happen and I’m really sad when the audience doesn’t laugh because I laugh every time. What does that even mean? 

Anyway. 

Ivy skipped rehearsal again. It’s shown that she seems dedicated to theater earlier in the show, given that she’s one of the only people without a script in front of her during the auditions because she’s apparently already memorized it. She’s gone from memorizing her part early to skipping multiple rehearsals in a row. 

Next the “what? my brother break your heart? ‘cause it sure broke mine when I found out he was seeing you” line. At first this line seems like Nadia is upset because she doesn’t approve of Ivy, but during No Voice Nadia reveals that she’s known Jason was gay all along. That recontextualizes this line; instead of Nadia not approving of Ivy, it shows that she’s upset because Jason is gay but denying it. It’s hinted at that Nadia knows Jason is gay in the line “stuck wanting the one thing she can’t have” but at first it’s easy to take that line as in Jason is simply not interested. 

Next Ivy says “you think you know me.” She’s been misunderstood this entire musical. I’m not saying her every action is excusable because she’s a flawed person, just like everyone else, but everyone does assume a lot about her sex life when all we’re shown is her relationship with Matt and then her pining after Jason/their thing. 

After this, Nadia goes off about how she wishes her life was like Ivy’s. After “I would trade places with you in a heartbeat” Ivy doesn’t respond. There’s a few measures of introduction, and then she begins singing. This makes Nadia vocalizing her sadness more impactful; until this moment she’s carried herself with false confidence, and now she’s allowing herself to be emotional around other people. 

Ivy has been looking through old pictures since Nadia walked in, and she know begins to sing about them. It’s sweet to see that Ivy is a nostalgic person who apparently kept a binder of pictures, but it also hurts to know how much she longs for easier times. 

It’s also painful that Ivy and Nadia were once friends (”back when we were all just friends”), implying that they’ve known each other for a while but have been driven apart. The inclusion of “all” also makes me wonder who all is in the picture- given Nadia’s apparent inclusion, I wonder if Jason was also present. 

Then the lights go up on Peter and Jason, and Peter asks “did you sleep with her?” Every time I watch this scene I have to pause right here and pray that Jason will tell the truth this time. Instead, he responds “no” very defensively. Ivy immediately begins singing again, which pulls the audience back to the fact that, despite what Jason says, we can’t ignore what really happened, and we’re about to learn exactly why his lie was so awful. 

Jason reaches over to hold Peter’s hand, and we know as an audience that he’s going to try to pretend what happened with him and Ivy never happened. Peter’s obviously hesitant given his body language (his back is partially to Jason and his shoulders are hunched), but he loves Jason and seems to have forgiven him (pilgrim’s hands). 

Next thing that hurts: “feeling how it grows inside me.” The lyrics have been kind of vague up to this point, but they’re beginning to zero in on why Ivy is so distraught. This is when lightbulbs start appearing over audience members’ heads as they realize what’s growing inside her. 

The camera goes back to the wide shot, and you can see Peter and Jason kissing and then fall back on the bed. This is particularly painful because we’re seeing the two of them make up as Ivy sings about what Jason has done to her. It’s a really haunting image because on one side of the stage we see Peter forgiving Jason and the two of them attempting to move past what has happened, and on the other side we see Ivy, who can’t move past what happened. I’m not sure because the version I’ve been watching focuses on Ivy for the rest of the song, but given that they move the dorm set away at the end of the song when it returns to the wide shot, I assume Peter and Jason remain on stage for the rest of the song? Maybe the lights go out but in my head (and ideal staging) their silhouettes are still there, a constant reminder of how the stories of Jason and Ivy are diverting. 

The song then gets to the chorus. Ivy sings about how her life has been interrupted, and someone should call her mother. The differences in why people call their mothers in this musical is really interesting to me. Peter is encouraged to call his mother to come out, but Ivy has to call her mother to tell her she’s pregnant. 

