#I think about his last moments knowing he worked his whole life towards his faith in his son and I just. I can’t

[kona-boba]

The Gift of Platinum.

[chelseasdagger]

Restoring Faith

Father Paul Hill x Reader

Summary: You pay Father Paul one of your midnight visits and he finds himself struggling with his sworn devotion

Warnings: religious themes, sacrilege, smut, oral over clothes (m!receiving)

Author’s Note: This is a late birthday present for @chellestrash​ , my true love of my life, and I hope I’ve done this little idea you love justice :’) I’m absolutely positive I didn’t make it sounds as pretty as some of the other fics, but I hope it will be alright :)

Word Count: 4k

The cold air sends a shiver down your spine as the gravel crunches beneath your feet. Wrapping your arms around yourself tighter, you keep your head down to protect your face from the wind. You follow the path that connects the great big church to the smaller house just behind it, the trail only visible due to the moonlight pouring down from above.

You’re no idiot, you’re aware anybody could see your somewhat frequent visits to see him. However, you convinced yourself that it was okay to go, so long as you waited past midnight to take the trip. Whether it was actually a valid excuse was a whole other subject. One you didn’t particularly want to think of and potentially use to talk yourself out of doing this.

Stepping up the old, creaky stairs of the small porch, you give one last glance over your shoulder to the abandoned street the church faces. There’s not a person in sight and you raise your hand to knock on the wooden door.

It opens after a moment and you smile at the sight of the priest in front of you. He’s dressed completely in black, excluding the stark white collar that frames his neck. You can’t help your eyes from giving him a quick once over, taking in the dark button up shirt tucked into the form fitting slacks that drape down his legs. His voice calling your name brings your gaze back to his face.

“How…,” he trails off, craning his neck higher and looking past you, “how can I help you?” His greeting is stiff, and you know he’s worried about curious eyes possibly seeing you here. You can’t fight the way your lips pull into a smirk at the idea of him already getting nervous.

“I just had a question, Father,” you begin to explain, and notice him looking at you with cautious eyes. “Is that not what you said? That we can come to you and seek guidance? Ask questions about our faith?” You can admit that it was slightly unfair using his own words against him, but it works all the same. He bows his head before nodding once, silently stepping aside and allowing you to walk inside.

It’s the same as it always was, with the couch being the only real centerpiece to the room. The curtains are drawn closed on each of the windows and it gives the sense of seclusion from the rest of the small island. The three lamps that line the right wall are all lit, painting everything in a warm glow. You’ll never get over how welcoming his home was, how it provided a safe space when you needed an escape. 

The sound of the door clicking shut makes you turn around to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, slightly hesitant as he stays silent and waits for you to speak first.

“Nobody saw me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you flash him a cheeky smirk. Paul responds wordlessly with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He steps further into the room, his arm brushing yours as he walks to the small, open kitchen area. 

“I haven’t seen you at Mass,” he finally breaks his silence. You watch as he grabs an empty glass from the drying rack beside the sink before filling it with water from the tap. “Can I get you anything?” he offers with wide eyes, motioning towards the cup in his hand.

“I was sick,” you pick the first thing that comes to mind, “allergy stuff since the weather is changing.” The lie rolls right off your tongue. You watch as he drinks his water down, fixating on the way his Adam's apple moves with each swallow. Giving yourself a mental shake, you answer his earlier question.

“And I’m okay, thanks,” you decline his offer as you lean against the back of the couch. The priest says nothing but gives a solemn look your way.

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he speaks gently into the quiet room. His dark, brown eyes look sincere, enforcing the truth behind his words. There’s a small pout on his lips and you’re not sure if it’s from your faux illness or if he can somehow sense that you’re not speaking the truth. Either way, he continues with the conversation.

“But I’m glad you’re feeling better. W-What can I do for you?” He sets his glass down on the small counter beside him. “You… um, mentioned seeking guidance? What about?” His eyes are focused onto yours and you find yourself only able to keep eye contact for a few seconds before his stare feels like too much. 

“Well,” you begin with a light laugh under your breath, “I just wanted to have you read to me again.” Your fingers toy with the thick seam of the couch cushion. “Is that okay? It just—it helps, is all.” You’re not certain the explanation makes a ton of sense, but there is truth behind it. His words help; it relaxes you to come and listen to him read, even if you don’t always find yourself secure in the faith you grew up with.

When you look up at him again, Paul is standing with a genuine smile on his face. It’s clear he likes hearing that he can help, and you feel a twinge of guilt shoot through your chest at how he genuinely enjoys what he does. It makes you being here that much worse, knowing how content and devout he is.

“Of course, I-I can do that,” he replies, his voice somehow even quieter than before. “Did you have a certain story you wanted me to read from?”

You think over his question for only a short moment. Deep down, you knew you could listen to him speak about even the most mundane things, including what he had eaten for breakfast. His voice was the thing to calm you, not the words he spoke.

“I don’t really care. Whatever you’d like, whatever we left off with,” you flash him a small smile. The priest nods only once before walking towards his bedroom, disappearing into the shadows of the small corridor leading to the door.

You let out a big breath of air you weren’t even aware you were holding in. Being alone with him felt good, it always did, but you couldn’t deny the guilt once again growing in your chest. Deep down, you knew this was wrong, but it always felt good when the guilt shaped to something else. Something stronger and impossibly difficult to ignore.

There’s only a small moment for self reflection before you hear his footsteps echoing out on the wood floor again. You glance towards the sound and find him returning back into the main room with the Bible wedged between his arm and his side. His fingers are busy, rolling the fabric of his long sleeve up to just above his elbow. As inch after inch of his skin is exposed, you find yourself unable to look away from the veins trailing up the inside of his arm.

He repeats his actions on the opposite side, gazing up at you from under the few strands of hair that have fallen out of place. Your lip finds its way between your teeth subconsciously, your own way of anchoring yourself and ignoring the need to tuck the loose curls back behind his ear.

“In moments where I truly begin to doubt my faith, I…” he trails off, fixing the last roll of his cuff over his forearm. He grabs the Bible and brushes his thumb over the raised letters as he continues, “I like to look back on the story of Job.”

You can’t even stop the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. He looks up at the sound, his head tilted slightly like a confused puppy.

“Job? Really, Father? I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of restoring faith,” you curl your fingers to create air quotes over the last two words. Paul gives a small smile, lowering his head. He’s dealt with your opinions regarding faith and why God allows things to happen as He does.

“Maybe… maybe to some but I-I find that it’s a reminder,” his voice is quiet and calm, already slipping into his usual pattern of speech when he’s behind the lectern. He steps deeper into the living room and passes by you, making his way to the empty couch.

“A reminder to trust in Him even when we’re not sure of-of the path,” he finishes. You’re thankful he’s behind your back so he doesn’t see the way your eyes roll at his canned response. He must’ve seen the tension in your body though, taking note of the way your arms are still crossed over your chest, because he tries once more to get you to listen.

“You do remember that he was rewarded? In the end?”

“Yeah, but he went through hell to get it… hardly seems fair,” you answer him.

“Well, the Lord, He—,”

“If you say ‘Works in mysterious ways’…” you cut him off with a warning glare as you finally turn to face him.

Paul lets out a breathy laugh, staring down at the thick book in his hands. “I was only going to say that He doesn’t always…” he pauses for a moment, searching for the right words, “reveal His plans to us in a way that makes sense at the time. That’s all,” he finishes with a tight-lipped smile.

There’s a brief moment of silence that hangs in the air as you wait for him to move past this conversation. His quick inhale fills the room as he clears his throat quietly, his arm gesturing towards the couch.

“Shall we?”

“Of course,” you respond softly, your words tucked under your breath. He walks around to the front of the couch, his eyes fixed on you as you follow his path. He sits down as his fingers curl around the blue, knitted blanket that’s sprawled out across the cushion beside him.

“Here, let me—,” he doesn’t finish his sentence before draping it across the back of the couch. There’s a spot for you now, close enough that you knew you’d be touching him if you sat beside him. As tempting as the offer is, you find yourself shaking your head gently.

“Is-is something wrong?” he asks, his big, dark eyes searching yours. They’re wide and innocent, truly worrying that he overstepped. Once again, you’re reminded of how pure the man before you is; you nearly reconsider your original idea that made you seek him out tonight in the first place.

You shake your head as you stand in front of him, silently kneeling down and sitting on the floor. The priest’s expression instantly grows apprehensive. You flash him an innocent smile but his unsure glare never falters.

“I’ll just listen from here,” you tell him, trying to ease his worries. He looks hesitant but eventually swallows before opening the Bible. His long fingers splay out across the thin pages, turning them one after the other before finally stopping on a page.

He opens his mouth to speak, the words flowing effortlessly off of his tongue. His voice falls into the deep, rumbly tone that you only ever hear when he’s reading to you. There’s no audience, no image he has to maintain, and the words are so quiet it seems almost as if he’s reading to himself. You’ve always preferred these moments, when he appeared the most authentic he could be.

The more he reads the more comfortable you feel. Your body begins to relax and an idea strikes up in your mind. As he turns the next page, bringing in a deep inhale to continue the sentence, you let your head rest against his knee.

He immediately stutters over his words, repeating the same sound over and over. He never breaks his concentration though, and eventually pushes through and finishes the sentence. Not before flashing you a warning look as you rest your cheek against his leg, though.

It isn’t entirely inappropriate and would even be seen as a normal, platonic gesture. But given his profession, you knew it was absolutely not appropriate. You don’t pull away however, just keep your body slumped against his leg.

He continues speaking the old words, his pronounced sentences dissipating into muttered whispers the longer he goes on. Admittedly, you felt special that this tone was reserved only for you; there was a faint flare of pride in your chest knowing that you were the only one to hear his words so rumbly it’s as if they never fully left his chest.

At some point though, you begin to grow bored of just sitting there and waiting for him to finish. Usually these late night reads brought your anxiety down enough just to fall asleep on the priest, leaving him in the most awkward position of not knowing how to convince himself any of this was okay. But right now, you’d rather have some fun.

Paul knew something was up the second he saw your hand reaching towards him out of the corner of his eye. The muscles in his leg immediately tense, you feel it from under your skin. But you don’t want to raise his suspicion so soon.

Stretching further towards the Bible in his lap, you spread your fingers and place both palms over each side. Once his view is completely shielded from the printed words, he immediately looks into your mischievous eyes.

“What—what are you doing?” he asks confusedly. His eyebrows are pulled together as he awaits your answer.

“Just wanted to see how much you knew,” you reply genuinely. You knew the man had poured over this book time and time again, searching for meanings deeper than the blatant lessons that were spelled out for the reader. It always sent a conflicting feeling coursing through you, the way he could recite word after word from memory as if he was the one who had conjured them up. Conflicting because you liked the reminder of how devout he was, and isn’t that just a multifaceted guilt trip.

Paul smiles at your youthful game, and mentally accepts the challenge. He parts his lips before the words fall from his tongue.

“And when the days of the feast had run their course, Job would send and sanctify them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all,” he begins, never looking away from your face as he repeats them with no hesitation.

“For Job said, ‘It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.’” The priest can’t stop from chuckling at the end of his sentence, having looked at your own genuine, bright grin. “Thus Job did continually.”

Once he’s finished, he flashes you his own smile before glancing down at your hands covering the pages still. You slowly remove them, giggling under your breath at how he passed your unofficial test.

The priest licks his lips once before clearing his throat gently, continuing again with his reading. As the minutes pass, you find yourself not paying much attention to the actual weight of the words. You just focus on his muttering voice until you're reminded of how sweet his last stutter sounded. And because you just can’t help yourself, you’re determined to hear it again.

Snaking your hand up his thigh, you feel his body grow stiff all over again. That adorable stutter becomes prominent once more, his eyes quickly focusing on your fingers rubbing up the inside of his leg as he attempts to finish the paragraph. Trying to pace your plan, you curl your fingers around his thigh and give him a moment to get used to the feeling.

“What are you doing?” These words are the coldest he’s spoken all night, yet you stay silent and wait. It takes him longer this time to finally react, to give his consent in the smallest agreement possible. It’s so minuscule that anybody else wouldn’t have noticed, but you know him awfully more than you should.

Half a nod. That’s all it takes, and you let your fingers graze lightly over the black slacks. They're taught from how he’s sitting, and you can see the outline of his thigh through the stretched material. His voice shakes now, the tone less steady and sure, as he forces himself to keep reading.

You’ve got to admit he’s doing better than you thought. He doesn’t stop reading, you assume he’s just trying to focus on something else, anything but your hand moving between his thighs. You must’ve hit a sweet spot though, inching near the little alcove where his thigh meets his hip, because the next thing you hear is a shuddering exhale as he halts his reading. 

And there it is only a second later—the outline of his cock showing through the dark dress pants. It never took very long, although this time it seems even quicker than usual. He continues to grow there, until you can see the fabric straining to accommodate for his now swollen head. You’ve barely touched him and he’s already so responsive.

Now that you can physically see the effect you have on him, there’s truly nothing that can stop you. Sure the nagging guilt is still in the back of your mind, telling you that you shouldn’t do this, but you push it away as much as you can. He looks so tempting right now: the loose strands of hair falling into his face, his lip caught between his teeth as he suppresses his groans, the faint twitch his cock gives when he feels your finger lightly drag along the base of his length. You love seeing him this desperate for you.

Your one finger lightly tracing the length of him is truly all it takes for the first twitch to happen in his trousers. The sight makes your mouth nearly water and you finally curl your fingers around him properly. Your grip isn’t too tight considering it’s over two layers of clothes, but it doesn’t stop the choked grunt from finally escaping his lips.

Still you continue, leaning closer until your breath is fanning over the bulge. He feels it, you can tell from the way his fingers clutch the book that’s resting on his other leg. The veins in the back of his hand become more prominent the harder he grabs it. Every part of his body is conflicting itself; he wants it but he knows he shouldn’t.

Still you wait, staring up at him and silently asking again if this is okay. He doesn’t stall as much this time—his eyes squeeze shut tightly before nodding quickly again, forcing another inhale through his nose.

You don’t waste a second and quickly press your tongue flat against the outline of his tip. Slowly licking along the length, you watch his body reel from how hard his stomach clenches at the feeling. He begins to shut the Bible but you grab his wrist before it can close all the way. You shake your head slowly, attempting to convince him to keep it open.

“Y…You know I can’t.”

“I like hearing you, Father,” you mumble quietly in the room. He stares down at you with an expression you can’t quite describe. There’s no emotion on his face, but his eyes look pained, no doubt from the name you referred to him as. He hardly moves except for the shallow breaths that you can only notice because of how close you are to him.

Waiting for his reaction seems to drag on for hours before he finally sighs through his nose and opens the book. You notice the way his fingers shake as he smooths out the page before trying to remember where he left off. Your lips pull into a smile as you hear his strained voice fill the room.

Squeezing the base of his cock tighter, you drag your tongue across his tip again before wrapping your lips around it. The story is cut off with his deep grunt, and you hum around him at the pleasant noise. The priest has his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling as he tries to regain his composure.

You knew this was an awful, sacrilegious act you two were doing, but it doesn’t stop the heat growing between your legs. Leaning closer into him, you work your mouth on him faster, sucking harder through the fabric. His hand closest to you grips the edge of the seat as he seethes through his teeth.

Paul finally looks down at you, staring into your eyes that have never once left his face. You hold his gaze before glancing wordlessly to the book still in his hand. The whimper that he barely slips out is your new favorite sound, replaying it in your head as you shut your eyes.

“A-As long as… m…my breath,” he’s cut off with a shaky inhale. He tries to read aloud, but his voice trembles the entire time.

“Keep going, Father,” you pull your mouth away from the outline in his black trousers to encourage him. There’s a long, dark stripe along the fabric from your tongue, but another wet patch where the head of his cock is straining against the material.

“As long as my-my breath is in me, and t-the spirit of God is in my nostrils—,” he’s finding each word more impossible to speak. You never allow him to give up though, rubbing your hand over his thigh to support him.

“My lips will not speak f…falsehood, and my tongue will not utter deceit.” He manages to finish the paragraph before taking deep breaths, swallowing thickly and trying his damndest to not look at the sinful scene in his lap. But his body betrays him once more, twitching into your mouth when you hum sweetly around him as a reward for finishing what you asked him to.

Pressing your tongue right in the ridge under his swollen head, you hear a new sound escape his pressed lips. It's a guttural, raw twist of your name and it’s unexpected.

“Oh… Oh—Wait,” he tries to warn you but it’s much too late. His release happens without him realizing, his body moving while his mind doesn’t have a chance to catch up. When you feel him pulsing in your mouth you glance up at him and oh, what a sight it is.

He’s completely disheveled, biting down into his hand to muffle the noise he’s ashamed for anyone to hear, and the veins in his neck are protruding just above the edge of his collar. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but you always make sure to memorize the sight down to those details. To always keep the picture in your mind.

What really catches your attention though, is the stream of white bubbling up through the taught fabric around his sensitive tip. You didn’t realize he would have finished quite this fast, but you definitely don’t mind it. Squeezing the middle of his length tightly, you slowly slide your hand up, determined to get all of it out of him.

Paul’s thighs are beginning to shake from the sensation and you can only imagine how good it must feel for him. You stick your tongue out as you lap up the mess he’s made, and his thighs jolt to close around your body. His sensitivity to your every touch leaves a desire that burns hotly in the bottom of your stomach. You love the feeling of having power over him, admittedly too much.

Once he’s clean, you finally let go of him altogether and sit back on your legs. He’s left panting in awe as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You wish you could see inside his head, try and understand what he’s thinking. But right now his dark eyes are glossed over and he looks as if he’s somewhere completely else.

“Thank you, Father.”

He scrunches his eyes shut tightly the second the words fill the air. It’s silent except for his panting as you rest your head on his knee once more. This time it is a platonic action, your way of showing him you’re there without words. And there you sit beside your priest in the small, old house behind the great big church, with the weight of everything that just happened.

[straylightdream]

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞.”

Han Jisung x f.reader

college au

wc: 5.6k

↳ “You’re the only girl I would leave with and willingly let Changbin use my room to fuck someone all night.”

warnings: protected sex, begging, edging, soft dom Jisung, dry humping, choking, marking, Jisung is obsessed with the mc neck, and can be a little possessive in bed but he’s harmless, names such as: (baby)

an: loosely connected to Open Mind my Changbin story. You don’t have to read that one to understand this story. Chan's story I Think I Like You is next, if you want to be tagged let me know.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Friday evenings normally consisted of you working in the school library. You needed all the extra money you could get and this job was a great way to help. Most of your shifts consisted of you putting away books or helping students find books they were looking for. One faithful day you were working two boys you recognized as Han Jisung and Bang Chan spent the evening at a table studying for some big exam. You went about your business putting away a cart full of books near them. The library was quite empty for a Friday. Occasionally you would find yourself glancing over at their table and often found the one you knew as Jisung watching you. The first time your eyes met he quickly looked down at his laptop with a startled look. 

When you left the library that night you tried not to think about the cute boy who seemed to watch you your whole shift.

Monday rolled around and you were working the evening shift at the library after finishing up one of your afternoon Labs you had. You were about an hour into your shift when Han Jisung walked into the library alone this time. He was sporting a pair of tight black jeans that had holes over his knees and an oversized gray hoodie that looked like he was swimming in the gray fabric. In one hand he held his laptop and in the other was what looked like a large pink tinted ice latte. He sits in the section near where your library cart is located. This shift was just like the last one. He stayed your whole shift and you weren’t sure if it was wishful thinking but you could almost feel his eyes on you when his back was to you. He didn’t say anything to you that night other than a simple “goodbye” as he left the library.

That Friday that followed was the time he finally got the nerve to talk to you. The library was quite empty at night other than a handful of students trying to get some studying in. You’re at your desk in the back of the library checking to see which section this old book belongs in when Jisung walks towards you. He’s dressed in another pair of tight jeans with an oversized graphic tee and pair of platform converse that made him seem taller than he is.

“Hi,” he awkwardly waves.

“Hi,” you can’t help but smile at nerves he seems, but you can’t lie, you're nervous too. You don’t exactly have a social life. You have a couple friends but most of your time is focused on school and work. You don’t normally have cute boys coming up to talk to you.

“I’m Jisung and I noticed you the other day.”

“I’m YN, I work here.” You wanted to scream, your response to him was so awkward. It was obvious you worked here. You didn’t need to tell him that, nobody comes to the library and spends hours putting away books just for the fun of it.

“I was wondering when you worked next if I could bring you coffee?” he asked.

“Oh,” that definitely wasn’t what you were expecting him to ask you. “I’m here again for the evening shift on Monday.”

He nods his head, “okay cool. I would like to come by and maybe we could talk-” he pauses for a moment and looks at you. “That’s only if you want me to. If you want me to leave you alone I absolutely will. I know you’re technically on the clock, but I thought you might want a little company.” His cheeks are a light shade of pink as he starts to ramble.

“You can come by. I get a little lonely here and it would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

He nods his head again and repeats, “cool cool cool.” You’ve heard about girls dating Jisung and you’re a little surprised he seems so nervous talking to you. “Have you ever had a strawberry latte?”

