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WE ARE SO BACK

post-mission hang out

[salubriwrites-blog]

The Amnesia Game, Pt 3

AYE WE'RE BACK??? I took a bit of a break from writing and updating, my bad. I did however get the motivation and inspiration to finish Amnesia Game. I hope you guys enjoy this, cause I had a lot of angst writing it.

Not for any particular reason, just feral for this pair. It inspired me to maybe write a sequel with a role reversal - this time with Black Swan as the subject.

We'll see.

Part 3: Shatter

If those fears were ever to manifest, it was today. Nerves he hadn��t felt on the rooftop in Pier Point arrived before her, they were now following Elias back and forth through his apartment as he prepared the guest bedroom. Everywhere they could find purchase, they sought to; like climbing up onto the pillows of the bed he was making for the third time. It was perfectly fine the first time, but shaking out the sheets and snapping them in the air like a whip was the only way to fight back against his fright. Or they sat on the dresser, where he organized then reorganized toiletries and anything else he could think a guest could need. When was the last time anyone had stayed with Elias, and a woman no less? Diving underneath his feet, making the Memokeeper stumble over every little possibility and wonder what he was even planning to do with her. 

Simply waiting was out of the question, Reca needed to keep himself busy but there was nothing left to do. All of his films were organized, memorized the briefing on his next assignment, and went so far as to volunteer his time to help some of the other keepers on his floor with their own bureaucratic tasks. From her perch on the dresser between the wrapped up toiletries and towels, Mira watched Reca fuss. 

“Of course! There is one thing I can do to make sure that this little heist goes as smoothly as can be.” Reca replied, snapping his fingers at the Assistant Director’s suggestion. “You really are brilliant, come on up,” he snatched the camera up before she could move herself, stuffing Mira into his pocket and almost forgetting to lock the apartment door behind him. 

Almost a month of nonstop hologram calls and traveling to other planets just for a chance to be near her passed. Moonlit dinners on clifftops, walking through museums on frozen planets, and breaking into a Curios storage room on a sophisticated space station. Together they’d done it all, or close to it, in such a short time. Any excuse to see Black Swan, it was as ridiculous as it was thrilling to see her mischievous smile. Even better when her lips found him, a reward for stepping out of his comfort zone, daring him to do things he’d never done before. Now was his prize, after all those times of going to her, she was coming to him. To the Garden where no mundane person was permitted. It was forbidden to have outsiders who were not memokeepers themselves enter the Garden, and while the documentation the couple worked together to fabricate was flawless, Elias couldn’t leave any of today up to chance.

Striding towards Customs with intent, his heartbeat skipped to move in time with his steps, fretting and worrying all the way. Consequences for their carelessness would be dire, Reca needed to make sure that everything went perfectly. There would be no do overs. 

“Ah! Mr. Salas,” Reca said brightly, throwing his arms dramatically wide at the custom’s officer who was on his break. “How are you my friend?” 

“What do you want, Reca?” The man grumbled, putting aside his tablet before turning his tired eyes to the memokeeper. Officer Salas was head of the Garden’s intake portals, everything that came in and out of Fulli’s realm passed under his consistent eyes. Which was why it was important that he be the one Reca persuade to turn a blind eye at an interloper’s presence. “Where’s your better half?” He asked next, eyes sweeping around the memokeeper as he came to lean against the counter next to him. 

“My better half? Right here,” Reca said confidently, though didn’t understand as he produced Mira. 

Raising an eyebrow, the officer looked down at the Assistant Director before looking at the memokeeper. “Are you… okay?” Oh no, maybe Elias was being too obvious that he wanted something.

“Never been better! I couldn’t help but notice that you’re quite busy today,” the memokeeper smoothed out his expression. Inwardly he was beginning to panic, Officer Salas was in bad spirits which meant that he might not be willing to negotiate. He would only have himself to blame if this didn’t work. Behind them Reca’s eyes fell on the Custom’s gate, where it was all hands on deck. Dozens of workers checking over manifests, reviewing reports as memokeepers returned from afar. Maybe if he was a better fast talker he could go and bring her in himself, use his leverage to shoo off the subordinate officer’s inquiries.

“It’s a little slammed, not that you’d know, you’re only here when you want something.” Salas observed, watching as the Assistant Director reached out for him. Knowing it would improve the man’s spirits, Mira jumped onto the counter top and offered a foot for Salas to touch.

“Nothing gets past you, Officer.” Reca laughed, putting a hand to his chest pretending to be flattered. “I do want something, you are absolutely right. I want to help you make your job a little easier today! There’s quite a crowd coming back from assignments, you’ll be busy interviewing the returning memokeepers.”  

Forcing a pause in the conversation, Office Salas bent over his shoulder to watch the latest fleet of ships pull into the Garden’s bay. “Yep, it’s gonna be jammed, there was an incident in Amorpheus that a lot of us are coming back from… is your better half gonna be on that shuttle or something?” 

How did he know? Reca asked himself hurriedly, but recovered quickly as the checkpoint became abuzz. “I think it’s still too soon to refer to her as that, but yes, I am expecting someone today-”

“Expecting someone?” The Customs officer said, suddenly taking an interest. Leaning forward, he raised a finger in the air so that the Assistant Director could use the pad of his fingertip as a backscratcher. “And your lady knows?” 

Now Reca was staring at the man with blatant confusion, and the Officer’s own face was starting to do the same. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, what lady?”

“Oh,” Salas said, straightening up and looking past Reca now, ignoring him for the moment. “Speak of the devil.”

Heart threatening to drop out of his stomach, Elias spun around and watched the Custom’s Officer abandon his post to approach the tall woman who stood among the memokeepers. She was dressed in her sensible fashion; flat shoes, loose pants, and a tight fitted top. Her purple hair was tied up in an elegant twist that exposed her long neck, which was adorned in gorgeous jewels that barely reached the twinkle in her eyes. Looking over his shoulder once, Office Salas caught sight of Reca’s jaw on the floor before approaching Black Swan himself. 

Panic stricken, Elias began to make rushed strides towards the pair, but Ms. Swan held out her hand at her side subtly, to tell him to stop. Left to only fret at the edge of the checkpoint, Mr. Reca reminded himself that acting out of form would only raise suspicion. He had to trust that Black Swan had some trick up her sleeve to slip past the officer, and waited until the Officer and the woman exchanged words. A thousand awful ideas made his stomach coil up like a maddened spring. Hopefully the officer was enough of a gentleman to not put restraints on her if he noticed something awry. 

Hopefully Reca had the self control to not demand an explanation if she was incarcerated. Which begged a new question: how prepared was Elias Reca to put it all on the line for the love of just one girl? 

Luckily it appeared he wouldn’t have to answer that question today as the Officer’s posture changed. Walking toward him, Black Swan drifted after Salas.

“Both of you get out of here,” was all he said, pointing at the man and woman before going back to his tablet. “I got another 10 minutes of break, I want it in peace.”

“You’re just going to let her in?” Reca blurted, too shocked to just accept this miraculous decision. 

“Of course I’m gonna let- oh, oh,” the officer began to say, but when his eyes locked with Reca, something seemed to click. “This is that thing, isn’t it?” He directed the question to Ms. Swan, who only offered a thin lipped smile in return.

“What thing?”

“Let’s go, Elias,” Black Swan said smoothly, fitting her hand into Mr. Reca’s and leaving Salas alone. “Why don’t you show me around, there must be more to see than just the checkpoint.” 

It didn’t take long for the memokeeper to recover from the startling turn of events, his guest’s intrigue and enthusiasm to visit the Garden brought him back to the moment. 

First they visited the mirror lake, one of the main storage arks. Mirror lake was a deep well, memories stored from different planets and forgotten civilizations catalogged in its depths. It got its name not because it was filled with water, but because of the impenetrable, glass seal that kept the memoria locked beneath. As a result, the seal was highly reflective, having colorful interactions with the trapped memories in the depths.

“How far down does it go?” Black Swan asked, inching her way over the protective glass seal, peering into the endless pit of memories. 

“I’m not sure, it was completed before I joined the Garden,” Reca explained, bravely walking over the barrier to join the woman. Standing together, looking straight down into the dizzying depths, Reca realized that there was nothing to be afraid of. He used to avoid Mirror Lake like it was a plague, his acrophobia threatening to take him to his knees even thinking about it. With Ms. Swan at his side it wasn't so bad, beautiful even. It made him want to dance, but with no music that desire was stifled. Watching her fractured reflection move across the glass would be art in motion, especially if he could make her laugh hard enough that her hair tumbled from its place. Mirror Lake’s light would send ripples through her shadow like no other.

“What’s that smile for?” She asked, breaking his concentration by bumping her shoulder into his. Spurred on by it, the pair began to walk, going in easy circles around the edge of the pit and admiring their images.

“Reflecting, I suppose,” Elias replied, daring to loop his fingers into hers as they walked. Immediately he began to sweat, it was the first public display of affection they would have. How his heart raced at the idea, allowing himself to be seen entwined with such a beauty. Black Swan’s hand took him easily, she was so collected it was astounding. “I’m happy to have met you, I daresay I’d never have overcome my fears on my own.”

That made Black Swan smile, a wide one that said she knew more than she let on, but Reca didn’t mind. He quickly accepted that she was layers upon layers of secrets, plans within plans. If he did it right, and she was willing, Elias would gladly unravel all of Black Swan. 

“This is my apartment,” he declared at the end of the day. Using his foot to push the door open, Reca carried Ms. Swan’s one little bag, which he had despaired at its size. Was she only planning a few days with him? Would that be his only reward in exchange for the weeks of daring and bravery he exhibited for her?

Before her arrival, Reca had a plan to whirl through the rooms and give her a grand tour. Instead now he found himself lingering near the kitchen and watching her move through the space itself. Like she always belonged there, she knew to slip her shoes off by the front door without mention, and she was aware of the short step down into the living room from the main hall. 

“A successful bachelor pad vibe,” she hummed, running her finger down the spine of one of the framed movie posters. Leaning into the kitchen, her eyes admired the barely used appliances and the set and round dining table in the middle of the room. “Do you cook, Mr. Reca?”

“When I’m home,” Elias lied, unsuccessfully remembering the last time his kitchen had been so full of food. “Which isn’t very often,” he added, drifting toward his minibar where an unopened bottle of gin and tonic water waited.

Once she had made a quick tour of all his decorations and bent in to look at her guest room, Black Swan leaned over the counter as he mixed a drink. Her eyes followed him as he juggled the shaker, amused at his little tricks which he had practiced to make look like he was a seasoned tender. “Now that I’m here, what do you have planned for me?” 

Sliding the cup within her reach, Reca held his own up for her to touch, “revel that you are here. I still can’t believe it.” 

