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cross your wrists behind your head, you fuck irl
Your ask came in like immediately upon that post going out, habibi. I'm reaching for the spray bottle rn...
Am kidding, no need to chill, you are allowed to enjoy whatever you enjoy however much you want to enjoy it. <3 And ironically, no, I really don't. Not anymore. I'm pretty damn aroace, and my last relationship was a few years ago. I don't get crushes on people, and it generally takes someone hitting me with a stick and saying "HEY! I have feelings!" before I will notice.
But! I'm glad you're enjoying the read-along! I just wanna say a quick mun =/= muse though, just in case. I am not Blitz, and Blitz is not me. He is a ho (said as a term of endearment), while I am a potato who would rather spend all day hiking to look for albino banana slugs than try to flirt with any seriousness.
The Hellhound had power. Not just the ability to use magic, but actual magic, power coursing through her, as rich and dangerous and clearly useful as anything an Overlord commanded. Blitz shouldn't be hung up on that, not when there was potentially a fight mere seconds away, but for a moment, he just stood there, staring, eyes huge, trying to take it in. She'd leapt in to help with the fight, she had the kind of power that probably meant she stood well fucking above most of her kind, and something about her seemed--
Relentlessly unsatisfied.
He took all of that in in a heartbeat, before shaking himself out of the daze as the door sagged, catching on a single chain and a bolt. Blitz's wonderment turned to a feral grin. One hard ram of his horns against the door was enough to shatter the rest of the hardware keeping it dangling there like a loose tooth. Sparks flew, a chain snapped, a bolt sheared off, and the door clattered in, falling half into the room and half into the hall.
Trusting that this woman was going to continue kicking ass with him, since she sure as fuck seemed on board with it, Blitz dove into the room, coming up with a knife in each hand, taking the scene in as he made it to his feet.
They were all Sinners. One was strapped to a table, some feline-type, a young man with white fur, wide red eyes, and a white wristband that looked like it had been pulled on too tightly, and probably not by him. There were three other Sinners standing around him, stunned; they clearly hadn't expected the door to actually come down.
All three of the problems were armed--with torture implements. Real torture, the kind that nobody was meant to come back from, or at least not come back sane from. The kitten-sinner would eventually resurrect if they killed him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be traumatized all to fuck, or that he deserved to be here having people flay his skin off in strips and laugh about it.
"You guys picked the wrong fucking night," Blitz declared. He sounded far too gleeful to be threatening, though, laughter in his voice--because fuck, this was a treat This was like a goddamn dream come true, this was exactly what he needed to clear his head: some good old fashioned ultra-violence.
Healthy, right?
His evident cheer gave the three further pause, stunting their ability to react anywhere near quickly enough.
Blitz leapt onto the one closest to the cat, latching onto the Sinner like an evil koala, knees around his chest, knives already buried into his throat. Laughing--cackling, really--Blitz crossed the blades and jerked them apart, severing the spine before he immediately head-butted the corpse.
The head fell to the ground with an almost wooden thwomp and Blitz jumped free before the body fell. He landed on the torture table, standing over the victim, teeth bared in a snarl. "Kick their asses while I cut him free!" he called out. It was stupid, he had no reason to believe the woman was really going to want to fight like a team in this, or that she would be up for tackling two Sinners... but fuck, the way she had just immediately leapt into the fucking situation out there in the hall, and the ferocity in her eyes, that air of not being satisfied, of not having gotten what she needed from tonight--
Blitz trusted her with his back, focusing on cutting the bonds around the cat. Everything was happening so fucking quickly, and maybe he was about to get himself seriously fucking hurt for choosing to trust the wrong person, but so fucking be it.
Right now, it felt goddamn worth it.