“No I haven’t but if you want to bring me one I’ll try it.”

He showed up that Monday with the same pink tinted drink he had the first time he came into the library alone. You stood by the table and he sat his stuff down and drank the sweet strawberry flavored drink. It tasted absolutely delicious and soon became your favorite coffee drink.

In the last four months there hasn’t been a Friday shift where you have worked that Jisung hasn’t hung out in the library for part of your shift. Prior to this school year you barely knew Han Jisung. After that fateful Friday he finally spoke to you. It wasn’t long until he spent many of your shifts in the library with Jisung by your side. The conversation normally started out friendly but normally led to Jisung flirting with you. 

Standing at your library cart you aren’t surprised to see Han Jisung walking towards you. He’s got a coffee in one hand and in the other he’s holding what looks like a cd case. You stand there staring at him and you immediately notice the sweet smile on his face. He always seems to light up when he sees you. 

“I come here with gifts for you,” he smiles, holding out the pink tinted coffee. Of course he brought you your favorite strawberry latte. 

“Hi Jisung.”

“What is the cd?” you ask, taking it from his hand.

“It’s going to be 3RACHA’s first official mixtape, and this was the first copy made,” he is beaming as he talks to you. He absolutely lights up every time he talks about his music, and you can’t help but be proud of him. You're suddenly hit with the realization that he gave you of all people the first copy that was made.

“This is literally the first copy made?” 

He nods his head rapidly, “you’re the only person I wanted to give this to.”

Opening up the jewel case you pull out the very professional looking booklet. You flip through the little red booklet to the back page where the credits and thanks are listed. Your eyes go wide as you see your name as the only one listed in Jisung’s section with ‘my muse’ next to your name. 

The corner of his mouth is turned up giving you a crooked smile. Closing the book you’re at a loss for what you should even say to him. You knew you were special to him, and that the way he flirted with you he definitely saw you as more than a friend. You had no idea he saw you as his muse.

“I inspire you when you write music?”

He scratches the back of neck looking down at the floor. You notice the way his ear flush red suddenly. Butterflies flutter in your stomach realizing how much you actually mean to Jisung. 

“You’re the only girl that has ever truly inspired me.” 

If all the rumors were true on campus 3RACHA were far from virgins, especially Han Jisung and Seo Changbin. You had heard many many rumors about how Changbin knew his way around a woman's body, and all about Jisung’s groupies who threw themselves at him. You always found it interesting that you heard about women falling at Chan’s feet but he showed them no interest. You can’t help but be shocked that not one of these women had ever inspired him like you had.

“Hanging out with me while I work inspires you?” you look down at the book cart next to you. 

“YN, I would love to fully see you outside of this library, and I don’t mean us just going to get coffee like we do. Why don’t we actually hang out or go out together?” Tilting your head you aren’t sure he’s asking you out or if he truly just wants to hang outside the walls of this library. “I can tell by the look on your face you’re overthinking this.”

You really like Jisung and part of you knows he really likes you, but part of you is worried that your feelings might be one-sided. “Jisung can I ask you something?” 

He nods. 

“Do you like me? Like do you have feelings for me?”

A crooked smile pulls on his lips, “YN I thought it was obvious I liked you. I just don’t hang out in the library for fun. I’m here because I like you, a lot.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel shy. 

He reaches out resting his hand on your cheek. Looking up into his warm eyes you can’t help but smile. His thumb brushes your bottom lip slowly. “Go out with me.” He’s never touched you like this before. Even the few times you met up to get coffee or lunch he’s never really touched you. 

“When?”

“Come to my party at mine and Chan’s tomorrow night and then on Sunday I’ll take you out,” his hand never leaves your cheek as you talk. Your body could probably memorize the feeling of his hand touching your cheek. 

“You want me to go to your party with you?”

“Yes, I’ll hang out with you the whole night and maybe we can plan what we’ll do on Sunday.”

“Okay,” and just like that you agreed to go out with Jisung. Months and months of him flirting had finally led to something more. 

“I really want to kiss you,” he whispers, stepping closer to you. Your eyes drop down to his lips, they have a light gleam to them, you know it's from his melon chapstick that is always in his backpack. You swallow without saying anything. Leaning into him your lips brush for a soft kiss. Your eyes are closed taking in the closeness between you. He takes a deep breath and soft chuckle passes his lips. Leaning in he presses his lips to yours again this time for a more heated kiss. Pulling away he reaches down, taking the strawberry latte from your hand. A smile is plastered on both your faces as he steps back. He brings the tan straw to his lips, taking a drink of the sweet drink he brought for you.

“You tasted just like this strawberry latte.”

Reaching up your fingers, brush your just kissed lips. Jisung watches you carefully before leaning forward pressing his lips to your forehead for a gentle kiss.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow night,” he smiles.

-

Walking into the Jisung house he shares with Chan, there's a nervous feeling in your stomach. Without a thought in the world he reaches down taking your hand. You pause glancing up at him. His hand feels warm in yours. The tension in your body releases the moment he touches you. 

“Is this okay?” He holds your joined hands up close to eye level. 

“Yeah.” It’s actually more than okay. You love the idea of getting to hold Jisung's hand. He leads you through the living room where a few people are scattered. You recognize the beautiful tall one with long hair immediately. He’s an art major a bunch of girls always talk about. Your roommate has talked about having an art class with him. Jisung leads you towards the kitchen where you find Chan and Changbin talking with the same girl you always see Chan with. Before Jisung can introduce you to her she leaves to take a phone call. 

“Chan and Changbin, I want to introduce you to my date. This is (YN) and (YN) these are my best friends Chan and Changbin.“ he catches you completely off guard by referring to you as his date. When he invited you to this party you really hoped it was a date but you didn’t get your hopes up. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” the one you recognized as Chan said. 

“Changbin, aren't you waiting for that girl from your Lit class to show up?” Jisung asks as he releases your hand. He leaves you alone for less than ten seconds before his hand is on your waist pulling you in front of him. His hands wrap around your soft stomach holding you close to him. He’s never held you like this but you could get used to it. 

“I don’t know if she’s gonna show up. I was kind of bold and I might have scared her off,” he mumbles looking down at his feet. 

“What could you have possibly said to her?” Chan asked. 

“I asked if we’re finally going to fuck, and if we are to meet me here.” Your eyes went wide at his statement. You didn’t know what he was going to say but you definitely didn’t expect it to be so blunt. 

“Wait a minute. If she comes here to hook up with you, where are you going to sleep with her?” Jisung speaks up quickly. 

“I don’t know, I didn't think that far ahead.”

“You aren’t going to have sex in the bathroom upstairs again,” Chan groans. “And you can’t use my room. I have to sleep there tonight. I’m gonna ask Bambi if she wants to stay the night so she doesn’t have to drive home.”

“Is Channie getting laid tonight?” Changbin pats his back. 

“I’m not sleeping with her. Our friendship isn’t like that,” he shakes his head. You can tell without knowing much that there is something going on between Chan and his best friend. 

“Sungie what’s the chances I can use your room tonight? I really like this girl and I got to try and make this somewhat classy.”

Jisung squeezes your body a little tighter as he pauses. “Bin I need somewhere to sleep and I would really prefer it’s not that uncomfortable couch in the living room. Why can’t you take her back to your place or her place?”

“Because if she agrees to sleep with me I don’t know if I can control myself enough to even leave this house,” Changbin says.

An idea popped into your head that might not be the smartest but had to share it. “Jisung, did you want to have a sleepover at my place tonight? I could use someone to cuddle with.” 

Silence takes over the room for a long moment. You can feel both Chan and Changbin’s eyes burning into you. Jisung presses his lips to your cheek before whispering, “are you sure?”

“Yeah we’re on a date right? It seems fitting you come home with me.” You know your words give off the implication that you plan on having sex with him, and to be quite honest when you agreed to come to this party you were hoping it would lead to you making the next step together you weren’t sure if that meant sex or just fooling around, but you wanted more with him. 

“I’m gonna make sure we have a great night,” he whispers into your ear. “Bin you can use my room. Three things though. One you have to make my room not look like you didn’t fuck her all night in it. Two any condoms you use you better replace.” You feel your cheeks grow warm and the mention of condoms. “And three you owe me.”

“If you two lovebirds want to hook up at my place, have at it. You can go there tonight if you want. Minho went somewhere with Angel and Hyunjin probably won’t be home until super late.” Changbin reaches into his pocket pulling out his keys.

“I would prefer my own bed,” you speak up. 

“Hey Chan, can I talk to you?” the girl you believe to be Bambi pops her into the kitchen. Without saying a word Chan quickly leaves the kitchen following Bambi 

Changbin immediately pulls out his phone and you can tell by his demeanor he’s worried about something. You listen as Jisung and Changbin talk about this girl in Changbin’s Lit class he likes. From the way he’s talking about her he seems like he likes her a lot. It’s not long before he heads off making his way through the crowded house. 

Jisung releases you from his hold and leads you over to the makeshift bar. He grabs two red cups and starts making two drinks. 

“Did you drive here?” he asks.

“No, I live in the apartment down the street.” 

He continues to make both drinks and turns around holding one of the cups of the mixture he made. “Um, I want you to know that I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position with me staying at your place tonight. I can sleep on your couch if you want.”

There is something calming about the fact that Jisung cares about you and doesn't want to do anything that would possibly make you feel uncomfortable. “I would like for you to sleep in my bed with me.”

“Nothing has to happen between us if you don’t want it to. We can cuddle if you want, and if you want more to happen I will do anything you want. If want to have sex we can, if you just want to make out and dry hump I’m also fine with that. Even if you want to share a bed and not touch at all I will do anything you want. YN I want you to know I care about you and respect you.” He rambled on and his cheeks were starting to flush pink like they do when he gets nervous.

Without even thinking you step forward crashing your lips into his. He reaches back, setting the cup on the counter trying his hardest not to spill any of the liquid. Your lips moved together for a heated kiss. His tongue drags along your bottom lip asking for you to part your lips. One hand grips your soft hip as the other moves your pliant body backwards until he presses against the kitchen wall. Your finger tangled in his long locks. Arching your back pressing your body closer to his as his tongue runs along yours. This kiss is nothing like the ones you shared in the library. One of his hands runs along your side and rests on your butt. Moaning into his kiss you roll your pelvis against his.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips.

“Jisung I want to have sex with you,” you whisper as he pulls his lips fully away from yours. He steps back leaving you leaning against the kitchen wall. He reaches down adjusting his tight jeans trying to hide his already hardening cock. 

“Okay,” he sighs. He rolls his head back, stretching out his neck. “How much I would love to leave this party immediately. We should probably stay here for a little while before I leave Chan in charge of everyone. 

“Okay,” you smile.

That's the only heated kiss you share at the party, because according to Jisung if he kisses you like that again he won’t be able to stop. He takes you around and introduces you to Changbin’s roommate Hyunjin. Standing in the living room you watch Jisung play beer pong with Hyunjin. You’re standing next to him close. Whenever he isn’t taking his turn he has his arm around your waist holding you close to him. You watch the game but you also pay attention to what is happening in the room. You watch a Changbin head upstairs and about ten minutes later you watch a girl head up into the off limits area where Changbin still is. You notice Chan sitting on the couch next to Bambi. She seems like she’s sad but Chan is holding her hand running his thumb across her hand as he leans in talking to her. 

Jisung catches you off guard as he leans and presses his lips to your neck for a kiss. You could get used to having him kiss and hold you like this all the time. 

Jisung and Hyunjin win their game and soon you’re sitting on the couch right next to Jisung. His arm is over your shoulder holding you close. Chan and Bambi are now talking about something in the kitchen. Jisung leans over and whispers in your ear, “the party has died down. I think Chan can handle it, if we leave.”

“Take me home then.” He jumps up from the couch and tells you he needs to tell Chan he is leaving. 

You walk down the street hand and hand heading towards your apartment. Once you’re in your apartment you lead him straight towards your room. You don’t think your roommate is home, but you don’t want to risk running into her. Jisung shuts the door, locking it behind him. 

Without thinking you step away from him and start removing your clothes. Jisung watches you carefully as you strip down to your bra in underwear. “You’re beautiful,” he says as he starts to remove his own clothes. He left standing in front of you in a pair of gray boxer briefs that are already starting to tent from his excitement. He moves so he’s sitting on the edge of your bed. You walk over standing in front of him. He reaches out pulling you down so you’re straddling his hips. You feel his cock harden as your panty cover core brushes against his erection. You tangle your fingers in his hair as your lips meet for a searing kiss. His hand grips your hips, rolling body closer to his. With each thrust you receive enough friction to relieve some of the tension. Gasp passes your lips with a practical hard thrust.

He stills your body from moving again. He runs his fingers under the seam at the top of your underwear. “Can we take these off?” 

You crawl off him quickly removing both your underwear and bra. You’re left standing in front of him completely bare. The way he is staring at you does nothing but boost your confidence. You crawl back on his lap. His hungry hands run across your bare body. His lips connect to your throat and he leaves a trail of wet kisses up until he reaches your breast. He latches on to one of your nipples sucking while the other hand massages your other breast. Lean back and roll your hips into his. Your clit nudges against this underwear cover erection earning a moan. He removes his lips from your skin and looks into your eyes as he helps you roll your hips. Who knew humping Jisung like this would be so addicting. You continue to roll your hips into him until he’s practically throbbing under you. With each thrust you feel the coil in your stomach tighten. If you could just get a little more you would fall apart moaning his name. 

He grabs your hips, stilling your motion completely. “If we don’t stop this I’m going to blow in my underwear, and I would prefer our first time doesn’t start that way.”

You smile nodding your head. You crawl off his lap and he stands up quickly.

“Get on the bed baby, while I take my underwear off.” Once he's fully naked you can’t help but be in awe of his naked form. His beautiful slim waist is on display, and his cock is absolutely beautiful. It’s the perfect length and it curves up slightly. His head is rosy pink and there’s a vein on the side. One time you’re going to have to take time to fully explore it and taste him.

Crawling back on your bed you stare at a very naked Jisung standing at the foot of your bed. His bottom lip is captured between his teeth as he watches you carefully. Everything between you has finally led up to this moment.

“Jisung?” 

“Yeah baby?”

“Are you going to be my boyfriend after this?” you ask as he crawls onto the bed slowly. This probably isn’t the best time to be asking him this but you need to know. You don’t think you could handle being casual with Jisung, you like him too much to keep your heart out of this.

He’s silent as he sits on his hunches between your spread legs. He reaches for your hand helping you sit up so you’re directly in front of him. “I wanted to ask you out officially when we weren’t naked, but it seems like you beat me to the punch.” He takes your face in his hands. His thumb drags along your bottom lip gently. 

“So you want to be my boyfriend?” You can’t help but smile staring into his warm eyes.

“You’re the only girl I would leave with and willingly let Changbin use my room to fuck someone all night.” You can’t help the little laugh that leaves your lips at the fact Jisung willingly gave up his room for the night for Changbin to finally get the girl he’s been chasing for months.

“You’re a good friend Jisung.”

He shakes his head smiling, “I don’t want to talk about Changbin or anyone else anymore. I only want to think about you the rest of the night.” His hand leaves your cheek and rests on the side of your neck. His thumb gently brushes the column of your neck. You’ve never had anyone choke you while having sex, but the way he’s touching you now you wonder what it would be like. Your lips part silently and a soft barely audible moan passes your lips. His eyes go wide for a moment before a grin plays across his lips. “Does my favorite girl like to be choked?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had anyone ever try before.”

“Oh,” he gently puts a little pressure on your throat. Your eyes instantly close as soft gasp passes your lips. His hand stays on your throat as he leans forward and presses his lips to yours for a searing kiss. “Did you like that baby?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He removes his hand from your throat and you lay down on the bed again with him still between your spread legs. “Do you have condoms?” he asks with his hand rubbing your thigh. Without saying a word you reached into your nightstand and pulled out the box you bought after you told Jisung you would go to his house party. When you offered to come to his party fully planned on sleeping with him. You pulled out a row of three foil packets handing them to him. He smiles, tearing one off. “Does this mean you expect at least three rounds?” 

“I will take anything you can give me,” you’re trying really hard to be bold.

Tearing the foil packet open with his teeth he slides the rubber down his length and it’s not long before he's running his cock through your wet folds. You gasp as his head makes contact with your swollen and sensitive clit.

“Next round I’ll pick a more fun position, but the first time you come on my cock I want to have the best view of you below me,” there’s something about these dirty words coming out of his mouth that drives you wild. 

He pushes into you slowly, his broad head nudges the soft parts inside you in the best way possible. Your hand immediately talons into his shoulder, and you hook one of your legs over his thin waist resting right above his tight ass. He stills completely inside you, and gives you a smile before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours for another searing kiss. This one is sloppier than any other kiss you have shared before. He’s kissing you like he needs to breathe that he can’t get enough of you, and truth be told you can’t get enough of him either. Your other hand roams his beautiful back. He puts all his weight on one hand and ever so gently rests the other on the base of your throat. Your eyes are lust filled as you stare at him. Gently he puts a little pressure on his throat earning a moan from you. Your lips part with the more pressure he applies. 

“We’re gonna experiment more with this next round. I think round two you might have to ride me while I hold your pretty throat,” if you weren’t already soaking wet below you would be after that statement.

He removes his hand and places both his hands next to your head. You realize he hasn’t left you once. His cock is still being held snugly between your walls. “Baby, how do you like it?”

“Not too fast but firm.” You think back to your past experience when inexperienced guys thought if they jackhammered their hips fast enough that's all they had to do.

“Perfect,” he groans slowly, pulling out of you. He thrust into you firmly filling you to the hilt again. You moan at the feeling of his broad head dragging in and out of your entrance. He keeps the perfect pace that isn’t really fast but it’s not slow, but each of his thrust are firm. Your hand that was taloned to his shoulder has now tangled in his long locks. His soft lips lock on to the side of your neck leaving a trail of open mouth kisses occasionally nipping at the skin. You know there is no way your throat walks away from this without at least one mark. He licks the sensitive skin on your neck before sucking on the skin. Moaning his name like a prayer you can’t get enough of him. He’s clearly obsessed with your neck, and you won’t complain about that.

“Are you marking me?” you moan.

He pulls away from your neck smiling down at you as he gives you one particular hard thrust earning a moan from you. “Should I mark you up, so people know what happened tonight?” He never came off possessive before tonight, but you think he’s caught up in the heat of the moment. Months and months of flirting have finally come to a head tonight. 

“You don’t have to mark me up so people know I’m yours. Jisung I’m all yours all you had to do was ask.”

His warm eyes stay locked on yours as he thrust into you again and again. “You’re only mine, and I belong fully to you,” he moans, thrusting hard. 

“Only mine,” you moan back, hooking your other leg around his waist pulling him even closer to you. You hold his beautiful face in your hands as he stares into your soul thrusting. 

Each firm thrust he gives you your stare into his warm eyes. The way his lips part with each beautiful moan that passes his lips is something you never want to forget. Tangling your fingers in his hair you bring your lips closer to yours. Your nose bumps as you breathlessly gasp his name. You lift your hip trying to meet his thrust. “Stay still,” he groans. “Let me do the work. I just want to admire your body.”

Smashing your lips into his, you kiss him through each thrust.  You moan into the kiss feeling the coil in your stomach tightening. 

Leaning back you expose your neck to him. He leans forwards kissing your neck again. Open mouth kisses are placed as he moans your name into your skin. His cock is dragging against just the right spot inside you. Each drag hits that special spot right inside you that causes your toes to curl. Moaning his name loudly you finally find your release. Your walls contract around his hardened length. 

“Baby you feel so good falling apart. You’re squeezing me with that tight pussy,” he groans with a few sloppy thrust. 

You release your legs and your fingers crawl across his back. You reach low, resting your hands right as his ass pulling him closer to you. He comes moaning your name loudly riding out his high with slow thrust. 

He rolls onto the bed next you laying on his back trying his hardest to slow down his breathing. He removes the condom and ties it off. He pulls your pilant body so you’re spooning with him. You’re pressed closely to him. His hand gently rubs your side as he presses his lips to your bare shoulder. 

“So is being choked a new thing for you?” he asks, breaking the silence. 

Closing your eyes you feel suddenly embarrassed for what just happened. “I hadn’t ever been choked before tonight.”

He pushes your hair away from your ear and leans forward with his lips brushing against his ear. “I wasn’t kidding when I said round two you’re riding me while I choke you.”

You take this as your chance to be bold and roll your hips back against his softened cock. “I see you like that idea.”

“I do but I have a question for you.”

“What’s your question baby?” He kisses your shoulder again. 

“When is my boyfriend taking me out?”

He moves so he’s hovering over you again. He leans down pressing his lips towards for a heated kiss. “Give me a good twenty four hours to explore your beautiful body and see if you have any other kinks you want to explore and then I’m gonna take you out.” 

You quickly learned Han Jisung was a man of his word. It wasn’t long before you rode him while he choked you, and then round three took place in the shower. 