“Look at me / I’m all grown up” hurts. Ivy just turned seventeen (she sings she’s seventeen in this song, and her birthday passed in act one) and now she’s facing the ramifications of this situation. 

When the chorus ends and there’s a few measures of rest before she begins singing again, Ivy rubs at her stomach and has to hold back tears so she can continue singing. 

The anger in her voice when she sings “and now of course it comes to this” and points at her stomach is painful. She’s been working towards graduation and becoming an adult, and how her life has been thrown off. 

“if only Ivy had behaved / or learned to stop at just a kiss.” Ouch. 

“just another unwed mother / one more sad statistic now” It’s sad how Ivy already feels so dehumanized by the experience. She’s not allowed to go through this personally; instead she’s part of a greater group that people point at and say “don’t do that.” She’s never allowed to be her own person because she’s always living with other people’s projections. 

when the music cuts out and she sings “look at me / I’m all grown up” so sadly my heart shatters in two, thanks. The music then returns very harshly and angrily and poor Ivy’s going through so much h oly cow. 

She then sings about what to do- she has to tell people and do something about it, but she very clearly has no idea where to start. She’s so lost, and there’s no easy way out of this situation. 

“am I supposed to love this child? / is it just that simple then?” AAAAA

She can barely get out “I’m seventeen / how will I manage?” because she’s pushing back tears. She’s so young, and she has to deal with so much. No one until this moment has reached out to help her; Jason’s been avoiding her, and Nadia’s first reaction was to yell at her instead of realizing that something is wrong. 

When she sings “I’m just a girl” she sounds so hopeless. Hurts. 

There’s a blackout before she gets there, but it’s implied that Nadia goes to hug her when the songs ends. Despite how much they disagree with each other, Nadia is here for Ivy, most likely because there’s rarely anyone there for Nadia. She’s got to reach out because really, who else will? She’s been treated like a joke by everyone else despite what she’s going through (a quiet night at home) and she most likely doesn’t want Ivy to feel the same way. 

TL;DR there’s so much emotion is every inch of this song, and the way it’s staged and put together is so clever. The image of Peter and Jason across from Ivy and Nadia is cruel, and Lindsay Pearce does an amazing job singing the song and bare is a really, really good show. 

Dion — Kickin’ Child: 1965 Columbia Recordings

If Dion DiMucci’s career had ended in 1965 and he’d quietly returned to the Fordham, Bronx, neighborhood from which he emerged, he’d still be one of the minor deities in the pantheon of early rock ’n’ roll. The twin 1961 blasts of blue-eyed, greaser R&B on which his legend was solidified, “Runaround Sue” and “The Wanderer,” are eternal, time-capsule-worthy odes to teenage lust delivered with a moxie they just don’t make anymore.

Dion’s career, however, did not end in 1965, and as far as early rock ‘n’ roll icons go, his career got really interesting around this time, too. At a crossroads in the early sixties personally, professionally, and creatively, Dion signed with Columbia Records as the label’s first bona fide rock singer, but on the condition that he allow the label to mold him into a Bobby Darin–style supper club act. He gave it a legitimate go, but it wasn’t his bag. Part of the Columbia deal, however, gave Dion access to the label’s studios and the freedom to record whatever he wanted (even if Columbia wasn’t obligated to release it). Creatively restless at this stage and struggling with addiction, Manucci made some solid blues recordings alongside his false starts as a standard-issue crooner, and he also whole-heartedly embraced the folk sounds coming out of Greenwich Village. Prepared to swim rather than sink like a stone, so to speak, he put a new band together, the Wanderers (hey, let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater, right?); hooked up with Columbia staff producer Tom Wilson; and crafted some of the finest, yet frustratingly overlooked folk rock of the era.