'It was any other fucking day', she had tried to remind herself. No different from any other. Get up, get shit done, go back to bed, rinse and repeat all over again. Day and night played on a repetitive loop that had become as empty and meaningless as it had predictable. But it wasn't just any other day. For mortals, it was Halloween. Nothing of any importance to a hellborn, but the woman she had shared the whole of her heart with had reveled in the sheer nauseating festivity of it all. The cheesy oldschool horror flicks, corny cheaply-made decorations, lame costumes, tons of candy-flavored shitty booze ... it was deeply nostalgic to the sinner, and so Visage had made it her mission every damned year to bring her own variation of those cliche holiday rituals to Hell. To give her love a taste of the familiar. It was their yearly specialty--and once more ... she was spending that day alone. The passing of the past two years had dulled the sting of many of the most grievous emotional wounds. Back when everything still reminded Visage of her, when just getting out of bed each morning seemed an insurmountable task. It had slowly gotten easier, as the intensity of the memories faded, but some wounds still stubbornly refused to close. This one, in particular, still festered. And so, as she always did when the pain was simply too much to carry, she sought to shed it--if only for one night. With enough alcohol and hard narcotics, any memory could fade. By the time she had finished up at the first bar, the sound of her lover's final words was almost in-perceivable in the back of her mind. A far away whisper drowned out by the incoherent buzzing of white noise in her ears. By the second bar, the image of her lover's head rolling across the asphalt wasn't seared into the inside of her eyelids anymore whenever she closed her eyes. Just shapeless blobs that churned and roiled like an angry sea, too clouded and unsteady to make out in any manner of detail. But no matter how much she drank, how many pills she swallowed, something else still lingered ... still scraped at her insides like grasping talons. How it felt. That deep ache that came from the hollow space left where her beloved Dhallia used to be ... and knowing that she only had herself to blame for it. Words like claws raking across rusted metal pierced through the haze of her chemical escape, ceaseless and deafening as ever. She would still be here, if not for you. You were supposed to protect her. You were all she had. And now she's gone. Booze and drugs wouldn't be enough to kill the root of the pain tonight. No. She needed a needed a stronger high ... some carnal and ravenous that could penetrate deeper than any artificial buzz ever could ... and only one place could provide it. --
Lacerate wasn't her typical fuck dungeon of choice--too heavy-handed and direct in its approach for her tastes. It felt akin to shooting fish in a barrel, hunting prey that was essentially already caught. Night clubs were usually more her speed, where the dance of predator and prey could play out more naturally. And depending on the sort of night it was, she could be either. Tonight, though ... she needed a sure thing. She lacked the finesse and the patience to play her role convincingly. And in truth? She didn't know which role she was at that particular moment in time. The Overlord found herself game for just about anything on a night like this... ...And it was reflected in her choice of wristband, after going through all the available options. Grey--dom or sub, top or bottom, her tastes liable to change from moment to moment. A switch of the most dangerous kind. Patrons would need to play with care. Unfortunately, it made finding a suitable playmate for the night extraordinarily difficult. Most other grey-bands were much more tame and laid-back than the restless feral hellhound who navigated the club like the very essence of chaos itself. None could match the she-wolf's energy--when they were hot, she was cold ... ready to submit one moment, seizing a lover by the throat the very next. The volatile cocktail of drinks, drugs and grief were creating a perfect storm of unpredictability that was working strongly against her. Fuck it, she'd find a restroom and crank out a few angry loads by herself before calling it a night and cutting her losses. She would stagger her way home and just sleep it all off. Pain couldn't find her if she wasn't conscious. At least that was the plan ... until she heard it. The tell-tale mewling whimper of a victim in distress. Genuine distress, not something faked to cater to fantasy. Someone was not having a good time. Even above the low pulsing beat of the music and the voices of enthusiastic patrons, the Overlord tracked the source of the cries nearer and nearer ... until even the acrid scent of fear was able to cut through the thick cloying miasma of musk and arousal. Step by step, Visage found herself rapidly sobering up as surges of adrenaline began steadily flushing the chemicals from her system. That, alone, was just pissing her off even more. Whoever that weaselly fuck was, they were going to regret hurting someone against their will and obliterating her buzz. She was already feeling bad for whatever janitor was going to be responsible for mopping up the mess. No sooner had she arrived, though, than someone else was already there--an imp with an impressive rack of horns that stood a fair bit taller than most other imps she had seen. Apparently she hadn't been the only one to hear it. Another who was also inclined to act. Good. This could be a different kind of fun. The hellhound's brow furrowed as as the imp struggled against the bolted door, however, and after his first two tries couldn't make it budge ... Visage firmly gripped him by the shoulder before he could attempt to breach it a third time. "Hold up, I got this!" The words left her in a rumbling snarl, gently pushing him back a few steps as a familiar white-hot heat surged down her other arm before culminating down into the tips of her claws--claws that had now taken on a vivid blue glow akin to red-hot metal. THWACK! The first swing sliced cleanly through the top hinge of the door as though it were little more than wet paper. SHHNK! The back-swing took out the second hinge just as easily, and the large wooden door visibly sagged to one side--now only held upright by the various chains and locks that had sealed it shut. Her feral silver gaze fell upon the imp expectantly now, as though waiting for him to join her and barge in together. Whatever was happening behind that door, Visage was more than glad to accept backup if it was being freely offered.
Do you feel like Stolas SA'ed you?
Blitz frowned hard at the person asking him this. He didn't know them, so it really didn't seem like any of their damn business. But all the same, they looked like they cared, and he had to believe they were coming from a good place.
"No," he said, his voice serious, firm. "It wasn't a great situation. It wasn't good for either of us. But even though it was... fucking terrifying at the end when I thought I was losing my business, when I was losing him, even though there were times that I just... felt like shit, like some washed up, reused, half-dried condom he happened to find amusing... that shit? That was on me. How I--fucking... how I fucking..." Blitz closed his eyes and dropped his face into one hand. "How I fucking feel is on me. It's more cause of my depression and trauma than him.
"Like, sure. Go for it, you could argue that with his position and his power, he had me at his mercy and could have done anything to me, that I never could have said No, that he could coerce anything out of me. But you weren't, you know. Fucking there. I was. That was my body on the line, my body in the bargain. And I can tell you this, Stolas never made me feel unsafe. I freaked out once, one time, because the way he touched me reminded me of... something I don't want to remember. And I was going to fucking press on, ignore it, shove that whole bullshit reactiony thing down.