Laying in bed with Jisung you can’t help but smile. Everything between you has led up to this and you couldn’t be happier you’re finally with him. 

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐈 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈'𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧.

a lot of people asked to be tagged but when I tried tagging you your username wouldn’t come up.

@caroline-ds-world @hiseu @palecoffeeruins @laylasbunbunny @goquokka  @questiontotheanswer @avaskz @eunoia-kth  @straykisz @kosmoskookie @changbinscypher @planetdemon @ifhyunline @minaamhh​  @goodnightlittleme​

[hellsfirekeepsyouwarm]

All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 2

Oh hello there! I'm finally done with the second part, the last few day i constantly fell asleep while rereading and editing, so there will bee errors. For sure. Happy reading! Also I have no idea where I'm going with this so bear with me.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood-injuries-torture, weapons, Graves being annoying. I guess spoiler for MW2, absolutely inaccurate plotline, it's impossible for Graves to be with us in this fic, but here we are 😁

Summary: Ghost gathered the whole team for a rescue mission that's the most important job he's ever done. A mission he can't fail.

Weapons. Check. Flash and frag. Check. Knives. Check. Rage. Check. Bloodthirst. Double check.

"Lieutenant!....Ghost?" Johnny's thick annoying Scottish accent seeps into his thoughts. When Simon looks at him he seeing the usual determination laced with a mouthful of concern. "What's the plan?"

Simon steals a glance at the nearby table, the blueprint of a makeshift mercenary base taunting him with it's lines, providing endless possibilities of a place to hold you hostage. If you are even behind those walls. He has no plan, at least a sane one. His plan is to march in there killing every man he's up against until he finds you.

He's a soldier damnit, he should communicate, but he has nothing to say. He can't fucking lead this mission, if he does, it'll fail miserably, and they'll all die while doing so.

Simon looks at Price, his face hiding behind the smoke of his cigar. A silent plead, the one Price never witnessed before. Not from Simon anyway.

Simon needs to give the lead away, to someone else, someone who he can rely on. He would trust Price with his own life, so yours is in perfect hands. His only goal is to reach you, and he can't do that while making sure everyone is in their place, following orders.

Price gestures for everyone to gather around him when Gaz finally steps in the room, completing 141 with all members. Except you.

Price shifts his eyes around the table, acknowledging all the eyes locked at him before starting the briefing. "This is our only lead, i don't have to emphasize how important this operation is. Approximately 67 hours have passed since the kidnapping, we get proof of life every 24 hours, that means we get a new update in 5 hours. In that time period our move is to infiltrate the building, find her, and exfil. This has to be done in complete stealth, in and out. With our last member."

Simon zones out, his mind flowing with Price's words. He can't think about anything but what horrible things you might go through at the moment. He remembers too well of his own terrors of captivity, the mere idea of the same brutality happening to you twisting his insides. He feels psychically sick, the required food and liquid that gives him energy turns upside down in his stomach.

He sees blood red, injuries, tears and dirt, body in agony, spirit broken constantly behind his lids when he closes his eyes. The faint breath when the camera was close enough to your bruised face.

Gaz is asking about Laswell, Soap is demanding action and in that moment Simon can't find comfort even in Price's confident voice.

He's gonna go insane.

In this line of work, this isn't knew. Held captive, being a prisoner of war, torture, interrogation. He's gone through all of them and more, and he's fucking frightened that it's happening to you as he stands there amongts his friends and brothers. Free, feeling the soothing heaviness of his weapon, gear strapped around his body, full with adrenalin in a healty and unharmed vessel. At this moment, you don't have any of that. And he knows how much you must hate it. He has seen you going through that while healing from that nasty chest wound months back.

That faithful bullet near your heart was everything for him. A breaking point, the end of the world, an invisible force pushing him towards you. That bullet made him sit beside your hospital bed, saying silent prayers to whatever higher power that can help you breath life back into you. That bullet made him confess his feelings, openly, withouts distractions and detours. He said you mean everything to him, and he was happy that you lived to hear him say those words. He never ever will regret anything he said, more like regretting not saying more.

He needs air. He needs to get it together before he lunges into a possible suicide mission. He leaves the room without a second look, or a word to his teammates.

Breath Simon, just fucking breath, the mantra repeating itself in his brain.

The air is fresh, but it's stained with the scent of iron. He feels the smell of blood in his nose non-stop, he's certain it's just him, just his head taunting, laughing. You couldn't simply protect her, you swore to keep her safe, and how that turned out? At this point, he can't trust his own mind, everything in his head is altered from agony and wrath.

Mind switching from shame of feeling bad for himself to the guilt of his part in this shitshow. In one moment he's gnawing himself for ever letting his guard down, letting himself to be comfortable enough to be able to be found by Graves, in the other his whole head is filled with your shallow breath in that video. He's eating his own mind up, running in circles, consuming his good parts, leaving nothing but a white skull behind. A ghost with nothing and everything to lose.

*

"Do you remember that day?" You scoff. It's ridiculous to have this conversation with Graves. So light, so casual. Everything feels surreal.

You aren't tied to a chair, your limbs are free to move, in fact, you could simply run for fucking freedom. But you know better, the room is already crowded with Graves's men, the hallway was full of them, to be honest you saw at least 20-30 men since the blindfold was lifted from your face. And after mentally noting your minor but painful injuries, you are certain you have no chance to just run for if, most likely that's why you aren't restrained in the first place.

"i was occupied with a bullet in my chest you know." You can't help but sound bitter.

He smiles, a smile you saw millions of times back in the day, when you considered him a partner, an important person in your life. This body is just the vessel that is familiar, the man you knew is gone for a long time now. You aren't hurt anymore, you passed that months ago, but you see on his face he's not done with whatever he harboured from your shared past.

"Yeah, sorry I forgot." Fucking piece of shit.

"So what now Graves? You are hurt 'cuz the blast did not kill you at the end, and you have to live looking like fucking Quasimodo? What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

You are fed up. Fuming. What's his point? Revenge? Maybe, he was never the vengeance kind of guy. Soldier's aren't like that. But he's not a soldier anymore, is he?

"When I stepped on your front porch, I knew I'll find someone inside. Someone who isn't Riley. Fuck, i was prepared for any other 141 member despite i deemed Riley way smarter than that. But shit, finding you snuggled up in his bed." He smiles with venom, enjoying and hating his words at the same time. "When did that happen Darling?"

"Urghhhh. Holy shit Graves, that's what you really care about?" You bury your face in your hands, not feeling the need to watch his every move. He is still cocky and arrogant. You giggle with a wince when you graze a deep cut on your jawline. "Shit, are you jealous?"

His face breaks into a grimace. He stands up from his spot, after hours of not moving from the chair in front of you, talking your ear off with threats and pointless words. He stops in front of you, so close it sends a chill down on your back. His breaths fans over your ear when bends down next to your face. "Don't worry, he seen everything that happened to you." He suddenly halts in his words, for a dramatic pause, or something else you don't know, but it's way more unnerving than anything he has done so far. "In fact, he's already here to save your ass. Let's find out how prepared he is."

No way. It does sound possible and completely impossible altogether. If Simon is here, he's here for you, bit he might not be prepared for a trap they lured him in. And he will be march through the door with Soap on his side, undoubtedly. And if they do, this asshole will have everything he wants in one place.

Graves backs away, eyeing you up and down, looking at his work proudly, eyes glinting with anticipation.What can you possibly do to help Ghost and stay alive while doing so?

"Oh I know that look. Don't think too much darling, your head will hurt. You can't do shit." You feel dizzy, head throbbing, pain raging inside your skull. You feel more and more disoriented. You lose focus for a moment, and that's enough to lose him from your sight. The next thing you know, you almost fall over with the chair, Graves's arms the only support you have, his body pressed harshly against you without shame, invading your senses with his presence. You hear his voice close, too close.

"Everything you feel now is just the start. Get yourself comfortable on this chair, memorize every tiny detail of this room, count the steps you hear outside of the door." He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your scalp in an attempt to get your full attention on him in between you losing and regaining consciousness. "I'll wait for your precious lieutenant to make an appearance, so I can lead him to this very same chair your pretty ass is sitting on, show him the wood drenched with your blood before I serve your head on a golden plate."

He lets you fall back in place, only your lucky landing of your legs keeping you upright on the chair. Your body is exhausted, battling with the pain and adrenaline. You are going to pass out at some point, and you are oh so fucked if you do.

"When he arrives, he'll bring your precious team, right to my front door. Every one you is going to die here. You'll be the first one."

"What do you think will happen if you kill me Philip? Hm?" He stops midway to the door, his back stiff, muscles twitching underneath the vest. The burn scars apparent on the back of his neck, probably snaking down to his torso. "Are you even capable to murder me Phil?"

He stays rooted, just standing there, waiting for you to go on. Or to be silent. His next move is depending on what you are about to say, how far you are willing to go. "I have known you for years. I worked, lived with you, i watched you take down enemies from distances that no one ever thought about doing. You trying to make me believe you couldn't do the same from a neighboring building with clear sight? Aimed at chest when you had a perfectly fine vision on my head? I bet you didn't relized i don't have a vest on, am i right? You can't feed me this bullshit Philip. I know you too much to believe it."

Maybe his men believes this tale, hell he might forced this truth on himself too, but you are no fool. And his quick steps out of the room proves you hit the nail on the head.

*

Taglist: @galagcica @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @afro-hispwriter @cabreezer0117 @5seastar @v-v-x-x @multitargaryen

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Losing my religion - Hail Holy Queen

@sorisooyaa I had sworn that none of this would ever see the light of day, but as a payment for your beautiful talent and excellent work...Here is the first chapter of the abomination.

Words: 1,5k

Characters: Lucifer, Michael, Shirel, Emmanuelle

Warnings: blasphemy, reference to sexual assault

“Lucifer,” Chloe had said, her eyes full of pity, the last time he had managed to see her without upsetting the whole plan they had previously agreed upon, “don’t you think it’s time to let him out?”

“I do not think so. Who knows what terrible plans he’s going to set in motion this time?”

Now, as he repeated his doubts to his most loathed prisoner, Lucifer was still not convinced that his beloved had not woefully underestimated the resentment undying beings could harbour.

Michael sneered at his twin in disgust. “Not up for a deal, brother? Do you really enjoy my being here so much?”

Lucifer’s eyes took on a wicked gleam; this certainly had gotten his attention. “All right! If anyone was to miss you—really miss you—and call on you, you may go. Under my supervision, of course!”

This seemed like a fair condition to him, and he would get to spend some time on earth once more, maybe even getting a moment to pop in on Chloe without letting their daughter see him.

A frustrated bellow interrupted his musings rather unceremoniously though and he frowned in annoyance.

“You can say that,” Michael grunted, “you, whose gift has been delivered—even now she’s alive and loving you, smug as ever—only because Amenadiel was apparently the better messenger, not even because you deserved it.”

The thought of Chloe’s staying hand on his chest thankfully prevented a highly unproductive brawl before it could even break out; Lucifer had sworn to her that he would try his best to come to an agreement with his brother and he would not be side-tracked by their shared tendency to sabotage their best opportunities at finding even a quantum of happiness.

“Maybe,” Lucifer drawled with a sharp smile, “if you hadn’t lost track of yours, you’d be sure that someone was praying for and to you, don’t you think? And that, brother mine, is a state of things entirely of your own doing.”

“Shir!”

Emmanuelle strode towards her oldest friends—hands outstretched pleadingly—through the brightly lit gallery; she had not been sure whether Shirel would even come here.

“What is this about? The wing for religious art, really Manu?” that self-same friend whispered as if afraid to raise her voice to an audible level in the presence of ideas she had renounced a long time ago. She had been particularly unafraid as a child—confident in her faith—but since then, many things had changed and Shirel was but a shadow of her former self nowadays.

Shrugging, Emmanuelle clasped Shirel’s hands to keep her from retreating—they were cold and stiff, and, for a moment, her own conviction faltered.

“I need your help, Shir,” she said. “We got a new painting in, and…I don’t know what to make of it. All I do know is—that it’s insane.”

Her gaze flew over the petrified features of a woman she had known all her life; once upon a time—long before she had accepted this job at the old Museum—she and Shirel had spent blissful afternoons here, staring at the antique paintings in wordless awe.

“Do you remember how we used to…” Emmanuelle’s fingers moved gracefully through the air and—despite her self-imposed years of silence—Shirel could hear the song her friend played on an invisible piano in her mind.

“That is a long time ago, Manu.”

“Nonetheless, Shir, you…you are the only one I trust with this. You won’t think I am crazy.” Emmanuelle pleaded, tugging her friend forward under the benevolent eyes of the Holy Virgin, smiling indulgently down at their struggle from every other canvas.

“Manu!” Shirel groaned, digging her heels into the worn wooden floor. “Manu, stop. Please, let’s not go back there—I’ve left all of this behind, you know?”

Then, in a softer voice, she added, “It was fake after all. Heaven and Hell are empty—and there is no such thing as angels!”

Desperate, Emmanuelle stooped to a level she had sworn not to fall to; she hummed the first few bars of an old hymn they both knew well.

The weary, pained gaze in Shirel’s hazel eyes made her flinch, but she didn’t desist.

As young girls—in another life—they’d stay hidden away in this wing until it was almost closing time; the old building had marvellous acoustics and they’d always have enough time for one resounding song before rushing down the stairs, out of breath with laughter, to make it to the last bus taking them home in time.

Back then, Emmanuelle had believed that their whole life would be like that; she was still convinced that the paintings glowed whenever Shirel’s voice—silver bells and sweet honey—caressed their worn vellum. Yes, even now, Emmanuelle had faith in Shirel’s destiny, even if she herself had decided to turn away from it.

Compelled by the ancient memories and the hopeful smile of her friend, Shirel capitulated and joined in the song—feeling her voice soar on invisible wings made her heart feel all the heavier, but she pushed through and simply closed her eyes.

“You’ve still got it,” Emmanuelle whispered in an awed voice as the last notes faded out; all around her, the faces of the Saviour’s mother glowed as if lit from within and a surge of a happiness she had almost forgotten prickled in her fingertips.

“Don’t start, Manu,” Shirel pleaded under her breath, prying one eye open and sighing deeply. “My mother was—disturbed. She’s not really heard an angel announcing the imminent conception of a girl-child to her; life is not some weird biblical musical!”

“I am so sorry that you truly stopped believing in the miracle of your conception.”

“There was no miracle, please believe me!” Shirel put a shielding hand over her burning eyes. “Mum…she was a lonely woman—God knows she has only tried to make herself feel better for having a child of wedlock.”

“Shir, your parents ended up getting married and your voice is a miracle, no matter what you say…”

Shirel’s face hardened into a mask of pain and rejection. “My voice is nothing special…”

Emmanuelle wanted to protest, but she didn’t dare; for years, they had sung in churches and museums, and they had been so convinced that this was their calling and their destiny—people from far and wide had come to listen to Shirel sing the praise of the Lord.

And then, just like that—everything had changed.

A dark alley, a secluded spot…when they had found Shirel, her voice had been hoarse with screaming and crying for help. Nobody had heard. Nobody had come.

On that fateful night, as she opened her eyes in a sterile hospital bed, Shirel had decided to abnegate her faith and—what was worse—to silence that precious song of hers. Nowadays, she worked in a home for deaf students where nobody knew or missed that voice that had betrayed her so.

“Let me show you the painting,” Emmanuelle said, changing the subject. “You might recognise him.”

She led her friend by the hand to a narrow door, almost invisible in the dark panelling of the wall. “Here.”

As soon as Shirel’s eyes had adjusted to the low light after the brightly lit gallery, she gasped.

“As if,” she scoffed, breathing more freely now that she was beyond the searching gaze of the Mother Mary. “I see we’ve moved past the many eyes and arms and wings.”

“So, you do recognise him?” Emmanuelle asked—full of faith and hope once more—as she gestured towards the oddly compelling painting depicting two men standing on either side of a flaming sword.

“These are actually two…” Shirel cut herself off. “You know what? Never mind. There is no way either one of them looks like that! They’re not real, so what does it matter?”

“You once thought they were,” Emmanuelle said almost accusingly. “And there is something so strange about this piece of art—don’t you feel that?”

Shirel did feel it, but she refused to be dragged back into a delusion that had broken more than just her heart. “Manu, the angels I told you about…those were imaginary friends—maybe, I am not so unlike my poor, disoriented mother after all. All those stories? Puerile fantasy—I am so sorry, but it was never…”

She shrugged dismissively.

“Look me in the eye,” Emmanuelle demanded stubbornly, “and tell me that you don’t know who that is!”

Shirel had done many things in her life that she was not proud of, but she was not about to betray her friend in such an unforgivable way.

“My heart and mind are now closed to such revelations,” she mumbled instead, evading the question, “and whatever I might think is just the intuition of a broken soul.”

“Have you ever seen him—them—before?”

“Well yes,” Shirel chuckled mirthlessly. “They’re the reason heaven and hell have felt empty to me.”

So, there it is :)

Thank you for your creativity, my beloved baby :D

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 158 Rundown

Spy X Family: So the season starts out with a banger as Yor gets shot in the butt and has to avoid doing butt stuff. Loid thinks she’s just in a really bad mood like that episode of Ed Edd and Eddy where Ed gets a rock stuck in his shoe, I do think it’s fun that the two immediately think they did something wrong whenever anything happens, like they’re basically always off but it’s quite considerate in their own ways. I feel like this could’ve been solved if Yor just said she threw out her back lifting boxes at work but then we wouldn’t have an episode and it’s a comedy so it’s alright. But yeah Yor eventually drinks some poison from one of her enemies that ends up solving her butt troubles (this is way funnier because we’re talking about Yor’s butt instead of her back or anything) and Anya has to stop the guy from building a bomb, somehow reading his mind about how to build it and doing it before he has a chance to even get there and setting up several Satoko Hojo-level traps along the way, no clue how the timeline of that works but point being it’s pretty awesome and she scares the guy off. Yor’s feeling better (until the morning at least) and they have a nice date where Anya finally stops tailing them and just fucking crashes it. I also kinda like that Yor has an immunity to poisons from her job as an assassin and Yuri basically became Shizuo Heiwajima from eating her cooking all his life so like it runs in the family but for two separate reasons. Seems like we’re back to the light stuff with mild idiot plots for comedy after the back half of season 1 had several heavier arcs in a row, personally I like more of the ones that at least make some logical sense and take up a whole episode as opposed to the ones that are half an episode with the clearly telegraphed gags and this one was probably half and half.

Inuyasha: So Naraku’s sitting there like ‘okay that was definitely Kikyo’s arrow that nearly killed me so she’s still alive so let’s smoke her out real quick before she keeps this shit up’. Kohaku’s doing his best to pretend to still be a coma victim and not reveal he’s regained his memories but Naraku and Hakudoshi are sharp enough they’ve probably already figured it out because despite not disobeying them he’s not doing great hiding his emotions or anything. Inuyasha goes to look for Kikyo but doesn’t find her and because Kagome can’t take that on faith despite her supposed character development last time she gives him like five Sits for no reason only for everyone to complain about how she’s being mistreated. Usually I love Kagome but this is something that happens throughout the series where the girls are abusive and sometimes it’s more warranted than others but sometimes it’s just for nothing and it’s a little psychotic, like I get it’s for comedy and like half the time it’s filler stuff the anime snuck in to add more gags to a scene because from what I know the manga supposedly does have the characters get less abusive towards each other as things go on and relationships progress and they have less of their gag spats. So yeah on to the main plot, Hakudoshi and Kohaku unleash a plague of Demon Rats on the world and like they steal the Infinite Rat Box from its master and just kinda… leave it open? Like idk why the Rat Master wasn’t doing that to begin with since there seems to be no downside to havening infinite rats but I guess he was rather weak and didn’t want to draw attention to himself or have someone destroy the box. It’s actually a moment where Miroku gets to be MVP because destroying them only makes more rats so he gets to play Human Vacuum Cleaner and suck them up since Naraku doesn’t have enough Saimyosho to give the whole rat horde an escort I guess. It’s kind of funny because Kohaku brings up this being how to smoke Kikyo out and Hakudoshi’s like ‘oh right that’s what we were doing, I was just having fun unleashing plagues on the world’ like he fucking forgot the mission and was just enjoying being rat boi. Kikyo’s smarter than that though and finds a way to lure the rats out without giving herself away and creates a big fuck off spirit tree for them all to climb while Inuyasha and Kagome head to the tree and Sango and Miroku try to find the Infinite Rat Box now that the stream is more focused. Sango eventually finds Kohaku in front of the box as he’s contemplating if saving the five guys the rats haven’t killed yet is worth blowing his cover with Naraku (it’s not) and Sango gets to play the ‘I have to kill Kohaku even though I decided last time it was best to let him live’ game for like the fifth times because character development in this series is a sequence of small circles.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke meets with Yomi and his proposal is one that’s kind of beautiful in its simplicity, and also the most Yusuke thing that could’ve happened: he wants to have another tournament. This time the winner will be the ruler of Demon World no questions asked and it simultaneously stops a bloody war and dissolves all the complicated allegiance shit Mukuro and Yomi had been planning, like Yusuke just snapped Game of Thrones in half and made it into DBZ and it’s kinda great. The beautiful thing about it is Demon World is a Might Makes Right place so if any of the kings refuse to participate they’ll look weak, Yusuke wrapped them in the Chains of Command without even trying. Kurama breaks off ties with Yomi to fight on his own side (not sure how that’ll affect him being blackmailed into his mom being murdered but we’ll see I guess) and Yomi eventually agrees too though he’s secretly hedging his bets with his kingdom’s fighters fighting in his name, while also growing his own little Meruem/Cell child that’s supposed to be ridiculously strong to cheat more. Still, a bunch of Raizen’s old sparring partners come to visit his grave and tell Yusuke about how they live more peacefully now after seeing Raizen literally die to avoid killing humans and Yusuke gets a measure of respect for him in  a way you only can by learning about how someone else sees someone you know, so that’s pretty cool even if Raizen’s backstory is still the stupidest shit. The power levels of all Raizen’s old drinking buddies doing a Half Blood Prince ending into the air gives Yomi and Yomi Jr. battle boners and they both decide to only go in for themselves after all. I can see why people would be mad about what was set up as a big convoluted Pirates of the Carribean arc of allegiances just turning into another Tournament arc but I kinda love it, like the power of Yusuke’s big dumb pride and confidence overthrowing centuries of ridiculous plotting and scheming is pretty cool.  