“Excited to see me?” Black Swan asked coyly, pausing for the cheers and slow sip, batting her long eyelashes at Reca as he reached across the bar and took her hand. After an extended silence of his thumb stroking her palm, she grinned wickedly when he led her toward the back of the apartment. “Where are you taking me?” She asked when they passed the guest bedroom, moving further into the depths of the home.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you ever since, well, since Pier Point.” Elias explained, his voice reaching a deep, secretive pitch that made Ms. Swan step in closer. Close but still not touching, Reca couldn’t believe that he forgot how tall she was, her curves threatening to eclipse his edges as they walked. 

“I applaud your self control to be so patient,” Black Swan hummed, about to finish her drink in one sip as he pushed a door open and flipped the light on. 

Dimly lit, the room was full of shelves, and on those shelves were reels of film. Hundreds of them, all neatly labeled and stacked politely in an order that made sense only to Reca. Unable to withhold his enthusiasm anymore, Elias paced into the middle of the room before turning to take in her stunned expression. “This is my film collection! Hundreds of films that will never see a movie screen.” 

Reca was so completely confident that she was taken by him, he didn’t notice the break in her expression before she recomposed herself. How her smile sat unsteadily on the line between pity and impressed, wondering if this was all her visit was going to be. Not until she stepped up next to him with her cup piously in hand while she took in the tall shelves only she could reach.

“You wanted to show me your cinema library?” 

Doubt struck the man’s core, and he found himself glancing nervously at Mira. What the fuck are you thinking, Elias? Was what her gaze politely inquired. Gathering himself, he conjured up a smile that oozed self assuredness. 

“Of course! It’s my most prized possession, very dear to me… as are you. Look here,” deciding maybe it was better to shut up, Elias reached for one of the reels that had the least amount of dust on it. “I think you’ll like this one. I shot during the slaying of the 900,000 Xianzhou pilots. It follows the story a young delinquent Foxian girl who becomes an ace pilot-”

Interrupting Reca before he could spiral off into an analysis, her hand fell on his shoulder, fingers sliding down to play over his chest. If Black Swan moved a little bit slower, she would’ve heard his heart trying to run to her. “I’d love to watch it with you.” She was so close that when the woman inhaled, all other words on his lips evaporated. All he could do was exhale how beautiful Ms. Swan was. 

“That would be nice,” he was aware of how pitiful and strung out he sounded, but Elias didn’t care. Knew she didn’t care either, because it was established what an impact her smile had on his thoughts. How just one little taste of her sweetness disrupted all rationale. 

“This one looks interesting too.”

Following her hand, Elias watched as Black Swan reached one of the higher shelves, out of his reach without assistance. Down she pulled the first one that seemed to have caught her eye, Reca wondered when he last watched The Kingdom. It was in worn condition, watched hundreds of times no doubt from the way the packaging of the reel no longer held a glimmer.

“That one is a tragedy, technically. Two siblings raised in the same house, but chosen for different missions to fulfill their destiny to their family.” 

“I love a good tragedy,” Black Swan half whispered, eyes glinting excitedly as she placed it in his hands. “We can watch that one for dessert.” 

Perhaps she had a different idea when she initially suggested that, Reca realized too late. No no, she definitely had a different idea. What Elias wanted to blame it on was his sense of chivalry. Black Swan had just traveled across a galaxy to sit on his couch with him, it would have been inappropriate to take advantage of her travel weary body and mind. Instead he blamed it on the truth, which was that he was engrossed in his own work. They both underestimated just how in love with himself Elias Reca was. 

While she lay back on the couch, dinner plate in her lap, tongue wrapping seductively around her fork, he was giving commentary on casting decisions. What a fool he was. Not even during The Kingdom did he try to kiss her. All that time Black Swan was looking at him, reaching out and gently nudging his leg with her stocking clad toes. Instead of scooping up her legs to kiss and unravel them, he grabbed and massaged her feet while pointing out his favorite moment in the movie. He didn’t get the hint until long after, after she closed the bedroom door on him with a defeated snap.

“Is everything to your liking?” He asked from the guest bedroom doorway, holding his drink lazily while she fluffed the pillows and closed the blinds. Reca was exhausted, the dishes from cooking dinner wouldn’t be able to wait, and the next morning he promised to take her to the Fulli temple. 

“It’s sufficient,” she said easily, toying with the hem of her turtleneck. That had been the final come on, her hands silently asking if he wanted to do the honors. Even then Elias couldn’t get the hint, with alcohol coursing through his veins and urging him to cross that line. “I just… I’m a little nervous about sleeping in new places.”

“I am an idiot,” he admitted in the present. Now sitting up in bed and holding his head in his hands as Mira glared at him. On the opposite wall, she was replaying the night’s events to shame her co-director, making Reca watch over and over all the ways he missed his chances. 

What he should’ve said was, “would you prefer to not be alone?” What he said instead was, “if you need anything I’m right upstairs. I can wake you with coffee in the morning if you’d like.” 

“Yes, yes, I’m a fool, thank you for your feedback.” He hissed to Mira, crawling across the bed to manually shut her down, and ended up eyeballing his bathrobe. “Would it be inappropriate if I went down there now? What if she’s too tired, or annoyed and disappointed, or- alright, alright!” Reca startled when his assistant director’s eyes flashed back on with their own annoyance.

Cursing himself and wondering how to smoothly salvage this moment, Reca procrastinated by wondering how much clothing he should wear. In the end he dressed in his softest silk, but left behind the slippers (though he was convinced she’d find the frog slippers amusing). 

Mirror Lake’s reflection cast green, purple, and blue across the living room. His TV screen watched Elias linger at the bottom of the stairs, where he leaned over the bannister to sneak a peek at the bedroom door. The door was closed but the light was on beneath, yellow light fracturing the hues from the Garden. His palms were sweating and his knees tried to lock in place as he stepped off the stairs, drifting like a will-o-wisp toward the guest door. 

When was the last time he had been nervous? More to the point, when had he last been nervous with Black Swan? That was easier to answer, only when they climbed the skyscraper at Pier Point. There were never nerves or fear of boundary crossing with Black Swan. Everything they did together felt natural, consensually moving within each other’s space. Maybe he was more nervous because he didn’t feel nervous? It had something to do with that gut feeling weeks before. His body was tight and breath short because it was anticipating something his brain could not comprehend. As if his knees knocked together in this same spot, his knuckles had wrapped on the wood, and he exhaled with a practiced determination. Have they done this before?

“Elias,” Black Swan said when she opened up at his beckoning. She was wearing a light, pastel night dress that looked eerily familiar. Perhaps from a dream she was in when the distance was too great. Leaning in the doorway, the woman spoke with surprise but the way she held herself said something else. It asked, “what took you so long?”

“Ms. Swan,” he said curtly, clenching his hand to stop himself from shaking, also from reaching for her satin clad hips. The fabric whispered devilish suggestions about where his lips ought to be at that moment. “There has been oversight on my part. One that I’ve come to rectify.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Black Swan crossed her arms and nodded for him to continue. With an expression unreadable, only her smile gave away that she was excited to see him. She knew exactly what was coming next, but Ms. Swan needed to push Reca out of his comfort zone one last time. Force him to confront his own ego.

“I seemed to have gotten carried away earlier with showing you my collection. You don’t want all the excuses for my obtuse behavior tonight, but I wanted to emphasize how excited I was to have you here. Being able to share what I love with someone important to me was a rare treat, so thank you for indulging that.” He could wax on for hours about how much it meant for her to share the evening with him. Express his joy for her interest in him, but all of that felt unnecessary. She knew it already, from all of their holo calls, his surprise visits to her across the known universe.

“That is all very sweet and thoughtful of you to say, Elias,” Ms. Swan said stiffly now. Once more her expression was stony, but her hands were reaching out to grab that clenched fist behind his back. “Except I don’t want your words anymore. Come here, show me how sorry you are.” 

Obediently he half stumbled into the lit room, falling into her arms as Black Swan guided them. No more heights, more check points, nor cinema libraries, all that was left to explore and experience fully was her. Starting with her perfectly in the middle of the bed, Black Swan felt like a mountain to climb, armed with only his hands and mouth to map her vistas and taste her heights. Grappling, their fingers interlocked as he navigated which desire to scale first. Starting with the flimsy straps of her nightgown, he rolled the thin material off her shoulders. With excitement Elias ran his mouth over her shoulders and collarbones while his fingers continued to pinch and feel. Tactically, he kissed her fingers before moving Ms. Swan’s hands above her head, framing her like a sunrise. Finding the swaths of soft hair under her arms made him smile, and for now he’d fight back against the urge to linger there. Smoothing the hair down, their eyes met for an instant before she pulled Elias in for another kiss. Incensed by his admiration, Black Swan purred, moaned, and twisted her hands into his gray hair, forcing his lips to bruise her neck. Her  hips ground into his rhythmically, Reca subconsciously squeezing his knees into Black Swan’s sides to keep from being thrown off.

Few words were exchanged, it didn’t feel like they had to speak a word to one another. Every sigh and shift communicated the next desired step. Sitting back up, Reca paused to admire the blushing purple scar on her shoulder. As he balanced himself on top of her, Black Swan pulled away at his robe. It fell with a heavier than expected thud that startled both of them. Whipping their heads, she laughed first as the Assistant Director gave a guttered croak and hopped out of the robe. 

“Excuse me, I’ll turn her off,” Elias said the way a pet owner would lock their overly nosy animal away. 

“You don’t have to do that… Leave her on the dresser,” the woman said coyly, biting her tongue flirtatiously as the memokeeper stared. “I’ve never made a sex tape before.”

At least that was established, he thought with a smile to himself. Turning his back on her, Reca snatched up Mira and angled her on the dresser. “Neither have I… but it can’t be that different from shooting a… regular film.” His voice trailed off after turning back to face the bed. 

Like a magic trick, when Reca moved to face the bed Black Swan was completely naked, the little gown tossed disappeared. Leaning back on her hands, the woman’s long legs were crossed neatly to only tease a sweet belly. Purple hair tumbled down out of its hold and cascaded over her breasts, the bruise Reca left complimenting her locks. 

“I’m feeling… overdressed,” he laughed, hooking a thumb awkwardly in the hem of his boxers. 

Tilting her chin, Ms. Swan’s smile grew wild as he fell to his knees on the floor before her. “All this talking I told you not to do,” the woman laughed, a moan caught in her throat as his lips and fingers massaged her calves.

“Shall I show you what else I can do?” Reca asked, smiling madly at her groaning reaction. 

“Shut up and taste me.” Slipping to lay back on the bed, Black Swan allowed him to uncross her legs and kiss his way into her. At the juncture of her thighs, a field of dark, spiraling hair snared his kisses. Not able to hold back here, Reca crammed his mouth over her sweet mound, burying his nose and inhaling her deeply. How sexy, her confidence to be as natural as fresh memoria. Black Swan tasted mercurial on his tongue, and the protean scent of her sweat curled in his lungs. All the while she cooed and moaned in a dulcet, practiced tone. As if she rehearsed and sampled her voice to determine what noises would elicit the most enthusiastic responses from him.