Fifty-two years later, Norton Records has unearthed these recordings from the Columbia vaults and compiled them into the great lost Dion album, Kickin’ Child. Stirring, melancholy folk set to chiming guitars, a propulsive backbeat, and a sophisticated production sensibility, the set is a true stunner for those only familiar with Dion’s doo-wop records, or even his later folk hit “Abraham, Martin and John.” DiMucci is clearly a man in transition here, contemplating what’s next not just from a musical perspective but also from a private one. His cover of Tom Paxton’s “I Can’t Help But Wonder Where I’m Bound” achingly flips the script on the brash confidence of “The Wanderer” and finds the singer confused, contemplative, and drifting. The suggestion being that after all of the lovin’ and leavin’ there is still much to be desired. Dion was always a confused, heavy-hearted sort, but where his anguished 1959 hit “Teenager in Love” hinted at a brighter day when such questions of the heart might have an answer, tracks like “Time in My Heart for You” and “Wake Up Baby” wrestle with the very adult, existential knowledge that not only are the answers not forthcoming, but they simply don’t exist at all.

These songs are the result of an unexpectedly inspired creative spirit, but Dion didn’t do it alone. And the influence of future Velvet Underground and Mothers of Invention producer Tom Wilson here is worth exploring. Having produced several Bob Dylan albums, including the electric side of Bringing it All Back Home, Wilson was clearly instrumental in fashioning the folk rock sound. Yet when equipped with the knowledge that Wilson was working with Dion simultaneously with Dylan (with studio ace Al Kooper assisting both as well), one can view from a whole new angle that full-band amalgam of Chuck Berry, Little Walter, and the Old Weird America that would recalibrate the sound of the 1960s for a time. It was a sound that seemingly had to happen in order for rock ‘n’ roll to move forward, and Tom Wilson, a jazz producer from Texas, and Dion DiMucci, a former teen idol from Bronx, New York, were as hip to it as that force of nature known as Bob Dylan.

Still, the specter of Zimmerman looms here, from the multiple covers, including the first recorded cover version of “It’s All Over Now Baby Blue,” to Dion’s new look of shades and tight jeans, to even the album’s cover photo, which reads as a slightly more whimsical, neighborly version of the iconic shot of Dylan and Suze on the cover of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. But for all the nods to Bob, the one thing that posits Dion as Dylan’s better is his voice. We all know Dylan’s is a polarizing croak that he succeeded in spite of. But Dion? The man could sincerely sing, and seemingly in any way you asked him to. Alternating between gritty street-corner soul, gutbucket blues shouting, and pensive crooning, Dion’s voice is his greatest instrument. That he was able to deftly combine it with excellent songwriting and a mature grasp of where the still nascent sound of rock ’n’ roll was headed makes Kickin’ Child far more than a curio, rather it’s an overlooked gem from a crucial transitional period in American culture.

A brief word about Norton Records: Norton has always proudly embraced their status as purveyors of the raunchy, outsider underbelly of rock ‘n’ roll, and while Dion is still a household name at seventy-seven years old and doesn’t deliver anything especially unhinged or depraved on Kickin’ Child (quite the opposite in fact), he has in is own way always been something of an outsider. A quintessentially New York City songwriter who stayed true to his own vision, struggled through some very tough times, and stood tall—to that end he’s also a quintessentially Norton Records artist.

The Power of Love Can Make a Zombie Too!