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo and Geto beat their big fights from the cliffhanger off-screen and are formally introduced to Riko who’s a bit of a chunni but I guess that’s kinda how you have to do this kind of character, like if you’re sending a demure quiet girl to her death it’s kinda both more sad because she’s just accepting it but also less sad because she makes less of an impact so this is probably how it has to be by writing law. Megumi’s dad’s just bumming around gambling on random shit, he seems to be trying an Arkham City approach and waiting for everyone else to bombard Gojo and Geto with assaults so they get tired and have divided attention but they seem to be literally having no problem with anyone and literally made a big criminal organization go defunct off-screen. Still we get a neat little fight of Geto owning an old man and Riko’s maid crushing a paper bag man’s dick with a mop so that’s fun, plus Gojo uses his still incredibly undefined powers to own the rest of paper bag man’s clones though he shows he hasn’t fully mastered the big kamehameha thing yet so he’s stuck on Almighty Push and Almighty Pull mode, also Riko’s maid has been kidnapped so uhh yeah that’s not good.

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off: So… Scott’s dead, short series right? The mini-boss guy is for some reason surprised that turning a guy into coins doesn’t make Ramona want to date him and kinda kills the party vibe but I guess you don’t self-identify as evil and devote yourself to stalking a single girl you dated for two weeks in high school by having social skills. Ramona dyes her hair a new color and heads over to Scott’s funeral where Knives Out is kinda mad about her being there since while she didn’t really have anything to do with his death she is the manic pixie ignition switch that got him punched into coins so she has a full Gorillaz makeover to show how angry she is. Also Envy Adams is there and she’s a model I’m guessing based on the billboards but also Scott’s ex and a weird Ragyo Kiryuin knockoff because she has an entourage and sparkles everywhere. Also I’m noticing that you kind of have to use someone’s full name whenever they mention someone like you use their first and last name even when they know who you’re talking about. Anyway Envy upstages a fucking funeral and for some reason they had an open casket funeral just to show off the fucking coins Scott got turned into so yeah it’s a fucking shitshow. The Evil Exes all get invited to their own lair and #1 is like ‘hey bro I just killed the protagonist so I should be in charge’ and #7 is just like ‘fuck you bro get out of here with your midboss vibes’ and also apparently one of them is dating Envy? Like if you’re currently dating someone why are you in an self-proclaimed evil league to win back another separate girlfriend? Is dating in-universe Lady Gaga just an automatic poly relationship? Anyway Gideon and Matt fight and they do this cool Tekken/Soul Calibur stage transfer thing where each part of the fight is in a different thematic location and both of them equally look like they’re fucking up at various points but Matt has magic Stand User cheerleader girls and Gideon’s… kinda good with swords I guess? So yeah, Stand Powers win and Gideon signs Kaibacorp over to Matt so he can fully Starscream it up and fuck things up with his new leadership position and ungodly amounts of wealth that Gideon probably shouldn’t have agreed to wager over a fight, like betting the League was probably enough. Ramona’s probably a bit more broken up about a guy she knew for two days dying but she did kinda get him involved in some supervillain shit on accident and her having seven exes in her early twenties does suggest she’s the type of person to fall for people easily. So yeah we end the episode with a suggestion from right out of Futurama that Scott’s still alive and only the woman he loves can help find him, I’ve seen this one it turns out Ramona was in a coma and she got all the space bee venom while Scott lives with a hole in his gut.  

Ranking of Kings: Okay as much as I’ve been ragging on the filler season, this one does actually answer a question I’ve been looking forward to: finding out how Hilling assembled her squad and recruited Ann, like it still amounts to ‘fight bandits’ with just the names and places changing like one of those Radiant Quests in Skyrim like half the stories have been this season but yeah it’s cool to see more of Hilling’s backstory back when she was just the white mage of a Frieren-esque party and Ann is cool but it’s still not much to talk about. The second story is about Daida learning healing magic and finally getting the hang of it after pushing Bojji off a comedically well-hidden cliff that’s like five feet from where they were playing. I like the detail that Bojji was initially going to meet his snake friends since he was hissing to call snakes before Daida jumped him but yeah otherwise pretty paint by numbers and kinda makes the big reveal of Daida’s magic during the climax of last season less surprising given half the cast should already know he has it but okay.

Vinland Saga: Thorfinn and Einar get properly acquainted and honestly for being a slave it sounds like a prtty good deal, they get their own plot and get to sell off what they grow and they’re free once they earn more than they were sold for. Like the guy’s using slaves to expand his farm and I get you can’t really do that indefinitely without recouping costs somewhere and the land is completely untended and this may turn out to be way more impossible than it looks but still kinda on the boat that this is a very doable deal if there aren’t any surprises (there will almost certainly be surprises). Thorfinn’s about as talkative as he was as a kid so Einar doesn’t get much out of him except advice to keep his head down about some of the local assholes and Einar gets too much of a boner for one of the local girls to remember to tell them off so it all works out. Meanwhile we get introduced to the lord’s son who’s kind of a whiny jackass but they also do a decent job of showing things from his side and how the expectations put on him weigh on him and how everyone just seems him as an extension of his dad and he’s caught up in the warrior pride BS that Thorfinn was on back in the day, it’s a good combo of wanting to punch him in the face but understanding why he’s like that. Einar gives us the usual ‘war bad’ speech but most importantly he tells Thorfinn about how the Danes burned down his village and it gives him a chance to reflect on when he was doing the burning and pillaging.

[phantom-ellie]

The Art of (Smashing) Crockery Chapter 21: Elegy

Summary: Ed and Stede make bold choices. See how it works out for them.

Click here for CWs/Full Chapter List

The only cure for a raging hangover is further rage.

At least, that’s what Stede said after Ed had dropped him off at his hotel to get what he needed for his mother’s funeral. It was a quick ride back to the room for Ed to open up (though if Ed doesn’t actually open it up to the public for the day and plans for them to have the place to themselves, no one will know).

And thus, the fifteenth time Stede enters Blackbeard’s Breakery it is with a dress bag containing an expensive suit, sunglasses covering his eyes, and a plea to leave the lights off.

Ed has all the safety gear at the ready, but when Stede sees it he shakes his head.

“Have to wear the gear to rage, Stede.”

Stede sighs. “Can I just sit? In the room, instead?”

Ed scoops the goggles and other gear back into the bin. “You can do that, too. Music?”

“Something quiet. I just want to think.”

Stede makes his way in and sits down. After a few seconds he looks expectantly at the camera.

“Did you want me to join you, mate?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty awkward otherwise, isn’t it?” Ed chuckles and heads in. He hopes Stede has been thinking about things. He hopes they’re on the same page. Ed has never been more ready to take his life in any direction as he is now. His days of aimless existing are drawing to a close.

They find themselves sitting quietly on the ground in an empty room. It’s quiet, dark. Soft music plays through the speakers. Alive by Kisnou begins. Ed had fallen asleep to that song on repeat the previous night. It feels… right.

I will dive into you I’ll sail in this love that’s true

Ed smiles. “You know, I never expected my life to take a turn like this.”

Stede looks at him and smiles. “Has it? Taken a turn?”

Translucent waves Cover me oh beautiful In the waters of your grace

“Well, yeah. New friends, new future. Feelin’ new things, tryin’ new experiences. Feels good.”

“I know that… well, it feels good for me, too. Despite everything else. The new people part.” Stede’s ears turn red as they always do.”

I will dive into you I’ll swim in your ocean blue

“You know, you’ve got everything ahead of you, man. Your whole life. You don’t have to be afraid of change.”

“Yeah, well… these changes are maybe bigger than I hoped.” Stede stands up and stretches a bit. “But if I can weather this… maybe. You know?”

I’m alive in you Let your waters Dance over me

Ed smiles. “I know.”

Stede turns to him. “Ed, there’s… it’s hard being vulnerable… I’m worried I’m going to mess this up…”

This is where you set me free

Ed feels like a sledge, but instead of tiny, invisible huskies leading him, it’s those angels and demons both pulling him towards the man he loves. He isn’t sure what they want him to do, but he rises and stands close enough to smell Stede’s cologne, hints of orange and bergamot from the shampoo he’d used in the last hour, to see the flecks of green in Stede’s hazel eyes. Not just that, but the wanting. The yearning. Ed can almost see his own reflected back at him.

“I want to thank you for everything, Ed,” Stede says softly, almost at a whisper. “You’ve been by my side as everything has fallen apart… you’re the only reason I’ve held on at all. I’m so grateful for you.”

Stede’s smile is tired. His hand accidentally brushes Ed’s. The demons bring out little flamethrowers and incinerate the angels into hot ash and-

Fuck angels. Fuck Judeo-Christian metaphors.

Ed moves in for a kiss, as gentle of one as his libido will allow, and he feels like a wave crashing upon Stede’s shores at first. Stede gasps a little, for but a moment, but Ed feels the fluttering in his chest as the kiss is returned, as his faith in Stede is realized, as his trust in love is validated, as…

As Stede steps back with another gasp, panting. No, not panting.

Hyperventilating.

“Are you- was that okay?” Ed asks with worry.

“Ed… I’m sorry… I thought… why?” Stede isn’t meeting Ed’s eyes. The warmth from the moment goes cold.

“I’m so sorry Stede, I thought you wanted… you were just…” Ed is confused at Stede’s confusion, upset that Stede is upset, devastated that Stede is devastated.

“No… it’s… it’s okay Ed… it’s just…” Stede bursts into tears.

Ed hovers his hands around Stede’s shoulders, afraid to touch him. Can he comfort him? Will Stede comfort him back?

“It’s just… I trusted… I thought you accepted me for who I was.” Stede wipes his eyes.

“What? Stede, of course I do.”

“Ed, youkissedme, I told you I was straight and…” Stede sighs in frustration. His voice is quiet. “No one believes me. No one.”

“Stede… this is my fault. I’m sorry. I’ve had a crush on you and… I read the room wrong. Don’t…” Ed reaches out and Stede steps back.

“No… it isn’t you Ed… it’s me.” Stede takes another step towards the door. “I just can’t be who people need me to be.” Another step. “I can’t… I can’t be who you need me to be, Ed. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” Ed’s heart has dropped to the bottom of his feet. He feels everything crashing around him, the breaking of ceramic, smashing of glass, the splintering of wood, and the room is empty. Stede is at the door.

“I think I need to go now,” Stede practically whispers, backing out quietly, with fragility, as one does in the room of a dying relative.

“It’s going to…” Ed’s voice trails off. Stede is gone.

---

“Mary. You didn’t have to come.” Stede helps her out of her car, and Mary notices that he doesn’t bother to avoid the splash of water from the gutter on his suit pants.

“You can’t do this alone, Stede. She was your mother. And she was our children’s grandmother.” Alma and Louis spring out of the car and run onto the cemetery grass, laughing. Mary sighs and holds up her hands at them before turning to her husband.

“The children… did they want to come?”

“It doesn’t matter. This is something families do together.” Stede looks exhausted. Mary can’t imagine what losing his mother has done to him. They weren’t close to her, none of them were. But in a way, that can make things worse, she suspects.

“I didn’t think…”

“That we were still a family? Stede, I expect you at Thanksgiving, you know that? You still have children. We need to learn to co-parent.”

Stede nods and looks contrite. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m being bad at this again.”

His bowtie is crooked. Mary adjusts it.

“This is the last family funeral you have to go to, hmm? You won’t need to bother for your father. He doesn’t deserve a funeral.”

Stede gives a weak half-smile at that. “Mary… I intend to give a eulogy. For mom. Of course, I mean who else?”

“I thought you would. Your father okay with that?”

“He will not be okay with it. And you should make yourself and the kids scarce when I give it.” Stede sighs.

“You think he’ll get violent?”

Stede winces. “Probably not in front of this lot. But… it’s going to be a proper eulogy. An honest one.”

Mary nods. She is proud of Stede. He’s a terrible husband and father, sure. Annoying, definitely a coward. But he’s done a lot of brave things lately. He deserves to find happiness. Mary would like to think she wished he could be happy with her… but that would be a lie. She deserves better, too.

The funeral is dull, somber and sad, but not in the way a funeral should be. The sadness comes from the distinct lack of tears or real mourning from the attendees. It’s a group of old, soulless associates of the Bonnets, each of whom probably put more thought into the expensive outfits they would wear today than they have ever thought of Sarah Bonnet her whole life. People whispered about her, mocked her behind her back. She’d never defended herself, not even once. Meek and mild to the end. And while her obituaries would pin her cause of death on liver cancer, Mary knew that Sarah’s inability to stand up for herself or her son was the biggest cancer in her life.

Mary would be damned if she allowed the same to take her almost-ex-husband.

Even if he is a terrible husband and father.

Edward Bonnet’s eulogy for his late wife is short, perfunctory, a cold summation of their years of marriage. There is no show of emotion from him. That would be a weakness. Mary shudders imagining such an end to her own life. If this was all those who knew her could muster on her behalf. Stede wouldn’t… he won’t, anyway. He’ll be her ex-husband for a long time before she passes. And Doug? Doug will make Mary’s funeral light, beautiful, happy.

Mary hopes that when the time comes, there will be someone to give Stede the same. And it had better be a man this time.

When Edward Bonnet finishes his eulogy, Stede stands and approaches the microphone. He gets a scowl in return.

“What is it, Stede? We’re moving on.”

“I am her son. I would like to say a few words on her behalf.”

“I didn’t plan for-”

“Of course you didn’t. You won’t deny me to share something nice about my mother here, will you?” Stede gestures to the crowd, almost every member a person who Edward Bonnet respects or wants to respect him.

Mary takes the opportunity to tell Louis and Alma to go play in the grass.

“Fine. Make it quick.” He stalks away and Stede takes his place at the microphone.

“I would like to thank you all for coming. My mother would likely be surprised to see so many faces here, today.” Stede shuffles his notes. “So very little ever surprised Sarah Bonnet. She kept her feelings inside, where it was appropriate to hide them. She hid away from the world, believing it to be a cruel place.” He looks up at the crowd. “My mother was a victim of abuse. Physical abuse, emotional abuse, both at the hands of the people who should have loved her most.”

Edward uncrosses his arms from where he has been standing at the back of the tent. “That is a lie! How dare you besmirch your mother’s name like that!”

“Her parents, her husband. Men were not kind to her. Women were not kind to her. She had so much to offer, but the world was never ready to accept it. So she kept it hidden away. She kept herself hidden away, and taught her son to do the same.”

Edward stalks forward, “Of course you’re making this about you and your failures-”

“Father, if you are going to hit me again, I ask that you wait until we’re behind closed doors, like you used to.” Stede’s face is expressionless. He shuffles his speech cards. “No one stood up for her. That was your way. To stand by and allow it, because you respected my father, or were afraid of him. And your children learned from you. An army of soulless husks, draining the earth of joy with no love to replenish it.”

The crowd grumbles and people begin to leave. It is clear from Edward’s disapproval that they don’t need to pretend to listen to this speech, anyway.

Edward grabs the microphone. “Get out of here,now. I disown you. You are a disgrace. I wil lnever see you again.”

Stede doesn’t acknowledge him. He just continues without the microphone. Seats around Mary begin to clear.

“My mother and father taught me many things. The most important of which are what not to do.” Stede looks at Mary. “I wish I had learned those lessons sooner. I wish I had figured out how to live my life without harming others. I’m sorry. I’m sorry on behalf of myself, my mom, and my father, who will never be.”

Stede tosses the speech cards on the ground at his father’s feet and steps down from the stage. Edward reaches out for Stede’s collar and Stede bats his arm away and grabs his wrist.

“Don’t touch me. You don’t get to touch me anymore.”

Stede releases his father’s arm and approaches Mary. She smiles.

“I’m so proud of you, Stede.”

Stede nods, but doesn’t smile. His face is expressionless.

“Tell the kids I’ll be there for Thanksgiving, Mary.”

He puts his hands in his pockets and walks away.

---

Ed: Stede, I’m so sorry about yesterday. You had boundaries and I crossed them.

Ed: Talk to me?

Stede: It isn’t your fault. You are ok.

Stede: There’s a lot going on.

Stede: I just need to be alone.

Ed: Ok. Call me when you’re ready?

---

Post from the blog Hear Something Weird:

Toxic masculinity is bullshit. Elegy for bad rubbish.

Comments: TheRealWande: Everything okay man? Call me.

Chapter 22

[fr-martin-gospel-reflections]

26th May - ‘Go, make disciples of all nations’. Reflection on the readings for the Most Holy Trinity (Matthew 28:16-20)

Most Holy Trinity

When the children among us began their instruction in the faith, one of the first things they learnt is how to bless themselves. At this early stage, they often make the sign of the cross very carefully and deliberately. Without their realizing it, they are expressing their faith in the Trinity. It is good that we learn to make the sign of the cross so early in life, because we are baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. The mission the risen Lord gives to his disciples in today’s gospel reading, is, ‘Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations, baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you’. Whenever we make the sign of the cross, we are being reminded of our baptism. It can be a moment when we renew our baptism, our commitment to being the Lord’s disciples in the world today.

According to today’s first reading, ‘The Lord is God indeed… he and no other’. In other words, there is one God, not many gods. God is one. This was a core belief of the Jewish religion, a belief that Jesus, a Jew, shared. Yet, Jesus went on to reveal to us that if God is one, God is one community. God is not solitary. Jesus has shown us that within God there are loving relationships. The Father and the Son love one another with an infinite love and the fruit of their love is the Holy Spirit. Those loving relationships within God are so perfect that God remains one, not many. There is one communal life of love at the heart of God. The simplest statement about God in the New Testament is to be found in the first letter of Saint John, ‘God is love’. When we speak of God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we are spelling out that simple statement, ‘God is love’.

When you think of some truly loving people that you know, they always reach out towards others; they give of themselves to others; they help to draw people together. There is nothing closed about genuine human love. This is supremely true of God who is Love. If God is a community of love, it is not a closed community. God is always at work to draw us all into this community of the Father, Son and Spirit. We are baptized in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. In other words, we are baptized into the community of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. One writer spoke about the dance of love within God and of how God invites us all to be part of this dance.

God the Father created us in love and awaits us with the heart of a loving Father at the end of our life journey. It was out of love for us that God sent his Son into the world. In the words of John’s gospel, ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only Son’. Jesus is God the Father’s greatest gift of love to us. It was a costly gift, because the world put his Son to death. Jesus showed us what God the Father is like; he is like the father in the parable of the prodigal son, who loved his rebellious son unconditionally, whose love brought his son from death to life. Jesus showed us that God is Love not only by what he said but above all by all that he did. His act of bending down to wash the feet of his disciples at the last supper summed up his whole life, which was a life of self-emptying service of all, especially the broken in body, mind and spirit. The love within God burst forth upon the world through Jesus, through his life, death and resurrection.

Just as God sent his Son out of love for the world, God the Father and God the Son sent the Holy Spirit out of love for the world. The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of their love. It is through the Holy Spirit that the love within God enters into the depths of our hearts. In that sense, the Holy Spirit draws us up into the life of the Trinity, the life of love within God. This is what Paul is saying to us in today’s second reading. He declares there that the Spirit we have received makes us cry out, ‘Abba, Father!’ inspiring us to address God the Father in the same intimate way that Jesus addressed him. In other words, through the Holy Spirit we come to share in Jesus’ own relationship with God, becoming sons and daughters of God, brothers and sisters of Jesus. We don’t always appreciate this wonderful privilege; we doubt it could include us. It is said in the gospel reading that when the disciples saw the risen Lord, ‘they fell down before him, though some hesitated’. We hesitate before all that God wants to give us. Yet, if we can fall down before all God’s love is offering us, God will work through us to make disciples of others, in the words of today’s gospel reading,

[voltagesmutter]

The Second Cumming.

