Justelilopez - Just Another Blog

Fluffy FNAF: SB Doodles ^^

First time drawing Monty and Glamrock Chica :o I think I did okay, but they may change slightly as I continue to doodle them

Moon gets two pages because yes. Some of these may be scenes in Celestial Syzygy, but I won’t say which :3c

Reblogs are appreciated!! They help me a lot ❤

I love this song sm 😭

Here's a request, how would Strife and Samael react to accidentally seeing s/o naked for the first time? Like they are getting ready to bathe or something and thought they were alone. They didn't know anyone would be there, and when Strife/Sam do see them, s/o is oblivious. Like they realize very quickly "aw shit, s/o is cute...", Inner monologue stuff about s/o and their new feelings. I have a thing for pining. Real romance fluff with a suggestive hint. Nothing happens, this doesn't have to be nsfw if you don't want it to be. I just want your take on their reactions cause I think they would both range very differently. I chose those two cause they are my favorite. If you don't wanna do this one, that's ok too. I just really like your writing and how you interpret things. Thank you again.

Samael:

It's a common assumption among those who don't know him personally, that the Demon Prince, Samael, is a debauched and lascivious snake who would only relish in the chance to catch a human unawares.

It's a common assumption. But so often common is confused with correct.

He's a prince. Be that of Hell or Heaven or any realm in-between, he knows how to behave like a gentleman when needs be.

To his own surprise, he's found himself falling more and more into that courtly conduct ever since he managed to get his claws on the Horsemen's little human, swiped by his own claws right from underneath their noses.

'Nothing personal,' he'd told you while you thrashed and beat at the vast, scaly fingers wrapped around your torso, 'This is all tactics, you understand.'

With the Horsemen focusing all of their efforts into tracking you down – they've yet to work out that he's behind your disappearance – Samael is free to move his players across an unguarded chess board. A classic – if risky – slight of hand.

Oh, he imagines they'll try to kill him once they discover you hidden here in his fortress at Shadow's Edge, but that's hardly of any concern to a Prince of Hell. If he thought the Horsemen were a genuine threat, he wouldn't have provoked them by taking their precious, little human.

They won't be able to deny, when they eventually find you, that he's been nothing if not a most gracious host. You aren't a political enemy, after all, you're an innocent bystander in his game of cat and mouse.

He's placed you in one of the Eastern towers - under guard and lock and key, of course – where every amenity has been made available to you. A spacious chamber, adorned by a luxurious bed with silken, ruby-red sheets. An adjacent nook that boasts a king-sized bathing pool for you to maintain your hygiene....

If anything, you're less of a prisoner, and more of an unusual guest, though such 'special treatment' has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that your affinity for story-telling far surpasses the talents of his own subjects.

All you have to do is recite Earthen fairy-tales to him, plots of films you can still remember, stories from the books you used to read at school, and every single one of them is eagerly eaten up by the demon Prince, specifically those that have happier endings.

Those very stories are the reason Samael finds himself striding down the corridor to your chambers now, with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, the impressive claws at the end of each of his toes clicking sharply against a black-stone floor.

Last night, you'd half-finished a tale of a caterpillar with an absolutely voracious appetite, but you'd fallen asleep just before the most crucial climax. He'd half a mind to shake you conscious again and demand you tell him how the gluttonous little insect earns his downfall through hubris and greed, but in the end, he permitted you your scant few hours of fitful sleep.

Perhaps the ending you have in store will have been worth the wait...

The phantom guards posted outside your room snap to attention as he passes them by, though their master doesn't spare either of them so much as a fleeting glance, stepping leisurely up to the tattered, scarlet curtain that separates your chambers from the corridor outside.

And that's when he hears it - a sound so seldom heard in Hell, it actually startles the Prince into slowing his gait as his scowl comes undone, softening the deep-set creases carved between his brows.

He pauses at the curtain and twists an ear towards the noise...

... Music?

Slowly, he eases his crooked knuckles beneath the curtain and lifts it aside, hesitating for another moment to discern that his ears really aren't deceiving him. That's music he's hearing. More specifically, it's singing.

You are singing.

He's spoken with you enough times by now to recognise your voice in spite of the melodious notes of a song that drift into his ears from somewhere beyond the bed chamber.

But then, he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Of all the denizens residing in his fortress, who among them is the most likely to burst into song other than the human?

Eyes of liquid fire scan the room and find it devoid of his prisoner, until they land upon the arched entrance that leads into the adjacent bathing quarters.