“Oh, Elias,” she breathed as her fingers curled into the bedsheets and her legs locked him in place. With each wet kiss he placed on curly hair and curvy lips, Reca felt her toes flexing and curling into his back. “What are you doing to me?”

Not needing to answer with his voice, Reca hungrily kissed and mouthed his way through her excitement. His actions spoke plainly, he was going to take her apart bit by bit and savor every little contented sigh and buck of her hips. Locking her around him, the man urged Black Swan to tighten her thighs around his head and push him deeper. In return she replied with her hips, arching her cunt into his face and crying soft notes that hung in the air. 

Working her into a wondrous frenzy, the memokeeper used both his lips and fingers to trace Black Swan’s opening. Moving from kneeling before her at the bedside, Reca borrowed her leg hold on his shoulders to lift her bottom off the bed, pinning her hips to his chest. It allowed him to peer over her curly hair and admire her redness, a combination of the blood rushing to her head and his tongue flicking against her clit.

Reca needed to know what she would truly sound like when she was writhing and clawing at his hips to release her from the throes. All of her perfectly timed and leveled grunts and moans of excitement were lovely, but that wouldn’t do. This kind of restraint flew in the face of everything he knew about Black Swan. Her confidence was ever reaching in all aspects of her, hearing her rehearsed and tempered cries felt like the antithesis of confidence. Moving with fervor, his fingers flashed in and out of her, searching for those obscene noises, looking to unleash Black Swan’s full ecstasy. With his own practiced technique, she rose and fell in his hands, eyes flashing wild and unable to stay open. Bearing down into her, he wouldn’t stop until she begged him. Or pleaded for something else, he would have loved to give Black Swan more. To spread her out evenly on the bed and go further. He wondered if he would be her first, as her nails dug into his arms and she mouthed the words he wanted.

On second thought absolutely not, Reca decided as he draped her hips on top of the covers. She could have any being she wanted, with those verbose hips and breasts capable of causing uproars. What he was determined to be though was Black Swan’s best yet, to leave her dizzy and holding onto him for stability. Moving back up to meet her lips, Reca planted little kisses along her belly and up the curvature of her breasts. Rising and falling dramatically, she heaved for air as their eyes met and a smile stretched across her lips. 

“What a mouth,” she gasped giddily, kissing traces of her orgasm off his cheeks and nose. “I want to do that for hours… later!” Black Swan laughed as he pretended to prepare to retreat back down. “I want you to taste me after I’ve come all over your sweet cock.” 

What a mouth, he thought exasperatedly in response, eager to strip for her now. Following his hands Black Swan’s eyes widened and tongue dragged over her teeth when his erection, fully realized and eager, landed against his thigh. 

“You don’t need any further preparations,” she teased, stretching out a finger and tracing the head of his cock. Her nail grazing against the sensitive foreskin conjured stars in the corner of his eyes as Elias struggled to stay upright. “I wonder, though.” 

Not prepared, the man’s body crumbled into the mattress as she crawled across to swallow him whole. Black Swan’s tongue coiled and gently jerked off his shaft as his head grazed the back of her throat. His hips and thighs burnt as the pleasure raked over his body alongside the discomfort of contorting into the bed. She didn’t allow his legs to readjust, hands descending down on his ankles and keeping him pinned bent in half. It was exquisite agony as his muscles strained and stretched, Reca’s belly spasmed and lurched to the tune of her soft hums vibrating his shaft. Was this to return the favor of what he’d done for Ms. Swan? 

“Oh my- Fuck, you are incredible,” he panted, an arm draped over his face so he could watch the constellations behind his eyelids. “Please, don’t make me finish in your mouth.” 

Teasing him was dangerous, but she didn’t acknowledge the threat of pinning his contorted body for her to please. All that was scraping over his mind was the tension in his thighs while she sucked him. Every little noise Elias made she responded with one of her own, throaty moans that tickled his shaft and vibrated through his belly. Craning his neck, he caught sight of their reflection in the hanging mirror behind Mira, who was recording everything as planned. 

With his knees bent beneath Reca, his hips were driven high into the air to try and alleviate some of the pain. Meanwhile her palms pressed with enough pressure to keep them down, preventing Elias from finding release. He kept his fingers twisted in her hair, which snared him like netting, but he had no control over the motion of her lips. Bobbing at an excruciating tempo, Black Swan pleased him at her own pace, until his belly spasmed and his balls tightened in her hands.

“Oh dear,” she teased, dragging her tongue from base to tip, eyes flashing excitedly at how flushed Reca was. “You’re not going to come so soon, are you?” 

“No,” Elias lied, trying to struggle away from her now so that he could climb back onto her. When he tried to move though, Black Swan kept him in place with just one hand, while the other kneaded and tugged playfully at his sack. It sent debilitating tremors up his core and across his thighs, she giggled at the man’s strangled moans as he fell back into the bed. “Not until you told me to.” 

Curiosity piqued, Black Swan inched her way up and peered down at Reca, allowing his legs to stretch out. His aching body unclenched as he flexed his feet, working sensation back into them, but kept his gaze locked with hers. As if she was hypnotizing him, the woman brushed their noses and lips tempestuously close, and her hand continued to stroke him the way her mouth did. “Really now? Not until I say?”

Gasping for air as she spoke, Reca raised his head to watch with his own eyes as she mounted him, holding his erection steady. Tears tested the corners of his eyes as he watched and felt the stings of hunger from her lips playfully kissing at his tip. Frustratingly every time Elias bucked his hips to try and penetrate her, she swayed and dipped herself out of his reach, eliciting the wildest sobs from him. 

“Not a moment sooner, just please, please.” He begged, making Black Swan smile wildly. “I want to be inside you so badly. Please, my goddess.”

Purring approvingly, she guided her hips into place and slid down his length. A guttered moan brewed in Elias’ chest as his hands sought for something to hold as his balls ached for release. Her fingers twined and grounded his resolve, leaving Reca gasping for breath as Black Swan squirmed on top of him, as if making room for him. He’d made a promise, no matter how silly and impossible, now Reca would have to keep it. 

“Goddess, I like that,” she hummed, first grinding and rotating her hips in wide motions, taking his erection along for the ride. Throwing her head back, she enjoyed the bulk of his dick grazing her center, teasing and feeling the spots that made her hold him close. “I don’t think your god would, though.” 

Screw my gods, Reca thought distantly, watching open mouthed and dumb struck as the luminescence from Mirror Lake painted Black Swan’s breasts and belly in pastels. Let all my waking moments belong to you. In a weakened attempt to prove his loyalty, Elias lay still and only begged with his eyes while she used him for herself. Shifting and grinding her hips downward, Black Swan rewarded him by leading one of his fingers to draw circles over her clit. 

“You may touch me, you have deft hands for making me happy.” She teased, biting her lip and tensing up her shoulders as Reca’s thumb moved. Working in calculated circles, the sounds she made in response reached that wild pitch that he’d been looking for. No longer was she in control of her emotions, diving in and moving to primal desire. It was absolutely cinematic, watching her belly fill with air that she would utter out in stuttered falsettos. Jolting and seizing to the building ripples. 

“Thank you,” he panted, staring at the ceiling as her opening gripped him as though in a vice and tugged his cock. “You feel so perfect, I can’t believe it.” 

Left in her merciful grasp, Elias couldn’t remember the last time he had orgasmed quite like this. Or the last time he had brought someone to bed, especially someone as beautiful as Black Swan. Together they lazily climbed the breathtaking ascent of an orgasm, moving at her pace as she fucked him perfectly. With just her thighs, the woman wrested all control of the situation, and he relished how helpless it made him feel. Hanging on by only the grip she had around his cock, the world swam then thrummed with colors and textures that were beyond comprehension. At the center of that swirling vortex was Black Swan, a hand on his belly to stabilize herself as she rolled her hips and cried her pleasure. 

“Call me your goddess again,” she rasped, bending down as if to taste the heaviness of his breath.

“Goddess,” Reca replied, grabbing onto her hips now that her posture shifted. Thankful that she now lay against him, leaving room for him to hold her hips and thrust into her. “Hold on to me, I want you to scream my name as you come to me.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Black Swan pressed her lips into his ears and hairline as Elias planted his feet into the bed for the best angle. Humming calmly into his skin, that first thrust was experimental and delicious. It delivered a steady stream of tension through their bodies that made both of them cry out. Her back arched and his thighs tightened as Black Swan whispered one more command in his ear. 

“Don’t hold back, Elias. Make love to your goddess.” 

Whether she urged Reca with sour commands or honeyed words, the results would have been the same. Possessed by the very gods he angered, his hips slammed against her, jutting Black Swan forward with even, incensed strokes. Even with her arms wrapped tight around Elias’s neck, she had to pinch her knees into his sides to stay on top. Maddened by the teasing, his own orgasm felt out of reach now, but he wouldn’t stop until he felt her release on top of him. Determined to keep going until he felt himself bottom out deep inside. Leaving scathing kisses on her shoulders, Reca had to be reminded to breathe as he only wanted to hear her coming undone in his arms. 

“You’re insatiable,” she half laughed, half moaned when Elias found the strength to roll Black Swan onto the bed. She looked marvelous on the high thread count, satin cradling her hips and the fractured colors of the Garden splashing on her body before he had the chance. “Do you need to rest?”

“I refuse.” Crawling back to her, Reca hefted one leg over his shoulder, followed by the other, he only rested to drink her in. Sprawled out with an arched back, fingertips tickling herself seductively, eyes flashing as she dared him to go further. Such beauty wasn’t meant for the likes of mere mortals. “If it takes grinding my bones into dust to make you happy, so be it. Who knows how close we came to missing each other? The thought chills me.” Emphasizing each word with little kisses, before he could resume his passion for Black Swan, she held a hand to his chest. “All that warms me now is feeling your touch, hearing your heart, knowing that you are mine in this moment.”

One hand feeling for his own heart, the other taking his chin, she kissed Elias. With a sweetness that was cooler than a long sip of water, greater than a religious experience, she set his head to rest on her chest. Angling her legs to fall away and settle on his hips, she drew him deep, a startled moan escaping Black Swan as he reached her limit.

“That’s enough, dear Elias.” Whispering into his ear, Reca watched a set of fingers dance in front of his face, tracing lovely runes on his cheeks and down his nose. “I can’t bear waiting any longer – come back to me.” Then-

Before he could wax and wonder what that alluded to, his mind was broken open. Like the glass ceiling was shattering, fragments of translucent moments rained down on him, first in drizzles. Through his fingertips they slipped, passing through his outstretched hands like molecular waves, oozing down his face, and landing in his consciousness as they spread like a horizon. Memories, thousands of them, now they rushed and downpoured across his body, drowning his synapses and bones. 