Fandom: Obey Me Pairing: Lucifer x MC x Diavolo, Satan x MC x Belphegor, Leviathan x MC x Simeon, Amso x MC, Asmo x MC x Solomon, Mammon x MC x Beelzebub. (Female MC). Warnings: Threesome’s, Female heat, Mild Dubcon, Voyeurism, Mild Exhibitionism, Toy use, Oral, vaginal, anal penetration. Squirting, Double Penetration, mild Yaoi, Polyamorous relationship. Notes: The Dickening Part 2. The biggest thank you to @theshove​ for having so much faith with me for this piece. Not only for your generous donation but also for beta-ing the whole piece within a day! And also to @theinariakuma​ for all your love and support. Also thank you to all those who donated for early release as well and all your wonderful feedback. 💛 Tagging: @starry-starry-night24​, @0-miles-away​, @pixiestick0924, @iloveobeyme, @ghoulgirlradio, @raymiazaki. 

“Just five more minutes,” she whined, pulling the red bed covers over her head.

“You said this five minutes ago, and five before that, and five before that,” a deep voice answered above the sound of metal hooks clinking as curtains were thrown open, letting light flood into the room.

“But Lucifer!” She whined once more in protest, squeezing her eyes shut, trying her best to attempt to block out the beams of light shining through the covers.

“No buts,” Lucifer huffed, attaching his cloak to his shirt in the golden framed mirror beside the bed. “You promised Solomon you would-“ The end of his sentence was cut off by the bedroom door being slammed wide open. 

“Lucifer! Beel ate my lizard custard slice!” Mammon came storming in, huffing with rage and disturbing the peace.

“Oh lord Diavolo give me strength,” Lucifer sighed as Beel came bounding in after him. 

“He took my money to gamble at that tournament! He owes me more than a lizard slice!” The ginger haired brother took a few paces into the room. 

“Lucifer, there’s no food! That big oaf must have eaten everything again in the night!” Satan tutted, walking straight into the back of someone. Not realising that the broad back he’d just walked into belonged to Beel, the big oaf he was talking about. 

“Hey I didn’t touch a thing! And who are you calling oaf, scrawny bookworm!” Beel towered over Satan as he turned around, prodding a finger into his chest. 

“Boys, don’t start!” Lucifer growled as both Satan and Beel transformed into their demon forms, Satan glaring up at Beel. 

“My grimm’s on Beel,” Mammon laughed, sitting down on Lucifer's bed as a squeal rang out.

“Mammon you idiot!” The young girl threw the covers off her head, making Mammon freeze in mid air after realising he had sat on her. 

“Shit-I- I’m sorry, I didn’t see ya! Shouldn’t be sneaking up on the Great Mammon like that,” Mammon’s facing blushed red as he quickly stood up. 

“Hey, what’s all the noise?” Belphegor and Levi ran from their rooms into Lucifer's. Lucifer sighed and covered his face with one hand. Just once he wanted a quiet and peaceful morning without the shenanigans of his younger siblings. 

“Tough guy here thinks he can chat shit as always,” Beel hissed, staring down Satan, whose tail flickered feistily into the air. 

“Oh, morning boys!” Asmo chirped as he walked past, sporting only a small thong and a half done up silk robe. “Has anyone seen sweetie, I need her opinion and she’s not in her room.” He pouted softly before his eyes fell onto the girl in Lucifer's bed. “Ah there you are! Now come on you,” he cooed, pushing past his brothers with little regard for their problems and tugging her hand.

“Wait- Asmo! I’m not dressed!” She squealed, attempting to clutch the sheets to her naked body but, as Asmo pulled her, the sheets fell and she stumbled forward off the bed. Her nightie lay bunched on the floor from her previous night with Lucifer and all eyes fell on her. The arguments and squabbles from moments ago became lost in translation as seven sets of eyes travelled over her, all of their pacts visible in different locations, with Satan’s and Beel’s radiating due to them being in demon form and giving a glow to her skin. 

Ever since helping them with their heats, she and the brothers had come to love each other, creating a relationship between all of them and the human. Each getting private and shared alone time with her, all of them giving her their heart and hers to them. 

“You know, I’m not hungry for food anymore,” Satan smirked as he turned his body to face her, taking a few steps forward only to be held back by Beel.

“Fat chance. I’m the one for gluttony, I need to eat more importantly,”.

“Beel move, you're blocking the view.” Levi entered and pushed Beel out of the way, sending the biggest of the brothers flying into Mammon.

“Hey! Watch it! These treads were expensive!” Mammon growled as Beel stepped on his white shoes. 

“Right! Out! All of you out!” Lucifer finally snapped, bending down and handing the girl her clothes. “School is in an hour. I want all of you ready to go by then I have an important meeting with Diavolo and, as we are all aware, our little dove is meeting with Solomon.” 

“I- um,” The girl blushed as she threw on her clothes, all of the brothers sending her a confused expression. “I’m helping Solomon with a birth-control potion.” The pill she was currently taking was in short supply and since condoms broke left, right and centre with the brothers - the dick game was too strong - this seemed their only viable option. 

-

“So this,” Solomon was holding up a vial in his hand, the gold shimmers twisting in the light of the open window, “is just a tester. Its effects will last a few days, just to trial how it gets on.” In one hand was a gold vial with shimmers, in the other a gold vial with dark blue swirls. “I’ve perfected the ingredients; it works similar to human contraception, just in liquid form. Everything regulates the same. To test its success you should bleed in a week's time. If all is in order I can produce a bigger batch which will last you roughly twenty one days. if you wish to not continue with periods then you can take another one straight after.” 

“And what is this one?” She pointed to the potion with deep blue hues in his other hand. She’d grown close to Solomon over her time here, becoming close friends with the slightly perverted sorcerer. 

“The same; both are made from the same batch, only this contains fairy dust which enhances the aphrodisiac hormones.” A ‘birth-control viagra for women’ as he had once put it. Pumped full of ovulation hormones to increase sex drive without fear of risk. 

“Okay, so do I just take it now or…?” she asked as she took the potion from his hand. It was the same potion she’d used during the brothers’ heat, only this was longer lasting with regard to time and helped to regulate the hormones inside her body. 

“Yes, take it all. You won’t feel any different,” he assured with a slightly sweet smile, a smile he only kept for her. Without thinking she knocked the golden liquid back, humming at the sweet taste of honey, as silk liquid dripped down the back of her throat. 

“You are an angel!” She smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and the vial back in his hand. “I can’t stay for much longer; I have a meeting with Diavolo and Lucifer I must attend. Are you sure there is nothing I can do to thank you for your help?”. 

The sorcerer sighed and rolled his eyes, she always did this. Offering a thank you for his assistance. “As I’ve told you before, the thank you is you letting me test out the potions on you.” ‘A real-life guinea pig’, he’d once teased her with. 

“Well, I must dash. I’ll see you soon, okay?” She waved as she picked up her satchel before leaving purgatory hall and headed back to R.A.D. She’d never understood the twisted rumours she had heard about Solomon. He was always so sweet and pleasant to her. Although he could be mocking and demeaning at times, his words seemed more of a false threat than anything more. But his actions towards her were always soft and gentle.

As she walked back with a little skip in her step, Solomon turned back to his book upon the table. It was open to the page where the instructions for making his potions lay. He’d skimmed over the ingredients as he made it, as he had to make some minor adjustments. Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup was required, a vital ingredient, but notorious for being an aphrodisiac for demons if they came into contact with it. Even the residue from the bottle on her lips would set off intense lust inside a demon if she was to kiss them - and Solomon knew this was a contraception potion. She would most definitely be doing more than just kissing her demon lovers. He had to add in a set of ingredients to hold back the effects on demons so that this would only have effect on a human system. He didn’t dare risk sending the brothers into an accidental heat; he had heard from her (and Asmo) the extent of what had happened during their heat only a few weeks ago and couldn’t bear the thought of putting the poor girl through it again after she’d had such a short time to recover. 

Only he didn’t notice an error in his work until it was too late...

“Once the liquid has cooled, add a few drops of blue fairy dust - check. To neutralize the effects of the Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup… oh,” Solomon stopped as he read out the remainder of the listing ingredients. “Well then… doesn’t this make for an interesting turn of events.” A dark smile grimacing over his face. 

-

“Darling.” Lucifer smiled to see her walk into Diavolos' office, her uniform in perfect condition and hair without a single strand out of place. He beamed with pride at how beautifully she represented the school. 

“Hi, sorry I’m late.” She smiled back with a faint blush as Lucifer pressed a kiss to her cheek. She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she sat beside Lucifer on the opposite side of Diavolos' desk. Dia felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, seeing the pair so smitten with each other, the glancing looks of admiration shared between them. He was more than glad to see his old friend so happy, even if it wasn’t with him… But that part of their relationship had ended many centuries ago out of fear of the council; Lucifer had refused to put Dia’s claim to the throne at jeopardy. Diavolo had never found a lover since. There had been the occasional one night stand before but nothing more serious than that. The council would be infuriated to find out about his past with Lucifer and his nightly activities with others. He’d thought Lucifer would never find another either, with the years he had spent alone and unloved. But then a ray of hope came into his life with the young girl opening up her heart to him and his brothers. Whilst Diavolo watched from the side lines, longing to be a part of it all as he, too, found himself purely intoxicated with the young female and wanted nothing more to have a stake of claim to her heart.

“____, it’s a pleasure as always,” Dia greeted her with a nod. “To continue from where we were…”

Diavolo carried on their conversation, about how well the exchange program was going and how she was receiving some of the best grades to be seen from pupils. All was going well, until she felt it.

At first it was just the normal burn. She knew sometimes it happened, a faint ovulation feeling. She didn't mind. But her eyes kept drifting over the two demons. She found her mouth going dry as she admired Diavolo, his strong arms... his general size. He and Beel were the largest men she knew. She wondered if-- Nope. She had to stop that right there. "A-ah Lucifer. I think we need to go." Her voice was meek, arousal getting worse the longer she was in the room with two extremely attractive demons. However, golden eyes were locked on her, and she was squirming. 

"My dear, the meeting isn't over. We'll go once it is over."

“Lucifer... we really need to go.” Heat was rising amongst her cheeks, her fingers grasping the pleated edge of her uniform skirt. Every nerve in her body flooded, pulsing alive with arousal and a pool of liquid flushed between her thighs. The more she looked between the demons, one her superior, the other one of her pacted seven lovers. “Please.” 

“My dove,“ Lucifer had started, a little huff of annoyance which peaked into curiosity at her soft whimper at him placing his hand on her thigh. His words pulled her away from her stare at Diavolo, crimson eyes meeting her lustful gaze. 

“Lucifer-“ She was unable to stop her thighs parting slightly at the contact of his palm upon her thigh. The scent of her arousal grew thick in the air, hitting Lucifer instantly, him now realising the need of her pleas. And just as he was about to offer his hand to leave, a low growl came from the other side of the desk. Diavolo was not about to let this opportunity pass him by.

The look from Diavolo made her legs spread wider, her cheeks flushed red as she let out a short gasp. Her fingers reached to her side as she grasped the edge of her chair, both of the demon's eyes focusing on the rise of her skirt up her bare thigh and the straining of her nipples against the thin material of her bra and shirt. She looked desperate, felt desperate and just ached to be filled. A small ‘please’ mustered, not directly speaking to Lucifer but to both of them.

-

“I can’t wait until we get home.” As she began unbuttoning her shirt, the white of her bra peeked through, showing the fullness of her breasts. Any sense of shame had left her body, the only thing on her mind right now was to be ruthlessly taken and to quench this burning desire between her thighs. Lucifer had objected at first, but with how strong her scent was, he knew it would be a risk to get her home as any demon within a few meters radius would be able to catch her scent. A scent that was meant only for him and his brothers. 

“You can have my office…” Diavolo had gestured, feeling sorry for the poor girl, having to watch her become undone so quickly. But as he walked past to offer them some space, her arm quickly caught his and a small doting look from her with the word, ‘Stay’ pushed him over the edge. 

-

“Ngh- Dia!”.

A low chuckle came from the prince as he shifted slightly, tongue moving from her dripping clit to tease where her and Lucifer met. Lucifer was just as sensitive as he remembered. Whilst his mouth moved to capture his balls, Lucifer let out a deep hiss as his fingers gripped tightly onto the girls waist, Diavolos fingers continuing to tease their sticky meeting and her clit for the additional stimulation. The additional stimulation she had begged for.

Diavolo lay on his desk, his head close to hanging off the side whilst she hovered above him on all fours, his cock buried deep inside her mouth - well what she could take anyway - whilst her hand worked the rest of him. Lucifer stood behind her, impaling her onto his cock as he took her deep and fast, giving her exactly what she needed right now. Both Dia and Lucifer working together to bring her to climax after climax, each one melting into the next. Diavolo having to hold himself back a little every now and then, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in both of them and leave them in a heaving pool of his mess. But now wasn’t the time for that.

“Ah… ah! Diavolo!” she whimpered, her voice an octave higher than normal as one hand dug her nails into his thigh. The feeling of Lucifer fucking her with the touches of Diavolo on her clit and folds was too much, sending her barrelling into another high. 

“Good girl,” Diavolo cooed, pulling his mouth from Lucifer’s balls to lap up the wetness that had drenched his cock each time he pulled out. “I believe it’s your turn now,”. Champagne orbs glistened but were missed by Lucifer as he clenched his eyes shut and let his jaw tense as the teasing actions of Diavolo. 

“N-not yet Dia- focus on her first,” he grunted, snapping his hips quickly against hers as Diavolo’s mouth was once again on him, sucking in a motion that made the heat pool like a volcano ready to erupt at any given second. He needed Diavolo to stop now or it would be over and she was clearly far from being spent from the way she glanced over her shoulder and begged for more with the little words she could muster.

With a grunt Diavolo pulled himself away, latching his mouth onto her clit and feeling smug at the way she cried out. Her back arched as she clawed at his thighs, almost drawing blood, the weight of her breasts pushing down against his lower stomach was an added sensation in itself. The push and pull of her body rubbed her nipples against his skin, sending vibrations of her moans around Diavolos cock and across his body. 

The wet sounds of slapping skin and Diavolos tongue against her rang through the office, Lucifer having put on an enchantment to block any sound leaving the room so they could attend to her needs without fear, Diavolo in amazement to see how sensitive she was to his touch, how good her essence tasted and just how mind blowing she felt with her lips wrapped around his cock. But, like Lucifer had said, this was about her pleasure and Diavolo didn’t want to blow his load until she was a whimpering mess.

-

“C-close!” High gasps growing louder with each breath, only a few thrusts after her previous orgasm,her walls beginning to tighten once more. Her arms wrapped tightly around Lucifer for support, his hands holding her waist tightly to guide her movements. Lucifer rested on Diavolos desk, her straddling as him as she rocked in his lap with the help of his movement whilst Diavolo pressed against her back, his lips focusing on her neck whilst his hands fondled her breasts. Tweaking her nipples in his index and thumbs, grinding against her behind whilst his cock slid between her thighs. The movement of her rocking, the clench of her thighs and the fleeting contact with Lucifer's cock was enough to keep him on the edge. 

“That’s it princess,” Diavolo whispered softly into her ear, catching her lobe and giving it a gentle tug, his soft words touching her heart. With the little strength she had left, she turned her head, pulling an arm free from Lucifer to grasp the light-red hair and pull his face closer to hers. Her cheeks were flushed red, eyes lost in a galaxy haze, a goddess of lust was all Diavolo could think when he saw her. It was their first kiss, and far from their last, but the softness of it as they melted into each other made her clench tightly over Lucifer. The strong feeling of intimacy and love she shared with the brothers was portrayed with Diavolo as their lips continued to meet. 

And as her climax hit her, she turned back to Lucifer, letting his lips glide over hers as they had done some many times, soft whimpers escaping their kiss, her body convulsing as it curled from the sheer force of her release before slumping against Lucifer’s chest, her thirst quenched and her body exhausted. 

Her raven haired lover pressed a kiss to her temple, pushing her hair which was now stuck to her forehead out of the way and off her face. Diavolo’s hand wrapped around Lucifer’s on her waist, continuing the rocking motion as they both chased their release, Lucifer buried deep inside her and Diavolo snuggly between her thighs. 

“Dia…” Lucifer thrusted up slightly at the feeling of his length pressing against his own each time he pulled out. Crimson eyes met golden over her shoulder as she lay panting against his chest, fingers curling over each other’s and before they knew it both leaned across to exchange a kiss.

A sloppy kiss, tongue and teeth meeting in a passionate exchange. A kiss that hadn’t happened for decades but had never lost its rhythm. A kiss that spoke a thousand words that could never be said out loud. It had been the end of both of them, lips sparking and igniting the fires within. Lucifer spilled deep inside her as Diavolo came upon the top of her thighs, finally marking her skin with his release.

The room fell silent apart from the sound of ragged breaths, the two men pressing their foreheads against her shoulder and back, holding her until her racing heart had finally calmed down.

-

Diavolo had seen them off, Lucifer carrying her to his car before whisking them home after a fleeting exchange of kisses from Diavolo to them both in the privacy of his office. Another demon, only this one being the prince, having stolen her heart. 

“Take care of her,” Diavolo had whispered to his former lover, stroking her hair as she blissfully slept in Lucifer's arms. Her body was exhausted. 

“I always do,” Lucifer gave the faintest of smiles to Diavolo before parting ways, his whole being flooded with pride to have two lovers back in his life. 

Lucifer was ecstatic; nostalgia of feelings came flooding back that he had kept down with Diavolo. But he was also weary. This behaviour from her was completely askew. She’d teased Lucifer before in Diavolo’s and public presence, but never to the extent that she had begged him to take her there and then. Never had she looked so radiant yet so frustrated at the same time. And never had she been so unsatisfied that it had taken a few more rounds than normal to satisfy her. Something was wrong. The only thing Lucifer could think of was that the potion with Solomon had gone wrong and Lucifer needed to get to the bottom of it. 

-

“Lock her in her room. No one is to enter until I get back. Do you understand?” Lucifer asked one final time to Satan and Belphegor, the pair of them sat outside her room. He had tucked her sleeping figure into bed, placing a spell on the door to ensure no one could get in. He needed to ensure first what was happening in case another episode occurred. 

The morning and afternoon had faded by the time their session had ended, meaning Solomon would be finished from his afternoon classes. Unfortunately for Solomon, mixing up the potions would be the least of his troubles as Lucifer pinned him against the wall the second he caught sight of his white hair. 

‘What did you do to her?!” Lucifer hissed, his eyes aglow as he leaned in closer to the young boy's face. 

“Nothing. Nothing I swear,” Solomon was rolling his eyes; he was far from scared of Lucifer and it showed. “Just a little hiccup is all.”.

“Hiccup? Hiccup!” Lucifer mocked, steam ready to pour out of his nose and ears with anger. “She’s like a- like a…”.

“Like a demon in heat?” Solomon prodded the bear with his choice of words. “It’s fine Lucifer, just enjoy the fact she’s going to want to be on your cock endlessly for the next few days.”

A poor choice of words. A very poor choice of words. 

If Lucifer’s anger hadn’t been poured into Satan then the clenched fist slammed directly into the wall would have landed straight on Solomon's face.

“What did you do,boy?” Lucifer raged into demon form, a row of fire lighting up behind him as he towered over Solomon, teeth snaring. The soft Lucifer had vanished. Facing Solomon right now was a beast, a beast that was angry. And for the first time Solomon was scared of the demon facing him.

“A mix up! A mix up, alright? She’s just got more hormones in her body than intended; it will wear off in the next few days but there is nothing I can do to help - it’s Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup”.

“Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup? But it didn’t affect me or Di-“ Lucifer stopped his sentence there.

“The potion is neutralised to only affect humans. And since humans don’t have blood like demons, the command won’t work to stop it either…” 

‘So what you’re saying is-” Lucifer grasped his jacket and hoisted him up into the air.

“She’s in her own heat, so my advice to you and the others is to just be prepared and help her because it’s going to be a long ride for her.” With that sentence, Lucifer dropped Solomon to the floor, letting him fall with a thump before racing back to the house of Lamentation. 

-

“Who does he think he is? Barking his commands at us, I swear he- oi! Are you even listening?” Satan punched his younger sibling in the arm. Belphegor, who’d started to fall asleep, slumped against the wall, jolted forward.

“Ay! What’s your problem?” Snarling slightly before pushing the long curve of hair out of his face, he said “We just gotta sit here until Lucifer comes back.” 

Even saying the name of their eldest brother made both of their blood boil. 

“Well anyway, I’m not here on babysitting duty.” Satan took hisD.D.D, turning it off before putting it back in his pocket. “Still got him blocked?”.

“Would you unblock someone who shoved you in an attic?” Belph rolled his eyes.

“Touché,” Satan nodded before pushing himself off the wall. “What do you reckon is wrong with her? She looked wrecked. Reckon something went wrong with Solomon?” 