"But Stolas noticed something was off. Stolas cared. More than I did. He put the brakes on. That fucker grabbed me up and just held me until I was breathing right again and it.... you can't... You can look at him and see a demon prince and say oh yeah, no, fuck that guy, he's not perfect, he did some questionable shit, and you can label him a monster.
"But you can't label him as my monster.
"You can't label him for me.
"Stolas didn't force me. He wouldn't. Nights with Stolas were probably some of the safest nights I've ever had. Some of the best. I was actually... you know... fucking happy with him. Even when it still scared me to even admit it to my fucking self. I could have walked away at any time and that bird would've let me. He probably would've gotten up, held the door, and reminded me in his," Blitz's voice cracked, "soft fucking voice," which he loved, God he loved that man's fucking voice, "that I could always come back. When I was ready.
"If you want to blame someone for a fucked up situationship, don't blame Stolas. Blame me."
Blowjobs and beaks don't usually mix well. Just a little warning for the imp
"Depends on who's got the beak," Blitz shot back with a filthy little grin, and a highly suggestive twitch of his tail. At least, that particular tail gesture was crude in imp culture, akin to putting one's fingers to their lips and tonguing between them, but Blitz didn't expect the stranger to know that.
"If you're worrying about Stolas, don't. That babe is talented. Course, if you're talking about someone like Eclipse or Parak..." Another tail twitch, this one at least slightly less salacious, and Blitz let out a dark little chuckle. "I'll take my chances."
Any tips regarding cloacas? Given your experience in the matter?
Biltz blinked and actually looked up from his notebook, where he had been scribbling down the next chapter of his epic Goetian Royalty fanfic, As the Egg Turns.
"Wh... oh. Uh. I mean. Basically you just, you know. Treat them like any other genitals. First off, just ask how the person with the cloaca wants to be touched? If you're lucky, they'll know and feel comfortable and confident enough to tell you, and then you got it fuckin' made, all you need to do is be a good listener and follow directions.
"But obviously, not everyone is up for talking about what they want done in bed. Some people are fuckin' shy, or inexperienced, and there's nothing wrong with that. You just go slow and like, experiment. I mostly use my tail and my lips, unless I got my glove with me--it's a uh, custom-made silicone glove to fit this." He flexed his overly muscular hand and forearm. "Got some good claw-covers inside it, so I won't scratch them up, and it feels like skin on the outside. But if I don't have that, I don't use my claws, cause the uh, skin? Can be kind of delicate. And even if St--if uh, cloaca havers, don't get hurt easy? You never wanna assume it's okay to hurt someone in bed, or that they're tough enough to not get cut up by your claws.
"If you're not sure what to do with the person you're fucking, ask them. Experiment. And if neither of you know what to do? Remind yourself, people have been doing this shit since the dawn of time. Or, I guess, if angels are horny, probably before that? Don't sweat it. Go slow. Watch your partner for their reactions. And respect whatever feedback they like, give you, you know?
"Anyway, listen fuckface, I got a hot steamy Goetian orgy to get back to and people getting all up on my case for not updating this fic enough. Get outta my office!"
Take it from an incubi that knows. Goetia have some fucking weird kinks, man. Be careful
"Not just Goetia," Blitz answered with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows. He leaned back in his seat, arms comfortably folded behind his head, and looked the incubus up and down. "I mean, I'm all for being careful when it comes to sex. Protection every time, non fucking negotiable. But when it comes to trying out someone's kinks, I mean... if it's reasonably safe and sane, and we're all consenting, I'm usually in."
A moment later, growing more serious, Blitz added: "It's real easy to shame someone's kinks, you know? And it's a lot harder to just say, your kink is not my kink and that's okay. But that's where I try to be, my... Philosophy, or whatever. If someone's kink is too weird for me, that doesn't really mean it's weird. Just that I ain't there for it. "My best friend works in the sex industry. He helps with designing and selling all kinds of shit. If anyone was gonna say, oh yeah, those people are fucked up, it would probably be him, since he gets to see the full, uh, the full spectrum, but he doesn't think that at all. He just takes people as they are when it comes to kinky bedroom shit, and I think that's kinda fuckin..." What was the right word?
"Admirable."
"What in Hell would possess you to neuter yourself?"
