A week dedicated to exploring kinks through fanart and fanfic for the Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss universe | 🚫+18 event🚫 | June 10 - June 16 Twitter: @hellaversekinkw
Based on @taradiddled’s story. Hellaversekinkweek started with Adam and might as well end with Ada. And her duckie shirts. Muriel is always a must. (They could take a bullet far better than me but I’d still dive in front of it for them!)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
prompt 7 subspace
Again, I’m being wary of Tumblr and its censoring so I stick the last prompt ‘subspace’ righttttt there in the background. Hahaha!
Drawing Ada is always fun. And Lucifer is half angel, half muppet and all devil in my eyes.
Based off of @writingfromabox’s lovely and amazing story! It’s all I could think of for Hellaversekinkweek for the praise prompt. Cause that’s a huge part of the relationship as it begins to build. Open communication and openly affectionate. Not very kinky, I’ll admit, but I’m still traumatized from my last attempt. Thanks for that tumblr. So I’m happy to settle with this. Mental high five.
Please check out their story! It’s amazing! And fabulous! Slap me with it!
Happy Pride Month!
A continuation to Forbidden Fruit. Lucifer keeps his promise to keep close to Adam. Adam might need reminding every once in a while on to what that promise means.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Angel can’t shake the feeling that it can’t be over. How can he really be free when he knows Val is still out there, defeated but not gone? Maybe this makes him a vindictive asshole and maybe he won’t deserve redemption after this, but fuck, it’s been so long since Angel’s felt like his spite means anything at all.
He’s so sick of having a monster under the bed. Time to turn on the lights.
or: the vees have been defeated, but angel and valentino aren't finished with each other just yet. written for @hellaversekinkweek, day 3 - hate fucking/intoxicated sex.
It was just like the stupid rich fuck to leave his balcony open in some kind of insane hope, even after their blow-out fight, just waiting for Blitz to make one of those bad fucking decisions that were the bedrock of his goddamn reputation these days. And this one was shaping up to be a doozy. Whatever they were handing out at that party, it made human cocaine look like sleepy pills; this was the stuff they gave racehorses that started to keel over a little too close to the starting box, shit that could keep a medically-dead body twitching all the way across the finish line.
Stolas tasted like he’d been French-kissing a bucket of paint thinner, and Blitz would be lying if he said it wasn’t a turn-on. Apparently he wasn’t the only one making bad decisions tonight. Blitz had almost tripped over like four bottles vaulting his way to the fucking gigantic bed before he could think better of this, grabbed with raptor-sharp talons and pinned by hazy, red-rimmed eyes. It was nights like these that he remembered Stolas was a fucking predator, he could rip Blitz limb from limb if he goddamn well pleased, and fucking him was kind of like sticking his dick in a hurricane. Fuck, he was hard, grinding down on Stolas’ skinny fucking thigh while they made out like teenagers.
They broke for air, Blitz sweating and gasping because whatever the fuck he’d taken had him overheating like the engine in his own shitty van, and bright red eyes fluttered open, dozy and soft like when Stolas just woke up, like those sweet little moments in the early morning that Blitz pretended not to cherish. He blinked all four, slightly out of sync, his beaky little mouth half-open and waiting to be kissed again.
“I hate you,” he said, broken and soft.
“Fuckin’ great,” Blitz replied, unable to feel his fingers.
He dove back in and kissed him again, shaking hands pushing those long (like, twelve miles long) legs apart. “Perfect. Perfect. Keep it right there,” he mumbled, insensible, as he broke away long enough to rip his shirt off and fling it away. “Just like that. Jesus.”
With an inarticulate noise of rage and pain, Stolas grabbed him. A hand on one horn, one shoving his shoulders, and Blitz was pinned flat on the bed with- he was intensely aware- one of the most powerful people in Hell snarling over him. And a raging erection, too. Couldn’t forget that one.
“You broke my fucking heart,” Stolas hissed, a hand closing around his throat. Blitz swallowed against his grip, feeling like a prey animal with his heart going a mile a minute. “Why I should even tolerate- why-”
Skinny chest heaving, Stolas still didn’t waste any time sinking down on his cock. They sighed in relief, both of them in tandem like they were one being. It felt like coming home. Blitz’s hands went to his hips like they were magnetized, unable to stop himself from trying to control the pace. Stolas ignored him totally, kind of terrifying, grinding slowly over him with deep, deliberate breaths. His eyes were clenched shut, as if in pain, hands still holding tight. One hand on Blitz’s throat; one at the base of a horn, which was so fucking sexy.
Always game, Blitz leaned his head back- goring the fancy pillow on his horns, feathers flying- and laughed. It was a nervous, manic titter that came all the way from the bad feeling at the pit of his stomach, the one screaming at him that this was going to destroy something he’d already thoroughly set on fire and stomped on, but he couldn’t stop. “Yeah, baby!” He crowed, triumphant, bucking up hard and making Stolas shout. “Fuck, yeah, fuck me up-”
“Why you would even consider coming back here-” Stolas did not sound triumphant. He sounded fucking miserable. It was dark, the now-waxing moon hidden behind clouds, but the thickness in his voice made it hard to ignore that he was probably starting to cry. Hand stroking Blitz’s throat almost tenderly, he leaned over, burying his face in the pillow, resting his head against the cool keratin of a horn.
Shuddering, Blitz leaned his head into the crook of Stolas’ shoulder, burying his nose in the dusty, airy smell of his feathers, like a sunlit room with the windows open. Everything else went away, just for a fucking second. It felt like peace. It felt like being saved.
“I hate you,” Stolas murmured again into his ear, riding him hard, hips snapping down like a punishment. “I do. I hate you.” It was as tender as a love confession.
“Hate me,” Blitz begged in return, his voice muffled by a mouthful of feathers. “Hate me, please hate me, just don’t go.”
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