“I wouldn’t put it past that slimy wizard… No good for nothing-“ Belph muttered before stopping, a noise from inside making them both still. The young girl was calling out for Lucifer in a confused manner, only infuriating the brothers more. 

“Why does Lucifer always get her to himself? Always giving out his commands,” Satan growled as he ran a hand through his hair. “Enough is enough, I’m not listening to his rules. Fuck him.” 

“Hey Satan, you really gonna mess with Lucifer?” Belphegor's eyes lost all sleepiness as they sparkled with mischief.

-

“Lucifer…?” She continued to call out. “Anyone?” She took a few steps outside her room. She knew she had heard voices but to whom they belonged she was unsure. Her bare feet padded along the dark corridor, following the noises that lured her. 

She was pleasantly surprised to find that when she woke up the muscle aches she thought she would have were not there. Something in the potion must work to help soothe her aches. Lucifer had undressed her from her sweat soaked uniform and covered her in her nightie. 

She couldn’t stop the flush of her cheeks after her actions this afternoon; she had felt like she’d lost all control of her body and given into the need of sexual desires - which normally wasn’t a problem, but begging Lucifer and Diavolo to ravage her in the middle of a meeting was a different story. She was searching for Lucifer to apologise for her behaviour, although secretly she knew both of them had enjoyed it just as much as she had. Today had marked a new day for someone to become part of their relationship, from seven lovers to now eight. Knowing Diavolo would not allow this to be a one time thing - which she was rather excited about. 

“Lucifer? Are you in here? I- I wanted to apologise for earlier-“ She knocked on his office door, pausing as she walked in, “Oh.” Her eyes fell on the pair causing havoc in Lucifer’s office.

“Stop being such a sloth! Faster!” Satan was unscrewing the lids of Lucifer's ink bottles before placing them back down, so when Lucifer next used them the ink would most likely spill everywhere.

“I’m going as fast as I can! Stop rushing me!” Belphegor's tongue was sticking out of his mouth in concentration, counting out five sheets before pulling one from the stacking pile of work on the desk. He continued this down until he had a few sheets of paperwork in his hand, meaning every fifth paper from his stack was missing. Both of them were going out of their way to mess with Lucifer in a way they knew would annoy him most. 

“Ah!” Satan squealed to see her standing in the doorway, dropping one of the bottles and sending ink dropping to form a thick black puddle on the carpet. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were Lucifer.”

“Pft, how does a human girl look anything like Lucifer?” Belph gave her a warm smile and gestured for her to enter properly. “What are you doing out of bed? Lucifer told us to guard you.”

“Guard me?” She laughed, her smiling instantly brightening up their moods. “I just- I wasn’t feeling too well, but I feel better now.” She took a few steps further into Lucifer's office, carefully avoiding the ink stain.

“Good. How did it go with Solomon, kitten? Everything in the clear?” Satan took her hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it. In his moments of affection she really did question how he could be the avatar of wrath.

“All good,” she nodded, letting out a gasp to feel two arms encircle her waist and pull her close.

“That’s great news, because you know,” Belphegor was embracing her to him, his nose tracing over her neck inhaling the delicate scent of lavender and rose from her skin with a low groan, “tonight’s my night with you.” She was glad her face was hidden from view as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Belph was the most affectionate towards her. The sweetest of kisses, the warmest of hugs, the doting affection he only gave to her, the way he’d kiss her so softly before whispering, “Good morning my sunshine.” Because in Belph’s eye, she was his sun, bringing light and life into his world. In heat he was a beast, but outside of it he was a sleepy teddy bear, who just wanted to love her with everything he had. 

“You won’t get anything if you don’t sort out this mess,” she huffed, trying to distract herself from the tingle in her thighs. She could feel it happening again, the same empowerment she had felt in Diavolo’s office, stirring stronger from the smallest of Belphegor's affection and touches. 

“No. No stop that, you’re ruining it,” Satan grumbled as she began putting the paperwork back in its position. 

“One, two, three, fou-oh!” Her sentence slurred into a moan as Belphie pressed his body up against her back, pinning her slightly to the desk. Two warm palms began teasing the back of her thighs before pressing flat against her skin and pushing upwards slowly. The thin material of her nightie, which skirted mid-thigh, crept slowly up. Belph expected her to slap his hands away, but he never expected for her to part her legs a little wider for him to witness the already wet flesh between her bare thighs. A low hum rang against her neck, one hand cupping the round curve of her ass and giving it a playful squeeze.

“I think,” came Belph’s voice, dropping into a huskier tone, “that this is enough mischief for one day. Let us retire to my room.”

“Like hell you are!” Satan snapped, pulling Belphs gaze away from her slickened folds. “She’s more aroused than usual; I should know.”. His words were followed by a smug snicker. “I bet she’s thinking of him.” ‘Him’ being a reference to Lucifer. 

“Actually,” her hands gripped onto the edge of the desk, giving in once more to the heat that burned across her body whilst her cunt clenched with need, “I was thinking of both of you and all the mess we could cause over this desk.” As she finished her words, she pressed back to rub against Belphegor's crotch which was already rapidly hardening from scent and sight alone.

“No fair, my love, it is my night with you.” He gave her ass another squeeze. As much as he hated sharing her, the thought of having her on Lucifers desk was arousing to him. Knowing Lucifer would have to see the marks that she left, smell her scent upon the table and having to know that it was him and Satan that were the reason for it. It would drive him wild, which would essentially drive both the two brothers wild with enthusiasm.

“And a night with me you will get, I promise.” Turning her head over her shoulder to catch his lips, she let his eager tongue part her lips as it sought out her own.

-

“This isn’t what I had in mind.” Satan was huffing against her neck for the third time in ten minutes,

“Just be patient, it is his night after all,” she replied as she pushed Belph flat against Lucifers desk before straddling him, whilst Satan was pressed as close as he could behind her. With one hand wrapped around his cock, she lowered herself down, still sensitive from the previous high that they brought her to with their fingers and mouths. “Oh god… Belph!” Her finger grasped at his hoodie, both him and Satan still fully dressed whilst her nightie had been tossed to the floor. 

Belph couldn’t find the words to respond, watching her sink down as his cock disappeared inside her tight heat. She was wetter than he or Satan had ever seen her, bursting and coming to life as she told them exactly what she needed, letting the lust and arousal in her body speak for her.

His fingers traced up her thighs, hands ghosting over her waist and behind, leaving a trail of goosebumps upon her skin as she whined loudly. The teasing touches and the stretch of him inside her was too much, walls pulsing as she came with him fully hilted inside her. Her jaw slackened and a cold sweat ran down the back of her spine, the salted droplets being lapped up from Satan as his hands continued to squeeze over her breasts.

“Kitten- I really need to be inside you,” he groaned, the head of his cock pressing against the left cleft of her ass leaving a clear mark of pre-release upon her skin. 

“Lube is in… the… top drawer,” she panted, letting her movements slow down as she rode out her high. This wasn’t the first time she’d gotten down and dirty in this office, having provided a very stunned Lucifer with a one-on-one private show of her and her toy collection whilst he worked. 

All Belph could do was groan and raise his hips every so often, hitting all the perfect angles inside her to make stars dance across her vision. Her movements kept on at a slow pace whilst Satan prepared himself.

“Be a good kitten and make them wet,” he commanded as he stood back behind her, letting his fingers thrust into her mouth at the same time she lowered and raised over Belph. 

Another climax hit her when Satan’s fingers began playing and teasing her puckered hole from behind before a finger, dripping with saliva, slowly pushed in. The slow rhythm of her movements allowed for Satan to let her body adjust before two fingers were thrusting inside her. Each time they pulled back, her muscles clenched sending Belph into a groaning mess at her spasming walls. 

“More,” she begged, her fingers ripping the front of Belph’s clothes as she grinded forward to feel him hit against her g-spot.

“Good girl kitten, that’s it - relax,” Satan cooed, his fingers removed to only be replaced with something much larger and thicker. 

“Relax,” Belphegor encouraged, leaning up the best he could as he pulled her down by her shoulders to kiss her. Satan slowly pushed in, her whimpers and moans caught by Belphs mouth, until finally two cocks were buried to the hilt inside her. Satan did nothing more than pull out as Belph thrusted up, sending her headfirst into another climax. Her palm scratched at the wooden desk below Belphs shoulders, leaving curled pieces of wood right in front of where Lucifer would sit. 

“There! There! Fuck- like that,” her head being thrown back in bliss at their rhythm. One would thrust whilst the other pulled back, gaining a pace that had slapping skin ringing through the office. The pace would slow when one got close, wanting to focus on her and leaving her with the ability to only say their names and think of them. Belph continued to tease her skin with faint touches, the occasional grab of her waist to guide her before ghosting over her skin once more. When her breath became a high pitched gasp, her lust filled eyes would catch his, a signal for him to help push her over the edge. Satan’s hands would tug her nipples, his sharp teeth nipping at her stretched neck whilst Belph’s thumb would rub tight circles over her swollen clit, perfectly synchronised to bring her tumbling straight over the edge of sanity.

Climax after climax hit her, tongue lolling to the side at being penetrated by both of them. It wasn’t something she was new to; being in a relationship with seven brothers meant double, sometimes even triple, penetration was a regular occurrence. But never did she feel this full, this ravenous. 

By the time Satan and Belph had spilled inside her, Lucifer's desk was soaked in fluids, paperwork and hardwood stained with her release that had soaked down Belphegor's thighs and onto the surface below. Each time Satan had thrusted into her, traces of lube would drip down their thighs to pool onto a puddle on the floor. Her scent stained the room, which Lucifer wouldn’t have minded but it was tainted with the hint of his brothers.

And to make matters worse for their eldest brother, Satan had snapped a photo whilst she was mid-orgasm. Ensuring to get his cock stretching her ass whilst Belph fucked her pussy. The photo itself was a masterpiece: Her back arched, head pressing against Satan's shoulders with her eyes tightly shut and her own hands pinching her nipples; The face of someone lost in the wild abandonment of pleasure. A caption of ‘Can’t believe you tried to hide this’ followed. 

“I think we made a pretty good mess, Kitten,” Satan panted against her shoulder, his face as red as her behind which had been slapped multiple times ather request. 

“I don’t think I can move,” she whispered, her legs purely boneless as Belph sat up to carry her bridal style.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Satan yelled, watching Belph carry her out of the room, leaving the office stained and her nightie upon the floor. 

“I told you,” Belph growled lowly, “it’s my night with her.”

-

Regardless of how fast Lucifer had run, he was too late. He stumbled into his sex-scented office. Release from her left a sticky glaze over his desk whilst scratch marks looked like a beast had clawed at them. His gloved hands held tightly onto the nightie upon the floor. The mess of his desk was an issue for another time; he would place no blame upon her. 

“You utter imbecile!” Fangs pointed out from his gums as he found Satan alone in the library in the west wing of the house.

“You saidto not let anyone in; you didn’t say she couldn’t come out,” Satan taunted, smugness plastered over his face. He knew Lucifer had seen his office from the silk material of her clothes he still clutched in his hand. He also knew he had seen the explicit image he had made sure to send him. “As I said, why did you try to hide her?”

“The potion went wrong. She’s in heat.” Lucifer watched as Satan’s eyes sparkled.

“But that’s impossible. She’s a human, how did-“ the blonde began.

“Solomon. Solomon is how.” Lucifer pushed a hand through his hair. “Where is she now?”.

“In the attic.” Satan returned to his book as Lucifer turned on his heel. “But Lucifer.” Lucifer threw his head over his shoulder, ready for a snide remark about the activities that went on in his office. “Normally I wouldn’t bother about you but, for her sake, I’d leave them be.”

“And why’s that?” Lucifer stopped and turned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Satan continued to express his smugness, his eyes peering over the top of his book. “Remember when Levi was in heat and destroyed that Ruri-chan pillow?”.

“Of course… he bit Mammon for trying to take it away”

His lips curling into a smirk, Satan put his book down. “Belphegor is the pillow.”

-

“Good morning my little star-light.” Belphegor brushed her hair out of her face, a sleepy smile on his face. His eyes still shut, the urge to fall back to sleep lulling him into the warmth embrace.

“Good morning you,” she yawned, eyes fluttering open as Belph’s strong arms pulled her close. The warmth of his skin against her and the content smile on his face was a sin of its own kind. A small giggle left her as he pulled her closer, burying her head against his chest. “We need to get up soon.” As she pressed a trail of small kisses over his heart, she smiled to herself to feel the hardness already pressing against her stomach. 

“I thought you would have been worn out after last night,” he gasped as her hand teased its way into his boxers, wrapping around his cock and stroking in a lazily manner.

“I was but-“ Her body felt rejuvenated and fresh, no muscle aches, only heat coursing through her veins. “I’m hungry for more.” A deep groan filled the attic space as her mouth replaced her hand, waking Belph and repaying him tenfold for the way he had satisfied her the previous night.

-

When she finally pulled herself out of the attic, leaving Belph still panting and breathless from the way her mouth had worked over him, she ran straight into Lucifer. Luckily, Belph had dressed her in one of his hoodies for her modesty, not that she minded.

“My dove, you really should rest. I fear you cannot leave the house in your state.” Lucifer cupped her cheek and was rubbing his thumb softly against her. “It is not safe for you”

“Lucifer, I- I’m so sorry for yesterday, I really don’t know what came over me…” A blush spread across her cheeks. Even now, as he glanced down at her, the top of her thighs became damp and she regretted the lack of underwear she had on. 

“My dear-“ He stopped, pupils widening at the heavenly scent hitting his nose She was extremely aroused. “It appears Solomon gave you the wrong potion; yours is filled with an aphrodisiac we can’t control. It should fade in a few days, but for the time being it is safest for you to stay here.”.

She nodded in response, pressing herself closer to him and letting her fingers toy with the buttons of his waistcoat. 

“Lucifer...,” she meekly whispered, leaning up to kiss him. He melted into her kiss, letting his arms hold onto her shoulders as she continued to press against him. “I want to thank you for yesterday.” Her fingers slowly unpopped a button and she began pressing her lower half against him in a silent plea as her tongue playfully darted across his lower lip. She was losing her self control in a rapid manner, whining heavily as he pulled back.

“I fear I have matters to attend to today, otherwise I would be more than happy to keep you content in the confines of my room.” He watched as her eyes sparkled with lust, a hint of disappointment forming over her face. 

“I’ll be waiting for you to come home,” she pouted as he did up the buttons she’d undone. 

-

She ate breakfast and had a bath to calm herself down before pulling out her small vibrator and withering away in her satin sheets. Is what she would have done if she had listened to Lucifer. Instead, she showered and set off to find the sorcerer who had caused all her problems, hoping to find a way for him to help calm her constant need. 

Dressed in a white summer dress, a slightly plunge top with a skater skirt and her hair down in loose curls, off she went to him in purgatory hall. It probably wasn’t the best decision to wear such a short dress but her skin felt on fire; clothes were just too restrictive at the moment. She’d cleaned her thighs before she left, making her best effort to prevent her scent from wandering demons. And all was going well until a masculine scent hit her nose. One of Beel’s team mates walked past her; he must have been to the gym as sweat gleamed off his shirtless body. The smell of pheromones hit her instantly and she felt a throb between her legs instantly ruining her underwear. The scent of her was caught by the demon, who turned whilst sniffing into the air. She had to move quickly or he’d trace the scent to her. 

With a frantic look around, she realised how far she still was from Solomon’s quarters but luckily Simeon’s room was only a few doors away from where she stood. Without a second though she raced to the room, listening as footsteps quickly approached behind her. Without knocking, she flung herself into Simeon’s room, thanking anyone and everyone that the door was open. Only, she didn’t expect to see what she did inside.

“Normie…?” Leviathan called out as she panted against the door. In the glowing light of the room were Simeon and Leviathan sat at a table, a stack of comics between them.

“Levi? Oh god, Levi, it’s you.” She took a few running steps to embrace him from behind as he sat down, sending the boy redder than beetroot. “Oh, and Simeon, I’m so sorry for barging in.”

“It is quite alright my sweet,” the angel said, smiling wholesomely at her. “You look parched. What happened?”

“Oh I just-“ she started, her eyes falling to the exposed muscles of his biceps. Beneath his cloak and visible from his black top was the clear outline of his god-sculpted body. A body that made her lose all train of thought.

“Yo, normie?” Levi pinched her hand gently to break her trance.

“Huh? Oh sorry, I just thought someone was following me. Would it be okay if I hung out here for a little while to calm down?” By ‘calm down’ she meant for her core to stop pulsing and her thighs to stop rubbing together. She was getting worse by the minute sitting with the two boys, the total opposites of each other; the demon of envy and the most angelic angel to walk the dusty pits of hell. A yin and yang she most definitely wanted to be in the middle of. “So what are you doing here Levi?” She pulled herself off him and took a seat between them. 

Levi, unable to stop the breath hitching in his throat when she walked in, could scent her before she even walked through the front door. And that was when he realised why she came running into Simeon’s room. Any demon nearby would have been able to pick up her scent with how strong it was. He also sensed her rapid heart beat, pumping and throbbing like her pulse as red tinted her cheeks the look of arousal written all over her face. 

“Levi here is showing me the ways of ‘manga’,” Simeon smiled, oblivious to the way the young girl was fidgeting in her seat.

“Normie, are you alright?” The purple haired demon asked as he watched her. He’d received a message in the group chat from Lucifer to state she was, quote, in a ‘situational state’ with nothing more. Satan had replied with a smirk emoji, leaving Levi to question what exactly was happening.

“I- I need to use the bathroom.” she stammered as the rising colour of her cheeks spread down her neck and chest, making the white dress glow atop of her skin. The more she looked between the two, the more her mind wandered into dirty territory...

“Normie, you don’t look well.” 

Both Leviathan and Simeon reached out to hold her arms. The young girl’s back arched at the contact and gripped the table edge as she stood up, unable to look either of them in the eye as she was unable to hold back the moan, the slight of touches having sent her in the deepest pit of lust and arousal. 

“Levi-“ She finally turned her head over her shoulder to meet his gaze, her eyes swimming and lost behind a clear gaze. Cheeks flushed and her lips parted, she didn’t have to say another word for Leviathan to understand. This was the state Lucifer was clearly on about. With her legs spread a little, the aroma of her arousal quickly found itself to both him and Simeon and Levi knew in that moment just how desperate the situation was. 

“Shit normie.. I-“ Leviathan scratched the back of his neck as he looked between her and Simeon, unsure of how to handle the situation. 

Simeon watched her, a familiar tension building in his stomach, a feeling he often felt around her but was usually able to ignore. But in this moment it was almost overpowering, overwhelming and he was unable to fight the strong stir of emotions inside him. 

“Simeon… I’m so sorry-“ she began and, as she turned, the angel felt himself crumple from the heated gaze that bore down at him as passionate lust took over his body. 

The potion may have had no effect on demons, but the scent alone was enough to have an impact on the angel, sending him into an aroused state.

“Do not apologise, my sweet.” Simeon took one of her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “You by far smell more sweet than anything I have come across. Do not deny yourself the pleasure you desire.” He nodded at Levi who stood up to wrap his arms around her waist. “Use my room as you please.”

“Is this okay?” Levi whispered into the shell of her ear, worried about her more than anything else. Her answer came in a quick nod and her hands bunched up the skirt of her dress to expose the white silk resting upon her skin.

Simeon’s heart was racing as he sat forward, intrigued to watch Levi slowly tug down her underwear, watching the gloss of her arousal stick to the fabric before it pooled to a heap on the floor. A groan filled the room. She was unsure if it came from Levi or Simeon. 

“Please…” she whispered, spreading her legs as she bent forward, exposing her drenched cunt to both of them.

-

Eager eyes flitted between the two of them, Simeon still watching the couple. How Levi had knelt down, spreading the cheeks of her behind to gain better access to her before letting his serpent tongue flicker across her wet slit. How her arms gave out and she fell flat against the oak table, letting her hips buck against his face as he kept her ass in place whilst his tongue disappeared between her velvety folds. How she lost herself when her climax hit after only a few moments calling out for more.

“Leviathan,” she whispered so sweetly as she turned around once his mouth had pulled away from her, the same lips slicked with wetness pressing against her own as her tongue played with his, which had just brought her intense pleasure. 

“I got you.” Hushed whispers shared against her lips as she hastily undid his belt, her hand diving into the confines of his boxers to wrap around his cock, stroking it until he was fully hard, both of them almost forgetting about their audience as he pushed her down, spreading her thighs and pushing them around his waist as he lined himself up against her, taking her with no resistance as he slid into her tight heat.

It was lustful, it was a sin, but most importantly it was love. The reassuring whispers of “I’ve got you, I love you,” as Levi drove deeper into her. His hands holding her waist as he pulled her up to meet his thrusts, her legs tightly around his waist squeezing and tensing with each rock of his hips. The thin silk of her drenched underwear hanging off her ankle, swaying with each movement, almost taunting Simeon as he watched on. 