Overwhelmed by enlightenment, Reca’s body writhed and moved against his will, scrambling feebly to roll away. Black Swan kept her legs hooked around him, nails digging into his sides, and continued to paint symbols on Elias, breaking the memetic seal that repressed his mind. Each flick of her fingers unlocked a new moment, shattering the trance that kept him in the dark. Hands of sharded nostalgia grabbed Reca by the shoulders and pulled him up to the light. Tranced by her movements, they produced every forgotten moment for him to witness all over again, setting his body on fire. 

Every bitter tear at the prospect of losing the other, all the laughter at his corny jokes, each contented sigh, an endless deluge of shared joy and struggles. Days of good morning kisses, breakfast in bed, reading each other’s assignments to one another. Hours of coordination, working together in unrivaled synchrony. Nights spent at the edge of Mirror Lake, strolling through the Garden’s archives, laying in her arms while she read to him. Thousands of lifetimes came back to him in a tsunami that consumed, every minute dripping through the shattered firmament, returning now. Falling asleep and waking up to that opalescent smile, and looking forward to it happening again and again. The rush of accomplishment and the thrill of achieving that simple ambition, to hear her voice.

Sweat from his shivering body was dripping down Black Swan’s sides, saturating the bed’s top cover. Though they tickled, she continued to hold Reca, kissing his face and feeling his body grate and thrust against her with the compulsion of his mind reintegrating itself. Feeling the physical impact of the shatter echo through his body, Black Swan’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she came so close to coming undone. His breath pouring down her neck was so sweet, tickling her skin and clenching his erection still inside. 

Finally his body collapsed, spent. Instead of pulling away and rolling to lay on his back, Elias hugged her against him, pressing his cheek against her collarbones, hearing her blood rush. Taking a moment to rest, he curled into her, feeling his cock bottom out in her depths, the memokeeper sighed deeply and parsed through the most recent memories. 

“Goddess suits you.” Were the first words he said now that he was back to his senses, propping himself up on his elbows and admiring her flushed face. Inside her only the very entrance of her beautiful cunt gripped at his base, it was almost enough to distract him. “You are an ephemeral being worthy of worship.”

“Welcome back, darling.” Black Swan always got a little high watching her lover’s eyes change and shift with recognition at the end of each shatter. Seeing his light widen and brighten at the mere sight of her, remembering just how happy they are together. Illuminating the room like a newly born star, his infectious smile plagued Black Swan while he touched her cheeks. “You walked across Mirror Lake today.” 

“I did, you helped me,” he laughed, sitting back on his knees and moving her legs to spread wide, massaging her thighs where knots from their love making would no doubt form. “You should wear that skirt more often, especially if you want me to conquer my acrophobia.”

“You liked that?” A little disappointed that he seemed spent, Black Swan allowed Elias to pull away from her, granted with some difficulty as her body refused to let him free. His stuttered gasp as Reca finally lay back on the bed, wrapping his fingers around his adamant erection to soak up her juices. 

“I didn’t realize that positive reinforcement was all it took,” he teased, licking at his fingers like a beast lapping up honey. Both of them shuddered at the other’s reaction, but before they could crawl back into each other, an indignant croak sounded from the dresser. 

“Yes, Mira,” the memokeeper laughed, approaching the Assistant Director and scooping her up, brushing the tip of his nose against her beret. “You played your part beautifully, as always.” 

“What happened to grinding your bones into dust to make me happy?” Black Swan asked, pouting sarcastically as Reca swooped her up and carried her - with some difficulty - back to their bedroom. Every time his knees threatened to buckle, realizing that he was not as strong as he wished he was, Black Swan would laugh and try to work out of his arms to climb the rest of the way. He wouldn’t have that, eventually he finished the ascent and helped Black Swan into the bathtub. 

“That still holds true,” he assured her, using a fine washcloth to suds her body, his other hand already reaching to finish the job. “Except we do have eternity, and I don’t wish to rush your pleasure.” Leaning in to listen better for her sighs, he pressed a wicked smile against her forehead. “I still want to be deserving of you, after all.” 

It was a little strange to have him be the one exacting aftercare on Black Swan - after all he had been to forget hundreds of lifetime’s of memories. Except the afterglow of knowing that she’d always been his made him exceptionally loving. Compelled to double down on his devotion to her, Reca cradled her through a final, exquisite orgasm. His own climax would gladly wait as he grit his teeth through the tingling sensation as his fingers lost feeling inside Black Swan. Holding their heads together and staring deep into her eyes as she came, the bath water splashing up and over onto the floor as she convulsed.

“Fuck,” was all she could gasp as he helped her to stand outside of the bathtub. Flourishing a robe around her shoulders, he knotted it tight and bent her down to kiss him, working his fingers through her wet waves. 

“Is that right?” Elias asked teasingly, pulling the blankets tight so that her staggered praises could be warm against them. 

“I missed you,” she managed with one more satisfied huff, pulling herself against his naked chest and tracing those magic sigils into his skin. This time, instead of splitting his awareness in twain and spilling out secrets, they made Elias’ skin light up in pastel auroras that complimented the glow of Mirror Lake in the distance. “Can we watch the movie in bed?” 

“Right now?” Reca asked with false exasperation, already commanding Mira to light up the opposite wall.

Before the couple spun the raw footage of Elias’ arrival and check in at Pier Point, dropping his bags in front of an industrial themed dresser. Leaning over into the mirror, he was examining himself, pulling his fingers over the wrinkles and shadows. It was a side of himself that Elias Reca barely knew, and even now he leaned down to whisper into Black Swan’s hair, “am I really that vain?”

Giggling at his corny jab, she wound her fingers into the Memokeeper’s side, moving in so close that all she could smell when she inhaled was the remnants of his cologne. It - he - smelt like home. “That and more, wait until you see the view from the rooftops.”

[salubriwrites-blog]

I forgot I made this so I could find/collect porn.

But now I write a lot on here so that’s pretty cool :D

[salubriwrites-blog]

what a drama king with the little crown I wanna shake him

We have their signatures!!!!!!

Also the "Region"/"Faction" badges!!!

All these images are from this site

[salubriwrites-blog]

Gods he’s beautiful I miss my babygirl

[salubriwrites-blog]

Me when I see a new Sitri fanart

He is EYEING that damn cigarette 💀

[salubriwrites-blog]

If Gamigin wins I'm making him the focus of my next "You Chose" story

WHB Most Babygirl Polls: Final Round, THE Babygirl

[salubriwrites-blog]

You Chose Morax (Pt 2)

Happy New Year or what the fuck ever its already February am I cooked? I'm taking recommendations on what devil to write about next! So far we have: Sitri, Barbatos, Andrealphus, and now Morax

You can find Pt 1 here!

CW: This chapter contains references of domestic violence

A month later…

You went because, in your mind, there was nowhere else to go. Bracing for the fall, you threw yourself out your bedroom window after locking the door on him. Crawling on your belly through the garden, you didn’t stop running until you reached the portal out of Gehenna. The slippers you were wearing became shredded, and you were shivering in your nightgown. By the time you had passed Paradise's garden wall, your lungs felt like leather in your chest and your throat was tight with emotion.

Satan had done something new that night, something that you thought you were done being surprised about. Usually the King would push your limits with sex and shifts in the relationship dynamic. You blamed the angels tonight. Word of Satan’s return from Tartaros sent you into a tizzy to get dressed in one of the dresses he liked best. He didn’t have anything like an office or a study (he left that to Sitri and Belial), so you went to his bedroom. You were wearing a satin nightgown that you thought he’d enjoy dragging over your skin before ripping it off you. It was slim fitting in all the right places, not meant for sleeping in despite appearances, but his most favorite of all is what the outfit did to your piercings. 

You’d gotten your nipples pierced a few months before your encounter with Gabriel and Satan, and it wasn’t until after your visit to the healer in Paradise Lost that he paid attention to them. The sterling bars left defined wrinkles in the fabric, it was impossible to hide how erect your nipples were. He enjoyed gripping them in his teeth and pulling on them to the point of agony, just to watch your face light up with tamed pleasure. Except tonight didn’t go anything like that, because Satan was drunk. You had a limit, it turned out, a personal boundary that you didn’t know existed until you could smell the burn of liquor on the King. Whatever happened on the front line didn’t physically hurt him, but Satan’s mind was haunted. Drowning the flashing images had been his first attempt. 

“Lay back,” he slurred, even your vagina squeezed itself tight to stifle the stench of liquor as Satan knelt in front of you. “I miss how you taste.” Honeyed words at first that quickly turned to turpentine when you tried to close your legs. 

“You’re drunk, and stressed,” you insisted, scooting yourself up higher on the bed to get out of his reach. When his hand wrapped around your ankle your body’s temperature plummeted. Raising his eyes to look you in the face, Satan was pissed.

“I said I want you.” He growled, and your ankle groaned under the pressure of his tightening fist. 

“Let me go, you’re hurting me,” you pleaded, trying to keep your emotions in check. Peeling his fingers off you would only excite or aggravate him further, and Satan wanted you to fight him. He had been fighting for his life and his people’s lives all day, now it was your turn. 

After a struggle that left Satan with a bloody nose and his blood on your leg, you scrambled from the bed and ran to your own room. The last thing you heard as you fell out of the second story window and into the garden below was the wood buckling under the devil’s fists. He screamed your name like a curse, it rang in your ears all the way.

Devils in Lost Paradise were kind, and none of them questioned why a young woman in an inappropriate state of dress was looking for Morax. Instead they went so far as to offer to show you the way to his house. Why were you surprised when you came up on the cute little cottage with an herb garden in the yard and private practice in the front room?

“Doctor, you have a patient-” the devil who helped you called out, and you pursed your lips at the word. You didn’t know what you were tonight, but a patient didn’t feel right. Morax’s front door was unlocked, and when you both stepped inside, freshly swept floors and carefully organized shelves. Expecting the house to smell like disinfectant, you were surprised by the fresh pine aroma, and the warm burning of a fireplace.

Out of a side room who’s door you didn’t realize was there, a familiar head of red hair sprouted. Trailing behind him was a tumbling length of bandage, as if he was in the middle of coming undone when you appeared. Eager for a chance to look at his face, you tried to duck your head down to see him better, but the devil immediately retreated into the dark. 

“You again,” he said from the darkly lit room, Morax stayed out of sight as he spoke. At the jerking motion, the bandages were pulled back into the darkness too. “Thank you, I’ve got it from here.” 

Once the devil who escorted you was gone, Morax stepped back into the light. He must have been in the middle of changing his bandages, when he emerged the devil was scrambling to button up his shirt and fix his belt on his slacks. Suits were basically just lingerie for men, and Morax’s cut his shape quite well. Even the bandages were doing something to accentuate the muscle definition in his arms as he stood before you. Looking up and down, Morax kept his expression placid as he rolled up his sleeves and gestured to a side room. “Let’s step in here, I’ll start a fire and put the water on.” 

Waiting to ask about why you were there, the devil was quick about putting a blanket around your shoulders. Kneeling down he adjusted it so that it covered your chest, you noticed Morax’s eye dragged slowly over your chest before tightening it. Taking away your tattered slippers, he tossed them aside and got on his knees, examining and running his bandaged hands along your soles. 

