valen-nidk
DY.
Requests are open, current fixation: hazbin hotel | i logged in this dead acc to read ; they/them, acedemi. 21+ .
07/04/2014💌
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https://x.com/rawanbasem89/status/1784972404499853782?t=WWBMn7mI9vVH8GV2hKL27A&s=09
If any of y'all could help, that'd be great. Help implies donations as well as rebloggings.
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I can’t get over this lmaooo
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taylor swift’s work wouldn’t be nearly as insufferable if she wasn’t constantly trying to present herself as some sort of tortured underdog. like, okay, she has endured hardships, and a lot of people, especially white men, are shitty towards her for purely misogynistic reasons. that sucks, i agree. but she’s never been an underdog before. she was born to well-off parents who did everything they could to start her music career when she was barely even a teenager, an opportunity that lots of people would kill for. now she’s extremely famous and wealthy, and everything she releases is destined to sell millions of copies and receive glowing reviews in nearly every publication. she is not an underdog, and i have trouble believing she’s particularly “tortured.” she’s not even an alcoholic, despite claiming to be one on the opening track of her new album! people like to defend her lyrics by saying she’s just playing a character, which i don’t believe for a second, but even if she was, i don’t think i want to listen to someone like swift play the character of a tortured underdog, not when there’s so many musicians out there who are actually tortured underdogs. it comes across as hollow. “you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me,” sung by one of the wealthiest, most famous, most critically acclaimed musicians in the world, who was born to loving parents who personally helped her start her career, who once said she’d never been to therapy because she “just feels very sane.” if you’re going to play a character, maybe pick one who we’re not supposed to pity.
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The Lookalike (Part 4)
☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis. Even after your escape, Vox continues to obsess.
☒ Warnings: 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 Part2 Part 3
Ironically, at his console, surrounded by the feeds of thousands of cameras, was one of the few places Vox could be guaranteed privacy. Ignoring the emails that pinged in, and clearing his schedule for the next half hour, Vox loaded up the footage that had been tormenting him for the past week.
The camera wasn’t quite at your eye-level, but close enough. Alastor, leaning over you, his voice low and salacious, picked up crystal clear by the microphone at your lapel.
“Sweet little pretender, you are going to lay quite still and let me tend to you.”
Just the sound of Alastor’s voice was enough to send chills through Vox’s spine, and he swallowed, plugging the feed for the video directly into the back of his head as he unzipped his pants, his cock already hard, sore from the times he’d already beaten off to this. With the feed plugged into his head, the video was a true first person view. He couldn’t really feel Alastor’s body against his, but he could imagine, he could watch the Radio Demon getting hard, could listen to the soft, sticky sounds of kissing. Vox’s hand closed over his cock, pumping up and down as he watched. His arousal was a sick, dirty ache, but still it needed release; the tip of his cock wet and weeping.
A fake Alastor had been a sublime thing, hearing how Alastor would succumb, seeing from your expressions the way his ears would fold back when he was on the cusp of orgasm, hearing a voice that could double for Alastor’s whimper Vox, Vox, Vox. That had been great, but it wasn’t the real thing. It wasn’t “Are you really going to climax, just from a little kissing?” said in Alastor’s teasing tone. He’d heard that tone a hundred times before, paired with a sly tilt of the head, but never, not in Vox’s wildest dreams, had he imagined this. Alastor over him, the hard length of Alastor’s cock pressed against him, as Alastor teased.
“Fuck yes. Fuck yes, I’m gonna cum.” Vox swallowed again, his movements becoming more frantic as he played the footage again from the beginning. The Alastor in the video didn’t reply, but Vox was beyond caring. Shit, this was hotter than anything.
“I suppose I don’t see the harm. Hold still, now,” said Alastor, as the kissing noises began, the soft suckling and little distorted whimpers, all against the urgent plap, plap plap of Vox’s hand around his erection, close to the precipice despite his self-abuse. He imagined himself in your place, beneath Alastor, in Alastor’s fucking bed. Damn. The thought of that alone was enough to drive him wild.
“Fuck,” groaned Vox through gritted teeth as he came over his console, cock pulsing almost painfully in his hand. A thick line of cum hit the panel in front of him, spatter hitting the screens on each side.
Alastor had destroyed the camera, but he still had those few moments of footage. A sliver of what there might be. Alastor and you, sharing a soft, sensual embrace. The sound of kissing. Your breath hitching. Alastor’s breath, hitching in the same way. The hiss of static and the soft whine of a faulty capacitor discharging, the animal bellow of a stag in rut. The thought of all of these possibilities, of any of these possibilities was a fire in the corner of his mind. He wanted more. He needed more. But he couldn’t even get you back, let alone Alastor.
“You mean you didn’t make them sign a contract?” Valentino peered at him over his big pink glasses.