It was the soft whimpers of ‘harder’ that pulled him from his trance, shining eyes of blue meeting hers in a gaze as they stared on in wonder. Her dress pushed up just enough to bare her waist, her breasts spilling from the top half and bouncing forward with each thrust. Back arched like a bow reaching breaking point off the table, petite hands grasping at anything they could find. And, whilst he and her held eye contact, he watched in awe as she came. Her voice raising into a high pitch moans, chest rising and collapsing quickly, her body curling as they finally broke eye contact when her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her moans were so sweet they made the angel blush. He was positive they could part the clouds and give a direct pathway to the gates of heaven. 

It made him wonder how something so beautiful and breathtaking could be such a sin.

It was that which ruined the angel. He was unable to stop himself as a hand began to palm over his erect cock in his pants. Scent, sight and sound became too overbearing for him as he gave into the heat of his need.

The air in the room had changed, Leviathan too busy driving into her to notice it. His grunts and the slapping of his skin echoed off the walls, whilst she came down from her high to fix on Simeon. Watching him as he watched her, his pupils expanding as his tongue darted out to wet his parched lips whilst he continued to touch himself above his clothes. 

By her third orgasm, Leviathan was unable to stop himself holding back, gritting his teeth as his pace began to falter. His eyes screwed shut as his jaw clenched, a stuttered groan came as he released inside her, pressing himself tightly against her to be sure he filled her with everything he had, her name hot off his lips as he leaned down to kiss her, keeping themselves together as they basked in their afterglow. 

“You did so good,” He praised, cupping her cheek as he wiped away the tears that formed under her eyes. Until finally he pulled out of her, his seed from inside her spilling onto the table beneath. “I’ll get a towel,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze before leaving the room. She would have blissfully laid against the table not moving, but the presence of another kept her from doing so. 

“Simeon…” Her voice angelic to his ears as she sat up, her breasts swaying as she stood in front of him, slowly kneeling down. “My sweet, sweet, angel…” The tan of his skin was flushed red as her eyes wandered down, his hand continuing to mess over the front of his trousers as he looked at her like a helpless lamb. “Let me.” She leaned up as she ghosted her lips against his in a way to test him, to test if he’d show any protest but instead he melted into her, letting his lips glide over hers as if that was their sole purpose. 

Her hand slowly trailed up his thighs, parting his legs as she fitted between them. Her own hand replaced his as he whined softly against her. Hands slowly unpopped the buttons, the haste from before now eased into a soothing-time stopping pace. No rush, just slow, burning desire.

“Am I the first?” She questioned, gently nipping at his lower lip as his trousers and boxers slowly came down, her hand ghosting over his erect length but not fully touching.

“Y-yes.” His breath hitched to feel her hand slowly wrap around him. Her eyes widened in shock at the length of him; the gods had truly blessed him. 

“Oh- I-“ His words were lost as his hips slowly bucked into her touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” Letting him free of her hand, she stared up at him with doting affection.

“Please-don’t,” he said, taking a deep breath as she wrapped her hand back around him, her face leaning close. 

“My beautiful angel… my sweet, sweet angel,” she cooed, letting her hand move over him in a gentle grip, savouring the noises he made. The world was completely forgotten,the two of them sharing an intimate moment as she wetted her lips before slowly taking his head into her mouth. His fingers grasped the edge of the chair, twitching as he breathed out in a stuttered breath. His mind went blank as she took him in further, pulling him into the wet depths of her mouth. Her name left his mouth like a chant, repeated like a prayer he spoke every morning and night. 

Leviathan had entered back into the room, pausing before turning and leaving the pair alone in their tender moment. 

Heat pooled in Simeon’s stomach as her lips touched the base of his cock, unable to hold back the groan as the pit inside him dropped. His eyes shut tight as white heat took over him, and then he was spilling down the back of her throat with no warning. 

She hollowed her cheeks as she swallowed his plentiful release, sucking him dry before releasing him. His taste was sweet, lingering, leaving a pleasant taste in her mouth. 

“My perfect angel,” she said, pressing a kiss to his head as his hand moved and intertwined with hers. Nothing in all of heaven had made him feel as good as she had. 

-

“She will be safe here,” Simeon’s face softened as he stared at the young girl asleep in his bed. After the events of earlier, she had passed out with a blissful face whilst the angel and demon cleaned up. “I’ve put a protection charm on the door. No one will be able to get in.”

“It’s not them getting in I’m worried about it’s her getting out,” Leviathan sighed, running his hands over his face. The two boys agreed to never speak of what had happened earlier, for an angel to allow lust to take over his actions especially from watching acts of a demon. 

“I promise you, no harm will come to her. Have you spoken to Lucifer?”

“Yes, he was so pissed she came out. But she’s like the rest of us; never listens to him,” Levi chuckled, watching her sleeping figure cosy up in the blankets. “I guess that’s why we all love her.”

“And did Lucifer explain this- her behaviour..?”

“One guess.”

“Solomon?” Simeon rolled his eyes.

“Bingo. Something about the wrong potion, her basically being in heat, I don’t know. It’s something he needs to explain in person. He was too busy yelling down the phone.”

“She is safe here, my friend. Let us wait until Lucifer comes.” Simeon reached for a comic off the table, intending to pick up the conversation from before she had come in. Only to stop when he saw wetness that they’d missed coating the cover.

-

Lucifer had gone ballistic when he arrived, all his rage was bubbling through him as he yelled left, right and center. “You disobeyed me! how could you be so reckless?” He had scorned her, towering over her with gritted teeth. His words stopped and his anger subsided as her bottom lip trembled, her eyes filling with tears as she hung her head in shame. A weak, “I’m sorry,” made him pull her into his hold tightly, showering her forehead with kisses. He knew it wasn’t her fault; he was simply worried. Worried that if another had scented her the way she was then they would try to take her. “From now on, I need you to stay in the house, okay?” he said, cupping her face as he whispered softly, kissing her gently, hoping she would understand without him saying the words to show how worried he had been. 

Lucifer took her home and straight to his room, informing the brothers not to disturb them. He ran her a bath with rose petals, resting her back against his chest as he cradled her close, whispering sweet words of praise as he washed her. That night, he cared for her, letting his fingers work her she was almost sobbing for him to fill her properly. 

-

In the morning he had to go back to work. As much as he wanted to be with her, his loyalty to Diavolo came first. This time, however, he placed an enchantment on the whole house, ensuring the girl would not be able to leave; the front door, window and back door glued shut if she tried to open them. If another demon opened them and she tried to exit, they would face an electric shock, both of them. It even included the windows; he knew Belphegor had a tendency to sneak out of the attic window. Lucifer was taking no risk or chance. The only way she could leave was if Lucifer left with her or if he lifted the enchantment.

She woke up alone, throwing on one of Lucifer's shirts. Even his lingering scent was arousing, regardless of the way he’d taken care of her in the night. The potion was ruining her. None of the aches or the worn out muscles remained, only fresh feelings and a warm glow. 

She left his room and walked along the corridor until she heard it. 

“Sweeeeeeetie,” Asmo yelled, running, well, skipping, towards her at the top of his voice.

“Asssssie,” she laughed as he picked her up with ease, using strength only a few demons ever got to see. Her shirt lifted as she wrapped her legs around him.

“I heard someoooone’s been in a little trouble the last few days,” he teased in a singsong voice, walking with her in his arms. “I’m offended you didn’t come to me first.” He pouted as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a slow kiss.

“I’m sorry. I’m here now baby,” she whispered, letting that feeling of heat take over once more.

Asmo carried her into his room, keeping one arm around her as he ran a bath, kissing her tenderly whilst the water drew to the right heat, his hands slowly peeling off her shirt until his fingers glided over her soft skin.

“So perfect,” he whispered, letting her undo his own clothes, his trousers dropping to the floor as he picked her up and settled her into the water. He lay back with her straddling him, his mouth nipping gently at her neck as his hand dipped below the water to ghost over her thighs. “And I thought I was meant to be the lustful one,” he teased at the scent of her arousal, his eyes sparkling as he felt her heartbeat quicken. 

She didn’t have time to answer back with quick wit, instead letting his fingers work inside her until she came over them, the water splashing at the sides of the tub as she rocked gently over his until he sat up and began to push her back gently. 

“No,“ she blushed and stopped him, pushing him back down and taking his length into her hand. “I want to be on top.”

Asmo showed no sign of protest, holding her waist gently as his hands brushed up and down her sides whilst she lowered herself onto him. Whilst he knew he was skilled at giving pleasure to his lovers, that he liked to be in control, she needed this more. To let herself set the pace, the mood, the angle. She needed control more than he did at this moment. 

One arm circled her waist to keep her close, the other cupping her breast in his palm, squeezing it softly as it bounced in his hold. Her moans were captured by his mouth, a sweet kiss at first only breathing away for air., before pulling back to each other, this time tongues slipping between the velvet folds of their mouths, desperately searching for each other.

He kept her pressed against him when she came, whining so softly against his lips. His arm around her kept her close even as she tried to pull away naturally, her walls pulsing as he felt every tight flutter over him.

“That’s it, you're so good,” he cooed softly, taking his hand off her breast to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His lips touched her ear as he shallowly rocked up against her. 

He encouraged her through another climax; he was skilled in holding off his own until finally he could do so no more. The water around them was now lukewarm as she pressed her lips tightly against his, the avatar of lust unable to resist anymore as he spilled inside her, bringing her to one final climax from the throb of his head against her cervix. 

He refused her help as he cleaned her thighs and skin with a wet cloth from the side, pressing kisses to her glowing lips. He enjoyed afterwards with her just as much sex itself; she brought him a different type of pleasure. The cuddles, the kisses, the reassurance through panting breaths, the way she looked so radiant as she curled up against him, still a little hazy and drunk off pleasure. He was good at that, making her feel so blissed out that words, colours and meaning to anything no longer made sense.

“I have a class I need to start getting ready for, sweetie.” Asmo pressed a kiss to her forehead, peeling himself away from her even though she clung after him as he placed her on his bed. “I skipped biology this morning, but it’s okay. I got a more physical lesson than R.A.D could ever teach.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “Here, this will satisfy you until someone’s back.” Asmo pulled out a toy that curved, passing her a remote. It was her toy, one that Asmo had bought for her when they began experimenting with different ones. He peppered kisses up her thighs before slowly easing it into her. It wasn’t as thick or as big as any of the brothers but at least it did all the work for her to satisfy her. 

She had already begun withering from it’s touch, the curve of it hitting against her g-spot with a humming vibration. Asmo stood for a few moments in silence, in admiration of her. She was beautiful. He didn’t have words for how special she was to him or his brothers, their human captivating the hearts of demons and giving them a piece of her own in return. He was just about to pull himself away to finally leave for class when his door open and in strolled-

“Solomon?” Looking on in confusion, the young girl quickly closed her spread thighs as the sorcerer came walking in as if he belonged.

“My, my.” He had a cheshire grin full of darkness, “So it is true.”

“Solomon, what are you- Get out!” Asmo took a step but a flick of the wrist from Solomon had him frozen in place. Asmo’s eyes darted to her in worry, unable to move any other part of his body. 

“My dear, I can practically sense your heat from here,” Solomon grinned as he focused his attention on her. She was softly mewling as the toy continued on a low intensity with her legs shut. “Don’t fear, I won’t touch.” He knew that if he placed a hand on her in this state, the brothers would feel it due to their pacts and it would only be a matter of seconds before Lucifer appeared. “I just want to watch.” He’d been fascinated at Lucifer's claims, that a human had gone into heat by his doing and he longed to see the effects of it in person himself. “May I?” 

The girl nodded and gently parted her thighs; she knew Solomon wouldn’t hurt her. She also knew of his ‘relationship’ with Asmo. If Asmo trusted him, then so did she. “I won’t touch her, I swear.” Solomon turned to Asmo with a soft look in his ashen eyes. With a click Asmo was free, stumbling forward slightly before stopping. 

“Sweetie… are you sure about this?” Asmo placed his hand on her knee and squeezed it slightly with reassurance. 

“Yes,” she breathed out in a part whine, the toy continuing to buzz inside her, making her stomach light, her eyes heavy with desire as they met Solomon’s. She let her thighs spread further, giving them a full view of her glistening folds as she gently gripped the sheets below. 

Solomon watched with sparkling eyes of lust as she came, quickly followed by another orgasm as Asmo cooed her softly through them, telling her how good she was. But by that point, Solomon was losing his composure. The scent of her heat was affecting him. He knew the potion she had taken had no effect on demons, but after his conversation with Simeon and the way his own body was becoming heated, he was feeling first hand that the effects could pass on to humans and other godly creatures.

“Touch her,” he commanded, peering down at Asmo as his hand moved to palm over the bulge growing in his black slacks. He would stay true to his word, he would not touch her, but he’d never said Asmo couldn’t. 

-

The flames of pleasure licked her lower stomach, a strong sensation she had only felt a few times before building inside. 

“A-Asmo-!” Her voice was wavering and brimmed to the lid with lust, her hands shaking as they grasped at his golden-brown hair.

“"Look at that, Asmo... She cums as easily as you. Just another needy little slut." Solomon's words were sharp, mocking, with a grin on his face, "The great Asmodeus, outdone by a needy slutty human. You should be ashamed."His words were followed by a harsh blow, the sound of the slap ricocheting off the walls as his hand came down onto Asmo’s ass. 

The mumbles of pleasure from the avatar of lust vibrated against her. His tongue languidly licked at her swollen clit whilst two fingers curled up against her walls, pressing over and over against the spot that was rendering her breathless and seeing stars. He wanted to gaze up, admire her body writhing in pleasure with his rose-gold eyes but the way Solomon was roughly pounding into him from behind had them rolling to the back of his skull.

The thrusts from Solomon had Asmo pulling and pushing away from her folds, her hips grinding desperately back against him in need of friction until her hands anchored his head in place to keep him where she desperately needed him. She whimpered his name, thick pools of lust beneath her eyes gazing up and meeting’s Solomon’s. His brow was knitted, his jaw clenched as he drove into Asmo, each thrust harder than the last. His perfect shade of winter eyes baring down at her was the final push she needed.

Her thighs trembled as her toes curled, gasping profoundly into the air with loud curses as every nerve inside her body set alight whilst every hair on her skin stood up. Her spine curved as she rose off the bed, thick rivulets of her arousal releasing from the build up of pressure inside her. 

The hot squirt against his mouth and hand had Asmo undone; getting her to squirt had only happened on a few occasions. He whined heavily, almost louder than her as he came, shooting thick white against his torso as it dripped onto the floor. Solomon growled lowly at the tight clench of Asmo around him, his cock heavily throbbing inside him until he found his own release. His hips pressed harshly against his ass, his cock pulsing as he came inside him.

"You're just a natural slut like Asmo here. Such messy people." Solomon chuckled, slightly breathless as he gazed down at the mess glazing Asmo's skin. The demon surprisingly went red-faced under his words. "Little sluts need to be kept under control. Who knows the trouble you'd get into?" His gaze flickered to the woman. "Must be why Lucifer keeps you on such a short leash."

Solomon grinned with a devilish smile as Asmo cleaned her and himself up, resting against the door frame as he pulled up his slacks. The potion effects seemed to have worked unbelievably well, far better than any aphrodisiac he had ever seen. The girl had been able to handle multiple climaxes, each one growing in intensity until finally it became too much. Whilst she trembled with her aftershocks, she had been able to tell him that after a few hours’ rest her body would recover and be begging for more, muscle aches and bruising all vanishing as if just a dream. 

The white haired sourcer pulled Asmo into a deep kiss before, in the blink of an eye, he was gone, disappearing into thin air at the sound of the front door opening andLucifer calling out. He had come to check she was still there. 

“I’m here,” she panted out, Asmo helping them both to dress as she climbed under the covers. She was exhausted. Lucifer appeared with a smile which quickly faded; he sensed something in the air. 

“My love, who has been here?” His question sounded more like a command as he focused his gaze on her. Asmo could feel her bashfulness at having to explain the situation which occured, choosing to save her the trouble instead. 

“Come, she’s tired.” Asmo blew her a kiss before he tightly gripped Lucifer’s arm and led him down the corridor. 

-

Asmo calmed Lucifer down, explaining everything to him. Telling him how the girl saw Solomon just as close and special to her as she did the brothers. The same applied to Simeon after Levi had told him about the previous day. And Lucifer himself knew first hand the claim to her Diavolo now held.

“As much I hate the thought of his hands on her, if she wishes to be with them as well, we must let her and respect her wishes,” Lucifer sighed. He and his brothers had to accept that she touched the hearts of many and that they simply couldn’t keep her to themselves. “I fear we must learn to share our human, or we simply will push her away…”

-

The following morning she rose and headed to the kitchen. Although she still wasn’t going to R.A.D, she tried to keep herself in the routine of getting up and ready. Only, a dull throb pulsed between her thighs upon entering the kitchen upon sighting a shirtless beel wearing low skimmed joggers. Her eyes began falling down his toned torso, abs chiseled by the gods themselves, to the mouth watering v-line that led directly to his-

"Pft! Quit your starin’," Mammon huffed, pulling her out of her trance after witnessing her eyes practically glow. He was still overzealous when it came to her, hating that he had to share and fight for her attention amongst his brothers and, now, three more. 

“I-” a near growl rose deep within her chest to witness Beel innocently licking cream he’d spilled from his deviled puff eclair off his long, slender fingers. Unable to find words, she found herself throbbing and clenching over nothing as she rubbed her thighs on the spot where she stood. All she was able to do was shoot Mammon a look. A look he knew far too well as a smug grin took over his face. 

“I could smell ya from ya room,” he said in a low growl of a voice as he stalked towards her like a predator upon prey, the avatar of greed caging her in between him and the kitchen counter. The pink of his tongue darted out to swipe across the pointed fangs of his teeth before he leaned in. “I betcha ya already dripping.” His suspicion was confirmed as she sat upon the counter, hitching her skirt up for him to witness the wet patch already staining the silk of her underwear. A small ‘please’ was all she could muster, giving into the heat surging across her body as the need grew stronger with each passing second. “I’ve been waiting for ya, to get ma time with ya, waiting to make that tight pussy feel so good that ya won’t want anyone else.”

The following few moments were a blur, her eyes held tightly shut, nails scratching indents into the wooden surface. Her mind was left blank, two fingers swirling over her clit whilst two more thrusted into her tight cunt, unsure whose hand was whose. Her body lay flat against the surface as the two brothers stood between her legs, one leg hooked over Mammon's shoulder whilst the other rested over Beels, the two of them working in perfect unison to bring her to a blissful climax before the sun had fully risen. 

-

“Look,” Mammon’s voice commanded as he gripped her chin to keep her facing the full length mirror in front of his bed. Naked, he sat with her back to his chest, her feet placed onto his spread legs with his cock buried to the hilt inside her, giving her a full show of his cock disappearing and entering her each time he lifted her up. 

His teeth caught her ear as he whispered filth, “Look how well you take me, my tight human, my lewd girl,. Cumming again? Filthy girl, ya gonna make me bust a nut squeezing me like that, that’s it, scream ma name baby.” 

He held her waist with an arm around her, using his hidden strength to lift her up and down as he thrusted deeper. The girl was in the deepest of pleasure, tongue lolling to the side with her eyes thick with rapture, her head resting back on Mammon’s chest as she let him work her body. 

A low growl reminded her that there was another in the room Beel sat watching from the side with his hand around himself, his eyes focused purely on her, watching Mammon stretching her and her perky breasts bouncing up and down. His jaw ached to be on them, his tongue ready to devour her and his cock ready to buried deep inside her. 

“My turn,” he growled, as Mammon’s hips pressed up against her, his teeth in her shoulder to muffle his cry as he came inside her. Beel blocked the view of the mirror as he stood in front, the girl whimpering at the size of him. She couldn’t lie, his cock always scared her. Like his physical build, it was huge and intimidating. 

“Wait ya turn, I’m not done.” Mammon continued to shallowly thrust as she began to tremble in his hold, clenching around him with a tight grip. A heavy groan left him, making Beel roar in anger. 

The ginger dropped to his knees. His height had him now eye level with the girl as he kissed her deeply. One of his hands began thumbing over her nipple as the other toyed with her clit, making her buck violently against Mammon. The added stimulation had her thighs quaking and, if not for Mammon for holding her up, she would have fallen sideways as she came. 

They helped her ride out the high, before Beel lifted her up and off Mammon, Mammon unable to match his strength as he huffed, watching Beel push himself into her. The girl shifted so her legs were around Beel, her arms around his neck as she clung to him. She was as light as a feather to him, him kissing her deeply as she felt Mammon stand and line himself up behind her. His cock, slicked with her arousal, together with wet fingers, pressed against her puckered hole. 

“We’re gonna fuck ya so good,” Mammon licked the shell of her ear as a finger pushed into her, Beel slowly bouncing her off his cock, both brothers as greedy as each other as they filled her, taking climax after climax and leaving her utterly speechless. It was hard to tell in that moment which one really was the avatar of greed.

-

The next day, the girl had literally fucked the heat out of her body. Mammon and Beel had sent her into overstimulation as they worked together until she saw stars and came close to passing out. 

