#tea for sabbat
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IMBOLC TEA 2024
Black Tea: III parts
Green Tea: II parts
Sage: I part
Lavender: I part
Rosemary: 1/2 part
Jasmine: I part
Cinnamon: 1/2 part
I used a black tea with some cacao, but you may use any you like. I just used that one for cozyness purposses.
#imbolc tea#tea for sabbat#winter tea#winter is still here#black tea#green tea#witchy tea#saint brigid day tea#cozy drink#blend of mine to keep yourself warm#hope it gets colder over here though#we could use some rain#this winter is too dry for me#celebrate it's way past the date when frau perchta would come for you
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Samhain Recipes..Enjoy
#samhain#sabbat#all hallows eve#witchcraft#witchyvibes#witch community#witchblr#green witch#kitchen witch#tea witch#cottage witch#nature witch#witchy#witchy tips#witches of tumblr#paganlife#witchy recipes#recipes#witch recipes
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Formula of the Hermit's Tea
By potencies of carefully chosen plants shall Spring Water be charmed as a Brew of Fortification [for Fasting] and suffice to purify and nourish the Seeker, together with the sweet nectars of Contemplation and the Bread of Spirit […]
Take one measure each of blessed and prepared Oat Straw, Nettle Tops, and Rose Hips, dried or fresh. One half measure each of Clover Blossom and Leaf of Peppermint are likewise added. Likewise, a third measure of Ginger Root is blessed and set aside in waiting. If these worts be gathered by thine own hand from garden or field, so much the better. Let Ginger and Rose be placed into a cooking vessel, with eight measures of water, and brought to boil. the heat is reduced, the mixture cooked gently for a short time, after which the other plants are added, and the pot taken off the fire. All [other] Herbs shall infuse for the duration of one half hour; at which time their remains are returned to the Earth, and the Tea is ready to drink- its goodness improved with a local Honey.
From Viridarium Umbris: The Pleasure Garden of Shadow, published 2005; Daniel Schulke (My Ko-Fi Here)
#Viridarium Umbris: The Pleasure Garden of Shadow#Daniel Schulke#Natural Connections#Sabbatic Craft#Cultus Sabbati#Green Witch#Green Witchcraft#Herbalism#A Dragon's Hoard of Tea#Water Priestess#Quote
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#winter solstice#odinson thriving quill#odinson tea&tarots table#reiki and yoga with odinson#wednesday#nature cycles#pagan holidays#8 sabbats
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List of why the Radio Demon disappeared for 7 years:
1. His fight with Vox ended really badly and he needed to recover.
2. He went somewhere to acquire more power.
3. He had a mission to do because of his deal.
4. Vox confessed his love for Alastor. Alastor had no idea how to respond to this so he ghosted Vox for seven years. But Vox had access to cameras everywhere so the best way to ghost Vox is to ghost the city.
5. Met a wise old man who taught him the secrets to life, he had a training montage.
6. Took a gap year(s) to “find himself”
7. Extended tea party at Rosie’s
8. His shadow got pissed at him and decided to swallow him, sending him to a shadow dimension that he drifted in for seven years.
9. His friends from the other side finally caught up to him and he had to repay his debt
10. His tailor went on sabbatical and he couldn’t leave his place without the proper amount of drip so he had to wait for him to return.
11. There was a shortage of red hair dye, he had to wait for them to restock.
12. Someone took a photo of him with his tail out. He went on a mission to hunt them down and DESTROY them.
13. He went to the Hellmart to cause $50,000 in TV damages (Tomota vid reference)
14. He was busy making diss tracks for everyone he knows and lost track of time.
15. Susan beat him in a bake sale and he had to hide out of shame.
16. Honeymoon with his cane.
17. Fell into a coma
18. Found out about the Alastor-Body Pillow Vox had and then had to ensure they were never manufactured again.
19. He accidentally saw part of one of Angel’s pornos and was traumatized. He had to leave Pentagram City because everyone he went he saw his face.
20. Hung out with Lilith who dished tea about Lucifer.
21. Was told he was “outdated” so he took the time to educate himself on modern slang.
22. Tried to find an obedience trainer for cats.
23. He time traveled seven years into the future and just decided to run with it.
24. Alastor was killed. That’s not Alastor. That’s a shadow acting as him.
25. That’s not Alastor, that’s his twin brother.
26. Walked in on a role play session between a Vox and Valentino-Dressed-Up-Like-Alastor and needed to find a way to erase the memory.
27. Bonked his head. Woke up and thought his name was Bob, he lived a nice, happy life until he bonked his head again.
28. Fell through a portal and woke up in a dimension where his name was a bird named Crane who was a janitor in a world of King Fu and pandas.
29. Got access to the season 1 script so he could mentally prepare. He’s been rehearsing his lines and doing his best to make his performance as disturbing as possible.
30. Went to the dentist. When they tried to help him he ate them, so he had to find another dentist, who he also ate. This went on for a while.
31. Was run out of town by his dentist who got annoyed he kept dodging his appointments
32. Got relationship counseling for him and his shadow.
33. Was just out having a good time, partying, and consuming souls.
34. Went on a seven year long bender.
35. Rosie told him he was an “arrow” so he went to archery classes. Turns out she was wrong and archery really isn’t his forte.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel memes#stupid hazbin hotel lists#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor#staticradio#radiostatic#one sided#(Aka vox is a simp)#aroace alastor#radio demon
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Hiii, can you please write another fic about a teenage reader (16-18) and anybody from hazbin hotel. It can be about anything
HEloooo
Alastor x teen reader platonic
Headcannon by @ghostly-one: "During Alastor's absence, Reader went to the overlord meetings in his place"
✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿
*knock knock knock*
You heard as you groaned and pushed your head up from your pillow.
"It's me, Y/n." You could hear the radio static through your door, "I have an errand to run and would like for you to join me."
"I'll be down in a minute." You replied as you started to get up.
------
"Oh, boy whats the plan, boss?"
"I like your suits."
"What are the antlers for?"
"Can I touch your ~staff thing~?"
"Are those your ears? or is it your hair? I can't tell."
The egg boiz were annoying the fuck outta you and Alastor. If you knew they would've tagged along, you wouldn't have come even if you were going to an overlord meeting.
"Hark Alastor, Y/n. How fare thee this day." Zestial appeared from nowhere in front of the both of you.
"Good evening Zestial, It's nice to see you again." You greeted with a smile as Alastor quickly threatened the eggs.
"Greetings Zestial." Alastor said as the sinners around you three started to take notice and run.
"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day."
"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon."
"If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence. Y/n hast been in thy lodging since thee've been gone." Zestial looked to you with a pleased expression as he patted your shoulder before continuing his conversation with Alastor.
"Some hath spun wild tales of you falling into... Holy arms."
"Hahaha Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical. Nothing serious. Though it's fun to keep everyone of their toes."
"There too hath been rumour of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy. TELL ME, how does thou fall in such folly." Zestial would've creeped you out if you weren't used to his (and Alastor's) over-the-top and old-timey ways.
"That is more me to know. But please do guess. I'd love to know the theories."
"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm."
"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment."
The three of you made it the the building where the meeting would be taking place as you and Zestial stepped into the elevator you waiting for Alastor to tell the eggs to wait for him before pressing the button.
-------
You sat in between Alastor and one of Carmilla's daughters.
"Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of out city. Together you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest." Carmilla said matter-of-factly. "Zestial, so good to see you, my friend."
"Enchanted as always Carmilla." He said as he sipped his tea.
Carmilla was about to look around the room when she spotted Alastor. The face that she made nearly made you laugh.
"Alastor?"
"Yes, I know I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering." Alastor spoke like he'd been waiting 7 years just to say that.
"Not really. But welcome back in any case." She dismissed him. You could hear the static abruptly stop and had to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh.
Once the meeting started you zoned out staring at the wall. To be honest you didn't really care about the meetings you were only there to show your face and now that Alastor is back it gave you less of a reason to care, but interesting things did happen quite often.
Like Velvette wanting a war with the exterminators.
✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿
Zestial translation: It would be much more foolish to think that I understand how your mind works, Alastor. You have always been a mystery to me ever since you came into this world. (just thought it would be nice to add this.)
@ghostly-one
This is choppy and rushed but parade season is starting soon and I have a lot of performances before then too.
#child reader#x child reader#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#platonic#male reader#female reader#gn reader#reticent writes#reticent writer
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Some topics + prompts for your grimoire or book of shadows
books you want to read
local folklore / mythology / legends
the wheel of the year
plants you have in your house or garden (their care, properties, uses, draw them etc)
theban alphabet
days of the week and their correspondences
write about a deity you worship / are drawn to
draw art for / of a deity you worship or are drawn to
colour magic
the elements
write about the crystals you own (draw them, write their properties, correspondences, uses, how it makes you feel etc)
how to make your own crystals
your birth chart
your sun, moon and rising sign
natural medicine (as a chronically ill witch I love natural medicine NOT AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR PRESCRIPTIONS! for example I take all my prescription meds and then if I'm having period pain I might drink some raspberry leaf tea)
positive affirmations / mantras that you connect with
how to manifest
history of witches
deities in a certain pantheon you're interested in or drawn to
write about a spell you've done (how you did it, why you did it, how you felt, the results of it, what you would change if you did the spell again etc)
chakras
write about a dream you've had
tarot reading tricks and tips
moon phases
sabbats
zodiac signs
family tree
poetry / songs / quotes you connect to (i like to find ones that make me feel powerful or witchy, or remind me of certain aspects of my practice. a song i like for this is rhiannon by fleetwood mac and i'm going to post more things like this regularly on my page)
feathers and their meanings
simple everyday magic
recipes
some ideas for the next sabbat you plan to celebrate
tarot spreads you like
write about a tarot reading you've done (any prep you did, the deck you used, the cards you pulled, your personal interpretation of the cards based on the art and how you feel, the meaning of the cards, how the cards relate to the questions you asked, final reflection on how you feel the reading went)
interesting mythology
tree of life
glamour magic
money bowls
crystal shapes and their meanings
grounding techniques
cleansing
protection
banishing
cord cutting spells
essential oils
types of divination
planets and their correspondences
angel numbers
witchy wishlist
go to supplies and ingredients (herbs and things that you use regularly)
favourite crystals
working with your inner child
if you've had a really good or particularly insightful meditation session it can be nice to either draw or write what happened and how you felt during it
witchy arts and crafts and diys you want to do
altar ideas
read a witchy book / watch a witchy video and take notes
write about your ancestors
witchy things to incorporate into your daily routine
what is a tower moment
witchy reset / self care days
the history of the area you live in
veiling
how to make your own incense sticks
shadow work
shadow work prompts
ok, that's all the ideas I have for now and I hope that helps someone! I'll be posting some pages from my grimoire and some more prompt / topic ideas in the near future which I'm really excited for.
P.S. please remember that everyone's practice is their own and you should do what feels right to you while respecting that other people have their own beliefs (as long as they're not hateful).