“That’s not mine,” you blurted hastily when Morax’s fingers touched the dried blood around your feet. Standing up, Morax disappeared and returned with a shower caddy filled with cleaning supplies.

Kneeling back down in front of you, the devil picked up a warm washcloth and dragged it down your leg. Your skin had forgotten how much it missed his soft touch, and you stifled a sigh as the bristles of the cloth melted you. “You ran all the way here?” He asked, resting your foot on his knee so that he could clean your calf.

“In hindsight, I probably could have gotten a lift,” you hiccuped, struggling to keep your eyes open as Morax caressed your leg with the cloth. Further into the kitchen you could hear a kettle hissing, and the act reminded you of Sitri. Did Satan know that you were gone? Was this the first place that he’d look for you? “I just went on autopilot.” 

“More like a flight response,” he mumbled to himself, setting your feet down kindly before reaching for your arms next. You had some cuts from where you had torn through hedges and over stone walls that he dressed with ointment. “Regardless, I’m glad that your autopilot thought of me. You’re safe here, now… What would you prefer? Coffee, tea?” 

Something warm, you thought and reluctantly let him stop washing the blood away. After he finished his assessment of your superficial scars, he went to feel and pinch your bruises, hunting for internal breaks. Something caught his eye though, and Morax’s eye strained as he continued to poke at your wrist. “He grabbed you here, once.” 

“Yeah, he did.” You replied, touching your wrist the same way Satan when he tugged you a little too forcefully into an alleyway. The physical evidence had faded, but sometimes when people touched you there the searing memory made your bones twinge.

“Does he do that often? Grab you so hard?” Morax asked next, and a zip of softness raced like lightning through your arm as he caressed where the finger prints had left a divot once. To your surprise, with just a swipe of his finger, all you could remember in that spot was how soft his touch felt on your bones.

What was supposed to be your answer to that? You didn’t want to be interrogated about how handsy Satan got. Looking away, you peered over Morax’s shoulder and at the room you were in. It was a living room-study combination, the walls were lined with bookcases, labeled both with medical encyclopedias and cheap romance paperbacks. In front of you was a quaint, cobblestone fireplace where tongues of fire reached up to lick the interior. His home reminded you of a bothy you saw in a travel vlog, all it was missing was snow drifts piling up on the window outside and a cat sleeping in your lap. 

“Yeah, but it’s because he’s-”

“Passionate, of course.” Morax muttered darkly, and you winced at how scathing he sounded. “That’s what they all say.”

“It’s not that,” you tried lamely, looking down at your hand still in his. Turned over and palm upward, Morax was dragging his fingers up and down your arm. It sent cold, delighted shivers through your veins, and you found yourself leaning forward to offer him more of your arm. “Ever since I fully accepted my role within Hell, he’s been doing things to challenge me, not just sex,” you added. “Pushing my personal boundaries, limiting my activities, I don’t like it. I feel like I’m changing into someone I don’t recognize.”

Under his breath, Morax mumbled. You didn’t catch it because your vision was getting blurry from his touch. 

“What’d you say?” You asked, leaning forward and letting the blanket fall from around you. It was getting warmer and the quilt he gave you felt unnecessary. 

Laughing and shaking his head, the devil lifted his head to smile at you. Up this close and in this light, you could make out his features. He had a sharp nose and soft cheekbones that were buffered by the wraps around his face. Long eyelashes that could give the most excellent butterfly kisses, when Morax saw that you were looking at him closely, they fluttered. “Pluto in retrograde.” 

Oh this again, you laughed at first, but as you remembered what Morax told you it was suddenly not so funny. 

You can either be the hero of your story or the victim.

“Maybe he isn’t doing it to be malicious, but you must consider his actions regardless.” Morax said, lingering at the juncture of your elbow, stroking and watching your body suppress a shiver. “The ways he is attempting to… prepare you for your duties in Hell, are destructive for you. I would suggest giving him time to recollect himself after tonight’s outburst, then have a conversation with him in a neutral setting-”

“Morax,” you sighed, half exasperated and half to let out some of the chills building in your shoulders. “I appreciate the advice but… I don’t want advice. I’m tired, both body and soul, and I just want something else from you right now.”

Opening your eyes, you saw that his fingers were lingering on top of you, hesitant to keep touching. Shifting your gaze, your eyes met his as the devil and his bandages seemed to be sweating. 

“Alright, what do you want from me?” He asked simply.

Your stomach flipped at the subtle implication, but your heart and mind went still. Morax was already in a suggestive position; kneeling in front of you, one foot planted on his knee, massaging your extremities. Though by this point he had cleaned away the dried blood, rubbed ointment on your cuts, and took inventory of all bruises and bumps, so now the whole thing felt like worship. You wanted him to do that, you realized with a slack and sleepy expression as you tried to lean in.

Bang, bang, bang. Three rough knocks (or punches?) threatened to blow the house down, and you jumped in your seat. The devil, as if expecting it, readjusted his grip to keep you in your seat. “Steady,” he urged, rubbing the tops of your hands to help with soothing.

“Morax,” a howling voice shrieked, threatening to wake up all of the Garden. Their voice was so pitched, shattering the peace of the bothy with their wrath, you didn’t recognize the owner at first. 

“Oh Hells,” the devil sighed, reaching up and pulling you out of your panic by the chin. “I’m going to talk to him. You’re going to stay right here but first be honest; Do you want to go back to him tonight?”

What a loaded question, you thought blearily, all of the implications and scenarios heavy with retribution flitted through your mind in an instant. If you rejected Satan, could he wage a war against Paradise Lost? Or what if he just swept Morax away with a fiery fist and stormed in to grab you? It would be doubly worse if he brought Sitri-

“Hey,” pulling your chin closer still, your foreheads nearly touched. Not realizing it before, Morax smelt nice. A lovely cologne that reminded you of peat mouse cleaned beneath the rushing of a brook and river stones rubbed smooth. It actually combined with the smell of iodine and antiseptic beneath the bandages, smelling like Spring instead of a trauma ward. “Don’t be afraid of the consequences of your decision, because they don’t exist. All there will be is opportunities to become the person you’re meant to be. I’m here for you, I will help you.”

This is it, you realized as the pounding got louder, Morax’s hushed words still ringing clear over the flurry of blows his poor front door was taking. The moment you could be a hero or victim.

“Okay,” you whispered, grabbing the blanket tighter around you and sinking back into the chair. “I-I don’t want to go back, I don’t want him.” I want you, that last bit almost made it out, but you covered your face with the blanket just in time.

Bandages smiling back, Morax rolled down his sleeves and buttoned them up, readjusting to look put together as he marched out the door.

Wanting to listen, you waited until he was down the hallway to tiptoe across the carpet. It wasn’t hard to, you didn’t even have to put your ear to the door because as soon as it was opened-

“Where is she?” Satan screamed, and even behind multiple doors you could still smell the rich alcohol.

“Good evening, your Lord Majesty,” Morax replied coolly, but the venom prepared to spray behind his smile was audible too. “If you’re looking for an easy hangover remedy, I would suggest plenty of water-” 

Crash, something broke in the front of the house. You could envision it if you closed your eyes, but you didn’t because suddenly you were terrified. All this time you had been fucking a literal devil, the physical embodiment of Wrath. Now he was mad and incoherent about you. How many times did you watch other devils face Satan and wish to never be in their shoes? Well, now you were, and the only thing standing between the two of you was Morax.

“Answer my fucking question. You stole her from me.” The King roared, his voice strained and snarling. “Give her back, I want her back.”

“You’re talking about the Daughter,” Morax said matter of factly, and there was another crash as something was flung down the hallway. Was Satan in the house now? 

Careful not to make a sound, you backed away from the door, retreating to your place in front of the fire. Stepping over the cleaning supplies, you sat your ass back down to watch the window panes shudder as heavy footsteps entered the house. If you really had to, was there a place for you to hide?

“She’s not here-” 

“You liar,” the wrathful devil cried, his voice cracking underneath his own fury. “How dare you lie to a King. I can have you destroyed, I will… return what belongs to me-”

You would have given everything in the world to be there for the moment of that slap. Crackling like a whip, the percussion was deafened by the bandages on Morax’s hand, but that just made it sound classy. Like a fine glove connecting with fiery flesh.

“She is not yours,” Morax snarled now, spewing anger on top of the taken aback King of Gehenna. “The woman has her own destiny to fulfill, and you are nothing but a choice to her. You cannot, may not, force your way into her life, and the fact that you tried is a testament to your greatest sin. You’ve only made it this far because you perpetuated an illusion that she didn’t have one. The Daughter sees that now, and she has made her decision just as you made yours.”

Instead of another crash of glass or splintering of wood, the house went quiet. Once again your curiosity was piqued to know just what was on the verge of happening beyond that door. Was Satan going to burst out into another flare of rage, rip Morax in half where he stood? 

No, he wasn’t, you realized as your feet were carrying you across the room. Blanket tight around you like a cloak, you tested the door before pushing it open and stepping into the hallway.

All of the quaint little paintings and statues that Morax painfully collected through the years were in pieces. The stone facade outside was crumbled mortar in the doorway, and standing in the middle of all of it were the two devils. Morax was firm in the hallway, a surprisingly effective blockade against Satan’s wrath. Then there was Satan, on his knees in front of the red haired devil like he was a true sinner before an actual god. 

His eyes were even redder from intoxication, and when he saw you they widened. “Hey,” Satan whispered, reaching a hand out past Morax to try and touch you. The healer wouldn’t lose focus though, and shifted himself to not let Satan go any further. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to lose you again… like Hades. You’re still so new to all of this, I’m just trying to help you-”

It was time to see Morax snap, transfixed you watched the bandages unravel around him. Suddenly a sentient thing, they loosened and coiled around his neck like a boa. Kneeling down, the devil gripped Satan and forced their eyes to lock. The King’s eyes widened as the wrappings had fallen away, showing Morax’s face. 

“You’re deflecting your true intentions. You want to help her? This,” he jabbed a finger at Satan’s tears and blood stained shirt. “Is not helping her. This instills fear, and forces obedience. You aren’t helping anyone, you are being controlling. This,” Morax was pointing at himself now, and Satan’s face went wide with horror. What awful things were hiding beneath all those bandages? “Is helping. Self sacrifice, taking away the pain of failure so that people can become what they long to be. That is helping.”

Satan looked like he was about to be reignited with rage, but you saw your chance. Be a hero, you told yourself and stepped up. 

“Go home, please,” you said, voice and body shaking from the adrenaline. “You’re not sober, you’re a mess, and we can’t have a discussion when you’re like this.”

“You don’t want me?” Satan asked, and Morax’s sigh held a hundred words in it. Most potently it said, “you can’t negotiate when these people, especially not like this.”

“It’s not that easy,” you began to say, but Satan stood up now and tried to push past Morax.