Putting this one under a cut and adding a trigger warning for SA & trauma:
"My father sold me like, multiple fucking times when I was a child. And a teenager. And maybe you don't know about the whole birds and the bees thing, but let me tell you, when you're not a willing fucking participant and years later someone tells you oh yeah, remember that one time? Yeah I had a kid. What do you mean what happened to him, I dumped his ass in the Pit. Kind of inspires you to just never--
"I don't--
"I don't want to father any more children. Even the fucking thought of it..." Blitz frowned and shook his head, looking out the window for a long, long time before he finally looked back at Parak. "What happened to me wasn't a one and done thing where it just traumatizes you one fucking time and then you get to forget it. That shit? Never is. For any of us. But when there's a fucking kid involved? It hurts. Every time you think about it. It just... fuck. I don't--
"My kid is almost twenty-two. He's fourteen years younger than me. And every time I think about it, I remember all the shit I didn't want. The fucking hands. The smug look on my dad's fucking face when I'd come home." Blitz looked the same as ever--tense and relaxed at once, angry and careless--but his hands were in tight fists where he had them tucked in against his chest, and his breathing was a little shallower, tighter. Controlled--too controlled. Controlled, because if he didn't keep himself together, he'd fall the fuck apart whenever this shit came up, and Blitz was tired of that. He was so tired of a monster from the past still being able to affect him now. It was bullshit. It always had been and it always would be--
But it being bullshit didn't erase the scars or ease the worst part of it all, the part he could never bring himself to vocalize to anyone: the shame. The deep, choking sense of shame, as if it was somehow his fault, as if it always had been. Logic couldn't ease that shame away. Knowing it wasn't his fault couldn't make it feel any less embarrassing, any less humiliating. So, his face burned, his stomach felt tight, and his heart felt like it was stuttering, but he just kept his gaze fixed out the window.
[context for curious readers who didn't pick it up in his headcanon posts, but Blitz had a vasectomy a long, long time ago, and has no plans to ever reverse it. it's not something he is open to negotiating on, and i as a roleplayer will not be playing any "accidents" happening. Blitz still uses condoms, every time.]
Bend over and think happy thoughts Blitz, it's annual prostate exam time!
"You know my anatomy is pretty different from a human's, right?" Blitz asked, about to argue--before he realized that actually, this was probably going to be a good time. So fuck it, why not? Taking off his belt, he looped it around the neck of the person flirting at him, tugged them close, and purred affectionately into their ear, "You can go first, baby, but I'm going to ruin you when it's my turn."
I decided to try the proper spelling of his name and...
This How Are You in Bed quiz is trying to flatter Blitz... and it's working xD
Neutered huh? No balls then?
Blitz snorted and shook his head, taking a moment to sip and sip and sip on his straw. This stupid Strawberry Valentine drink was so good. Supposedly, supposedly it was some fancy new thing based on how Valentino and Angel Dust smelled together--which, weird, but whatever, this was Hell, people capitalized on everything--but it was the freshest thing he'd had in weeks. Blitz wasn't usually one for anything sweet, but this shit was addictive.
Once he'd had enough for now, he settled, eyes half-closed. "Oh, I got balls. Vasectomies don't remove all of that. Daddy's got plenty for you to play with--I just ain't gonna become a daddy. Again. So." More sipping on that stupid damn drink for a while, then he huffed and set it aside. Christ on a stick, he could act like an adult and not a sugar-addicted child, right? Maybe? Fuck.
"If you want to know more, go down the street to the corner store and get me an order of Fries Quatro Quesos Dos Fritos, stat. Whatever the fuck stat actually means, just--go, go. I ain't answering any more questions 'bout my gear til I have something to..." He side-eyed the smoothie again. Fuck, no. Nope. No more. "To eat."
But it was so good.
Happy as could be, Blitz went back to enjoying his smoothie.
This had been an act, but it suddenly wasn't anymore; contact with his lover's body, the way she touched him back, the way she licked his throat, that beautiful sensuality in her voice? Blitz had no immunity against any of those things--no immunity against Visage. He adored this woman, and his body had no defenses against her; whenever she wanted to play him like an instrument, she could. Always. He swallowed hard, shivering a little as she got to him, as the arousal hit harder than he had been prepared for.
"All Daddy wants is you, babygirl," he whispered, the base of his spines already thickening against her touch. Blitz usually hated when people took the liberty of touching him there, but not Vizzy. Not Vizzy. When she did it, he loved it. When she did it, he was hers. No, she could touch him anywhere, any way she wanted to, and it always felt safe, like home--
Except, right now? It felt like one more thing, one terrifying thing.
It felt like they were flirting with the idea of one last time. Blitz was good at recognizing that. He'd been the one instigating it all too often. He had been the one preparing to say goodbye so many times. He knew the signs. He knew the little ways it changed things. He knew too much about it--and he knew it was happening now. But that was the point of all of this, wasn't it? They were standing on the edge of an abyss, and if she jumped, thinking she could dive down into that darkness alone? Blitz was going with her.
Until then, he had to act, to play the part.
It helped that she all but lit his body on fire.
"Maybe we got each other figured out," he replied, voice lower and rougher for her, heated by her, darker for her.
Meeting her eyes boldly, he took both of her wrists and gripped them tight in one hand, holding them down between their bodies; the imp's hands and forearms had a vise-like strength, and so although he was always gentle with her--unless there were times she wanted to be bruised--she might as well be manacled right now.
"Tonight..."
Without so much as looking away from her eyes to even pretend at being civilized, without a hint of shame, Blitz slid a hand inside her clothing, between her legs--up against her warmth. Mindful of his claws--always, always so damn careful with them--he caressed the pads of his fingers against her, gentle and patient, familiar.