#grimoire#booksofshadows#witch#pagan#paganism#celtic paganism#journalling#creativity#art#art journal#journal#welsh witch#witchcraft#witch tips#grimoire ideas#grimoire prompts#shadow work#bookofshadowsprompts
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October 2023 witch guide
Full moon: October 28th
New moon: October 14th
Sabbats: Samhain
October Hunter's Moon
Known as: Blood moon, drying rice moon, falling leaf moon, freezing moon, migrating moon, moon of the changing seasons, shedding moon, ten colds moon, winterfelleth & windermanoth
Element: Air
Zodiac: Libra & Scorpio
Nature spirits: Frost faeries & Plant faeries
Deities: Apollo, Astarte, Belili, Cernunnos, Demeter, Hathor, Herne, Horned God, Ishtar, Kore, Lakshmi & Mercury
Animals: Elephant, jackal, ram, scorpion & stag
Birds: Crow, heron & robin
Trees: Acacia, apple, cypress & yew
Herbs/Plants: Angelica, apple blossom, burdock, catnip, pennyroyal, sweet Annie, thyme & Uva ursi
Flowers: Calendula, cosmos & marigold
Scents: Apple blossom, cherry & strawberry
Stones: Amethyst, beryl, obsidian, opal, tourmaline & turquoise
Colors: Black, dark blue, Dark greens & purples
Energy: Artistic works, balance, creativity, harmony, inner cleansing, justice, karma, legal matters, mental stimulation, partnerships, reincarnation & uncovering mysteries or secrets
It is believed that this name originates from the fact that it was a signal for hunters to prepare for the upcoming cold winter by going hunting. This is because animals were beginning to fatten up in preparation for the winter season. Moreover, since fields had recently been cleared out under the Harvest Moon, hunters could easily spot deer and other animals that had come out to search for remaining scraps. Additionally, foxes and wolves would also come out to prey on these animals.
The earliest use of the term “Hunter’s Moon,” cited in the Oxford English Dictionary, is from 1710. Some sources suggest that other names for the Hunter’s Moon are the Sanguine or Blood Moon, either associated with the blood from hunting or the color of the changing autumn leaves.
Samhain
Also known as: All Hallow's Eve, Ancestor Night, Feast of Apples, Feast of Sam-fuim, Feast of Souls, Feast of the Dead, Geimhreadh, Hallowmass, Martinmass, Old Hallowmas, Pagan New Year, Samana, Samhuinn, Samonios, Shadowfest & Third Harvest
Season: Fall
Symbols: Apples, bats, besom(brooms), black cats, cauldrons, ghosts, gourds, jack-o-lanterns, pumpkins, scarecrows & witches
Colors: Black, gold, orange, silver & white
Oils/incense: Basil, cloves, copal, frankincense, gum mastic, heather, heliotrope, mint, myrrh & nutmeg
Animals: Bat, boar, cat cattle & dogs
Stones: Amber, anatase, black calcite, black obsidian, black tourmaline, brass, carnelian, clear quartz diamond, garnet, gold, granite, hematite, iron, jet, marble, pearl, pyrite, ruby, sandstone, sardonyx, smokey quartz, steel & tektite
Foods: Apples, ale, beef, cider, corm, fruits, garlic, gourds, grains, hazelnuts, herbal teas, mushroom, nettle, nuts, pears, pomegranates, pork, poultry, pumpkin pie, sunflower seeds, thistle, turnips & wine (mulled)
Herbs/plants: Acorn, Allspice, catnip, corn, dittany of Crete, hazel, mandrake, mugwort, mullien, oak leaves, pine, rosemary, sage, straw, tarragon, thistle, wormwood & yellow cedar
Flowers: Calendula, chrysanthemum, deadly nightshade, rue & fumitory
Goddesses: Al-lat, Baba Yaga, Badb, Banba, Bast, Bebhionn, Bronach, Brunhilde, Cailleach, Carlin, Cassandra, Cerridwen, Copper Woman, Crobh Dearg, Devanyani, Dolya, Edda, Elli, Eris, Erishkigal, Fortuna, Frau Holde, Hecate, Hel, Ishtar, Kali, Macha Mania, Morrigan, Nemesis, Nephthys, Nicneven & Rhiannon
Gods: Arawan, Baron Samede, Belenus, Coyote, Cronus, Dagda, Dis, Hades, Loki, Nefertum, Odin, Osiris, Pluto, Woden & Xocatl
Issues Intentions & Powers: Crossroads, darkness, death, divination, honoring ancestors, introspection, the otherworld/underworld, release, visions & wisdom (of the crone)
Spellwork: Divination, fire magick, night magick, shape-shifting, spirit calling & water magick
Related festivals:
• Day of the Dead- (Spanish: Día de Muertos or Día de los Muertos) is a holiday traditionally celebrated on November 1st and 2nd, though other days, such as October 31 or November 6, may be included depending on the locality. It is widely observed in Mexico, where it largely developed & is also observed in other places, especially by people of Mexican heritage. Although related to the simultaneous Christian remembrances for Hallowtide, it has a much less solemn tone and is portrayed as a holiday of joyful celebration rather than mourning. The multi-day holiday involves family and friends gathering to pay respects and to remember friends and family members who have died. These celebrations can take a humorous tone, as celebrants remember funny events and anecdotes about the departed.
• All Saints Day- is a Christian solemnity celebrated in honor of all the saints & martyrs of the Church, whether they are known or unknown
Activities:
• Dedicate an altar to loved ones who have passed
• Boil a simmer pot to cleanse your space
• Have a silent dinner
• Light a candle for your loved ones & yourself
• Decorate your house and/or altar
• Release negative energy & cleanse your with a ritual bath
• Pull tarot cards to see what may be in store for you ahead
• Cleanse, clean & de-clutter your space
• Leave offerings to the Fae
• Journal & reflect on your accomplishments, challenges & everything you did this year
•Go on a nature walk
• Learn a new form of divination
• Have a bonfire with your friends and/or family
• Carve pumpkins
• Express yourself creatively through art, music, ect
• Visit a cemetery & help clean off areas that need it or to visit a family member/ ancestor & leave an offering
• Hold a seance
• Bake spooky treats & bread as offerings
• Refresh your protection magicks, sigils & rituals
Samhain is a Gaelic festival on 1 November marking the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter or "darker half" of the year. Celebrations begin on the evening of 31 October, since the Celtic day began and ended at sunset.
This fire festival is celebrated on October 31st & is considered the Pagan New Year. It is the first Sabbat on the Wheel of the Year, a cross-quarter festival & the third (final) harvest festival of the mundane year. This is the time when the veil between the worlds of the living & those who have passed is the thinnest, which allows greater communication between the two
Some believe this is the time of the Goddess's mourning of the death of the God until his rebirth at Yule. The Goddess's sadness can be seen in the shortening, darkening days & the arrival of cold weather
Sources:
Farmersalmanac .com
Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living
Wikipedia
Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines
A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs
#witchcraft#wheel of the year#sabbat#samhain#fall#hunter's moon#witchblr#wiccablr#paganblr#pagan#wicca#grimoire#spellbook#book of shadows#witches of tumblr#witch tumblr#witch community#moon magic#witch tips#witch guide#beginner witch#traditional witchcraft#all witches#correspondence#witchcore#GreenWitchcrafts#baby witch#beginner witch tips#baby witch tips#witchyvibes
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The Lookalike (Part 2)
☒ Summary:Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Having fallen into the clutches of your doppelganger's nemesis, you plan an escape, blissfully unaware that the Radio Demon himself now knows of your existence.
☒ Warnings: Alastor X Reader, Vox X Reader, hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.
☒ Series Links: Part I Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Alastor sat in his usual breakfast spot on the balcony of the hotel, taking tea. Before him on the table sat an envelope, stamped and sealed with Voxtek logos. No-one sent letters in Hell these days, what with the smart phones that everyone seemed to love, but the weight of the item was such that it could only contain one thing. Photographs.
What was old Voxxy playing at? Alastor turned the envelope over in his hand, looking for anything out of the ordinary. In different circumstance, he might assume that this would be a threat or a blackmail attempt, but there was no-one in Hell he really cared about, and since his return after his seven year sabbatical he had committed no crimes worth speaking of- his deal made sure of that. Still, there didn’t appear to be a trap on the envelope itself, no microchips, not even a trace of Valentino’s irritatingly potent pheromone powder.
With a sigh, Alastor slit the envelope open with a single claw, and dumped the contents onto the table. What he saw took him a moment to register, and when he did he spat his tea.
What Vox had sent him were pictures of him. Alastor, naked and fucked out, electric blue cum dribbling down his inner thigh. Alastor on his back, eyes teary and pleading. Alastor with his knees hooked over the top edge of Vox’s screen.
Alastor crushed the first photograph between his claws, eyes becoming red dials, his grin extending to his ears. Vox had gotten him somehow. How? How had this happened? He’d been so careful, he’d never met in person, he’d brought his full mastery over technology to batter Vox back whenever they had interacted through screens. Yet somehow, here he was, splayed on Vox’s bedsheets. A hiss escaped him, angry static. Someone would pay for this violation.
“Hey, Al-” Angel Dust stuck his head out of the door but froze. “Oh fuck. See you’re having a moment here, I’ll go-”
“Nonsense.” With effort, Alastor forced himself down in size, his eyes returning to their usual form. “Just had a little surprise, that’s all.” With a little canned laughter, Alastor started to scoop up the photographs, in his haste scattering them more.
“So you finally fucked the TV, huh. Good for you, smiles.” Angel Dust squinted at the photograph that fluttered to land by his foot. “Didn’t know you had it in ya.”
“I didn’t-” distress started to creep into Alastor’s voice, a high-pitched feedback tone as he snatched up more of the pictures, grinning with only his teeth. “I would never.”
Angel Dust gave him a doubtful look. “You know there’s nothin’ wrong with fuckin’, right? Hell I’m the last one ta judge-”
“I have no memory of this.” Alastor hissed, crushing another photo between his claws.
“Oh. Fuck.” Angel Dust gave Alastor a compassionate look. “Sorry, man, I shoulda listened. Lemme help you with those.”
“I am quite capable of gathering these-” said Alastor archly as Angel bent over to retrieve some of the pictures that had fallen under the table. To his annoyance, Angel held one photo up to the light, squinting at it. “Give me that.”
“Nah. Wait. Look, I’m a professional at this okay? Nothing I haven’t seen before. And this? This ain’t the tall dark and creepy I know.”
Your stay in Vox’s suite was enjoyable, but not something that could last. Mercifully the television demon worked long hours, which left you a good amount of time alone. It hadn’t taken much persuading for Vox to give you a phone, a shiny new model with his company’s logo emblazoned on the back. And once you had that, this place’s equivalent of the Internet was your oyster.
Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You’d even let him dress you, a fanciful blue outfit with a tailcoat and bowtie, and if that wasn’t a sign of co-operation, you weren’t sure what was.
what is hell
pentagram city
As you suspected, you were in Hell. Though you had no clear memories of your death, you were fairly certain you had died. The memory of falling to the ground in darkness was there, along with the pain in the back of your head, a taste like metal in your mouth. And being here rather than the other place, assuming the other place even existed, was no real surprise to you. Heaven was for the meek and obedient, and you’d done things that were neither. Scanning the information online, and reading between the lines, you picked up the basics. Sinners were ruled by overlords, and Vox was one of these, in a coterie alongside Valentino, the man who had pulled you in and a third overlord you hadn’t met. Overlords gained power from owning souls, but a quick scan of the information told you little about what this actually entailed. Was owning souls like slavery? Did being locked in Vox’s bedroom mean your soul was already forfeit? All you found at first was that soul ownership required a contract of some sort, so you continued your search.
how to tell if you have a soul contract
can you be forced into a soul contract
how to get out of soul contracts
There was conflicting information on the exact nature of soul contracts, but the general consensus was that the contract required the participant to be cogent enough to sign their name, or at least shake the hand of their new owner. That meant that it was unlikely that Vox actually owned your soul. The bad news was that a person could be coerced into handing their soul over, and you still didn’t have much leverage on Vox. Eventually he would want a handle on you, and the thought of it made you uneasy. You needed an out. It looked like murder would work to break a contract, but Hell’s social media sites were full of people complaining about how difficult murdering a fellow sinner was. People, it seemed, could recover from nearly any level of injury. Fascinated, you followed the topic further.
can you kill sinners
how to kill sinners
Unsurprisingly, you weren’t the only person on Hell’s internet interested in this topic. Aside from certain massive injuries, the answer that came up time and again was yes, angelic steel could kill sinners permanently.
what is angelic steel
how to get angelic steel
The material was apparently from weapons dropped by heavenly exorcists, and highly sought after. It looked expensive, and you doubted that Vox would continue to buy your innocent act if you started asking him to bring you weapons. You checked the uses, scrolling down the list of applications until one caught your eye. Wire made from angelic steel was sought after by audiophiles for its use in the cabling of sound systems. And what was Vox, if not a man who would make for himself the best high fidelity sound system that money could buy? Stalking into the sitting area of Vox’s quarters, you surveyed his sound system. It stood about seven feet tall and a little longer across, the mesh over the speakers so black that it almost registered like a hole in your vision. You could almost imagine the sound it would produce just by standing there before it, the way the vibrations would run through your hooves and into your shins and through your spine. A shame, really. If you had been planning to stay longer, you could have asked Vox to play some music on it and sat there basking in the sound. Maybe even fucked to something slow and sensual, letting an external rhythm dictate your movements, letting the music override you.
With a sigh, you set the idea aside, opening one of the drawers set into the frame of the sound system. The thing was beautiful, so much so that you were reluctant to dismantle it unless you had to. Fortunately, a little rummaging led you to the spare cables that you hoped would be there, and running a talon over the protective coating, you slit one open. The metal inside was a whitish gold, braided thin enough to make a decent garrote. You tested the strength of it, winding each end of the cable around your hands and pulling it taut, and the feel of a weapon in your hands brought a giddy feeling to your chest. After days of feeling adrift, the tension of the wire between your fingers felt like finally hitting land.
You wouldn’t kill Vox. Not only was it a bad idea- you had no idea how much strength he had, and killing him would set Valentino and Velvette both after you- but you didn’t want to. Even if he had spent the entire time moaning the name of the man with your face, he was still a good fuck, and it felt like bad manners to repay those tender services with a red and sticky end.
After a moment’s hesitation, you took the bottle of Valentino’s pheromones from the dresser by the bed, slipping it into the inside pocket of your tailcoat as you tossed the Voxtek phone you had been using back onto the bed. Drugs had never been your usual route of attack, but who knew what would be waiting for you outside the walls of the Voxtek compound?
Getting out of Vox’s suite was easy enough- the override password on the door was fuckalastor, all lower case. But once you were outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even with the length of angelic steel wire wound around your hand, you didn’t feel quite safe.
Alastor watched the V tower from the shadows, an ugly feeling in his chest. If the demon in the photos wasn’t him, as Angel Dust had claimed, he really had nothing to complain about. But the fact that Vox had seen fit to find a demon who was his doppelganger and then find fit to send evidence of those exploits to him? That was still an insult, a figurative glove across the face. His problem was twofold, however. Firstly, the constraints of his deal forbade him from undertaking violent action against anything not a direct threat to the hotel, which V tower very much was not. The second problem was that of his injuries from his fight against the angelic horde. He had lived, barely, but the rent across his chest was a persistent throbbing ache, a gap in him from which static escaped. It rendered him weak. It reduced him to watching and skulking like some street level cur.
It was in this state that he saw you exit the tower through one of the side entrances, your movements furtive and your ears down. You wore a copy of his own outfit in Voxtek blue, and the very sight of it brought a sour taste to Alastor’s mouth. How dare you, an impostor, a fraud, go round the city wearing Vox’s livery, as if the television demon owned you? It was embarrassing. He would make you take it off. Hissing rage between his teeth, Alastor followed you.
There was definitely someone following you. You could feel it. You had been on the other side of this equation too many times in your life, the fear of the other at the periphery of your awareness, chasing down with heartfelt and open-mouthed glee, that it was impossible to miss when you were the one being stalked. The shadows in Hell grew long and strange, studded with eyes and horns and mouths, and you took another blind turn into another darkened alley, grounding yourself with the sting of the angelic steel wire across your palm. You still weren’t wholly used to your new shape, and even now though you were no longer the trembling-legged fawn that Vox had half-carried to his bed a few nights previous, your gait wasn’t the steadiest. If you started running, you were fairly sure you would fall.
You would deal with it, whatever it was. That was how you had always done things. You chose the pragmatic option, you coped. You chose the righteous option, even if no-one agreed with you, even if it meant doing what no-one else could bring themselves to do. You chose the dangerous option, even if it meant staring down the creeping fear in your own heart. You slipped into the shadows, your back hard against the wall, garrote threaded between both of your hands, the pulse of your heartbeat a thunder in your ears, a pulse in your throat, the adrenaline of it making you almost dizzy, almost nauseous, almost aroused. In this your new body was the same as the old. You would catch your hunter, whoever they were.
He stalked round the corner, a figure in red, and with a start you recognized his silhouette as the same as your new body. Alastor. What had Vox said about him? A washed up radio host, a demon with no real power to speak off, feeding off the nostalgia of a bygone era? With a single motion you stepped behind him, looping the angelic wire around his neck and yanking it tight, pulling his body back against yours. He struggled, claws going to his neck, but his claws couldn’t shear the angelic steel any more than yours could.
Hissing, he twisted in your grasp, claws raking a symmetrical gash into your forearm, and you gave an involuntary, crackling cry, holding fast as you felt the blood well. Then two thick strands of shadow sprouted from Alastor’s back, pushing past your chest and wrapping around your own neck. You stumbled back in panic, back hitting the brick wall, vision blurring as the tentacle constricted your blood flow, your grip on the wire slackening. No! You couldn’t lose. There was no air in your throat but you still managed a noise, a soft whine like a capacitor failing to discharge, before your vision went truly black.
Well, that would have been an ignominious way to die. Alastor felt the mark at his throat and his hand came away bloody. His own blood. Sloppy. He gave a low noise of displeasure as he looked down at your unconscious form, the bright blue of that ridiculous parody of his suit now ripped and stained. He hadn’t been expecting a fight, not from Vox’s fucktoy. Had this been a trap after all? No, there were no reinforcements, no cameras. Not the television demon’s style.
Bending down, he took your chin between thumb and forefinger, examining your face closely. As it had been in the pornographic pictures that Vox had sent him, your face was a close match for his own, expression relaxed and naked in something close to sleep. What was more, it didn’t appear to be a disguise, your cervine features quite genuine.
Alastor ran his fingertip over your antler, freezing when he felt the velvet covering, the blood vessels just beneath the skin, a jolt in his heart. You were so vulnerable like this, a single cut and you could bleed out. No deer demon would go out like this. At least, not one who had knowledge of their own body. The implications sank in his gut like lead.
How long had it taken for his antlers to mature, when he had come to Hell? A couple of weeks? Alastor felt his lips curl back further past his teeth, hating Vox a little more. Vox had nearly made him kill you, a newcomer to Hell, for the crime of being weak and confused enough to be dragged to Vox’s bed.
What should he do with you? Leaving you here so close to Vox’s domain would get you dragged back to the television, and you were an innocent, well, not quite an innocent, you had tried to garrote him with angelic steel wire, but few people in Hell were truly innocent. He couldn’t kill you, at least not now, with your supine form posing approximately no threat to him. With a resigned sigh, Alastor scooped you up in his arms, disgusting blue suit and all, and began his walk back to the hotel.
You awoke in an unfamiliar place, your face pressed into the pillows of a four-poster bed. It smelled like musk, a rich, smoky sort of smell, with an undercurrent of formaldehyde, and it was oddly comforting, wrapping around you almost like an embrace. Drowsily, you took stock of your body, the ache around your neck and a burning throb that seemed to cover your forearm, remembering the struggle in the alleyway. The scent in your nostrils pulled you back to the memory, with your hands at the back of your double’s neck. This was how Alastor had smelled. This was, unmistakably, Alastor’s bed. He had hunted you, and now he had taken you to his lair to toy with you. Your garrote was missing, predictably, as was the pheromone bottle you had stolen from Vox. You rolled onto your side to survey the room, and Alastor loomed from the shadows.
“Ah, the impostor rises,” chirped Alastor. His smile stretched practically ear to ear. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”
“My windpipe hurts,” you said, frowning at him.
“Oh, quid pro quo, dear child,” said Alastor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and undoing the collar of his shirt to show the bandage at his neck. “Do you have any idea how long it has been since someone made me bleed my own blood?”
“You were hunting me,” you said, not bothering with any of the cutesyness you had tried with Vox. Alastor had felt you close a wire around his neck- he would never see you as harmless.
“And you were quite the game, little impostor.” Alastor leaned over, and with a slow, deliberate motion, pressed his fingertips to your antlers. You had done your best thus far to ignore the existence of the two prongs sticking up from the top of your head, and even Vox had avoided touching them, so the sensation took you by surprise.
Your antlers were incredibly sensitive. You felt every variation in pressure, every adjustment in position, through your antlers, through their connection to the bone of your skull and further, down your spine and into your loins. Alastor met your eyes, his own half-lidded, and gave a gentle squeeze between thumb and forefinger. You whimpered, feeling the prongs grow under his hand, feeling your face heat.
“Hm. Soft,” he murmured, half to himself, before bringing your attention back to him with another little squeeze, directing your head to his lap. “Not much fight in you now, is there?”
“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, heart in your throat.
“My dear, where would be the fun in that?” Alastor replied, his tone shifting to genuine amusement. “A touch could kill you right now.” As it to make a point, he ran a fingertip from the tip to the base of your antler, and you shivered as you felt the touch echo through your body. “Do you have any idea how much blood you would lose, with just one little nick?”
With Alastor touching you like this it was difficult to think straight. It was as if he knew this body better than you did, each touch intense to the very edge of painfulness, the sensations continuing to resonate through your body. You swallowed, burying your face against his thigh. “What do you want?”