He recalls how you'd been stunned almost speechless the first time he showed you the enormous pool cut out of an obsidian floor.

He'd taken the liberty to drain it of lava before filling it up again with clean, un-poisoned water – a rare commodity in Hell, given the rate of its evaporation.

“Why?” you'd asked, squinting up at him dubiously.

Samael's face had remained perfectly set like the stone underfoot as he hummed his reply, “I assumed humans preferred to bathe in water. Not molten lava.”

That wasn't what you'd meant, and he knew it, but you'd been sensible enough not to look a gift demon in the mouth, as it were.

Lifting his nose to take a whiff of the air, Samael pads like a graceful predator across the chamber, following the sound of your voice.

Until the day comes when he no longer sits on the throne, he'll staunchly deny that his footsteps fall just a little more softly against the stone in his endeavour to remain unnoticed by the room's occupant.

Deftly, he manoeuvres around a scattering of garments that have been strewn haphazardly about the chamber, quirking one solid, scaly brow at them as he passes. 'Odd,' is all he muses.

Under normal circumstances, you're never seen without your flimsy attire.

Finding his curiosity piqued, Samael ducks his crooked horns and steals into the dark doorway, casting an eye languidly across the baths, only to freeze in his tracks, his whole body going utterly still from the horns on his head to the tip of his long, sweeping tail.

As if the singing weren't enough of a shock, you suddenly come dancing into view, swinging your hips to and fro like a pendulum. You're facing away from the doorway, thank the Void, but that's hardly what the demon Prince is focused on.

Standing there on the first step of the bath, bobbing your hips to the tune of your own song, he sees you.

All of you.

There isn't a shred of clothing present to preserve your modesty, no undergarments, nor a single strip of cloth, not a thread to your name.

Samael's silvery pupils dilate, expanding out of slits until they sit soft and round in his yellow eyes.

Rather perplexingly, he doesn't wheel himself backwards out of the entryway as soon as he registers your state of undress, though he chalks this up to being struck with simple, scientific curiosity at having stumbled upon a human in their most natural state.

Why, any second now, he's sure he'll feel that familiar wave of disgust surge up like bile and turn his stomach, because what is the human body if not a small, featureless sack of squelching meat?

Any second now...

Surely...?

Despite the weak-willed voice in the back of his head trying to convince him to turn away, the demon's eyes remain firmly adhered to you, and his ears twitch and flick towards the sound of your voice, anxious to catch every note you sing.

What is the human body...?

It's very.... gentle, he observes through a sudden haze that knocks him ever so slightly off-kilter.

A golden stare roll up the length of your legs, tracing the path of your spine and lingering on the back of your fragile neck.

There isn't a single, sharp edge to your body. No jagged horns or spines jutting through your skin, no tough and unforgiving scales to protect you from the elements, no natural weapons in the form of fangs or claws.

A body like yours was never intended to cause hurt.

What a flawed design.

What a brave design.

Before he can keep it at bay, a memory of Lilith pushes to the forefront of his mind – of her cruel lips that twist into a smirk and her hateful glares that try to poison his heart as she lays underneath him on their shared bed, claws like knives cutting into his scaly forearms to draw as much pain from him as she can, all in the name of 'making love.'

But what if....?

As the demon Prince gazes down at you, transfixed, the image of your naked body slips seamlessly in to replace Lilith's in his mind's eye. Her feral snarl gives way to something kinder, something sweeter, welcoming.

And suddenly, there you are, spread out in his Queen's place on the red, silken sheets, surrounded by the treasures he's draped you in during a wild and scandalous courtship. For the first time in his life, he doesn't want to ravage the body under his, though maybe he'd remind you that he could, if you'd only ask him to.

No. Perhaps, instead, you'll prop yourself up against the mountain of pillows he'd given you to nest in, and you'll cradle his head in your lap, your clawless fingers stroking gently up and down the space between his impressive horns as you tell him stories well into the night, listening to the crackle of the wall sconces together.

'Is that what it must be like?' he wonders, 'to take a lover who has no interest in power or status?' That must be what the stories mean, when they talk of love for love's sake.

Ah... But that kind of love has no place in Hell. The selfless kind. Altruistic. Here, one either loves to gain power, respect, and to rise through the social ranks, or one simply doesn't love at all.

In all the years he's sat on the throne of Hell, never once did he think he'd find himself so captivated by the sight of a human with no clothes on.

The leathery membrane folded between his wings starts to creak as they gradually spread open, driven by an ancient and well-buried instinct to appear bigger, stronger, more suitable than any other demon in the fortress...