"Text me when you finish your work. Then get changed into something you don't mind me ruining. Don't worry about what you'll put on after, I'll have something for you." Attentive little circles, Satan what he wouldn't give to be doing this with his tongue right now instead. "I'll send you an address. You show up exactly where the text says, kneel, and wait. It won't take long. When I show up? You will be mine. You'll do whatever I ask. You won't have to think. You won't have to feel." Blitz kissed her throat, but then bit it, holding it between his sharp fangs--the pressure not quite enough to break the skin, but damn close. He only held on for a moment before he let go and kissed again, softer kisses, everywhere he knew a fang had threatened to pierce.
He loved this woman. Fuck, he loved this woman. He wanted to make sweet, passionate, goddamned vanilla love to her--but that wasn't what she needed. At all. And so until it was? Blitz was going to be her imp, to be whatever it took for her to not need to run.
"You will do whatever I ask you to do, because you know you need to be punished. You've been a brat, and Daddy can't let you get away with that. There will be pain--impact play, some of it will sting--but you won't be injured. You'll be safe. And afterwards? Babygirl, after, I will hold you down and fuck you from behind until you don't want to think anymore, until your legs are jelly, until there's nothing but a slick mess between your thighs, until you're shaking.
"No romance. No thinking. Nothing but fucking 'til we're both all better, even if it hurts.
"Say yes, Daddy. Then kiss me, shove me away, and I'll go--and I'll look forward to that text, babygirl."
Confused emotions bounced like ping-pong balls inside the Overlord's mind, flitting from confusion to anger, flashes of masochistic desire, heartfelt longing, then pivoting to guilt before the crazed cycle began anew. It felt like only Blitz could coax this level of insanity from the depths of her truest self, and that grim realization felt even more damning when she knew just how badly she wanted him to stay. Needed him to challenge her rejections, to pursue her regardless of how far she tried to run. But in that moment...? She was tired. Visage didn't have the strength left in her to run anymore tonight. And, if he was going to give her such an easy excuse to stay, would it really be so wrong...? Another night she would muster the courage to get away and end this before it went too far. For now, she could pretend everything was still uncomplicated and free. One last time. Something dark and familiar swept over those luminous silver eyes as she stared back at him, one of her hands sliding up under the back of his shirt in response to that slithering tail, to caress across scarred crimson skin until the tips of her claws teased at the base of his spines. "Damn..." the hellhound murmured, tone low and sultry, barely audible over the crowds and the pulsing beats. "...Got me figured out, mm...? Whatever Daddy wants, he'll get." The she-wolf's head dipped low as the flat of her tongue dragged hard up the side of Blitz's neck, tracing the line of his pulse in one long lick. Surely there wasn't any harm in getting him even more riled up while he had to wait for her, right...? If this was going to be their final hurrah, she'd best make sure it was a damned good one.
Hey Blitzø, have you ever fucked someone with your tail? Could you? Please?
[ This whole thing is going under a Read More xD and if you want more information, here is a link to a previous headcanon post that touches on this]
Blitz snorted and nodded, buttoning his jacket. "It's cute that you ask. Who do you think I am? Of course I fuck people with my tail." He brought it around between them and twitched the spade. "It's not completely rigid. I use it a lot, especially during prep if I don't have my claw-cover glove. But sometimes, people are like, really into tail, and I am fucking happy to oblige. Daddy can do," he grinned, "all sorts of things with it."
His tail was every bit as strong as his arms or legs, and while the end wasn't quite as soft as a tongue or as deft as fingers, it was pretty damn close. The appendage was part of Blitz's body, not a tool, and while not all imps had tails as strong or as flexible as his, as dexterous, he was proud of his.
"There's these spines near the end, so that's as far in as it can go, but I mean, that's like the equivalent of fisting up to almost my elbow right? In length. So it's usually more than enough. And there are other ways, other things to do with it, other than just," he clicked his tongue, "sticking it in."
"But hey, if you want a demonstration... buy me dinner in the lounge at Lacerate." Blitz winked. "We'll see where the fuckin' night takes us, huh?"
That gentle little boop damn near knocked the imp over, he was that unsteady on his feet. He'd been beaten to near unconsciousness earlier, fucked hard enough and long enough that he had begged him to stop--without using their safe-word, but he had been damn close-- and his back caned harder still. Even before the fight, Blitz had been exhausted--he had actually curled up and cried on someone, much to his fucking shame, as he came up out of subspace. Thankfully, she didn't know that, but he was on his last legs, the fight--and the wound--having taken a lot out of him.
Her being kind? That was almost too much to handle. Blitz met her eyes, searching them, trying to understand--why? She could get some pleasure from him, be served by him, and never have to look his way again, so why was she bothering? But when he finally let himself look down at his chest--and his ruined shirt, fuck, he had loved that fucking shirt--he felt sick. Thankfully, the blade had hit his sternum, but it had opened a significant laceration in his chest. Muscle and skin gaped open, and while it didn't fully hurt yet, it was a cold sensation, deeply cold.