“Now now, little pretender. That’s my line, not yours.” Alastor gave a soft laugh. “Though I imagine I know what you might desire. A world where Vox has no ability to drag you back to his bedchambers would be a start, don’t you think?”
Slowly, you nodded against his thigh, and Alastor gave a soft noise of approval. With both hands now he worked his touch from the base of your skull to your antlers, each movement a vivid, carnal pressure through your body. It was like nothing else, and you felt your antlers grow still further, your pulse throbbing through them, your cock aching untended against the inside of your pants, your cunt clenching unfilled. You bowed your head to Alastor’s gentle, dexterous touch, your mouth open as you moaned against his trouser leg, a clipping edge to your audio.
“Oh my, you are enjoying that.” The growl in Alastor’s voice was salacious. “Is it your first time? Does the mean old television demon not know how to touch you like this?”
You weren’t in the mood to indulge Alastor’s fantasies about Vox, not after days of doing the inverse, so instead you whimpered, “Thank you.”
“Mm. At least you have manners, I suppose.” Alastor lifted his hands from your antlers, and you gasped at their absence, the air cold where his fingertips had been warm. With a touch to your chin, he indicated that you should rise, and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows before sitting back.
Sitting up, you noticed that you were not the only one who had grown an impressive rack. Alastor’s antlers extended like the shadows of trees in winter, his own arousal written over his smiling face. They curled, dendritic and beautiful and unmistakably tied to his own libido, echoing through his own body in the same way as yours did. The way he touched you told you that, if nothing else.
Your eyes glazed, head tilting forward. You wanted to lock antlers with him. You wanted to touch him, bone to bone, and feel the same waves resonate through the two of you. You wanted it very, very badly.
Alastor caught you by your injured throat with a hiss. “If you do that,” he said. “You will die. Your antlers are too fresh, and you will damage them, and you will bleed out on my bedspread. So instead, sweet little pretender, you are going to lay quite still and let me tend to you.”
“S-sorry,” you stuttered as Alastor released you, the pain from his grip bringing you a little way back to your senses, your heart fluttering as tears stung your eyes. What did he see in you, you wondered. Was it a way to get one over on Vox? Or simply a reflection of his own face?
“Silly creature.” Alastor sighed, pushing you onto your back, and crawling over you, a depraved gleam in his eye. “You strangle me half to death in an alleyway, risking damage to my precious voice, and now is when you are tearful and apologetic? When I am trying to stop you from hurting yourself?” He placed a hand at your neck again, though with less pressure this time, just enough to hold your head in place.
You didn’t just want to lock antlers with him. You wanted to feel his lips against yours, sharp teeth against yours. “Would you kiss me?”
“I suppose I don’t see the harm. Hold still, now,” Alastor warned, and you felt how carefully he closed the distance between the two of you, how carefully he avoided even a brush of his antlers against yours, though electricity sang in their proximity, the shivering static of not quite the barest touch as Alastor’s lips closed on yours.
Compared to Vox he was a chaste kisser, not bullying his way in but leading you to him, leaving you wanting him, touching tonguetip to tonguetip, nose to nose, needlepoint tooth to lip. It left you gasping, left you quivering, your cock straining against the fabric of your trousers. With an almost coquettish roll of his hips, Alastor pushed his pelvis flush with yours, and you felt his own matching tent. Through four layers of fabric it was still an aching kind of hot, his pulse through it as surely as it was through his antlers. With a slow, measured motion he ground himself against your length, making you whimper soft distortion into his mouth, the tip of your cock leaking wetness and your neglected cunt absolutely slick.
“Oh, this will be fun.” Alastor’s eyes creased at the corners as he pulled back a little, his cock still pressing hard and hot against yours. “Call me a narcissist if you will, but I know that expression. Are you really going to climax, just from a little kissing?”
You would have corrected him, but he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how well he knew your body, how adeptly he stroked along the tines of your antlers, sensation resonating deep and intense through your body to your core, a master on an instrument you had yet to learn. Locking smug eyes with you, he rolled his hips against yours, grinding against you further, and you mewled for him, hips bucking a little as sensation threatened to overcome you, fighting against the inexorable tightness that built. But just as in the alleyway, this wasn’t a fight that you could win.
You came, your cock pulsing wetly against the inside of your pants as the reverberations through your body sang, a static whine on your lips, absolutely understanding why Vox had moaned Alastor’s name.
Both of you stilled for a moment after that, your body still wracked with aftershocks, Alastor watching you closely, his expression contented. He made no move to please himself, but rather traced the edge of your face, from your temple to your jaw, with his talons. “Good?” he asked, nonchalantly.
Good didn’t begin to describe it. It was sublime, another aftershock hitting you even now. You closed your eyes. “The best. Thank you, Alastor.”
“My pleasure.” Alastor looked down at you with a pleased smile. “You’ve made a real mess of that suit,” he said, a tilt of his head, his own desire for release seemingly forgotten. “Allow me to take it off for you.”
Alastor grinned at the hidden camera on the suit’s lapel, saying nothing but making sure it got a good shot of his face before he crushed it between thumb and forefinger.
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin x reader#vox x reader#alastor x y/n#antlerplay#alastor x you x vox#alastor x reader x vox
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RECIPES I KEEP IN MY ONLINE KITCHEN WITCH JOURNAL #2
I love making these oh my gosh.
Why?
It's really fun
It's been a while since my last one
I get an excuse to try yummy recipes
You all are way too good at what you do
It's fun x2
Teas, Drinks, And Syrups
🍊 Orange Peel Tea 🍊
Violet Lemonade
Coconut Summer Drink
Dandelion Honey
The Best Hot Spiced Cider recipe you’ll ever try
Apple Cider is basically a homesteading spell
Rose Lemonade Syrup
100-Year Garlic (Garlic Honey)
Fire Cider Spell for Winter Protection
Blackberry & Apple Jam
Witchy Recipes - Blackberry Lemonade
Baked Goods + Sweets
Prosperity Bread
Lavender Earl Grey Cookies
Easy Rosemary Focaccia Loaf for Love and Protection
Heavenly Lavender Scones
Honey Vanilla Peach Butter 🍑
Pumpkin Pie Dip 🎃
Vanilla-Pumpkin Cupcakes
Soups, Stews, And Dinners
Super simple secret potato soup
Forest Porridge
Heartwarming potato soup
Perfect Homemade Garlic Bread
Creamy vegetable soup
Springtime Soup
Stuffed Maple dijon glazed roasted butternut squash
Summertime stir fry
Sabbat Stuff
Litha Orange Honey Cake
Litha Thyme Chicken
Stuffed Apples for Mabon
Mabon Mug
Imbolc Pretzel wreath
Oatmeal Bread for Lughnasadh
Samhain Mulled Cider
Samhain Irish Apple Cake
Angel's Best
(my favorite recipe posts I've made over the years, plus backstories that sound like your grandmother's reminiscing over the past.)
LATE WINTER BUTTER ROLLS
My first post I ever made. I was pretty new to the tumblr community at the time. I loved kitchen witchcraft, and I'm the type of person who will ramble on about how much I love cooking and baking. This blog gave me an outlet to express my love of cooking, baking, paganism, and witcraft. And these rolls are very tasty, I make them to this day!
WITCHY TOMATO BASIL SOUP
Tasty, simple, and a crowd-pleaser. It's perfect for a beginner kitchen witch! It was also the second recipe I ever posted.
SWEET CREAM BUNS
It was a recipe given to me by one of my good friends at the time. Every time I make it, it gets devoured in less than 10 minutes. It was also my first recipe to get over 50 notes. I was shocked but ecstatic that so many people would even give it the time of day lol.
WITCHY THUMBPRINT COOKIES
These ones were just fun to make and delicious lol.
A WITCH’S COZY BUTTERNUT WINTER SOUP
A quick soup that feeds a lot of people during the fall season. Fall is my favorite season, so of course I'm very biased lol.
SAMHAIN PUMPKIN BREAD
I love pumpkin bread and apple cider... So why not combine the two? This one was definitely one of my favorites of all time. Moist pumpkin bread and chocolate chips have to be one of my favorite things on this planet. It also makes for the perfect gift for friends and family. Yummy!
ANGEL’S AWARD-WINNING LEMON POPPY SEED BREAD
I love dessert loaves of any kind, so naturally, this would be on the list lol.
MAPLE BUTTER COOKIES
Super simple comfort food! I love any time of cookie with brown sugar.
BRING ME POSITIVITY PECAN FRENCH TOAST BAKE
I love French toast, and I love positivity~
SAMHAIN SOUL CAKES RECIPE
These are really good! And traditional. If you celebrate Samhain, I recommend you make some soul cakes and have friends and family help decorate. I give the littles a bag of orange frosting and let them go crazy lol.
FEEL BETTER CHICKEN SOUP
One of my most recent is my witchy twist on chicken noodle soup!
#witches#kitchen witch#witchy#witch#magick#kitchen witch recipes#food#recipes#witchblr#kitchen magick#foodblogger#sabbats#litha#kitchen witch tips#modern witch#modern witchcraft
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🐏Imbolc🐏
Imbolc, also known as Candlemas, or Brigid's Day, is a sabbat which celebrates the end of winter and the coming of spring. Groundhog's Day, a holiday celebrated in North America at this time, is very also celebrates the end of winter. The waking trees, softening and reviving Earth, and the return of the goddess. Imbolc starts on February 1st and lasts until sunset the next day.
Activities
Candle-making
Spring Cleaning
Create a Brigid Cross with straw
Plan your spring garden
Bake bread
Make potpourri
Make corn dollies
Make herbal tea
Take a hot bath
Making flower crowns or floral wreaths
Altar Decorations
White Candles
Brigid Cross
Corn Dollies
Flowers
Seeds and bulbs
Bread
Sheep and Lambs
Goddess Statues
Animals
Deer
Groundhog
Bear
Lamb
Ewe
Swan
Colors
White
Pale Green
Pale Pink
Pale Yellow
Lavender
Pale Brown
Crystals
Amethyst
Garnet
Onyx
Ruby
Turquoise
Bloodstone
Calcite
Moonstone
Deities
Bridgid
Gaia
Aphrodite
Venus
Hestia
Cupid
Eros
Flowers
Lavender
Chamomile
Daffodil
Crocus
Iris
Snowdrop
Food
Grains
Oats
Herbal Teas
Nuts
Bread
Potatoes
Seed
Honey
Milk
Cheese
White Meat
Raisins
Spice Cake
Incense and Oils
Frankincense
Jasmine
Myrrh
Rosemary
Basil
Wisteria
Vanilla
Lotus
Plants & Herbs
Angelica (Wild Celery)
Basil
Bay Laurel(Bay Leaf)
Rosemary
Cinnamon
Hay / Straw
Willow
Birch
Juniper
Spells and Rituals
Imbolc is the perfect time to cast spells, especially ones related to new beginnings, fertility, and the hearth. Spells regarding birth and rebirth are also seasonally appropriate due to many animals giving birth at this time of the year.