“What? No! I thought you did! Fuck!”
Valentino waved an arm dismissively. “Just send someone to go get them, they can’t have gone far.”
“They’re in the fucking hotel, Val.”
“What? With Alastor?” Valentino laughed to himself.
“Yes with fucking Alastor.” Vox felt a spark run from his antenna to his neck, his eye twitching. “Fuck!”
Vox thought of himself a resourceful man, however. When he needed something this badly, he always found a way to make it happen. Setting up a meeting with the King of Hell wasn’t easy, but it was the best way to get what he wanted. More.
He’d set up the meeting in the Voxtek boardroom, the most impressive meeting room he had, the long table in the center of it overshadowed by the windows on each side looking into his aquarium.
“Your majesty,” Vox beamed at Lucifer, hands folded behind his back. “Welcome to Voxtek. Can I offer you refreshments?” He inclined his head to the trolley he’d had brought in, loaded with carafes of drinks, plates of cake and fresh fruit.
“Yeah, I guess.” Lucifer returned none of Vox’s unctuousness, pacing to the meeting room table and sitting down. “Let’s get this over, shall we? I’ve got important… stuff.” He waved his hand.
Exactly what Lucifer’s important stuff was wasn’t clear to Vox, but it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that everyone at the hotel was either a friend or an employee of Alastor, except for Lucifer. Vox had it on good authority that Lucifer and Alastor had beef. And that was something he could use to his advantage.
“Nice sharks, by the way.” Lucifer gestured to the tank against the east wall of the boardroom, where Vox’s pets swam as Vox fetched him a coffee.
“Uh, thanks.” Vox took the seat across from Lucifer, the pitch for his proposal in his hands. “I raised ‘em.”
“Maybe I should get a pet,” said Lucifer, looking past Vox as he narrowed his eyes at the tank.
Maybe you should go fuck yourself, thought Vox, but he fixed his face into a smile instead. He really needed to win Lucifer over. “About the project for your daughter’s hotel,” he said.
Lucifer perked up at the word daughter, and Vox felt himself relax slightly. “I’ve put together a few proposals,” he continued, spreading the documents on the table. For someone younger, he would have done a powerpoint presentation, but bitter experience told him that the older generations were unlikely to sit through such a thing. Paper or bust. And unlike some people, Vox wasn’t entirely inflexible on the media he used. “Here we have the sinstagram banner ads, of course the targeted marketing, the sinfluencer sponsored content.” Vox spread out the glossy full-page promotional photos under his claws. He’d had his marketing team compose the entire pack, sparing no expense, and was pleased to see a spark of interest in Lucifer’s eye as the king looked at the bright, glossy images. “Then of course on the more traditional media, we can run newsreels, maybe even a docudrama!” He pushed the paper towards Lucifer, large text reading Hell’s Greatest Hotel.
“This looks very nice,” said Lucifer, pushing the paper back. “But what do you want for it?” Nothing in Hell was free, after all.
“A little favor,” said Vox.
Lucifer’s mouth twitched to the side. Doubt. “How little?”
Vox weighed his options. If he pussyfooted around the matter, that was likely to make Lucifer more suspicious, not less, and if Lucifer thought he was some kind of voyeur, he would never be allowed the hotel with Lucifer’s daughter in it again. “I want you to install some cameras and microphones in the bedroom of your facility manager, Alastor,” he said, as if this was a normal thing and not something he had been furiously masturbating over half an hour ago.
“What?” Lucifer made a face. “Why?”
“He’s my business rival,” said Vox, which was true.
“He’s Charlie’s friend,” said Lucifer, turmoil showing on his face.
“What your daughter doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“But if he loses his business…” said Lucifer, with a complete lack of understanding of how Hell’s media industry worked. Vox let it slide.
“Then you can swoop in and save the day,” said Vox, keeping his tone encouraging. “It’s a win-win.”
Lucifer’s gaze slid to the glossy photos, and Vox let him stew on the offer a little before he spoke again. “Just think of how many guests this would get you.”
Lucifer nodded slowly, biting his thumb. “Charlie would be pleased…”
“And it would be because of you,” said Vox, leaning in a little closer. “Like it should be.” And not because of Alastor, he left unspoken.
“Yeah.” Lucifer nodded again, with more certainty this time. “You’re right, TV man. It should be because of me.”
“We’ve got a deal, then?” asked Vox, with a sly grin. “Because it’s sounding to me like we’ve got a deal.”
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finding out there's a frankenstein ballet and that it was in october of last year…DEVASTATING
look at this. look at these. im foaming at the mouth
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Thinking about Adam falling in love at first boner sight at M!Reader who is a femboy and had about everyone but Emily fooled. So this new angel wearing the most revealing and sensual clothes, toying with the layers of fabric that cover just enough to leave one's imagination running wild.