"Yeah," he said, and pressed a hand against the damaged flesh, trying to hold it shut, "that actually might be a good idea... thank you." Looking up again, he met her eyes once more.
They were beautiful.
Really, really beautiful.
Whatever she was, whoever she was, she was stunning.
"My name's Blitz," he said, his voice soft, smile softer still. Tired, hurting, he still looked like he meant it when he smiled at her, like he couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. For all of this shit. I'm gonna owe you more than head by the time this is all over, babe."
Though she did her best for it not to register upon her face, Visage couldn't contain the faint crease of her brow at the Goetia's rather condescending choice of words. This wasn't an unfamiliar tone to her--the thinly-veiled message of 'you're doing well ... for a hellhound' seemed to color a great many of the meetings she had had thus far with many of her 'peers'. Considering where the Ars Goetia stood upon the proverbial totem pole, she honestly should have seen it coming. Her mixed heritage did little to dull the sting of their judgment, however, when the other half didn't rank much higher. At the end of the day, she was just some hellborn mutt 'putting on airs' and swinging above her weight class, in the eyes of those who thought so little of her. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she pointedly replied, "Oh, I'll be there. Don't you worry." Try as she might, she couldn't keep that venomous edge from her voice. In the end it didn't much matter, as the avian was quick to take his leave not long after, whisking away the injured sinner to who knew where. Somewhere safe was all that Visage hoped. A faint sigh escaped her as she watched Vepar go. Blitz's voice snapped her back to reality, though, giving him a thin lopsided smile. "Yeah, I get that reaction a lot. Hellborn Overlords aren't usually, like ... a thing. Buuuut that's a long and not-all-that-interesting story that can wait for another time. You, though..." Slipping in to swiftly close the space between the imp and herself, the she-wolf leaned down and paused to playfully boop him upon his face where a nose would normally be. "...look like shit. You don't owe me squat 'til we get you taken care of." Standing back to her full height her expression softened visibly. "You wanna 'pay me back', then start by comin' with me back to my place. I got plenty of first aid supplies and we can get that cleaned up in a jiffy."
That had Blitz laughing, despite the momentary pause at how Fizz pushed him down. Fuck, his friend was hot. Blitz was trying, really fucking trying these days, not to notice how attractive his friend was, but sometimes? Sometimes, that shit was just difficult. Fizz had that magical quality, something warm and positive, that nobody could emulate, and that could never just be taken.
Admiring him, Blitz smiled when Fizz kicked his feet in the air. It was good to be friends, he thought. Because no matter how hot Fizzarolli might be? Being his friend felt like the best damn thing in the world. Blitz didn't want anything more from him. It was fun to be with him, fun with they flirted without meaning a thing--and sure, maybe it wasn't fun to come here after a party like Verosika's, but so what? Fizz had become the sun and melted his tears away, it seemed.
"Come on," he said, smirking and getting his phone out, as they talked about stolen sex toys. "This is Hell. You're telling me there's not a market for used sex toys? I bet..." A bit of Voogling, and then he found it. "Ha! There it is. Black market used sex toy pop-up sale, by invitation only. Apparently, you have to go through some kind of poker game to get an invite... whaddya think? Should we--ewwwuh, it says guaranteed not washed. That's... you know, I'm open to a lot of shit, and even I think that's disgusting.
"Wanna go to the used toy market, see if we spot any of your missing inventory? Might be a way to get a lead on who your thieves are."
" Life fucking sucks sometimes " Fizz added with a chuckle " But hey, it makes one stronger doesn't it " Fizz wasn't sure what Blitzo had been through. Only having a vague Idea. Ultimately, both were left alone eventually, left to fend for themself. All because of a lie.
"Nah, only if I want to " partly teasing, partly true. If you're his friend? Yeah sure. To most sane fans too. But it is not the same as when he was young - he wouldn't just give this luxury to everyone anymore.
Fizz had one arm curled around Blitz, stroking his back, the other hand patted the other Imp's head before his hand slows want to stroke his horns. " No need to apologize, pal "If anything, Fizz was glad Blitz still felt so comfortable around him. Blitzo always tried to be the strong one, even when they were younger - Fizz doubted Blitzo changed much in that aspect.
A grin came across the jester face, before starting to push Blitzo down on the couch, laying down next to him. Kicking his feet into the air. " haha ! Sure sounds like an idea! But it honestly the standard shit you get in most stores here, not even the luxury shit." there was a shrug " Not like its much of a lose " it was, just not for Ozzie and FIzz to worry much about " not like we can sell it anymore even if we get it back "
"It's just funny to think about someone who was this desperate to get released" he chuckled.
Invitation to Blitz (Guest of Dishonor)
Hey Blitz, It’s that time of year again! You’re cordially (or should we say “reluctantly”) invited to be the guest of honor at the Annual Anti-Blitz Party on Earth. Yes, you read that right.
The event will be held on 31 October, and it’s going to be an absolute roast fest—literally. Your exes have RSVPed, and they’re ready to, um, "celebrate" all things Blitz. Expect lots of sarcasm, brutal jokes, and a few sharp-tongued jabs.