Final Notes
According to an old english folk tradition, if the weather is fine and clear on Candlemas, then cold and stormy weather will reign for the remaining weeks of winter. And bad weather at the beginning of February is a harbinger of a milder winter, and an early thaw.
There are different meanings for what Imbolc means, some say it means “In the belly” because of herding animals being pregnant. But historically Imbolc comes from the Gaelic word “Oimelc” which means “ewes milk”, because some animals have just given birth.
#digital grimoire#grimoire#pagan#pagan witch#paganblr#paganism#pagans of tumblr#wicca#witchblr#witchcraft#imbolc#wheel of the year#witchery#witches#witch community#witch tips#witch#wiccablr#wiccan#pagan wicca
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2023 Mabon (a.k.a. autumn equinox) Tea
Black tea: III parts
Sage: I part
Dehidrated apple: I part
Almond: I part
Rosemary: 1/2 part
Dried orange peel: I and 1/2 parts
Cinnamon: I part
Clove: 1/2 part
Marigold: I and 1/2 parts
You may substitute the dried/dehidrated fruit with any you like as long as it's seasonal. I used this ones, but I feel juniper and other berries could do just fine.
#mabon tea#autumn equinox tea#tea for sabbat#sabbat tea#mabon#autumn equinox#witchy tea#black tea#is pretty similar to a classic chai but it has rosemary and more fruit#usually chai is served with lots of spices and maybe a citric#still chai means tea XD#in any case i like apple with citrics so this is a good combo for me#specially with cinnamon
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Sleep Therapy (M)
Pairing. demon Jaemin x femaler reader
Genre. That Boys Is A Monster AU, life after Be There For You, explicit smut, M/F, dark fic
Warnings. heavy dubcon/noncon elements(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m serious. thanks.), somnophilia, breeding, rough and unprotected sex, impreg kink, demon lore, camera use, praise, degradation, obsessive behavior
WC. 6.6(6)k
Now Playing. Slept So Long/Jay Gordon
‘Just wanted to watch you sleep. Wanted to be part of your dreams.’
It’s been hours.
It’s been days.
It’s been weeks.
Herbal teas, over the counter Melatonin, even prescribed sleep medication that could knock out a small child for days scattered your living room table; piled up only to mock you.
Useless, all of it completely useless as you enter another night of restless sleep.
Debilitated by lack of rest has forced you to take a sabbatical from work, per the suggestion of your regular physician. One week at the hospital under careful watch had you in tears every morning, pleading for something to help you. Anything.
It was more than the bags formed under your eyes. Hallucinations had become a reoccurring issue the longer you walked around like a living dead girl, unclear visions of men transforming into monsters; nightmares turned into reality.
“A sleep clinic might be our last hope,” your physician shrugs, having only reached this point with you after insisting you must be exaggerating. “I’ve contacted Dr. Na at the Vision Clinic, he’s the best Somnologist in the district. You should be in great hands.”
Great hands.
Great hands that led up to built up arms confined in a lab coat. Broad shoulders and a warm handsome smile that seems too blinding to even stare at for much long.
Dr. Na floats around his desk to greet you, light as a feather with the most calm of demeanors.
He smells lovely, soothing in a way similar to a hot stove warming up holiday cookies. Nothing too strong, but just enough to pick up a whiff of as he embraces your hand in greeting.
“My new patient.” He speaks with sparkling pearly white teeth on display. Every inch of him is a reminder of how wealthy Doctors are, from the silver Rolex watch adorning his wrist down to his freshly shined designer shoes.
He manages to maintain warmth in his gaze despite the obvious differences between the two of you.
Greasy hair, flesh empty of life and sweats you’ve turned into daily wear paired with fluffy Ugg slippers stand before him on your meek frame. Shyly nodding when he double checks how to pronounce your name and directs you to sit.
Dr. Na seemed too young to be a seasoned professional in this field. He couldn’t be much older than his mid-twenties. Albeit difficult to truly take him in full admiration as he sits against the ledge of the large crimson wooden oak desk placed in the center of his office. He takes time to run through your chart again, repeating the things you’ve heard for months now. No prior health issues or concerning conditions, a proper diet and lifestyle, nothing that could conclude how you’d end up here.
“How’s your caffeine intake?” Dr. Na asks with a charming lift at the corners of his mouth.
“Haven’t had any in two months now.”
“There are many causes behind insomnia.” Dr. Na nods, scribbling notes down while explaining. “I’ll schedule an MRI scan for later today to conduce if this could be connected to a chemical imbalance.”
“Chemical imbalance?”
“Emotional stress, perhaps trauma, lifestyle changes.” He smiles, akin to the way a Kindergarten teacher may when speaking to a naive child. “We will figure it out.”
Scribbling a few more notes, Dr. Na rips out a section of paper instructing you to head down to the cafeteria designated for patients to eat a proper meal. “I’ll be sending out the order for new medication to try. When it arrives at your room please make sure to follow the nurses directions and take them all. I will come by to check on you as soon as I have an open window of time.”
Dr. Na shifts to stand, the full size of him shadowed above your frail exhausted frame. “We’ll see how your nightmares play out this evening, once I can look through your MRI scan results we can move on to other options, such as hypnosis.”
“Hypnosis?” Even your speech comes out in a lazy drawl. Tongue heavy and dry, dizzy on your feet when you get up to head down. Already aware that you wouldn’t be eating much, even lifting a fork to your lips drained you.
“Of course, it’s one of my specialties.” He chuckles. “Might sound silly but I have a real knack for mind control, you’d be surprised how easy it is to dominate the human mind. It’s easier than training an animal.”
If it wasn’t for the speckled white dots infiltrating your vision, you might’ve noticed the slight change in Dr. Na’s expression. The flicker of black consuming his iris, the drag of his tongue across his upper row of teeth, and the amused hum passing through his throat as he takes in your appearance up close.
It’s been hours.
It’s been days.
It’s been weeks.
It’s been longer than that, months of watching you come in and out of your apartment. Endless days of parking far enough across from you to fly under your radar.
There was no rush, until there was.
Suddenly you had a companion walking you to your car after work, you had a reason to shop for pretty dresses, you sprayed more perfume on and smiled to yourself when opening up notifications on your phone.
Suddenly you felt further away, distracted by him. The stupid new much too friendly Economics professor who had found a way to stayed plastered to your side.
It’s too late anyway.
The sound of Jaemin’s knuckles cracked, echoing loud enough to lift your head with a glance around the coffee shop you frequented. He stayed leaned back in a corner less lit up, less noticeable, especially to someone as oblivious as you.
Someone so carefree and innocent, someone who didn’t even bother to make sure to grab the right drink from the counter when the barista called out your name. It was too easy to blindside you, drop a concoction of sleep medication in your cup as he picked up a quad shot Americano sitting near your milky vanilla latte.
Sip after sip had you yawning despite the powerful caffeine. Time and time again your usual morning pick-me-up failed you, to the point that you argued with the baristas about changing ingredients and formula.
It was too late.
Half asleep and drowsy, your key prodded at your front door in frustration, collapsing against it with your eyes shut and a crushed sigh.
The trap had been laid out, more out of enjoying the breakdown of watching you suffer and lose interests in everything the more you stayed awake night after night.
It made him laugh, entertained pulling on invisible puppet strings where he watched from down the hall as you crumbled to your knees, whining desperately for the key to unlock your apartment.
Weak, a perfect victim.
Jaemin had spent time finding you, it hadn’t been easy. Escaping hell never is afterall, bargains had to be made.
A vessel for his spawn, a strong healthy human vessel that could survive demonic childbirth. That was Johnny’s demands.
‘More than 1, I expect you to bring back many.’
You’d only be the first of the batch, the first to carry his lineage, the first to take his seed and hand over every bit of strength your little body had left in it after he finished.
and you’re perfect, immaculate in every way to carry his first child. The epitome of woman from the inside out. The sole purpose of your existence to be bred full, nothing but a hole to fuck.
Jaemin can’t deny the sick pleasure he gets just from watching you nearly pass out at your front door. A bump on your head the next day would be the only hint of what possibly took place. The bulky arms cradling your limp figure to bed would feel like a faded memory, the sound of your door being kicked shut, nothing more than a foreign thought, a distorted picture of a man hovering above you stripping off your clothing to settle you into your bed more of a nightmare than a dream.
Demons don’t have hearts, they don’t feel, they don’t care.
But you’d always be the first.
You’d always be special in comparison to the rest. The first kill of the hunt, the first prey to fall victim, the conquest alone would be more monumental than any of the rest. You’d be his favorite memory, the one he chose first.
Hunger and ache to destroy mattered more, and as his thick fingers dragged down your stomach, following the path of breaths lifting your ribs higher and lower, he salivates. He swallows at a dry itch at the bottom of his throat, fingers crushing your waist to dip in harder.
“Sleep tight princess.” He always spoke to you, a mere muffled sound in your mind.
Muffled sounds, staggered breaths, heavy weight suppressing your lungs and throat. Pain and fear, a dark sensation followed whenever the recollection of thoughts swarmed around.
It could be after a shower, brushing through your hair, applying lotion, dressing for work. The shadowed memory of something you can’t prove ever happened lingers.
Not even the pain in your lower back, the soreness between your thighs or marks blooming across your skin make any sense. Every idea or thought only seemed less plausible. No sign of break in, no clue to indicate intrusion to your home.
The thought of a demon stalking you day and night would never cross your mind.
Demons aren’t real.
Religion had never been an interest for you, your family hadn’t pushed any beliefs to follow. Most of what you’d learn about religious mythology stemmed from horror films, and demons just seemed like such an outlandish idea. A joke.
Why would you ever assume the doctor assigned to solve your problems could be the root of them.
Jaemin watches you sleep for the hundredth time, removing the crisp white lab coat to hang on a hook. He sits near the special bed for out-patients, away from the noise of machines and heart monitors. It’s quiet, peaceful and calm even as you sweat, breathe heavily and twist to hide your face.
Ruined. Mind deteriorated by dark evil, by happenings you have no control over.
It’s not the first time he’s visited your slumbering figure, your bare skin more ingrained in his mind than your clothed one.
The doors locked, nurses working the night shift too busy with sick patients to check on someone knocked out with sleep disorder.
Upon Dr. Na’s instructions no one should come by. As he undoes the buttons of his smooth ironed shirt he grins to himself. A camera’s set up in the room to capture your sleep schedule, how often you wake, if you sleep at all.
The dosage of medication you consumed tonight would be enough to tranquilize even a large dog. There’s no way you’d wake up tonight.
He didn’t want you to remember tonight, as much as the thought of your eyes fluttering open letting out a shrill scream when you see the visual above you made his cock twitch. A tingle burned from the bottom of his spine to his throat. It’d be fun to have you half-lucid, shouting and begging for him to stop.
But it’s more appealing to watch your arm flop limp at your side. Entertained by the way you seem uncomfortable even as you sleep.
Special.