It's hard to believe it's over. It was five years ago that I set out to write The Zombies of Penzance. It seemed so perfect, so deliciously fucked up, and the process of "translating" the story , the changing of Gilbert's pirates into zombies, hardly disturbed the plot at all (though I later made some larger plot changes). I know you want to ask, so yes, I was seriously stoned when I thought of the idea. I immediately loved everything about it. I already deeply loved The Pirates of Penzance. I love zombie movies. I love mashups. Plus, I quickly decided that my approach would include an elaborate, though entirely false, backstory about the creation of The Zombies of Penzance. In fact, that meta-layer became an important part of the humor. We tell the audience Gilbert wrote these zombie lyrics, but then throughout the evening, we keep smacking them with anachronisms, four-letter words, and other morsels that Gilbert would/could never have written -- including every reference to zombies, which hadn't entered the awareness of Western culture yet. I loved all of that. The inherent wrongness of it all. More than anything what I loved most was the fundamental idea of telling a horror story in the language of English light opera, possibly the most "wrong" storytelling form imaginable for this content. That was the appeal for me, more than anything else. I love things, particularly art, that are obviously wrong or fucked-up. That's so interesting, and often, so funny. I also loved the idea that this would be New Line's second zombie musical, since we did the very serious Night of the Living Dead in 2013. And its our seventh horror musical, following our productions of Rocky Horror, Sweeney Todd, Bat Boy, In the Blood, and Lizzie. Should we also count Urinetown...? Throughout the time I've been working on this, I was always mindful of the fact that no matter how funny or meta-ironic my text was, it had no real value on the page. It's only a zombie operetta when it's live (dead?) onstage. I needed lots of people to make it into live theatre. That's true of all our shows, but since this was an awfully odd experiment, it was constantly in my awareness. When I talked to friends about it, at some point I'd always throw in, "...if I ever finish it, and if we produce it..." We held a public reading in January. To my amazement, 150 people showed up, and to my greater amazement they followed the plot easily and fully embraced my multiple layers of meta, my blatant anachronisms, and the four-letter words sprinkled throughout. The audience really loved both the ways in which I had stayed true to Gilbert & Sullivan and their traditions, and also the ways in which I violated that. It's actually a fairly complex piece, and I was delighted that many of the reviewers noticed and appreciated that. Paul Friswold wrote in his Riverfront Times review:

Scott Miller and John Gerdes are the responsible parties, tinkering with Gilbert's lyrics and Sullivan's music to create something more than the sum of the parts. The two St. Louisans have added modern references, profanity and a careful adherence to the spirit of the original operetta. Portraits of George A. Romero and Queen Victoria hang above the old-fashioned stage and its working footlights, hinting at the twin forces at work here. Romero is the godfather of zombies in popular entertainment, and Victoria led the society that simultaneously embraced Gilbert & Sullivan's jaunty work and harbored a morbid fascination with life after death. All of these elements come together on stage, to strange and often comic effect. . . . But it's not all fun and pop-culture riffs. Despite his lethal nature, the Major-General has a most troubled conscience. The second-act song "When the World Went Bad" cracks open the show's candy coating to reveal the darkness within. Stanley sings of his fears about the forces bringing the dead to life, and worries about the coarsening of his soul. Is he less moral than the Zombie King, who spares some people (albeit under false pretenses)? The Major-General kills them all, and then shakes with terror and remorse late at night. Is he worse than what he hunts? It's a question that harkens back to Richard Matheson's 1954 novel I Am Legend, which was Romero's own inspiration. The book also informs the finale, which is preceded by a delightfully ridiculous brawl between the Stanley daughters, who are in their bloomers and bearing cricket bats and nunchucks, and the zombie horde. Things become very dark indeed. But you know what they say: It's always darkest before the dawn of the dead.

Some people reflexively dismissed the show -- without seeing it of course -- as a stunt, a bastardization, a one-joke show. I'll admit that my new Major-General lyric is a stunt, but so is Gilbert's original. That's what patter songs are. Beyond that, The Zombies of Penzance is an experiment in form and content, it's a big over-arching meta-joke about lost and discarded works, and it's a translation in terms of cultural context and also in terms of themes. As I wrote in another blog post, The Pirates of Penzance is about how absurd and arbitrary class distinctions are. But though I changed the basic story very little, the substitution of monsters (zombies) for "monsters" (pirates) changes more than you'd expect. The Zombies of Penzance is about the Other-ing of those who are different from us, particularly by those who claim the moral high ground.

