ShiriKiri
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Summary
The scene had been his idea. He'd asked Stolas to tear him to pieces, make him bleed and put him back together. He'd expected Stolas to hesitate, to be nervous. What he hadn't expected was Stolas to wave his hand, Blitzø's knees hitting the ground of their own accord. Stolas tilted his head, smile just a shade too innocent.
“What exactly did you have in mind dear?”
Almost 5k words of self indulgent bratty bottom Blitzø, strict/mean dom Stolas and a whole lotta kinks. Blitzø maybe be bottoming, but there ain't no subbing in this fic. I've probably over tagged, but I'm paranoid.
NOW WITH ART
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Passing Grade by Howdareyoudothistome
Fandoms: Helluva Boss (Web Series), Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
30 Jun 2024
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Summary
Yes please
“I uh- I don't think that will be necessary! I'd be happy to help you” Stolas coughed, flushing red if the teasing grin on the other's face was anything to go by.
Blitzø looked like he wanted to say something else, but shrugged. “Your loss I guess. Now show me how the fuck you did that”
Oh my god they were lab partners
Series
- Part 1 of Morningstar University
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Summary
That's what he said. What he meant was “Have you? Have you ever thought about what you're missing? What I can't give you? Do you wish that you could change me?”
The downside about not saying what you mean is that the other person can't hear you.
Or, the one where Stolas has a gender crisis and it's kiiiinda Blitzø's fault.
Bookmarked by ShiriKiri
12 Nov 2025
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Summary
"I can't pretend that I'm not still just an obligation to you," said Stolas.
Before Blitz could completely untangle that very Stolasy collection of double negatives, Stolas was already saying, "So I think I ought to leave."
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Summary
Stolas can see the future so clearly:
Blitzø’s drunk. Or high. Or on some ineffable combination of the two Stolas could never think up. Chemicals he’s never heard of with proofs higher than Heaven. Blitzø breathes in, and silently steps off the ledge without a hint of hesitation. Just a quiet drop, and a quieter crack as he hits the pavement. He doesn’t leave a note. Just an apartment with framed pictures and his face furiously scribbled out with black marker in every single one, like a vampire with a stake through the heart.
The thought propels Stolas off of the couch for the first time in three days, and he leaves without any idea as to where the fuck he is even going, just the uneasy certainty that Blitzø is somewhere, contemplating the irreversible.
(Or: the Blitzø Bender Power Hour! feat. stolas Trying His Best)