Jaemin thinks about it, pushing the hospital gown up past your waist. He sucks at saliva filling his cheeks taking in the cute pair of light rosey toned panties hiding your center. You’re not even wet, yet, not that he cares. His cock only hardens thinking about it, smoothing down the expanse of your inner thighs. You’ll struggle more to take his size, cry and curl in to get away. Grip at the sheets by your head for some semblance, for anything to ground you and focus your pain elsewhere.
It’s not the first time he’s slowly tugged off your underwear. It’s not the first time he’s stretched your thighs open as far as they’re willing to go. The small scrunch in your nose informing him the pull hurts your hips, it aches up to your groin.
This is good, Jaemin thinks, this is good because he wants you to remember this. He wants you to know you’ve been claimed, fucked by something devilish and unholy. Touched and destroyed by sin in its human form. He wants you to see how well you take it, how your pilant body still manages to jerk and roll up seeking more of his length to dig deeper inside of you.
Tossing your underwear aside, he pauses to blink at the red light flashing on the camera. Recording everything he’s about to do.
He’s waited, waited so long that his cock twitches fiercely against his thigh at the visual of your exposed cunt.
Jaemin wants to take his time, savor the natural scent flowing from your middle. Drag his fingers aimlessly between your folds until you slicken up obscenely, bite every inch of skin, slap and knead handfuls of meaty flesh in a rough manner. Turn you on your stomach to force your ass up in his face, push your pussy folds open just to watch your hole plead. Empty. Begging for a fucking demon to fuck you even if it hurts, even if you don’t actually want it.
He wants to take his time, but he can’t. It’s been months of pulling out, jerking off on your pretty face, cooing and mewling above your cum splattered stomach. Smearing the warm arousal up your chest dreaming of the day he pours load after load inside of you.
and it’s time, it’s time to ruin you for good. Force your unconscious body to take and take.
One hand delicately tugs and strokes himself, hissing as he jerks away from his thumb rubbing across the head. Precum gathered there smearing around the tip, coating it in a thin layer of sticky gloss. His other hand works away the gown hiding your full breasts, ripping off the flimsy garment easily. Easy access to strip a patient, easier access to have you bare and ready for him.
His breath staggers, gliding the pads of his fingers down your chest. Your sternum rising and falling as a human should, because you’re full of life, full of emotions and feelings he could never understand anymore.
The connection to his human self evaded his memory years ago. Void of the life he once had, lifeless, mindless and consumed by nothing but the desire to create pain. To watch a stupid human like you in agony.
A stupid, stupid, pretty little human. Nothing more than a warm blood filled fleshlight to fuck.
Jaemin lets out a chuckle, dropping his neck back to stroke himself above your stomach. Slapping down the middle of your abdomen a few times just to watch your skin tremble beneath, just to picture how far deep inside of you he can reach. With your hips pushed up and expanded, he knows you’ll birth a child for him easily. A new spawn to create a powerful army in hell. The first of his bloodline to lead and carry on the fight for evil.
He knows you’ll make it through, because he won’t give you a choice.
Rubbing the head of his cock up from where your stomach dips to your navel, he almost wishes you’d wake up. Your weak arms would push up, slap his chest, punch his arms, burst into tears with protests.
That will come, in time.
In the meantime, he prods your belly button, smirking at the thought of fucking you there too. Fucking every hole on you just for fun, because who fucking cares what the king of hell demanded. Jaemin’s going to fuck you until only his needs are met and fulfilled.
The thought races through him spine to balls, hunching forward as he shifts on his knees. The bed dipping and creaking under his weight, switching to rub the tip on your clit.
Still dry.
Dry but warm. Warm enough to be incinerated by the jagged rub of his size passing between your folds. It’s dry, but it’s fucking good, just to feel your fleshy folds struggle along his veiny stiff rod. Just to feel your skin pucker against the sticky pre-cum coating areas of his shaft.
He grunts, rubbing his cock against the plush feel of your parted pussy folds, sneaking quick glimpses of your hole— so tight and closed up. Too tight to take his size without it hurting, without ruining your pussy to only take his cock.
He’s way too big, and he knows it. He knows it from the amount of times he's played with you, just swiping against your cunt. Teasing himself to the point of mind-numbing overstimulation by putting in just the tip. Whimpering even in your sleep from the push ripping you open.
Sucking at the drool lining his bottom lip, he staggers for a minute, pushing side to side against your pussy. Lazily drawing his eyelids up to take in your angelic face once more, so much purity and tenderness. All of it soon to be his.
The slumber you’ve drifted off into isn’t peaceful in the least. It’s hot, weighing down on your chest, an itch passing through your nerves. Running through endless hallways filled with doors leading to nothing, nothing but black emptiness.
It’s been Jaemin all along, smoothing your hair away from your face. Snaking his lips over your body layering patterns of kisses. Jerking off for hours on your face, chest, stomach, anywhere he felt like.
He thinks about it again, nudging in not even half of the tip against your resistant entrance. A rubber band-like snap pinches around the width of his size. The skin sucking around him already appears damaged, further arousing him to inflict pain upon you, to make it hurt. Make it hurt knowing you have no choice but to take it and enjoy it against your will.
Groping your jaw with one thick hand, he turns your restless passed out face to watch him; easy to picture your eyes shooting up full of red vessels and tears. It burns from his chest to his lower back, swiveling his hips to push in the rest of the tip of his length. The bulbous mushroom shaped cap suffocates inside of you. Dry and tight as fuck, he thinks fervently, hissing between his teeth shining under the dim light as his lips part in moan.
It’s more than good just to feel you choke around the tip, your mouth falling open with a staggered breath allowing him to pinch and roll your plump bottom lip between his fingers.
Jaemin pauses, once more absorbing just how lifeless and limp you lay spread open. Part of him craves for you to wake, to stare up in shock paralyzed by fear, to be able to relive the torture he’s prepared to demonstrate. To enjoy it, because you’re actually nothing but a filthy slut; his own little human fuck doll.
It’s time. It’s finally time.
Saliva drenched digits drag down your chin, the center of your throat, dipping between your exposed breasts. Hardened pebbled nipples peak upward, more stiff from the chilled air circulating the room than excitement. You’re too unaware to feel aroused or anxious, too lucid, lost in the nightmare grappling you through hell.
Even if you were to wake up, Jaemin would only fuck you harder, tackle you down to take, take, take.
A shot of exhilaration curls through his gut, tugging his spine toward his navel as he hunches closer with one hand planted by your head to stay propped up. Jaemin’s gaze locks on your core, a pussy made just for him, because it doesn’t matter who fucked you before. He’d be the last.
The slow drag out of you draws an anguished sounds from the back of his throat. He needs to see you one more time, one more time before he claims and makes you useless for anyone else.
With a fist wrapped around his length, his other hand palms your cunt, shoving your swelling slit open to see the full visual of your hole. So empty, tiny, like a fucking virgin.
It really makes his head spin for a minute, rubbing the pad of his finger in a circular motion over your entrance. The airy gurgle that escapes your lungs shoots his eyes wide, focused on your face burying into a pillow. He tugs on himself a few more times, mindlessly rolling two digits over the precum that won’t stop leaking. He needs to fuck you, now.
Stifling a grunt, Jaemin shifts an inch closer, wrapping a thick bicep under your thigh to spread you open more. The head of his cock swipes between your core, slapping down heavy. Heavy and loud despite the lack of wet to clash against. Wedged up as close as possible between your thighs, and Jaemin has to grit his teeth to contain a growl. Pushing his hips forward to rub the underside of his cock against your clit, he wants to let out a throaty cry; a muted sound of pain when he feels it.
You’re clenching around nothing, seeking something.. someone to fuck you. Unaware of what your body is even asking him to do. Each drag spurs your hole to clamp down more, the first push of wetness spewing out smears against his balls. His throat tightens up swiping between you again, the tip teasing and brushing against your entrance without entering.
Jaemin’s nostrils suck in, inhaling a deep breath as he watches his cock bounce off your fleshy folds in slow-like-motion. Nasty, so nasty and raw, wet for anyone like the textbook definition of a fucking whore.
The next stroke along his cock glides easily, wet from your dripping pussy, wet because your body wants him whether you’re awake or not. He doesn’t care, but he knows it, he knows from the way you stare. The dreams you have of him not even under his influence.
Pressing at your hole again has him drooling, laving at the innerwalls of his mouth to collect the saliva that won’t stop from pouring.
“Fuck.” Jaemin finally grunts, biting down on his teeth as he sinks inside of you. It’s wet and tighter than he could have ever imagined. The hand wrapped around himself hardly comparable after many nights spent jerking off on your backside.
A smooth thrust fills you up eagerly, a perfect fit making it too hard to hold back from cramming into you balls deep.
Jaemin stills for a minute, long eyelashes fan on the tops of his cheeks. Swallowing harsh enough for his Adam's apple to visibly bob up and down the length of his dipped back neck. “So fucking good, just like I knew you would be.”
Palms scramble along the sides of your thighs, grinding forward to watch your mouth fall open again. A silent cry he wants to hear echo through the room simply not enough. Reaching for your waist, Jaemin pins your upper half to the bed, wiggling his hips to keep your thighs around his sides.
“Wet like a whore.” Jaemin snickers, clicking his tongue along the backs of his teeth. The painful circle of his hips fills the room with gasped whines, grinning to himself because you’re enjoying it. You like getting fucked, even in your sleep. He could care less with the sole mission to breed you full of cum consuming his head. He thrusts finally, the head of his size catching on your hole earning a louder moan.
The warmth gripping his dick feels mind-numbing, the most he’s felt in months since hunting you down, and his pace alters immediately as the feeling finally gets to him. You’re his for the taking, his and only his.
“Mine.” Jaemin mutters to himself, ruthlessly thrusting back into you in a jerky motion. It’d be painful if you were awake, his pace alternating from meticulously deep rolls of his hips to sloppy, aggressive and messy. The sound of wetness more overbearing than the clap of your skin colliding.
He’s frantic, knowing he can fuck you like his as long as he pleases, and you can’t do anything about it.
Jaemin’s thick arms bracket your head, nose hovered above your lips. Moan after moan sounding more excruciating than the last. Fucking into your tight cunt like a man who just discovered the glory of a fleshlight, reckless abandonment. The ache against your groin and thighs one guaranteed to last for weeks to come.
“So fucking good for me angel.” Jaemin praises, head thrown back when you clench around him. It makes him laugh like a maniac, amused by the idea of you listening, hearing everything he says. Dropping his face to your throat, he licks up your jaw to your earlobe, nibbling before he whispers. “Pretty baby loves getting fucked like a slut.”
A sigh sings from your lips, the prettiest sigh he’s ever heard. A sigh that runs in circles throughout his mind, turning to drop his cheek against yours with wide eyes focused on shut ones. The heavy weight of your eyelids taunting him, pushing him to fuck harder for just a glimpse of your hidden iris.
He could cum off that alone, and it punches through him with the next thrust, burying his thick fat length as deep inside of you as he can. Surely deep enough to rip through your insides, the weight of his heavy cock poking between your pressed together stomachs with each pointed thrust.