He doesn't even notice that his tail has begun to sweep silently from side to side in perfect tandem with the swing of your hips.

Regardless of his imposing presence lurking just behind you in the doorway, you still don't seem to have noticed that you have an audience, and you likely would have gone on with your oblivious dance had the demon Prince not sabotaged himself moments later.

He never meant to do it. He's certainly never been caught doing it before, not even when he was trying to court an impassive Lilith.

Somewhere deep inside his almighty chest, the demon's muscles begin to quiver, pulsing together as they work to push a strange sound up through his throat - something between a contented hum and an unmistakable, mortifying purr.

You notice the sound before he does, but his reactions are sharper than your own.

Your song trails into uncertain silence, there's a whoosh of air and an enormous shadow flits backwards through the doorway just as you turn around to investigate, curling your arms around yourself in anticipation of finding a peeping-tom.

… The entrance is empty.

The Phantom guards scramble to attention when their master suddenly comes storming out of your chambers, his tail lashing like a whip and his mighty chest heaving in and out as if he's trying to stoke a fire in his lungs.

Gleaming fangs crush themselves together as he thunders aimlessly down the corridor, his only concern in distancing himself from the room of his prisoner.

What was that?

What the Hell was that!?

Of all the ridiculous, humiliating, puerile things for a Prince to do.

A purr...

A purr!

At his age! And one directed at a human no less.

He's Samael! Accuser, Seducer. Prince of Demons and Lord of Darkness. He's well above the feeble allure of the flesh.

... But it wasn't just your flesh that tempted him, was it?

Samael's lips curl to bare his teeth as he viciously swipes the thought away with another lash of his tail.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself resolutely. You hadn't seen him, nobody witnessed the event, you'll carry on none-the-wiser while he strikes the whole mishap from his memory.

The Horsemen will come and take you away, as he intended.

Yes... Just as he intended.

EDIT: Holy shift I just realised I got so caught up in Samael's story, I never wrote Strife's!!!!!!! I'm so sorry!!!!

Nightmare au belongs to @opudont-donut

I got a ton of ink that I wanted to use and I thought the bois were the perfect way to practice!

I want to share a snippet from chapter 3 of The Lovelorn King, a little moment between Junior and Y/n, because I'm feeling angsty and apparently can't keep my WIPs a secret. :P

----------

"Peach makes him sad..."

Junior's fingers pluck at a loose thread on the blanket, his gaze falling from the book in your hands to the fucshia sheets rumpled below his chin.

"How so?" you respond absently, thumbing through the pages to see when the chapter ends. With any luck, once it's finished, you might be able to encourage the young prince to return to his own bed and leave you in relative peace.

The Koopaling's muffled response, however, is strange enough to snag your attention.

"Cos' he loves her, but she hates him..."

Loves...?

Lowering the book into your lap, you lean back a little further until your spine hits the head board, blinking mutely at Junior as you finally take note of the deep furrow between his brows and his downcast eyes.

Bowser is in love with Princess Peach...?

Your heart goes out to the poor woman.

Yet, if Junior is to be believed, it sounds as though your royal pen pal doesn't share the same affection for her would-be suitor, a fact that seems to have put the young koopaling in a glum frame of mind which in turn tugs at your feeble heart strings.

For the umpteenth time, you give yourself an admonishing kick for immediately trying to think of ways to set his mind at ease.

Perhaps it wouldn't have hurt to inherit some of your father's apathy after all...

But though Junior may be the son of the tyrant who locked you in this room, you can't get away from the reminder that you're dealing with a mere boy, a young child, as evidenced by the way he stole in here and asked you to read him a bed time story....

What quarrel would any self-respecting Queen have with a child?

Clearing your throat, you duck your head in an attempt to catch the koopaling's eye, hesitantly responding, "Hate is a... strong word. I'm sure she doesn't-"

"-She does!" he suddenly insists with a shout, tossing the blanket aside and pushing himself up onto his stubby arms to glare at you from across the bed, "She hates him! She says he's a monster! And she hates monsters!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the young koopa falls uncharacteristically still and quiet, lowering his eyes down to his hands with a sombre expression, eyebrows once again sliding together over his forehead.

Startled away from speech, you can only watch on as he slowly curls his hands into tiny fists, and in doing so, hides his claws from sight.

"If she says Papa's a monster..." he croaks at a volume you didn't think he was capable of achieving, "Does that... make me a monster too?"

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

Thanks for reading <3

You can find the whole fic here x