Body armor is strongly recommended, and maybe even a helmet this year. We don’t want you running away after the first burn!
Time: Whenever you stop avoiding us Location: Earth (The spot where your ego will be publicly fried)
So, bring your thickest skin, your snarky comebacks, and get ready to face the fire. Who knows? You might just survive the night!
Sincerely, Everyone who’s ever been annoyed by you
P.S. There will be cake—but it’s probably poisoned.
And just like that, the entire year of trying to heal since seeing Stolas at Verosika's last party evaporated. The months that had felt like fucking ages, the work he'd been so proud of himself for doing, it all went up in smoke as that same feeling returned--the dark, ugly reminder of what he really was to people, of all he was ever going to be to them.
Blitz was growling by the time he made it to the end of the invitation; anger felt safer than letting this keep on breaking him down. Before he could bite the paper though, a gentle hand touched his. Startled, Blitz blinked and looked up--Demetri had come out of the bedroom. A year ago, he'd been wearing that Better than Blitzo tee, and now here the two of them were, shacked up in a fucking hotel room like it hadn't happened... but only because it had. All of it had. Wordlessly, he handed Demetri the invitation, then went over to get a pot of coffee going.
The incubus wrapped a sheet around himself--loosely, prettily--and settled down onto the couch to read the card. When he tossed it aside and looked at Blitz again, he snuggled down into the corner of the couch, his eyes soft.
"How do you feel about being invited?"
"I don't--fuck, I don't know. Worse?" There were no filters. Of course there weren't any filters. Sulking, really not in the mood to chew his coffee, Blitz went to join him on the couch. He had only planned on sitting next to him, but when Demetri held the sheet open, Blitz sighed and crawled into it with him, letting himself be held. "Guessing you got yours."
"Yeah. There's a whole Fangbook group for it, and it's been a trending tag on HellTok for a few weeks now."
Blitz sighed and closed his eyes. I miss Stolas. Fuck, I miss him so bad. But that ship had sailed, and rightly so. Stolas deserved so much better--and for all Blitz knew, because he sure as fuck hadn't asked, Stolas had had better, probably with this guy right here.
"What the fuck do they want me to do? They're fucking stalkers. Yeah, great, they care, but that's the fucking thing--they think I owe them my caring back. They think I owe them my, what, my whole life? All of my fucking happiness? That they're all entitled to my fucking suffering or some shit, because they want me and I don't want them? Just because you can fucking stalk someone doesn't mean that person owes you shit. And yeah, maybe some of 'em... some of you," he amended, and could feel Demetri wince a bit at the word, but he didn't contradict it, "had a legit fucking grievance. But just wanting someone isn't... it's not reason enough to do all of this. Dennis is one of the bros because he's sulking he didn't get to fuck me when I couldn't have consented even if I wanted to. Half the people there, I never even shared a drink with or flirted with, I just... I'm fucking..." Anger abruptly dissipating, Blitz could hear the tears threatening in his own voice. A year of trying to heal, and what had he accomplished? Closing his eyes, he turned to press his face against Demetri's neck.
"I know, man. I've always known." Demetri sighed and rubbed his chin against Blitz's little head-spines, in between his horns, then closed his eyes and just settled in to hold him. "Can I give you some advice?"
Blitz didn't respond, but the little thwap of his spade splatting against Demetri's leg was answer enough.
Smiling sweetly, since Blitz couldn't see his face right now, he went on. "Don't go. Don't let them break you. They are stalkers. And they are obsessed. It's predatory. People like to feel justified--and there's no cheaper thrill than feeling justified in harassing someone they deem undesirable. It's a human impulse, one that unfortunately is pretty pervasive among our kind. I went... and until Stolas sang, I was hating being there. What you and I shared before--it was worth it," he said softly. "Or at least, I thought it was. I didn't realize how serious the party was going to be, or how many people were buying into the mob-mentality and the hate, or refusing to work on their own healing 'cause they thought, whatever, it's all his fault, and there's nothing I can do. And that's bullshit.
"I like Verosika. She's a lot of fun. But she's also an alcoholic. She's not over you and she never will be at this rate. She hasn't hit her rock bottom yet, and doesn't want to change. She stalks you. She whips this furor up every year... and yeah, some of her points? Are legit. You did fuck you. You've fucked up with a lot of people. But that doesn't mean you need to turn yourself over to them. if you go, these people aren't going to use that as healing. It's not going to help them. Even if you go and laugh and dance on the tables and it feels like everyone is having a good time--babe, I really don't think it's going to help anyone. And I know it's not going to help you, exposing yourself to all of that imagery and violence. If they wanted to heal, they'd be trying by now. They'll just get worked up all over again, and someone's going to get hurt. Physically hurt. Probably not you," he admitted, smiling fondly again, although a little sadly. "But you'll have every right to defend yourself.
