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“Ah yes, you haven't had the shame of losing any of your matches until now.” The Tyrant replied, finally discarding his weapon so he could lean down. “While fighting is one way to blow off steam, some of us required another method of eliminating the adrenaline that remained afterwards. In addition, this method helped bring in a bit more money for the Arcadion in the form of after-hours “fights”. It all works off a principle that is beautifully simple.” He reached out with a clawed hand to grab their collar, easily lifting them into the air as he bellowed out his next sentence for all to hear.
“To the victor go the spoils!”
Series
- Part 11 of Monsterfucking Fics
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Alastor knew it was a sin. He knew it was dirty, wrong, perverse - even still, he couldn't help but fall into Father Lucifer's arms over and over.
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Lucifer lifts his head and blearily looks around the room. A part of him must still be asleep because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a fireplace in his room. Or the skeleton of some kind of creature on the wall. And a...a tree? Several trees? Are those fireflies?
He stares at the floating little dots of light, and the misty bayou beyond them, then turns and squints at the other side of the room, where there's a wallpapered wall and dark-wood floors. He turns his head again, to the moss-laden trees, cattails, and glowing bugs, and then looks down at the red comforter he's burrowed in.
This…
This is not his blanket.
He looks up.
This is not his room.
<><><><>
Lucifer wakes up in Alastor's room after a drunken one-night stand.
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Welcome To The Afterlife by Iron_Tony604 for bakunawa_moon
Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
23 Nov 2025
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Michael was never supposed to look at a sinner the way angels look at stars. But the moment he saw Alastor - the Radio Demon, Lucifer’s executioner, Hell’s nightmare made beautiful - something inside him cracked open.
He convinced himself it was divine purpose.
He convinced himself Alastor was misplaced, poisoned, stolen by Lucifer.
And with holy certainty, he took him, wanted to save him. To cleanse him. To love him the way only Heaven could.
What follows is a love story seen through the eyes of a monster who thinks himself holy.
But Lucifer notices when his executioner goes missing.
And when he finds Heaven’s gates closed to him, he tears them open.
Two angels of unimaginable power clash in Eden once more - and at the center of it all, trembling, broken, still fighting to live:
Alastor.
A story of obsession, delusion, and the lengths one devil will go to save the one person that should have never needed saving in the first place.
Series
- Part 1 of Afterlife
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Lucifer never thought to ask before what Alastor got out of having sex with him. Probably won't regret asking, right?
Right?
(Post Season Finale)
Series
- Part 3 of RadioApple Standalones
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After seven years, Heaven has learned of Lucifer's divorce from Lilith. Knowing of Lucifer's reputation as an 'absent king' and fearing a destabilized Hell, they decide to gift him with a new bride - an angel of their own to distract him and keep an eye on him; a puppet. He is gifted Alastor, Heaven's least favourite angel, to be the sacrificial lamb in the Devil's marriage bed.
Alastor was never sure how he made it past the pearly gates, but he's swallowed down his bitterness to be a gentleman and avoid putting shame on his mother's name in Heaven. Now promised to another against his will, Alastor resolves not to go quietly into marital servitude.
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It begins with a single message.
No one is meant to know that Alastor has a phone, but Lucifer is the King of Hell and it seems that comes with some advantages. He's clearly bored and Alastor could use a distraction from the Angelic wound that's slowly killing him. A little after-hours texting will do.
After all, it's not like anything will come of it.
Series
- Part 1 of Behind the facade
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a site skin!!!!!!
Series
- Part 2 of site skin (snatching)
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There is purpose in pain. There is meaning in suffering. That is what Aymeric has always so sincerely believed. He believes that even here, somewhere in the recesses of the Vault, locked far away from even the eyes of the gods above.
Aymeric is fixed in genuflection. His hands are put together in prayer and chained to the low table. Several figures surround him, but he doesn't look up to meet them. Instead, he keeps his head down, his eyes shut, and braces himself for another blow.
"Protect me, O Mighty Fury..."
Nothing answers his silent prayer but another crack of the lash.
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!! Endwalker 6.0 Spoilers !!
Nay, he should not have come, not when other, more pressing concerns lie unresolved elsewhere. Yet–
Yet the thought of Aymeric, alone on such a day– the thought of him smiling in that infuriatingly placid way of his and burying himself in his work into the late hours of the night, eyes dimming in barely-hidden disappointment as another holiday passes by uncelebrated, ignored out of duty and obligation when he knows how much he adores indulging in such silly traditions–
He found the thought to be– unbearable. Nigh unthinkable.
I've gone soft, he thinks with a grimace, yet finds he cannot regret his impromptu decision to teleport here, now with the sight of Aymeric mere fulms away, almost within reach. Aymeric deserves every onze of happiness this star has to offer, and if he might bring him some small amount of relief from his burdens, he will do so gladly.
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“...for the child.” He clarifies, and Estinien is yanked back to reality with startling force.
Yes, the child. Hard to forget that. Even if the holy see hardly cared if he did- The decree was for soldiers after the calamity, not sons.
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When a Turali magical artifact curses Aymeric to sleep until he receives true love’s kiss, Handeloup is left in charge.
Estinien drops onto the side of the bed without bothering to take off his armor. A quick peck on the lips and Aymeric will be back to his normal self, and he’ll be on his way back to Tural. Only this time, he won’t be able to leave without having a conversation about it, which he’s never been very good at.
Written for the 2025 Candy Hearts Exchange.
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Estinien is back from whatever mission and he need to see Aymeric immediately no matter what.
Eng translation from my first estimeric manga from around a year ago
My first time posting and I have no idea the tag was right or no. Correct me if I'm wrong.
Have more but I just need time to translate... So several short chapter? Hope you like it and sorry for the poor English.PLEASE READ FROM RIGHT→TO←LEFT
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While attending a gala at Aymeric’s request, Estinien learns more about Ishgard high society. He soon wishes he hadn’t.
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On the night before Estinien and the Warrior of Light leave for the Aery, Estinien seeks out Aymeric to explain his actions... at least in part.
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The citizens of Ishgard's Pillars were as discreet about gossip as they were famished for it. As long as it didn't serve them to do anything about the rumors they gathered and exchanged like excited children with shiny, new baubles, the Lord Commander's affairs with his esteemed colleague raised no commotion—no matter how loud Aymeric himself managed to be during these particular affairs.
Or, Estinien walks in on a dinner party. It does not dissuade him from having his fill of Aymeric, company (and disapproving house staff) be damned.
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Joining the Scions of the Seventh Dawn meant joining a group that was made up primarily of academics with bleeding hearts. Meaning, they were annoyingly invasive and intent on solving his problems.
“You jumped off the airship in flight,” Thancred thought it bore repeating, lest Estinien continue to labour under the impression that was the best way to dismount. He gave a pause to let that sink in, “to avoid a conversation with your partner.”
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Ten years ago, Ser Aymeric watched the only other survivor of the Camp Ever Lakes dragon attack vanish into the thicket of the Coerthan lowlands.
Tonight, Estinien finds his way back to him.
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Aymeric only really has himself to blame for his current circumstances.
Self-indulgent ABO/heat fic.
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On this cold night, as he gazes off into the darkness, keeping watch, he imagines what it would be like to hold him. To tear through layers of armor and cloth and take Aymeric there on the Vault dais, to ravish him on the altar under all those judging eyes, to shove into him and make him cry out, make him scream his name --
But, that's all. He takes another slow breath. The night is bitter and cold. He must keep watch. The firm weight of the spear in his hands is enough.
The Eye of Nidhogg has consumed countless lesser men, but Estinien has control.