Jaemin’s obsessed with the grip your pussy gives, needing to feel you lock you and struggle to take him through your unwanted pleasure once more. Snaking his hand between your connected lower halves, he roughly rubs at your engorged clit, fat between his fingers from neglect. The need to cum more prevalent for the both of you than he cares about, but it feels too good to force his size past your shrunken entrance.
“You’re so fucking good for me. You don’t even know.” Jaemin babbles to himself, nose digging into your cheekbone to quiet the groan ripping through his chest. The sound of your wetness fills the room up in the most obscene way, splashing against his thighs and stomach with each impactful land of his hips.
“Ah—fuck!” A string of curses soars free, jostling you up the hospital bed that struggles to stay in place as he fucks you at a near inhumane pace. The whites of your eyes gleam with his next thrust, rolled back from the powerful hit that arches your back involuntarily.
“Fuck you all night, gonna fuck you everyday.”
Jaemin cries out, ripping a chunk of your hair with a balled up fist to unveil the column of your throat, biting down as the coiling heat in his gut becomes too overwhelming.
And he cums, screaming with his teeth dug into your skin. Bits of flesh scraped off by his sharp canine teeth, but still not enough to wake you, even as you let out a weak moan intensely squirting release around his size.
It’s almost too hard to stay put inside of you, having to realign his weight to keep his cock in despite the wet arousal bursting trying to shove him out.
It’s more desperate than he wanted, to fuck you like he owns you, because he does now. You’re his from inside out now. You’ll always be his.
Jaemin’s flopping down to his stomach, pushing your pussy folds open to ensure every drop of cum disappears. He has to fight back the urge to lean in, slurp of the slick wet coating your labia to watch your hole convulse, twitch and swallow down the white mess of cum passing through.
“We always have tomorrow to keep trying.” He grins wolfishly, throwing your gown back on without a care. “and the day after that.”
The camera shuts off, near the end of it’s battery life, and he thinks the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Scooting back toward your heaving figure, he leisurely trails up one of your thighs, playfully pushing them apart to memorize how damaged he’s left you. A fat wad of cum bubbles deep in your stretched out hole, gaped around nothing, sore and painful looking.
When morning comes you’ll wonder again why your body hurts so much. You’ll cry miserably, losing your patience, ready to end your battle, ready to give up. That’s what Jaemin wants anyway.
“Goodnight angel.”
It’s been over a week now of staying at the clinic, and you feel worse than when you arrived.
“How long has it been since you’ve had a good nights sleep?”
The questions rhetorical, not that you’d be able to decipher the true meaning behind your doctors words.
Between nightmares altering reality and mixing up different prescribed medications, you no longer had a grasp on time. Nothing felt real anymore, even the metal table before you reflecting your exhausted lifeless appearance felt like some horrific illusion.
“I can’t remember.”
Dr. Na leans closer to you with his elbows propped on the table to perch his chin in his hands. A soft yet devious smile painted on his lips as he watches you lose your fight.
“I’ll show you what you have forgotten.”
Dr. Na could say anything to you at this point really. Beyond the horrific visions taking over your brain, your body felt like it was breaking down on you. Every muscle sore, even your bones ached, new marks of bruising appeared everyday.
“I believe, I’ve figured out what’s keeping you awake.” The doctor says, turning to a rolly table at his side. Click clacks of typing sounds throughout the empty room, clearing his throat as he turns a black screen to face you.
“You have?”
Dr. Na stands, he smooths back a bang piece of hair that's fallen loose. The lab coat fitting his frame perfectly begins to slip from his wide shoulders and he removes it without breaking eye contact.
“You see, you’re a special case to me.” He continues, rounding the table to stand behind where you sit with his heavy palms weighing down on your slumped shoulders. “I’ve invested so much time and energy into you.”
Dr. Na’s lips pout behind you, gathering your hair off to one side to tickle down the side of your marked up throat. Marks left behind from his ruthless grip choking away your breath while he fucked you harder and deeper without anything or anyone to restrain him.
“In return, I need you to listen.”
“Doctor?” He could be speaking a foreign language as far as you’re concerned. Tilting your chin to the side to look up at him, your forehead wrinkles confused, met with the always handsome comforting face. Big doe eyes that round in a precious way that makes you feel as if everything will be ok.
“Shh shh” pinching your chin, Dr. Na turns you to face the screen, leaning the weight of his chest against the back of your head as he reaches over. Fingers click down, a video of your sleeping figure taking over the laptop screen.
“Did I do something in my sleep?” You wonder, watching as you struggle to stay still. Your feet kick the more you turn side to side, it’s uncomfortable to see yourself in distress.
“Not quite, angel.” Dr. Na huffs, continuing to push his chest closer to you. He has you hunched in closer, face lit up by the screen. Surprised as the doctor appears, and bright red eyes flash in the direction of the camera. A glitch because of the dim-lighting, you decide. “But I did.”
It’s shocking, disgusting, and humiliating to see what happens next. The choked gasp that pours from your mouth trapped by a large hand slapping down on your lips.
“You see, I chose you sweetie.” Dr. Na’s tone falls an octave, the sugary sweetness behind his words disappearing. “This whole time, I molded you, prepared you for this.”
He nods, pushing his other hand down to grip and hold your stomach. “To carry my future child, to birth my spawn.”
Screams go muffled beneath the palm splayed over your mouth, shoved up with an arm belted around your waist to bend over on the table. Dr. Na rips at the hospital gown covering your backside, arching your neck with his powerful hold on your face to force you to continue watching him take advantage and use your body.
“I said shush!” He sounds more demonic now, displaying an inhuman strength as he shreds off your underwear. The chill air floating through the room smacks your core quickly sending your knees to clink together. Fearful as you watch the man on screen rip you open from the inside. “Almost liked you better asleep.”
He has the audacity to laugh when tears trickle down his fingers, kicking your thighs open with a knee as he plants against your bent body. The cool table melting against your heated flesh with his hips smacking into your bottom. Three fingers shove into your mouth as you attempt to scream for help, someone, anyone to hear you and stop what happens next.
“You see,” fingers drag up the backs of your thighs, gripping roughly where they land on your ass to spread you apart. Sucking in air between his teeth at the sight of your ruined hole, swollen and painfully stretched from the amount of times he’s fucked you through the night now. “You’re perfectly healthy, couldn’t be better. A little stupid, but you’re human afterall.”
He doesn’t explain more than that, thrusting his fingers deeper into your mouth to quiet the coughs and cries spilling out of you. The sound of a zipper opening has you weakly attempting to thrash back, fight him off.
He’s too big, he’s too strong, too powerful to kick away.
The first touch of his bare skin shoots your eyes open, crying out as his girth lands against your core.
He’s too big. He’s too fucking big, and he’ll break you.
Pleads fall empty trying to pray for mercy, his cock only leaking out more spurts of precum as a murmured ‘please God’ sounds.
“God can’t help you now, sweet little angel.” He sneers, rubbing the length of his size between your folds just as he begins to on the screen. The hold on your jaw forces you to watch each action, to watch the way he manipulates your body to do as he pleases.
“Don’t want it princess?” He grunts shakily, growling in his chest because you’re already wet. So fucking nasty, hot and wet between your thighs, canting back to meet his cock ramming against your meaty folds. “But look at how much you loved it.”
He shakes your head in a mocking manner, much like a child being punished for uttering a bad word. The screen too blurry behind your tears, but the image is clear enough to see your doctor take advantage of you in your most innocent helpless state.
“Please, please doctor…please.”
The sound of his tongue clicking in dismay echoes like a jeer, circling your entrance with the tip the more you plead. “Jaemin. Enough of this bullshit doctor act.”
Nothing he says to you makes sense anymore, incapacitated by his weight crushing your feeble body to the table. Deeming your pussy wet enough, he scoots forward to sandwich past your clamped thighs, kicking a foot roughly between your knees for more leverage. He wants it to hurt, wants you to scream to make up for all the times he’s let you enjoy it, wants to see you cry and beg for him to stop.
One swoop forward gives him exactly what he desires, shallowly fucking his full heavy girth in even with how tight you still manage to be. The video on screen displays a similar act, different in position, lacking the blood curdling screams and cries you let out as he mocks and laughs.
“So pretty baby, you’re so pretty for me.” Jaemin licks at his upper lip, jostling against you a few times as he turns you by your chin to look at him, cracking your neck with the strain. “Can I fuck you? Huh?”
He laughs again, an arrogant disgusting laugh, emphasizing the question with another piston of his hips. “Can I? My sweet angel can take it. You already have.”
It’s too easy, you’re nothing but a mindless hole succumbed to his strength. The man behind you more demonic than anything, the gentle features of your concerned doctor turned dark, menacing, purely evil.
His hips hammer wildly, keeping your face turned to the side to watch the way he ravages your body. To watch him destroy and rip away your soul.
Every choked miserable cry you let out only heightens his pleasure, snapping his hips brutally against your backside. The pain hits from both ends with each dig of your thighs and pelvic bone cutting against the table.
“You were tighter the other night.” He spits, wadding up saliva to aim at the middle of your fast. The nasty thick wetness trickling from the bridge of your nose to the puddle of snot and drool accumulated on your lips. “Already fucking loose, you know what that means?”
Fingers squeeze past his relentless hips, shoving between your buttcheeks to scratch at your rim earning a shriek and scurry of your feet to get away. The sadistic laugh that booms out behind you sending shrill fear up your spine, tightening up around the length punching in and out of you with intention to hurt.
“Ah, fuck, yeah. Like that.” Jaemin pushes back, choking your neck from behind to hold you down. Palm smacking down angrily on your rim. “but not today.”
He reaches around, finding your clit between his middle and index finger to pinch and roll until you lift onto your tippy toes with a gurgled scream. “Can’t fuck a baby into you back there.”
“Doctor, please! Stop!” Between heavy breaths and sniffles, Jaemin keeps laughing, biting on his lips from the conflict in your tone. Your pussy locked around his length begging for more the louder you cry and protests.
“Don’t have to beg.” He taunts, licking up your back to bite down on your jaw, his fingers continuing to pleasure your bundle of nerves incessantly. “Gonna fuck you full of cum regardless. You’re so wet for me princess.”
It’s sick, sensing the last semblance of energy leaving your fingertips, the hold you had on the table goes numb, shaking against your will as orgasm rips through you making Jaemin growl and fuck harder past the convulsing around his size. He crushes against you completely, knocking your lungs free of all air, desperately twitching as he paints your insides once again.
He’s quick to recover, faster than you can process, pulling out to throw you down onto your knees and stroke the last spurts of cum onto your lips before you can try to crawl away.
“You’re mine now.” Dr. Na’s chest beats up and down drenched in sweat. You shouldn’t like it, but as you wait for the bile to rise up your esophagus you can’t look away. The pads of his fingers clean your chin, pushing release past your swollen abused lips. Nodding with his chin that you swallow it all.
“What did I just say?” He tuts, pushing two digits down on the middle of your tongue until you cough and choke. Jerking out with a river of drool streaming out onto the floor, onto his designer loafers.