“It is that easy. You either choose me or you choose him, which one is it?”

That’s not fair you thought, feeling like you were losing control once more. In the past it was easier to just give Satan what he wanted, but as Morax was moving deftly to restrain him, this was different. With the help of people who care, you can become the hero or the victim of your story, the choice will be yours. It wasn’t about him, it was about you.

“I’m choosing Morax,” you declared, and the King stumbled as if your words pierced him. “I choose him, not you. Not until you can calm down and show that there is more to you than this.” 

Cowed by your words, Satan began to retreat out the door while Morax ushered him back. Happy you were standing behind the devil, you watched as the extensions of him you previously assumed were just bandages threatened to grab Satan at the slightest, errant movement. Those big red eyes didn’t leave you, and they said a hundred words in their gaze. “You’ll regret this.”

Before turning to face you, Morax took a few deep breaths, the bandages coiled around him again. Immediately you were curious to know more about their nature, like if he was actually damaged underneath all those wraps? At the same time you were feeling light headed, the gravity of your words and what you said coming to hit you. He turned around just in time to see you stumble, falling into his outstretched arms. You were far from the first to faint in his hands, but you were his favorite certainly. He cradled you with a softness that Morax clearly didn’t afford to just anyone, tucking your hair behind your ears and hefting you against his chest.

“Did I make it worse?” You asked, running your hands along the hem of the white fabric, hoping to feel what was hiding just below the surface. 

“There’s no way to know, individuals like that can’t be negotiated with in any mind state. It’s behind us now, and tomorrow is far away,” Morax whispered with that tenderness, tilting your face to rest against his shoulder. “You did well though, you stood up for yourself - courage is a good look on you.” He added under his breath and your heart fluttered. 

“What does that mean?” You tried to ask with your mouth muffled into his shirt collar.

Pretending that he didn’t hear, Morax carried you back to that cozy room, sitting you in the high back chair and pulling an ottoman to rest your feet on. Secretly, you wished he would volunteer himself again.

“I need a few minutes to get the guest bedroom ready-” Morax started excusing himself, only to have his bandages and face knit together in confusion when you stopped him. 

Your mouth was dry and your throat felt tight as you stared at his tapered fingers. “I’m not tired,” you insisted, pulling Morax back into your orbit. Not expecting a challenge, you looked for his gaze when he didn’t budge.

“You don’t have to sleep now, but I want to give you time alone-”

“No,” you said the same way, threatening to stand up if he kept resisting you. You didn’t want to be alone, you wanted a reward for your bravery. “I don’t want that either.”

Hesitant, Morax staring at your hands, how your fingers struggled to keep a grip on his palm. “Okay,” he breathed and dropped to one knee. Adjusting your foot to rest on his knee instead of the ottoman, you wondered if he also realized what you were trying to do. Trying to recreate the moment Satan ruined. It was not the same moment, you knew that as his eye flashed with something different. A hunger lurked beneath his bandages, this was not a moment, it was a beginning. “What do you want from me?”

A thrill of excitement started at the point where his fingers pressed into your ankle, erasing the pressure where Satan had almost broken your leg. Leaning forward, you allowed the blanket to fall away and revealed in the new light how scantily clad you were. The little white and satin gown reflected the firelight, slim straps sliding just enough off your shoulder. 

“I want you to erase all the pain Satan put on me,” you whispered, leaning to brush your cheeks together. “Everywhere that he grabbed, pinched, choked me, I want you to put something better in its place. Something lovely… Can your powers do that?” 

With your cheek against his, you felt the stilted breath as he glided his hands down your arms. Now Morax was assessing all of the damage Satan had done to you, no matter how long ago. With that healing touch, he was able to catalog all of your past, your peace of mind he shattered, your sense of self he eviscerated, he looked for it all. Sitting back, you waited patiently as he felt you, urging you to slump back in the seat as he palmed over your gown. Something hungry in you growled when he avoided your breasts and thighs, flipping his hands palm up to touch you briefly.

“No,” you moaned, taking his hand and readjusting it to cup you. His eyes widened and focused as the slim metal moved under his hand. Eyelids fluttering, you let his touch linger, sending ticklish sensation through your piercings, making your body bend and tense. “I want you to touch me like this, too.”

“Yes, miss,” Morax whispered, voice dry and lips chapped from his new thirst as he reluctantly moved to feel your hips and thighs. Shifting your leg, he kissed at your ankle bones, breathing warmly to melt away the cold pain of tearing away from Satan. Every time you fought for your safety against the Prince of Wrath, you instead remembered how tender Morax felt. As he moved upward, Morax adjusted your foot to pass over and rest down his back. Meanwhile his bandages came to life, uncurling from around his arms, your belly tightened with curiosity and anticipation as they slipped underneath your gown. “Is that alright?” He asked suddenly, voice suddenly loud and urgent when your body squirmed at their presence. 

“It’s alright,” you promised, reaching a hand down to feel the bandages, stroking them as if they were another appendage. “Are they part of you?” 

The answer had to be yes, as Morax’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and the bandages tensed beneath your fingers. With your permission granted, you watched as they disturbed your gown, wrinkling the fabric while climbing up your belly. 

“So soft,” he whispered to your calves, massaging and dragging his fingertips over you. “Like fresh snow, I could roll into you for hours.” Raising his eyes from your thighs, he smiled at your blushing face. “Do you want me to keep going?” 

Yet another loaded question, was he referring to talking to you? Or did he mean his hands, which hopped from your calves to your thighs, his fingers tracing the divots left by your stretch marks. You were always down for foreplay, the more buildup to an excruciating climax the better. Compliments, though? Being described with such flowery metaphors made your stomach tighten and breath catch. In the nervous way, compliments you didn’t know what to do with. A cock or a pair of fingers went down much easier than sweet words. 

Still you nodded and whispered, “keep going,” because he was doing just as you had asked. Maybe it was just the love in his caress, or he really was using his eldritch powers to sponge away the thought of coarser hands, a firmer pair of lips, making it all a distant nightmare. Who had been responsible for hurting you again? No other devil’s name felt right on your lips at this moment as you sighed, “keep going, Morax.”

Using all of himself, he planted kisses and compliments on your body while his bandages snaked under your clothes. It was like watching worms move through the dirt, raising and turning your gown like new ground. You wondered if he could feel with them, and how your skin sprouted goose pimples when the tips of the wraps teased your breasts. 

You got your answer when the bandages played over your nipples, testing and flipping your rings. “Oh,” he whispered with surprise, lifting his cheek which had been pressed against your inner thigh. Using another length of bandage, he lifted the hem of your gown and stared upward. You weren’t wearing underwear beneath the gown, but he was so raptured by his discovery that he didn’t stop to admire your freshly shaved body. Instead his gaze was fixed on your breasts. “You have piercings… May I see them?” 

The sudden shift in his voice from reverent and patient to suddenly so eager made your stomach clench. Nodding in the same way, you watched his fingers take hold of the hem of the gown, folding it along your body until the satin wrapped up just above your chest. Something about the way he ignored your pussy and stared at your silver adorned chest made you wet. Morax had a one track mind, you appreciated that as he focused on the piercings. His eyes flickering between your tits and your face, looking for your reaction. “Wonderful,” he started, pressing his hand on the side of your chest, pushing your breast to fill his hand. “Silver accentuates your complexion beautifully.”

Complimenting you made your body way hotter than you expected, the flush in your face was not just from his masterful touches. Curling your lips inward you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded, the only way you felt comfortable being showered in words. 

“Although,” Morax whispered, the shift in his tenor and sudden proximity made your eyes open. He was leaning over you now, one knee balancing on the edge of the seat and conveniently between your legs. Unable to control yourself, you shifted your hips to rub against it, getting a surprised hitch out of him. “I think you would look glorious in gold… Would it be inappropriate for me to give you a new pair?” 

“You want to pierce me?” You blurted out, immediately recognizing how silly that sounded. It made him blush though, the little patches of his skin you could make out behind the bandages were pink with excitement. 

“Maybe next time, I could heal these over if you wanted,” for emphasis a bandage tip looped through one of the rings. Morax wasn’t the first one to tug on your nipple rings, someone else had held them between his teeth and slobbered on on while he fucked into you mercilessly… right? Maybe he was the first one to do it the way you liked. “I have a set that I think would look beautiful. May I put them on for you?”

 Caught off guard by the question, you blurted out an answer before you could process his proposal. “Yes-”

“Really?” Morax asked, sitting up on his knees and pressing a hand to your belly. His breath hitched incredulously and eager for a response. It was worried too, because tonight was not about what he wanted. Tonight was what you wanted. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

Fuck was it hot, you put your hand over Morax’s where it rested. He was so concerned about your consent and comfort, you’d never been so wet from just a few clarifying questions. “Yes.” 

With your blessing, the devil rose to his knees and walked away excitedly, leaving you in that compromised, splayed out state. Leaving the bandages looped around your bars, Morax exited the room to retrieve the piercings he had in mind. Further into the house the healer walked, and all the while you waited with baited breath for the mysterious fabric to grow taut and pull you along. You couldn’t deny your disappointment when it never did. Tempted by the idea, you thought you’d enjoy being led around the house by your nipple rings. You always wanted someone to do that to you. With plenty of pauses to dote on and kiss you, showing you off to the furniture and paintings on the wall. Making the throw pillows an audience as he chained you to a candelabra by your piercings, asked to stand on your toes while a hand teased to make you buckle-

“Is everything alright?” Morax’s voice startled your whimsical wishes right out of your head. It was as he leaned in the office doorway that you realized you had been touching yourself to your fantasy, how long was he standing there? His state of undress was elegant, from the rolled up sleeves that exposed his toned arms, to a flirtatious crease in his pants. Was he always that tall, or was it the fire light casting him in this new light? Displaying an obvious sentience, his bandages were cleaning and shining up a delicate set of jewelry. 

“Yeah, everything’s great,” you said shyly, closing your legs as he pushed off from the doorway with his hip.

You were not what the creator had in mind when they crafted these, but the devil was right. Gold would be an excellent compliment to your skin and the texture of your hair, and the gemstones that adorned the hoops twinkled aventurescent in the dying firelight. Underneath his own tapering, Morax’s eyebrow shifted and his eyes squeezed together with a smile as he beheld you. “Don’t move, you make the most beautiful ornament.” 

Shyly at first you obeyed, keeping your back arched, holding the end of the bandage between your fingers. With Morax standing in front of you, it was hard for you to stay self conscious of yourself. Lewdly running the flat of his bandages over your lips, dangling their tips across your breasts. Both of you knew what this was, and it was wonderful. Under his watchful eyes, your confidence flared. 

No longer ashamed, you crooked your finger to beckon Morax closer. As if he were held up by strings, you took up his tethers in your hands and reeled him to his knees before you. Half crawling, half floating he planted his hands on either side of your hips. Morax’s breath ran hot on your lips as it came out heavy and wet from the bandages around his face. 