But then Adam has to deal with internalized homophobia because I like characters struggling and coming to terms this wasn't just a fucked up fetish but he actually developed feelings for a man.
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posting this on tumblr too, as requested
velvette in a million (18) outfits
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Aight so I get to fuck up St Peter by the power of the script
Ngl i want Reader to corrupt Saint Peter in that character x reader im writing but also highkey wanting Saint Peter to experiment love like a suckerpunch followed by lust and this desire to be possessive with Reader like the first time you got a crush and everyone getting too close with that person made you physically ill but you had no rights to say anything and learnt how to be passive aggressive — either corruption by Reader or corrupted by the narrative what do you fellas prefer?
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Lucifer: *enters the hotel*
Alastor: I cast vicious mockery 😈
An animation my sis and I made for fun
Music is Perception Check by Tom Cardy.
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Ok Alastor, you don't need to go that far!! Those dogs just want to play with you not bite you!! So please stop taking the gun every time you see them!!
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Ngl i want Reader to corrupt Saint Peter in that character x reader im writing but also highkey wanting Saint Peter to experiment love like a suckerpunch followed by lust and this desire to be possessive with Reader like the first time you got a crush and everyone getting too close with that person made you physically ill but you had no rights to say anything and learnt how to be passive aggressive — either corruption by Reader or corrupted by the narrative what do you fellas prefer?
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What's going on inside his head?
MY BOYS. Thinking of how Valentino found out Vox had a tongue had me CRY laughing so much omg
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Judas. | Emily &. Demon!Reader x Saint Peter.
Content: Emily took sides too quickly, Vaggie is suspicious. Saint Peter doesn't recognize this new (old?) angel and can't explain why he feels drawn to them.
In Hell, location: the Hazbin Hotel
"I still don't get it... Why would Emily side so quickly with us? With your cause?", Vaggie thought outloud as she laid down on the bed with her eye staring at the ceiling, before moving to rest on her side as she stared at Charlie who had been reading that story her mom would have ages ago as she was having trouble falling asleep. The Princess of Hell froze at her girlfriend's question, now looking at her eye.
She was right, Vaggie was much sharper than her when it came to important details, after all, her girlfriend was logical whereas she was emotional which is why they complimented each other — Charlie hadn't pondered on why Emily was so quick to side with her and her cause, stand up against Sera and promising to help as much as she could, dimissing the lingering threat over her head to get expelled from Heaven as an openly viewed ally. Charlie had been blinded by finally having one who wasn't a demon that she had entirely overlooked something so obvious.
The blond demon tried to come up with an answer, but none came to her mind — she gave a puzzled look at her girlfriend who gave an awkward yet understanding smile before sitting down on bed and getting closer to Charlie. "As a former angel, I didn't question orders and simply followed. I... I did feel guilty everytime an extermination took place, more often than not", Vaggie let out a heavy side at that, and Charlie couldn't resist but to hold onto her, pulling her closer so she'd be sitting sideways on her lap on their shared bed. The angel blushed faintly before she took a deep breath and continued her story. "I would let kids escape, I would try to turn an eye to those who seemed vulnerable and... What I mean is, I didn't have free will exactly, I didn't question things even if I felt like crap. But Emily had a different status, a higher one and much more strict so she... She shouldn't be this... I don't know, just, something's off, Charlie".
The pair of girlfriends exchanged a glance and held each other. Since the last extermination took place... They hadn't been back to Heaven. Much less now that Lute was running the show. So, all they could do, was wait, and try to keep a positive mindset while also working on a variety of defense and attack plans while taking into consideration all possible altering factors within and outside their control. As a precaution.
In Heaven, location: Emily's room
"Can you please keep quiet or tone it down?", Emily whispered-shouted as she helped her friend get dressed like all the other angels in Heaven. (Y/N) had been her best friend since they were alive, both were raised in a small church community and they used to have the same values until life happened, causing them to become two different people — (Y/N) had lost their way, and lost their faith unlike Emily who kept holding onto the church, studying the bible, volunteering at shelters and more selfless acts because she also had the luxury of a better economical background whereas (Y/N) didn't have that cushion. As bitter as they were at times, it hurt that those who had a deeply need to survive were the most motivated to study and do research on any and everything, to hone their abilities to impress and sometimes surrender themselves to poor treatments and toxic enviroments, a lack of support equals grapsing whatever opportunity lies before you and being indifferent on whether it will be harmful or not.