“I’m yours.” You repeat, sniffling with a cough as the tangy taste of cum lodges in your throat. It’s everywhere, rubbed raw onto your skin, stuck between your teeth. The statement is nothing but true as he watches you swallow.
“Exactly.” Dr. Na scoops you up, perched on the edge of the table to slap your thighs open. “You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget that.”
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You know what I can't stand about VtM?
Camarilla apologism.
The Camarilla are monsters with rules, and they will use those rules to justify slavery and exploitation and abuse and control and murder, for ever. And people tell me these are the good guys. They're absolutely not. The Beast is sitting down at table and wearing a pretty dress and her table manners are ever so lovely and her dinner conversation sparkles, but you're still getting eaten alive. And you have to love it. They have made you love it. Nothing in their rulebook says they can't.
I have never actually run a Camarilla game. Not properly. I think it's because that level of authoritarianism makes me urge. It's weird, because I love Dark Ages Vampire with all my soul and those are the same rules, but Dark Ages Vampire doesn't have the "default sect" phenomenon, the expectation that you the players are going to be aligned with this side and therefore that's the right side because you the players are on it.
Woobifying the Sabbat and apologising for the Camarilla makes the real default protagonists of V1 - the Anarchs - even more toothless than they already are, burdened by their writers' failure to imagine a way out of the status quo (not blaming them for that, progressive politics are hard and it's only a bloody game, innit?). And as the game drifted more and more into Camarilla-as-default-vs-Sabbat-the-Anarchs-are-also-there... I don't know where I'm going with this, I was just confronted by the monstrosity of the Camarilla before I'd even had a cup of tea this morning and it's great horror but don't ever tell me they're the good ones. Don't you dare.
#vtm#vampire the masquerade#meta#camarilla#i say “meta” it's more unhinged frothing...#might delete later
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"This face was made for radio!"
Alastor is aro/ace but his love language is touch. Having been abused by his father as a child caused him to have a deep seeded anxiety around touch, and now being a demon most fear being in the presence of, let alone close enough to touch in any way, he often ends up being touch starved since most refuse to be around the demon long enough to build any sort of trust that would lead to any sort of touch.
Despite his lone wolf attitude, Alastor has grown quite attached to Husk and Niffty his closest friends. Although Husk hates the fact that this relationship is based in the fact that he is quite literally bound to the radio demon and Alastor has threatened him on multiple occasions, Alastor still considers himself closest to the gambling man.
He views Niffty as a daughter which is why he seems to be just a bit softer with her in a way in comparison to how he is with the others.
Charlie made the decision that they would all have a ‘family dinner’ every friday night where everyone would take turns cooking, she even made a little chart to remind everyone whose turn it was to cook….. Alastor, was quite upset to find that he was the only one excluded from this chart because everyone was afraid his… “unique” taste was a bit too different from theirs given his cannibalistic tendencies.
Although Husk has a deep anger toward the man who owns his soul, he gave Alastor his night to cook for this family dinner after seeing how upset he was given that he was excluded from the cooking chart. Alastor was absolutely over the moon when he got the chance to cook for everyone.
He gravitates toward women that remind him of his mother. Even as an aroace man, he finds that they have a comforting aura and they remind him a lot of home, though he would never admit that to anyone.
Rosie was his first friend in hell and he hated being away from her during his seven year “sabbatical”. The second he came back, he went straight to Cannibal Town to see her, bringing flowers and dinner for the both of them so they could catch up over a nice meal.
Alastor has Husk contracted to him to serve drinks mostly…. But funnily enough, Alastor doesn’t drink very much anymore. A glass of wine or two every now and then, but he’s put most of his drinking days behind him and prefers tea for the most part.
Being quite the mama’s boy when he was living, he still celebrates his mother’s birthday and mothers day despite the fact that his mom isn’t in hell with him. On her birthday, he bakes her favorite cake, and on mothers day, he makes her a card like he used to as a kid even though he knows that he can’t give it to her, while he allows the cake to be eaten, he has a box full of cards he’s made for her over the years in his room hidden in his closet.
Husk, Niffty, and Rosie are the only people who he’s ever talked to about his parents. The radio demon has spent nights crying to Rosie about missing his mother and the home he grew up in, and he’s shown Niffty the photo he keeps of his mother and him from his time in the human world and shown her cleaning tricks his mother taught him…
Though when he’s spoken to Husk about his parents, it was more like the two of them comparing how shitty their fathers were rather than Alastor talking about how he always thought his mother was a saint. Truthfully, he feels bad about it since he knows his mother was better to him than Husks’s was in most instances and Alastor’s mother always taught him not to brag.
Alastor and Vox used to be friends, but Vox misread their friendship and wanted more. Despite Alastor not wanting to end their friendship, it got weird after he rejected Vox’s advances and Vox got pissy because he hadn’t realized that the rejection had nothing to do with him but rather that Alastor just didn’t really have those feelings for anyone.Vox chose violence, and Alastor didn’t turn down the fight, leading to a feud that just continued to spiral into their current rivalry.
Although he hates the “noisy picture box”, Alastor and Rosie have little sleepovers at Rosie’s home in Cannibal Town where they often watch Hella Novelas together and trash talk the characters.
Alastor became a radio host before he became a cannibal.
His first cannibal meal was a horribly cooked rack of ribs that was served to him at a party after befriending a man who he thought jokingly said he ate other people….. But despite being overly cooked in the worst ways, it was still the best rack of ribs he had ever tasted.
Soon after his arrival in hell, Alastor published the #1 best selling cannibal cookbook in Hell by the title of “Friends For Dinner”. followed soon after by his other three cannibal cookbooks “Nice to (M)Eat You”, “101 Bloody Good Dessert Recipes”, and “Eat Your Heart Out: Valentines Recipes & Breakup Pick Me Ups”. And yes, Rosie has signed copies of each book displayed in her store.
#fizziepop thoughts#vivziepop#hazbin hotel#hazbin headcanons#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#husk hazbin hotel#niffty hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel rosie#cannibal town#alastor absolutely has his own line of cookbooks#the radio demon is really a chef#chefs kiss
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Home - Part One
Word Count: 900
Themes: fluff, pining
Summary: Eight years have passed since Y/N Y/L/N has graduated from Hogwarts and she is now a notorious poacher hunter, along with her best friend Poppy Sweeting. After a particularly nasty injury on the job Y/N receives an owl from Professor Weasley with an offer to be the new Professor of the Beasts class. What could go wrong with Sebastian Sallow as the Potions Professor?
Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters are aged up and around 24/25 years old
1st August, 1900
Dear Miss Y/L/N,
I hope this letter finds you well. In case you hadn’t heard, Professor Bai Howin has chosen to retire from teaching this year, leaving the position of Professor for our Beasts class open. Professor Howin has submitted a glowing recommendation for why you should be the one to take over her position. We could not think of a better person to take over this class, considering your exploits to handle the country’s poachers. Please reply at your earliest convenience to let us know if you are interested in the position.
I look forward to hearing from you soon,
Matilda Weasley, Deputy Headmistress
7th August, 1900
Dear Professor Weasley,
While I’m saddened to hear Professor Howin will be retiring, it brings me great joy to know she advocated for me to be her replacement. I humbly accept your offer to be the new Professor of Beasts.
I look forward to seeing you soon,
Y/N Y/L/N
9th August, 1900
Dear Miss Y/L/N,
We are delighted to hear your acceptance to join the faculty at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as our Beasts Professor. As I am sure you are aware, the term starts on September 1st, but feel free to arrive earlier. We look forward to seeing you again.
Yours sincerely,
Matilda Weasley (Deputy Headmistress)
Poppy was watching her expectantly from across the kitchen table, practically sitting on the edge of her seat as she waited for Y/N to finish reading the latest letter.
“Well?”
“I got the job,” Y/N laughed as Poppy jumped up to hug her. “I don’t know why you’re acting like it’s a surprise, they practically handed it to me.”
“We celebrate every accomplishment in this house,” Poppy reminded her as she pulled away. “Oh, we should tell Imelda! She’s going to be so happy for you.”
“Happy I’m not risking my life and limbs anymore, you mean,” Y/N stretched her right leg out carefully. A well-aimed diffindo had been shot at her a couple of weeks back by a particularly angry poacher, and even though the wounds had healed (thanks to a lot of essence of Dittany) she had been left with a nasty scar and a slight throb in her thigh if she did too much.
“Yes well, I’d love to say at least you’ll be safer at Hogwarts but…”
“Considering my track record it’s probably not true?” Y/N finished the sentence with a teasing smile. “Don’t worry Poppy, I promise not to get into too much trouble.”
“I take it you don’t know who the Potions Professor has been for the past few years then.”
“Sharp retired?”
“He took a sabbatical to do some consultation work with the Aurors and decided he preferred dark wizards over teenagers.”
“Who took over from him?”
“Sebastian.”
“Sebastian?” Y/N’s hand stilled as she reached for her coffee mug. “As in Sebastian Sallow?”
“Do you know any other Sebastians?” Poppy gave her a coy smile as she took a sip of her tea.
“I’m surprised Sharp let him take over.”
“It was a rather begrudging handover, but apparently he’s doing quite well and is a favourite amongst the students. Although that could just be because half of the girls have a crush on him.”
“Ah yes,” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “The infamous Sallow charm.”
“Remember it all too well, do you?”
“Don’t start, Poppy.” Y/N sighed but there was a small smile playing on the corners of her mouth as she thought about her former housemate and close friend. The first few years after they all graduated Hogwarts Y/N had kept in touch regularly with the friends she had made, but as it often does life got in the way and the contact became less and less frequent. It was hard to keep in touch with someone when she was off-grid for weeks at a time when scouting out poacher camps, and if she didn’t live and work with Poppy she doubted the brunette would be next to her either.
They still got together for the larger life events - they had all attended Ominis and Anne’s wedding a few years ago, and went out to celebrate when Imelda snagged a spot on the Holyhead Harpies - but it had been a while since she had seen them all. She missed Anne’s baby shower the year before; although if she had it her way she would have much rather been there as opposed to in a hospital cot in Saint Mungo’s with a decent chunk of her left arm missing (another scar ran across her forearm diagonally, but the Healers had done an excellent job to regrow the limb, and she was left with no pain in the arm whatsoever).
Y/N couldn’t help but smile as her thoughts drifted to Sebastian and the mischief they used to get up to when they were at school. Sneaking into the Restricted Section had become one of their favourite pastimes after the events of their fifth year, if only to say that they still could. She supposed they would have to behave themselves now that they were both Professors.
“I know that smile. Tell me again how you’re not going to get into any trouble this year?” Poppy laughed at the look on her face.
“Oh, shut up.”
#sebastian sallow fic#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian x mc#sebastian x reader#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow fanfiction#sebastian sallow x y/n#sebastian sallow x you#sebastian sallow x fem!reader#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#hogwarts game#hogwarts#hogwarts legacy#awkwardauthormasterlist#awkwardauthorwrites#awkwardauthor
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