"Don't go, Blitz. And don't talk to anyone who does--not unless they come to you, wanting to work on healing whatever rift is between you." Which was something he'd seen Blitz doing with people over recent months, and what had ultimately convinced Demetri that Blitz was safe to be with again. This idiotic imp was trying, he was hearing people, and being genuine with them, and Demetri felt good waking up next to him now, on the rare occasion he got to. "Yeah, it sucks. But you're allowed to live your life. Like you said. You don't owe them your suffering or entitlement. If people want to talk to you, they can reach out, right? I mean--I did," he added, laughing softly, but with a trace of pain in the sound. The last few months had been rocky for them--a lot of conversations that ached, not even because of their history, but just because of who they both were, where they were in their lives... Demetri sighed and nuzzled one of Blitz's horns, silently asking permission. When he felt a little nudge from it, he knew that was a yes, so he raised a hand and wrapped it around one of the horns, stroking in slow, soothing motions.
"Besides. If you go to that party, how are you going to go to the BDSM Club Crawl?"
That made Blitz laugh and sigh, his breath warm against Demetri's chest. After a moment, Blitz came out from the cuddle, moving both of them so he could sit on Demetri's lap and straddle him.
"You really don't think I should go? Let them get their fucking hits in? Cause, listen, just because they're assholes for the stalking and shit, doesn't mean they deserve to be like, completely written off."
"No. But the party is not the right way to engage with them, baby. I think that some people are... a little too impulsive these days," Demetri said, trying to soften his tone, feeling a little guilty for speaking badly of people, but believing it all the same. "Anger feels good. Being part of a club feels good, even if they have to hold on to their anger to stay in it. They like to believe that anyone imperfect is inherently evil and deserves to be harassed and shamed. It's their issue, man. It's not yours. You've been trying to do better with people, I know that. Just because someone decided to stalk you? Doesn't mean any of these people own you. Stalking does not magically give someone the right to own you."
Blitz cupped Demetri's face in both hands, studying his eyes. "You still in love with Stolas?"
Demetri laughed. "Yeah. A little. Or a lot. He's... pretty great. You?"
"Completely."
"You gonna tell him?" Demetri slid a hand up one of Blitz's thighs. It hurt a little whenever the two of them talked about Stolas, but it hurt in a good way, a way that felt right. Demetri considered Stolas his friend, he had ever since meeting him, and he wanted so badly for the idiots to get back together once they were both ready. His own love for Stolas was genuine, but it was something Demetri didn't necessarily need to follow through on--no matter what his heart claimed to want--because he knew he himself wasn't ready for anything serious yet. Besides, seeing two people who were maybe meant to be together? It felt kind of beautiful, kind of precious. He shipped the idiots.
"Yeah," Blitz promised. "Whenever he's ready to talk." Words that had felt easier to say last year--but a year of silence, a year of nothing? Holding onto hope was starting to fucking ache. And deep down, Blitz wasn't sure Stolas would ever... no. Fuck that. Those were thoughts for later. Right now, he had a beautiful guy in his arms, and Demetri needed love just as much as anyone else did.
He took Demetri's hand and looked at it, looked at his wrist. "You guys really never scar, do you?"
"Not on the outside," Demetri whispered, sudden anxiety making his stomach drop. "Blitz, that wasn't your--" but his words went quiet as the imp pressed a tender kiss to the place he'd used to need to keep bandaged. Sudden tears blurred his vision. "I know I can't keep you," he whispered, "but I'm happy to have you right now, Blitz... I'm..."
Blitz hugged him tightly, and when Demetri abruptly clung to him and burst into very quiet tears--quiet because the incubus had learned it was better never to sob aloud, because that was one of his traumas, something he hadn't yet overcome--he just held him, stroked his back, and let him cry it out.
"Come to the club crawl with me," Blitz suggested, when the crying ended.
"You sure? I don't--I'm not trying to get in the middle of--"
Blitz kissed him on the forehead, soft as could be, then kissed his lips, even if they tasted like tears. "I'm sure," he promised. "And you're not. Come with me... and I can show you pictures from my cult."
"Your what?"
"Yeah! I didn't tell you? Some sweet goat started a cult because I put the Mark of the Beast on him and chose him as my companion. I'm actually gonna stop by and check in on them all later today, if you want to--"
This time, it was Blitz who couldn't finish his statement. The incubus was laughing in delight as he practically flung Blitz down, kissing and kissing and kissing him, saying yes in between those kisses, laughing so freely that it left Blitz aching with delight.
Stolas might always be there with the two of them, in different ways and for different reasons, but it felt good, it felt so good, to have rebuilt their friendship, to have this.
Fuck Verosika indeed, and fuck her party. Blitz didn't want to live in their past. He wanted to live in his life--and right now, that life had wonderful company in it, wonderful friends, and family he adored more than anything.
It was a life worth living.
*trying to write up a banger post*
Uh, yall like Tgirl boobs? Chubby transfemme boobs? Tgirl bush in panties? Sex with a transgender woman? Tgirl bulge?
Beyond Wonderland 2022
ErosOrisha.com
This is what biblically accurate angels look like.
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They’d never suspect the innocent maid.🔪🪠