The 'angel' stood still as their friend helped them dress up accordingly, changing their make up, their nails, even shaving the necessary bits. Emily was trying to make (Y/N) look as clean, fresh and impeccable as she could to mimic the exterior of someone who belongs to Heaven. How did Emily sneak them? By using the remaining bits of the portal that had allowed Sir Pentious to access Heaven as a newly redeemed soul. "I have been meaning to somehow bring you here, you are like my family. No, you are my family and the reason why I want sinners to be able to prove they can redeem themselves...", Emily spoke in a soft tone, cupping the side of (Y/N)'s face and smiled at them, making them smile in return as they leaned onto her touch. "Even before Adam had given us that poor list of how to end in Heaven, you were worth Heaven. Fuck, you were better than Adam himself who was the epitome of humankind yet he was worst than a demon", their eyes widened at her venomous words and darkened expression of irrate. Somewhat paranoid, their (e/c) eyes looked around nervously as Emily's wings flapped behind her and she flew off the ground, circling (Y/N) to see if any detail of their outer appearance was amiss. Humming and even chirping happily at her work, she descended onto the ground again and squealed, holding their hands and spinning around. "Your disguise is perfect, (Y/N)! Gosh, I can't wait to show you Heaven and all that you mlssed".
Smiling at her, (Y/N) felt guilt bubbling within their chest as endless scenarios of what could go wrong went through their mind yet Emily reassured them that no matter the outcome, she'd be there for them. It was a lovely sentiment, but Emily wouldn't make it in Hell as far as (Y/N) did.
In Heaven, location: the library
"—I'm telling you, I don't know how he made it past the gates when that's literally my work", Saint Peter groaned, he was in Heaven's extensive library trying to find a logical explanation as to why Sir Pentious made it into Heaven without even crossing the Pearly Gates — yet nothing showed up thus far, nothing that could explain how this came to be or why this was the only record and proof of a sinner getting redeemed. Was he talking to the bored librarian that wanted him gone? Yes. Was he mostly thinking outloud? Also yes. His wings were flapping behind him, clearly showing the stress he was experimenting as he paced back and forth through the library's floor, yet he was pulled away from this spiral of what-ifs thoughts by the door creaking and different step patterns which indicated that two other angels had joined him, and the librarian.
"Ah, names? Okay Emily and... Sorry, could you repeat that? Assigning an old citizen to work here with hearing problems and poor memory was a questionable choice", the librarian spoke, slowly and bored at this interaction but chuckled faintly nonetheless. "Ah, (Y/N)? Can't say I heard that name, but then again... Angels rarely come here, only Saint Peter".
A name he was acquainted with, followed by a name he never heard, Saint Peter himself who greets those who make it past the Pearly Gates. What is going on?, he is supposed to know every soul that got here. Exasperated, he abruptly turned around and if it wasn't because he was on the ground and throwing a fit with only his wings flapping behind him, Saint Peter was sure he'd have faceplanted onto the ground at the sight of Emily and this unknown angel.
The unknown angel and Saint Peter had locked gazes for a long amount of time, making the librarian and Emily herself feel like the third and fourth wheel. Clearing her throat, Emily made the pair break eye contact and look flustered before she pressed her palm in between (Y/N)'s shoulderblades and pushed them before her, looking up at Saint Peter and gesturing a introduce yourself expression. If they passed Heaven's watchful eyes, the one in charge of letting souls pass and know everyone's name in Heaven, they could fool God.
"Hi", their voice barely above a whisper as they watched Saint Peter spread his wings and fly from where he stood to slowly descend before them, still looking in a trance of sorts as his face had a yellow blush present. "I'm (Y/N), I think one of your ah, collegues? The one in the current shift greeted me and told me to uhm, you know, introduce myself to you".
Saint Peter was familiar with falling in love, he did so back in Earth yet when he reunited with his former wife in Heaven, they didn't feel that initial connection nor the obligation to get involved in a romantic relationship, remaining amicable at best and acquaintences at worst. Whatever they had on Earth had evaporated, only a feeling of familiarity whenever they crossed paths and they carried on without interacting, not even a wave. But this..? Saint Peter never felt his heart beating this fast, this erraticaly... His face felt like burning, and his mouth felt dry as his blue eyes widened, memorizing each detail and feature of them, a beautiful, astonishing... "Uhm, hi?". Snapping back to reality as he tried to focus on whatever they said, Saint Peter reached down to hold their hand and shake it as a greeting, making their own face turn a reddish hue as they got flustered. Adorable, deliciously so.
"Hi! Yes, pleasure to meet you, welcome to Heaven, (Y/N). Shall I give you a tour?", blue eyes were practically sparkling at the prospective of spending (alone) time with them, but there was an increasing worry creeping from the back of his mind, what's this desire to monopolize them..? It was worrisome, the need to touch their hands for longer than he should have, to stand this close within their personal space.
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OKAY ONE LAST POST ABT HIM,, maybe,,,
#foaming at the mouth actually#ngghhhh stupid and sensual milkman#that's not my neighbour#francis mosses#milkman#i might write x reader for him tbh........
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