You waited until he was occupied with trading your silver bars for his golden hoops. How you ached when his fingers played over the jewelry, teasingly or respectfully avoiding your sensitive skin. “I want to kiss you.” 

Lingering on your request, he carefully and sensually unscrewed the piercing, exhaling warm breath that made your nipple numb. Morax looked up at you thoughtfully, reading your face as you slumped and surrendered in the chair. 

“Will you keep your eyes closed?” He asked back, rolling your piercing back and forth with his fingers while his other hand prepared the new accessory. “For obvious reasons I am self conscious of the state I’m in.” 

Eager to do whatever it took, you nodded and squeezed your eyes shut to show your sincerity. At that his fingers moved deftly to fit you with the new set of rings. There was no pain, courtesy of a combination of Morax’s anesthetic breath and his skilled touch. A lurid moan was even set loose from your hips as your skin prickled. 

“You have stunning, little nipples,” he whispered more to your body than to you. “They look so sweet, I would never take my mouth from them.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut with a smile, you jumped when the tip of his tongue prodded at the golden embellishments. Ticklish signals rippled from your chest to the rest of your body, and another moan floated to the air. When Morax realized you had already accepted his request, you felt him lean back on his knees and fabric whispered to the ground. Suspense held you in a choke hold while listening to Morax unravel before you. Keeping you waiting, you heard him wrapping the fabric up slowly, maybe doing it just to tease your excitement out. Just the sound of his tidiness had worked you to a pitch by the time Morax returned, you could feel the whisper of his shirt and the heat of his breath drawing in. 

“Keep them closed,” he whispered in your ear, his voice now clear and no longer muffled by his wrappings. “As much as I want to watch what you look like when I do this.” A pair of chapped lips pressed to yours and it almost knocked the wind out of you. Forbidden yet familiar, Morax felt like a passageway to secrets still unspoken, and you moved into him to find the answer to a question not yet asked. Was it always supposed to be like this? Gentle like pearls through your fingertips, Morax planted deep kisses perfectly down your body. Wrapping your arms around him, working your fingers through his hair, the devil never said touching was forbidden. With his mouth elsewhere, there was nothing to keep you muffled as you moaned at each, languid kiss as he moved downward.

From your darkened perspective, his touch was golden, everything from the way he rolled the piercings over your body to his eyes watching your expression give. That mouth though, it was on another level when his tongue and fingers worked together to explore your depths. A deep pressure unlike anything you’d felt before. Such expertise made you feel like a marionette, his fingers inside taking control of your body, you gladly surrendered to his manipulation. 

“Awh fuck, right there. Right there,” a voice that you couldn’t believe was yours panted, and a second finger found its way into you. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

Morax didn’t answer because his tongue was busy playing expertly over your clit, pushing down on your spot while his fingers pressed up from below. Sandwiching your g spot firmly, he didn’t speak though you could hear him from the vibrations of his gestures. 

“I won’t stop,” his fingers promised, pushing you closer over that hill where a beautiful orgasm waited at the precipice. “Not when you sound so sweet in my ears, I promise I won’t.” 

“Would you like to taste yourself?” Morax asked next once your thighs stopped trembling and your eyelids felt too heavy. Underneath you the chair groaned as he climbed along it, caressing your tense abs with his wet hand. 

Hanging your mouth open, your tongue reached and felt the velveted texture of his fingertips. It was refreshing, to taste yourself without the interference of some profane flavor residing alongside it. With other devils you always caught traces of them, dwarfing you. All alone you tasted like pure magic.

“I want you,” you whined, bucking your body against Morax in hopes of knocking him off balance to fall into you.

He didn’t hold you in suspense again, throwing himself eagerly into your open mouth, his cracked lips matching your soft ones. That first kiss was careful, focused on your pleasure, but this was meant for him. Morax was a loud kisser each time his lips smacked, and the crude, wet connection was between inexperienced and self-indulgent. When his body ground against yours, Morax didn’t hold back a wickedly excited smile when his chest played over your sensitive nipples, upsetting the piercings in the process. They snagged and pulled against the fabric of his shirt, yanking on your breasts and leaving flushed red skin in its wake.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, though part of you doubted he was actually remorseful as he pulled you off the chair. Its wooden legs squealed against the carpet as the devil shoved the furniture back, twisting you around to lay on top of him. Once you were balanced on his hips, his tapered fingers reached eagerly for your chest again. This time his fingers caressed you gently, taking away the discomfort of the piercings being tugged too hard.

“No, you would never hurt me.” You sighed, trying to lay down on top of Morax and find his mouth again. Before that was allowed to happen though, his hand reached out and stopped you. Planting it squarely on your chest, it was like he held your heart, momentarily shaking you from your horny reverie.

“Yes I could,” the devil whispered, using his other hand to adjust your body. Suddenly you felt very aware of your surroundings, or rather the lack of them. Shifting your hips, he set you off balance so you had no choice but to lean into him, supported only by his strength. “I could show you splendorous agony not even your forefather could comprehend.” 

With your closed eyes, the feeling of the fire on your backside, and the rattling drag of his bandages caressing over your legs, it was easy to imagine that you were actually hovering face forward into an abyss. A deep, endless well of untold sensations. With just one hand, he was the only thing keeping you from spiraling down.

“But you won’t,” you blurted. “You're a doctor, you know all of the best ways to inflict pain… but would never give them to me. Not unless I asked.” 

Pleased with your answer, he lowered you down against him. Still the act felt like you were falling. Now the cliffside you hung suspended over was not some obsidian pit that collapsed into eternity. Instead it was Morax, your breath warming his skin, his arms holding you tight as you stared into the shining darkness of your eyelids. Imagining that bottomless void he held you from. He was your safety net. “No, I wouldn’t. I only want to give you pleasure and safety. I want you to give me your most vulnerable feelings and desires. I’ll keep them safe.” Morax whispered, peppering you with kisses as he slipped inside you. You almost didn’t realize it was happening until the head of his cock found your spot with ease, and he was pressing your lips against his neck to feel the vibration of your cries. “Does this hurt?”

“No,” you gasped, trying to find purchase somewhere on his body to grab him and ram yourself down harder on his cock. The bandages moved swiftly though to pin you in place, preventing you from taking control.

“Do you want more?”

“Please!” You almost opened your eyes to scream at him, but were stifled by his hips bucking against you. “Please, Morax, fuck me.”

Morax’s legs shifted to find better purchase on the carpet so that he could slide into you. With every measured thrust, it felt like he was getting bigger. You felt your knees lift off the ground each time, soon it was like you were floating. Maybe you were, maybe the bandages were wrapping the pair of you up and suspending you in the air so that he could love you without the restraint of gravity. You didn’t look though, you promised you wouldn’t.

“It’s yours, all yours,” you moaned, once again not sounding like yourself as his cock slamming precisely into your walls. Each bumping thrust moved you, threatening to slip you over and into that darkness, but Morax’s arms around your hips and shoulders held you in place. Over and over you peered into the abyss, and realized that it wasn’t a void that Morax was keeping you from. It was an endless fall into love, a love so sweet that it reached up and pushed the hair behind your ears as it fell around your neck and dangled. Rippling with each hot pounding strike against your hips and your inner walls. Was this falling in love, what it was supposed to be like? Hungry and undone, you begged Morax to the tune of his lurid grunts. 

“Show me what more,” you cried, sobbing from the ecstasy of his hips knowing just how deep and rough to drive into you and how softly they pulled out, letting you feel the scraping texture of his cock grazing inside. He wasn’t fucking you as hard as you wanted, maybe it was what you needed though. A consistent rhythm that you could ride easily. Not something that harmonized with pain or discomfort, a tempo that just was. “Give me all of it.” 

“As you wish,” he whispered, then with a pause, you felt his hand gather up your hair and tilt your face away from the tunnel of love you looked into for too long. “Open your eyes, look at me.”

Tearing them open, you saw Morax in a new light. He was beautiful, covered in scars, burns, and blisters that glowed with a light almost as blinding as the orgasm he gave you. Locking up, you couldn’t even breathe while you came to him. His gaze was numbing, you felt the orgasm in a sweet delay, working its way up your body. You felt it with every part of your body, starting in your toes that shook and slammed against the floor uncontrollably. He kissed you when your hips began to tense, digging his fingers into your sides when your lungs were finally able to fill with air to let out a satisfied scream. Lastly it reached your cheeks, which tingled and tensed from the feeling being returned to them. You thought you came a second time when he kissed you, his sweetly shaped eyes influencing your body to react all over again. Then it was his turn to come to your orgasmic sounds. 

With the feeling of falling passed, Morax rolled you over to lay on your side. Grinning to himself when you protested his cock leaving you, the devil turned away swiftly to reach for the bandages. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you tried to bargain, groaning with comedic effort while trying to stop Morax. “I like you without them on.” 

“That’s very sweet of you,” the devil replied, turning to kiss you confidently. “I’m afraid I must insist though.” 

“Why? You’re a beautiful soul inside and out, don’t hide that.” You insisted back, though he was already halfway down with the top of his face. Only his lips and chin were exposed, blistered and bloody from open abrasions. 

“It’s not because of that, my sweet… it’s to stop the bleeding.” 

“Oh.” You laughed together at that, and Morax let you help rebandage him.

“I can draw you a bath if you’d like,” he offered next, running one of his thumbs along your cheek to show you the blood that stained you. 

That might be nice, you realized as you stared at your naked self; dripping and smeared in Morax’s body fluids.

Helping you to your feet, the flimsy gown was abandoned and Morax escorted you naked up the stairs to a clinically clean bathroom, where a claw foot tub big enough to fit three of you waited.

“In the morning we will reach out to Sitri to see what should be done about negotiating with Satan,” he added over the rushing of water. 

“Why would I need to negotiate with Satan?” You asked after he came back with a towel. Hou already dipped yourself inside, hands running over your breasts to reacquaint yourself with your new accessories. Morax faltered in his step when he caught you doing that, and his ears burnt pink under his hair.

“After tonight your relationship with him might be negatively impacted,” the devil explained, standing there nervously until you gestured for him to sit next to the tub. Pulling up a stool, he let his tapered fingers test the hot water before teasing droplets down your back. It didn’t take long for the water to blush pink. 

“I still don’t follow… Satan’s my friend.” You explained, laughing at how silly Morax sounded. 

“That’s not what you told me at the hospital,” he said quietly, and you looked at him more confused than ever. 

“I’ve never had sex with him… nor do I think I want to. He just kinda… gives me a bad vibe, you know?” You didn’t know how to explain it to Morax, but while Satan made you feel safe with his passion, he didn’t make you feel anything else. “He has too much of a temper, I think he’d be a bad boyfriend.”

At that, Morax’s eyes widened and he let out a soft, “oh goodness what did I do?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, taking his hand and kissing his fingers. “You made me feel really good. You always do.” Resting your chin on the bathtub, you recalled the times that Morax loved you with that sweet precision you couldn’t get enough of. From your head to your toes, all your body could think about was how soft he was, and how wet he made you. “I could go another round.”