And also, because I cut the policemen from the story, and gave their songs to the Stanley daughters, who are now trained zombie hunters, it's also a story about women standing up for themselves, fighting back, solving their own problems. I was honestly shocked at how empowering it apparently felt for women in our audience when the daughters marched on in their zombie hunter clothes in mid-Act II, particularly I think for women who know Pirates. The journey's been five years for me, but it's also been two years for John Gerdes, who adapted the music and orchestrated it. He adapted and orchestrated all the music for our reading last January, then he orchestrated Yeast Nation for us, then he came back to Zombies, finished his work and incorporated my rewrites from the reading. And then John and his wife Lea played in the band for the show. So I suspect John will have some zombie withdrawal as well. This amazing cast has been working on this show since last November, when we started rehearsals for the reading. They have worked so hard on this score, both musically and conceptually. I realized early on that we had to apply the lessons of Little Shop, Bat Boy, and Urinetown to The Zombies of Penzance. The more seriously we take it, the funnier it gets; and in parallel to that, the better we sing the music, the more seriously we take that, the funnier the show gets. This isn't Evil Dead. To maintain the crazy meta-story, our audience had to believe this was intended to be performed at the Savoy Theatre in 1879. The more legit the music, the funnier the show.

And likewise, the better the craft -- rhymes, scansion, etc. -- the funnier the show. The Major-General's big patter song, "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Era Zombie Killer," is funny partly because the craft is good. Really, I guess all this is a lesson Gilbert and Sullivan learned long before Little Shop of Horrors. Almost all their shows are inherently ridiculous stories (about inherently ridiculous aspects of Western culture) which they present utterly straight-faced. No matter how wacky Gilbert's text gets, Sullivan's music is always straight-faced. This has been such a wonderful experience for me, bringing two of my greatest loves together, G&S and zombies. To quote my own lyric:

Hail, zombies, thou heav’n-made dead! Forsaken by the God we dread. Great metaphor for all we fear! All hail the end of all that we hold dear!

I was very lucky to find a cast full of really strong, funny, talented, fearless actors to bring my show to life, and almost all of them have stayed with the show since last November. I am very grateful. And then to get such warm, overwhelming responses to it! Look at some of these press quotes:

"Another triumph for New Line. . . a hilariously inspired joke." -- Calvin Wilson, St. Louis Post-Dispatch "The funniest show that New Line Theatre has ever mounted." -- Judy Newmark, All The World's a Stage "Both a nightmare and a delight — let's call it a delightmare." -- Paul Friswold, The Riverfront Times "Uproarious." -- Jeff Ritter, Critical Blast "It's amazing. . . so much fun." -- Kevin Brackett, ReviewSTL "A wonderful whirlwind of apocalyptic delight." -- Tanya Seale, BroadwayWorld "Reverently irreverent and witty. . . a delightfully fun, pointedly funny musical." -- Tina Farmer KDHX "Let the wackiness ensue." -- Lynn Venhaus, STL Limelight "In terms of humor and sheer musicality, it’s remarkable." -- Michelle Kenyon, Snoop's Theatre Thoughts

But our show has closed and my zombie journey ends, for now. We've already gotten a couple requests for rights to perform the show, so the Zombie King may live (die?) on. But for all practical purposes, the ride is over. I will miss these characters and this beautiful music, and this extraordinary cast. It was so thrilling every night when they sang the a cappella chorale late in Act I, "Hail Zombies!" -- such a massive, gorgeous sound (due in large part to music director Nic Valdez)! John and I will be cleaning up / correcting the script and score, and then we'll publish them on Amazon, so they'll be available soon. And I won't swear to it, but we also may be releasing a live cast album. And yes, we will license other theatres to produce it.

And don't tell anybody... but I'm already working on another "new" G&S show. No promises, but I may end up writing a G&S horror trilogy before I'm done. I can hear the heads of G&S fans exploding as I type this... Suggestions are welcome for source material for the third in the trilogy. I'll leave you with one of my favorite bits from Zombies. Thank you, St. Louis, for once again, taking a chance on us and totally embracing the insanity we've wrought. We owe you so much!

My zombie hunting habits, though a potent, little metaphor, Are really more subversive than the critics give me credit for. In nineteenth cent’ry operetta, comedy or thriller, I am still the very model of a modern-era zombie killer!

Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-power-of-love-can-make-zombie-too.html