“Another?” He echoed, laughing as you tried to pull him into the bathtub, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yeah,” you purred, expertly unraveling his bandages as he acquiesced. Like you’d done this part a hundred times before, and in your memory you did. “What’s different about tonight?” 

Wordlessly while you kissed and cleaned the blood away, Morax watched dumbfounded as you moved along his body with ease. “I don’t know what’s come over me… I didn’t think that you would ever choose me.”

“It’s always been you, Morax,” you assured him, taking a deep breath before submerging under water to find his already refreshed erection. “I chose you, no one else.”

[salubriwrites-blog]

How it felt to vote for Andrealphus in round 2-11 of @ashdownunderscorebeloved ‘s Babygirl awards

[salubriwrites-blog]

This one has to be the toughest one for me yet ;-; what do I DDOOOO

WHB Most Babygirl Polls: Round 2-11

[salubriwrites-blog]

OH OH oh oh oh

MEMEMEMEMEMEMEME PICK ME PICK ME

Speaking of valentines day,,

WHB fan creators (artists, writers, etc) would you like to do a lil collab for valentines day i think it would be very fun ..... (i dont have any ideas i just want to make friends)

[salubriwrites-blog]

NOT MY HANDSOME D:

Smile!

[salubriwrites-blog]

ONG I cant stand Leviathan's personality but I still wanna mess him up

Love the angst

If I could smush Leviathan’s looks and Mammon’s personality together I’d be happy, personally.

Though I’m a Mammon girlie through and through.

When I first got WHB I did the quiz and got Mammon, and I was like “man, I’m lowkey over golden himbos I want that surly ass pale dude he’s aesthetic”

I had to do the quiz 5 times to get leviathan because no matter what combo of answers I gave I KEPT GETTING MAMMON. It was meant to be idk.

And now Mammon is my most acquired L card, I have all of them and they’re all E3 at least. I’ve come to embrace my gilded baby girl

[salubriwrites-blog]

Do you like ABBA? Totally random but the song Andante andante always just reminds me of Andrealphus like it's so sweet and just seems to match how we the fans have (generally) interpreted his character as gentle and loving once you're familiar with him

ugh I'm in love with him

Not me listening to this song on a loop after responding to the last Angst request.

I don't really have any inspiration to write about this, but I totally imagine that one day You are reminiscing with Andrealphus about the stuff humans do. As you're rattling off some things, he latches on to one of them: Dancing. He admits that dancing isn't really the hot activity for unwinding in Niflheim, and you're all like :OOOOO Cue a series of dance lessons (basic, box step waltz stuff) with Andrealphus, and for some hilarious reason the only human music you can find in Hell is ABBA (this has Beelzbub's doing written all over it btw). When this song comes on You get all whimsy and even go so far as to say that You think of Andrealphus when you hear that song. After hearing that, Andrealphus gets Bathin to rip a copy of this song and listens to it literally everywhere he goes. Just crushes the notes up and snorts them.

I want to write another one shot with him he is so baby girl princess I can't take it.

[salubriwrites-blog]

The way Leviathan was written in Barbatos’ story was really interesting. Can I please request something super angsty with you and him? Maybe unrequited love on Leviathan’s part? It’s not even that you love someone else. You still sleep with him (and others) often. You just could never love him because of his personality. And that destroys him.

Oh Man.

This got a little unhinged but here we gooooo-

He always woke up before you, adjusting the curtains in his private chamber so when the sun rose it struck his face first. It was the best way without disturbing you, understanding that waking you up quickly meant a faster reality check. Laying on his side, Leviathan traced his fingers between strands of hair plastered to your face. In the early morning when the sun filtered into the room, you were beautiful. Even more than when you were doubled over on top of the devil, hips grinding together with such intensity that he felt your orgasm in his bones. He loved you in all of your forms, but it was these dark, quiet moments that he loved you the hardest.

Hovering, watching your jaw hang open and relaxed, arms and legs splayed out like tree roots in his sheets, it was perfection. Lilac hair stretching out and getting into everything, twirling it around his finger like a spool of the finest fabric. It was easiest to love you like this, when the only conversation available was that of dreams. When you were awake it was the worst; because the gentle snatching of your hand out of his, and graciously side stepping him, were the harshest reminders. That you did not love him with the same lasting ferocity. When you were awake, you were capable of killing Leviathan and you both knew it. Loving you in the light of day where everyone could see you reject him was dangerous, but the poor devil couldn't help himself. Made in God's image of perfection Leviathan was just a man, and you were a shooting star that he could only wish upon.

Somewhere deep in the palace there was a shudder of commotion, no doubt Barbatos waking up the rest of the staff to greet the day. Squinting dangerously at the door, Leviathan hoped that his fiery glare would warm the door knob enough that the sunny devil would think twice.

It was too late though, the vibrations of footsteps scurrying outside woke something in you, and your body tightened with a yawn.

When you opened your eyes Leviathan was there, a respectful distance now as he sat in bed, blinking down at the sheets.

"Good morning," you hummed, crawling across the expanse with your hips twitching like a prowling beast. Your breath was hot in his ear as one hand danced underneath the sheets, frowning when there was no morning glory between his legs. "Did you sleep alright?"

"I slept fine, I should be asking you that question," Leviathan replied curtly. If it were any other day, when you did this little morning ritual you'd instead be throwing yourself under the covers, ass in his face while you played his length like an instrument. Together you wouldn't leave the bed until the sun was casting its light on the other set of windows on the West side of the room. It was paradise by the morning light, to have you as he had before. Knowing it was the only way he would have you. Lustful, only taking, taking all of him.

Had it always been so shallow? Was he just there for your entertainment; a soft place to land in this foreign place, a pair of lips to suck you dry, hips to drive you to perfect climax over and over? Were you using him?

Yes, the devil of Envy decided as you shrugged at his impotence and climbed to the edge of the bed next. You were using him and he loved you for it.

"Would you like breakfast brought here, or do you want to take it in the dining room?" Leviathan asked, waiting until you disappeared into the opulent bathroom before getting up next. Searching for a shirt while you showered, he slumped with his back against the bathroom door, listening to the water run down your body. It was not fair that you had more love for the heat of the water than him. It wasn't always like him to be jealous of a shower, right?

"I don't have time for breakfast, actually," you called back slowly, waiting until the faucet had quietly shut off the steaming flow. "Sitri is coming to bring me back to Gehenna... for a while."

A while?

"What for?" He prodded next, knowing that your affairs in Gehenna with that insufferable Prince weren't his business. The jolting stab in his stomach at your words though? That was his business. Leviathan didn't mean to sound possessive at that question, and quietly he cursed himself when you didn't reply immediately.

"Satan asked me to come back... I've been in Hades for a minute, and besides you're probably behind on all of your responsibilities. You don't need to spend all your time catering to my every whim." You laughed to try and distract from the heaviness of your words.

Yes he did. He needed to give you every second of his life, he needed to cater and worship your time and drink up your soft replies to his generosity. He needed to show you that he was the perfect gentleman. The perfect lover. The perfect partner. He needed to be the man you loved, and would gladly give you all of him if that's what it took. What good was it to be the perfect specimen, the perfect image of God, if it wasn't perfect for you?

Leviathan didn't say a word, just stared at the empty bed where you had just been. So beautiful and lovely, he wished to return there, order Glasyalabolas enchant you to sleep so he could love you like he knew best. Except that wasn't what Leviathan wanted either. Loving you in the dark was not what he wanted. He wanted to love you in the light of day, with the sun illuminating your hair and cloud shadows kissing your cheeks. He knew he could love you with his eyes closed, but what he would do for you to love him back with your opens.

"I understand," he lied while knowing the truth. It stung bitter as holy fire in his mouth as he helped you pack and prepare for your departure. He'd overplayed his hand, showering you in too many favors, giving you the best of himself at every opportunity. You didn't want it. Something about his posture, his cadence, maybe even his personality off set all of the best parts of himself. You were running away, and the worst part wasn't that he was going to let you. Leviathan knew that just having you wasn't enough. The worst part was that he had done everything in his perfect power.

"Don't think of yourself as a burden on me or Hades," he said instead of all those things. How he hated himself in that moment, standing at the front steps of the palace where Sitri waited dutifully. Even in the general's arms you looked at home. "Your time with us has been... a welcome intrusion. I look forward to your next visit."

Waving over your head, not even the kings of legends could have pulled him away from the steps until he was sure you were gone. A part of Leviathan followed you out the gates of Hades and into the valley of Gehenna. Not knowing that he'd ever see it again, the attendants of the Prince of Envy stood back and watched him retreat into the palace.

"Can we get you anything-" Orias began to ask, but before he could rattle off all of the Prince's perfect titles, Leviathan interrupted him.

"My coffin," he replied, and all the devils in the room looked at each other. Needing to quietly ask that what they just heard wasn't their imagination. The crack in Leviathan's voice was a crack in his armor, and therefore a breach in the otherwise perfect paradise he built. If the perfect Prince of Hades was falling apart, Hades would surely follow in his footsteps. That would not be allowed to happen. “I will not be disturbed."

As if they had spoken its true name, the devil's coffin manifested from a corner of the room and appeared before him. No one said a word as the fine pressed clothes, the gemstones, and the ornaments befitting a king clattered loudly to the ground. Stripped naked of everything that made him regal, until he was just a man, Leviathan crawled into the perfectly lined casket. "Bury me."

"Most beautiful-" Barbatos began, but shut up wisely when he saw the tears. Perfect, silver strands of pearl-like tears that solidified and clattered to the ground.

"I said bury me. I want to be alone."

Nodding dutifully, Leviathan's most perfect and most proud attendants swarmed the coffin, clasping it shut with the same reverence they practiced to dress him. He didn't feel it when they hiked the container up onto their broad shoulders, nor did he feel the pressure of soil splashing on top of and down the coffin's sides. Leviathan didn't feel much of anything as he cried, letting the pearls of sorrow roll down to his feet. They would slowly fill the coffin and if he was lucky he'd drown in them.

Alone at last, Leviathan held himself and listened to the sound of roots wriggling through the dirt. Barbatos must have been growing some kind of garden on top of the site, a means to hide the resting place of the broken Prince. Except-

Leviathan wasn't alone, not even in that spacious coffin filling with his tears. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, the devil stared at the crude carvings in its lid. You were here, in the doodles and initials scratched into the wood. This was far from perfect, the Prince of Envy knew that, but as he lay in that shallow earth, buried with all the words he never said and only with the power to love you in the dark, this was perfect for him.

[salubriwrites-blog]

I miss him ^^

Steve Irwin in a Jaeger would be entertaining.

Look over there. There’s a Catergory 3 Kaiju. Biggest one yet. 

Ah’m gonna wrassle with it. 

[salubriwrites-blog]

The payoff was exquisite

GET RINSED