But when she woke up in her own bed the next day, heading down to breakfast and seeing all of the brothers, no rush of arousal came to her. The potion’s effects had finally worn off. 

“Morning!” She smiled sweetly, walking in and grabbing a slice of toast off the counter. The brothers waited a second, seeing if she would pounce on any of them but it never came. Instead, she merrily chatted and took a bite out of her food. 

The girl was thankful it was Saturday so she could enjoy some free time on the weekend. 

“Well, I think I might go out, get some fresh air if anyone wants to join?” she asked, turning around and heading out the door. But a leather glove stopped her, sending her turning backwards to see all of the brothers stalking close to her, Lucifer keeping a grip on her wrist. 

“It seems, my dove, you overspent myself and my brothers this week.” Lucifer pulled her close, his hand cupping her cheek. “You’ve been a very needy girl.” 

Lucifer caught her lips as the other brothers surrounded her, each one pulling at her for her attention, several pairs of lips finding her own, several sets of hands beginning to undress her and caress her skin. 

For the first time, all seven of the brothers shared her, savouring their tiny human all for themselves. And as for getting some fresh air, that was never going to happen, since she wasn’t able to leave the house at any point that weekend, purely because she couldn’t walk the following day. 

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[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[obeymeoasis]

Demon Bros React: MC Compliments Them Aggresively

Warnings: A generally thirsty MC, Beel’s react has a brief mention of choking.

Lucifer

It was rare that Lucifer had time off during the afternoon and you were fully taking advantage of it. 

Holding hands, you were taking a leisurely stroll around the garden. Every few minutes you stopped to point out a flower or a bug that had caught your eye.

“Ooh Luci, look at this one! It looks like a rainbow! Oh my god, it’s so shiny, I love it!”

You heard Lucifer chuckling at you and turned to ask what was so funny when you stood still in shock at the sight before you. The glow of the afternoon sun illuminated Lucifer beautifully, his black hair almost glowing, his face open and happy, smiling at you. He looked absolutely radiant. And you were going to tell him as much.

“Oh my god Lucifer, what is wrong with you?”

Lucifer’s smile dimmed immediately and his eyes narrowed. “Love, whatever do you mean?” His voice was careful and tense.

“I mean, it is illegal for you to look that good! Oh my god! Do you see you? You look like a greek god like what in the actual world!”

Lucifer’s mouth opened in surprise at your sudden outburst.

“How are you even my boyfriend? Like you’re literally glowing Luci. Oh my god my eyes, you’re too bright I can’t even look at you!”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times as if to clear his head. Slowly a satisfied smirk replaced his confused look and he moved to press a kiss against the back of your hand.

“Love, what on earth has gotten into you today?”

“What, I’m not allowed to compliment my boyfriend?”

“Of course you are, although I’d prefer it if the compliments were given in a more... private place next time.”

“...Fine.”

Mammon

Mammon had apparently made some money in one of his schemes and he practically dragged you to Majolish one morning to go shopping.

Once in the store Mammon had sped off in a flurry of activity, adding clothes to an ever-growing pile before herding you toward the dressing room. 

"Wait for me outside, okay? Ya gotta tell me how each outfit looks.”

A few minutes later, Mammon stepped out in a pair of dark jeans that hugged his toned legs and a black v-neck sweater that showed off his collarbone. A thin gold chain adorned his neck and the look was completed with a pair of combat boots.

“Well, whattaya think?”

“Mammon. What the hell.”

Mammon’s shoulders drooped a little. “Not good?”

“Mammon. You look so hot. So fucking hot. Like. A supermodel? An icon? You’re stunning!”

He was beginning to blush and you could see how pleased your compliments made him. “O-Of course you think I’m hot! I’m the Great Mammon! I always look good in whatever I wear.”

He expected you to stop at that point and chide him to be more humble but was surprised when you amped up the compliments.

“You do babe, you really do. Look at how long your legs are! And your arms, oh my god. And your chest, wow, I kinda want to lick your chest right now.”

“MC!” Shocked and a little embarrassed, Mammon fled to the inside of the dressing room, swishing the curtain shut behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning. 

“Sorry Mams, I’ll stop if you want me to. But I meant every word.”

“...Please don’t stop.”

Leviathan

You were in his room, cuddled on some cushions, watching a new anime together. 

Your head on Levi’s shoulder, you were so comfortable that you were close to drifting off to sleep, until Levi nudged your shoulder. “Sorry, I have to go feed Henry.”

You watched Levi sprinkle food into the large tank, his face illuminated by the soft glow. The bubbles and movement from the tank created dancing patterns on his face. As Levi watched Henry eat, he smiled a soft, private smile, and in that moment he looked ethereal.

“Levi, you’re so beautiful.”

Levi’s head whipped around to look at you. “W-What are you talking about?”

You got up and moved closer until you were inches from his face, studying his features. “I’m serious Levi, you’re absolutely gorgeous. Devastatingly handsome. I could honestly stare at you all day. You are so so beautiful.”

With each compliment, Levi’s mouth grew a little bit wider until he was gaping at you.

“I-Is this some kind of joke? Are you making fun of me right now? Why would you- You know how I feel about-”

“Levi, please. Have a little more faith in me. You know I’d never make fun of you. I’m being completely serious right now when I say that you’re incredibly beautiful.”

Levi thinks his brain might have stopped working.

His face is burning, his body is all tingly, and he can’t get any words out?

“Levi? Come back to me, Levi! Hello?” You’re waving your hand in front of his face but you think he might be broken.

You take his hand and slowly lead him back toward the cushions for kisses and more cuddling. 

Satan

Reading with Satan was one of your favorite ways to spend an afternoon.

You sat in opposite armchairs and let the comfortable silence fill the room. The only disturbance would be if either of you wanted to share a line or passage from the book you were reading.

Legs curled against your chest, you watched the flame of the candles make flickering shadows against Satan’s bookshelves.

He tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to see his outstretched hand holding his book.

“Love, look at this line.”

You read in amusement as the hero of the story made a witty joke. "That was a good one-"

You turned and saw Satan, his eyes crinkled in laughter, a light blush dusting his cheeks, his lips bitten in an attempt to hold in a giggle.

"Satan... you're so fucking cute."

Immediately one of his eyebrows cocked in confusion. "What-"

"You are so adorable, wow. I want to squish your cheeks and like keep you inside my pocket or something."

"Love, I am the Avatar of Wrath. I am not... cute."

"Yeah? Well I beg to differ. I call it like I see it and right now, I can see that you are the cutest being I've ever seen in my life. The way your eyes light up and you get all blushy. So adorable, I can't stand it."

Satan seemed to be stunned by your exclamation, his features frozen in a mixture of confusion and shock.

You walked over to him and began pressing kisses against his eyelids, on his cheeks, nose, and then finally, lips. "I'm gonna keep kissing you because you're so cute, okay?"

He ended up tugging you against his chest and holding you in a princess-carry, trying to bury his face in your hair so you couldn't see how flustered he was.

Asmodeus

You were in Asmo's room helping him pick an outfit. Well, more like you were scrolling through your D.D.D. while Asmo went through his entire closet complaining about how he had nothing to wear.

He had some sort of big business meeting coming up with a perfume company who wanted his help in designing their new line of products.

Every outfit so far had been beautiful and Asmo looked amazing in each one, as always. You weren't sure how to help him.

"MC, this next outfit is a little different. It's not really my style but it was a gift from the designer so tell me what you think, okay?"

Asmo swished aside the curtain of his dressing room and walked out in a formal black business suit. The shirt was open at the throat, exposing his delicate neck, and he had added a pink pocket square. A large silver watch shone on his left wrist. His shiny black shoes clicked against the floor as he walked toward you.

"So, what do you think?"

"Asmo... If I'm being honest I kind of want you to pin me against the wall right now."

"Darling! You're usually never this forward."

You stood up and twirled him around. "My god Asmo, you look incredible. You look so sexy and professional. Like a rich CEO or something. Scratch the wall thing, I kinda need you to bend me over your desk."

Asmo had never been more surprised by you, but his shock didn’t last long.

"Do you really like it, MC? Do you like when I wear this sort of thing? I should wear suits more often if it means you talking like that. I love this side of you darling!"

He began stalking toward you until your back was gently pressed against the wall, his arms making a kind of cage around you. “Is this what you pictured, MC?” He began kissing you fiercely and you grabbed onto the lapel of his jacket to keep yourself steady. 

“Asmo?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t go to the meeting today.”

Beelzebub

You were in the gym with Beel. He was lifting weights and you were bouncing on a medicine ball next to him.

Even though you didn’t exercise at all, Beel said he liked you being there with him. And since it was such a hot day outside, you didn’t mind spending the afternoon in the cool air-conditioned building.

But despite the chill of the room, Beel’s shirt was soaked with sweat. He was lifting enormous weights and you could see the muscles of his arms straining with the effort. 

Beel was, well, absolutely ripped. His arms, legs, and stomach all looked like they had been carved from marble. And you spent enough time cuddling with him to know that his body felt exactly like it looked, solid and incredibly strong.

People who didn’t know Beel personally would have found it hard to believe that the demon with an eight-pack had the personality of a hungry golden retriever.

A grunt from Beel startled you out of your thoughts and you realized you had been staring at him this whole time. Uncomfortable at the way his shirt was sticking to his body from sweat, Beel peeled it off of himself.

“Beel?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re killing me here.”

He looked at you in confusion, worried he had done something. “MC, what’s wrong?”

“Beel, do you even see yourself right now? You literally look like sex on legs. How are you even real? I want to touch you all over. But I also kind of want you to choke me.”

“MC!” Beel cried out in surprise and you could see his neck was flushed. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“I know big guy, I trust you.” You let out a low whistle and reveled in how Beel looked, a combination of pleased and a bit embarrassed. “Beel, you’re so perfect. You look like you could protect me from the world.”

“I would you know,” he whispered. “I want to protect you, I don’t want anything or anyone to hurt you.”

You smiled at him. “I know Beel, and I love you for it.” You let the silence hang in the air for a moment. “But also, can I lick your abs?”

“MC!”

Belphegor

It was a rare occasion that you and Belphie were outside, as you both usually preferred to stay in.

You had both woken up late and decided to stop by a local cafe for some lunch because you were too lazy to cook. 

Belphie sat across from you at the small table and sipped his tea delicately while you polished off the rest of your sandwich. You had one of your ankles hooked around his.

He was looking out the window, his face turned toward the side, and you used the opportunity to study his features.

Long black eyelashes framed his piercing purple eyes. His silky dark hair stood out against his pale complexion and your eyes traced the high bridge of his nose, the softness of his lips.

As if feeling your stare Belphie turned toward you with a smirk. “Something I can help you with?”

“Belphie... you’re really pretty.” 

You could see that you had surprised him a little with your honesty. “You’re so pretty, Belphie. I know a lot of people would kill to have eyelashes as long as yours. And your mouth looks so kissable. You kind of look like a doll. You’re honestly so gorgeous.”

His face was completely blank for a moment then morphed into a calculating stare. “Are... are you being serious right now?” His gaze suddenly turned cold.

“Why would I joke about something like this? I’m telling you right now that think you’re pretty. You’re beautiful.”

Belphie's voice betrayed no emotion. “Nobody’s ever called me pretty before. Or beautiful.”

“Oh, Belphie.” You took his hand from across the table and pressed a kiss against his palm and then the inside of his wrist, the way he did to you all the time. “I’ll repeat it everyday for the rest of my life if you want.”

He scrunched up his nose and whispered, “Don’t. You’re being embarrassing.” But you could tell he didn’t really mean it by the way the corners of his lips quirked up.

He was mostly silent for the rest of lunch, apparently deep in thought, only nodding occasionally at your comments.

When it was time to leave, however, he reached to hold your hand and didn’t let go the entire way home.

[silver-tongued-bby]

Devotion - Part I

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Nun!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dark!Loki fic and it explores sexual and dark religious (catholic) themes, including mind control (paralysis), loss of faith, oral sex (m and f receiving), loss of virginity, knife play, blood play, dirty talk, a dom/sub relationship, and general blasphemy. Read at your own risk!!

Words: 3,668

Summary: You chose to devout yourself to God. But did you choose the right one?

A/N: If there is a hell, I think I'll be going straight to it for this one. Please remember this is a work of fiction- if you take issue with the themes mentioned above, please do not interact.

...

It was late when you finished your prayers- much later than usual. You’d stayed by the chancel, kneeling on the soft velvet of the hassock well beyond the sunset, your Sisters excusing themselves one by one. The votive candles were mostly out by the time you stood on shaky legs, the feeling slowly coming back to them as you extinguished the remaining flames.

You sighed, hoping that the twelve hours of prayer today would be enough to rid yourself of the dream. Walking behind the altar, you turned off the lights. Things were still somewhat illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight coming through the stained glass.

Moving back around the altar towards the nave you stopped, seeing the outline of a figure before you, your heartbeat in your ears as you held a palm to your chest. You tilted your head, blinking furiously in the darkness, attempting to make sense of the form. It looked like a person- a man, standing by the open doors. Must be a trick of the light, you thought as you squinted in an attempt to make out the tall shadow.

Sighing, you gingerly stepped down the altar’s carpeted stairs to slowly approach the form, keeping your eyes on it. Suddenly, you stopped, the hairs standing on end at the back of your neck. This was how the dream started. A figure- a dark figure is what you’d see before it would float towards you, wrapping you up in its darkness and consuming you whole. You’d wake gasping for air, your eyes wet with tears.

You took a deep breath, chastising yourself for your foolishness. You were awake, and the dark mass in front of you was likely a shadow from outside, or the coat rack, or the monstrance- Sister Anne always left the monstrance out after she buffed it.

Shaking your head, you stepped down onto the cold stone floor. Then you thought you saw the figure move. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you stopped once more, trying to make out the shapes in the shadow. You attempted to calm yourself down- you were awake, this wasn’t a dream. Besides, in the dream you always heard that laugh- the dark, velvety laugh ringing out in the silence. There was no laugh now.

You pinched yourself for good measure, nodding when you felt the pain, ensuring that this was not a dream. Huffing, you decided to speed-walk down the nave, your steps ringing out as you approached the shadow.

You were about four paces away when you finally saw the glint of two eyes in the moonlight. You gasped and scrambled backwards, the figure before you now clear.

“At last.” A voice- the voice from your dream. It was deep, dark velvet ringing out through the silence. A sliver of moonlight was hitting two green eyes, illuminating pale skin and a dark brow. You could see the inky, black hair that fell around his face in waves.

You were stunned, and wanted so desperately to turn and run but you couldn’t bring your body to move. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out, just like the dream. You began reciting The Apostles Creed in your mind, attempting to calm yourself and awake from whatever this was.

The familiar deep chuckle hit your ears. “Your prayer falls on deaf ears, little one. As they always have.” He stepped closer, then slowly circled your paralysed form.

Undeterred, you kept praying, shouting each word within your mind at the presence before you.

A hand came to grip your face firmly, long fingers digging into your delicate skin. “No more of that, little one.” With that, your thoughts were silenced. Held in place like the rest of you.

Your breath was loud against the silence, shaky puffs coming in and out as the entity observed you. You were struck by the beauty of this presence, his chiseled face more breathtaking than the paintings of Christ. He stood tall, before you, lithe figure covered in a crisp black suit.

“Your god has long since abandoned you. All of you, worshipping an entity who simply flicked the switch to humanity, who left once the beginnings had been set in motion.” He let his hand fall from your face and circled you once more.

“Yet you continue to pray, to worship, to adore him. And this Jesus Christ you vow yourself to,” he laughed pitifully, “a mortal. Long gone.”

“So much work, so much devotion, to an absent god. A god who cannot solve your problems, empower you, or answer your prayers.” He stopped in front of you and reached to pull at the veil covering your head, letting it drop to the floor. Tears were welling up in your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against your ear, “what god would ask for such beauty to be hidden away, like a dirty, little secret? What god would tell their most devout followers to vow themselves to never be touched,” he lightly traced your cheekbone with his knuckle, “be pleasured by another?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, and you felt the hold on you release. “You may answer,” he watched you as you blinked and shivered, a tear falling down either of your heated cheeks.

“You can’t know that- that He isn’t with us,” you frowned at him, your voice small.

He gave you a pitying look, his head tilting slightly. “Oh but I do, little one. And so do you.” He clasped his hands behind his back, regarding you darkly. “You prayed to your god for twelve hours this day, ten hours each day before. I heard you. I watched you.”

Your eyes widened. How could he have known? How long has he been watching you?

“A long time, little one. I heard you praying to your god to take away the dream I sent you. The dream foretelling you of my arrival.” He circled you again, leaning in to speak close- so close to your ear. You shivered. He could read your thoughts.

His mouth quirked upwards in acknowledgement before he continued. “If your god is with you, why did he not answer your prayers and protect you from me?”

“I- He must be testing me,” you said, the tears still falling.

“If your god is here with us, why is he not striking me down for standing on his ground? Speaking such blasphemy, in his own house?”

“I- I don’t know,” you said, a quiet sob shaking you. You felt alone, scared, and lost. If He was not with you, how could you carry on devoting yourself to Him? Was any of this His will? Or were all the rituals, the sacraments, fabricated by man?

You’d been having doubts for a while- since the dreams started. Instead of opening up to your sisters about it you held your tongue. Saying it out loud would have made it all so real. As it is now.

“Hush now, little one. Tears won’t do a thing.” He touched under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

You felt defeated and betrayed by the cause you’d so devoted yourself to. Pointless. What were you to do now? Without your faith you had nothing, no one.

“You started down the wrong path.” His eyes were locked with yours, a glint of something beneath the blue-green. “I can help you correct it. Worship me, and I’ll hear your prayers. Devote yourself to me, and I’ll answer them. Adore me,” he brushed his finger tips across your lips, “and I’ll empower you.”

You felt a thrill with his words, his actions, and his darkening stare. “What must I do?” You asked, your heart racing.

“Get on your knees.”

You knelt in front of him, bowing your head to his towering form, your hands clasped together in your lap.

“Eyes on me. Always.” He said, and you brought your face up to meet his stare. Before you were fully aware of what was happening he’d taken himself out, his hardened member before you.

Your eyes widened at it- you’d never seen a phallus up close in person. The vow you took promised yourself to your lord. You weren’t even supposed to touch a man, and had stuck to that for the majority of your life. You were nervous, unsure of what to do, how to please this dark entity before you. You also realised you’d never even asked him his name.

He chuckled darkly. “I am known to many as Loki, but you may call me Master. Now, bring yourself closer to me.” You leant forward. “Good. Open your mouth, little one.”

You did as you were told and he laid his thick member over your tongue, the taste of his skin salty, his heady scent enveloping you.

“Use your lips and tongue to worship me. Show me your devotion,” he angled his hips forward so more of his length filled your mouth.

You kept your eyes on his as you started to run your tongue along him, pursing your lips slightly. You took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat, which made you gag, tears springing to your eyes.

“Relax, little one. Breathe through your nose,” you did as you were told, consciously relaxing the muscle at the back of your throat. You found you could take him further, more of him pressing into you as your saliva dribbled around your lips.

“Good,” his voice sounded deeper, a small edge to it. He grasped your head, his nails lightly scraping against your scalp, bringing a little hum from you at the sensation. He twitched at that, and you took note, humming and groaning around him as he began to move you back and forth over his length.

His lips were apart as he moved you over him, his eyes running over your features. The lustful approval of his gaze made your heart flutter, and your core ache. You were so pleased to serve him, to have a God you could so tangibly show your devotion to. You wanted him to use you, use your body and soul for his pleasure.

He grunted, teeth clenched as his grip against your scalp became harsher. His hips stuttered and he groaned, his warm essence spilling into your mouth and down your throat. You were filled with pride to receive his seed, eagerly swallowing and revelling in the taste. You cleaned him off, his length remaining hard as he watched you work below him.

“Very good, little one.” He removed his hands from your scalp, gently brushing the hollows of your cheeks as you continued to suck his length. “What do you say after such a gift?” He asked.

You let him fall from your mouth, licking your lips. “Thank you, Master.” You said breathlessly.

He nodded at you in approval then motioned you to stand from the cool stone floors. You stood on shaky legs and he held up one hand, palm upwards. You tentatively put your hand in his and he gripped it lightly as he guided you towards the altar.

Once up the steps, he turned to you and in a flash of green he held a dagger. He hooked the blade into your tunic, tearing the fabric as he brought it downwards. The linen opened to expose the virginal white of your underwear. He pushed the cloth off your shoulders, letting the tunic fall to the ground. He did the same with your underwear, tearing the soft white fabric of your bra and panties to shreds, leaving you naked before the altar. He flipped the knife in his hand, catching it before disappearing it in another flash of green.

“Present yourself to me,” his eyes were busy running over your exposed skin.

“Yes Master,” you said, moving up against the altar before settling upon it and spreading your legs, exposing yourself to the cool air. You laid back, looking up at him from heavy-lidded eyes. Remembering all the times you’d prayed staring up at this altar made you ache for your new Master, needing him to feel your worship.

“So wet and needy for me,” he brushed a knuckle over your heat, forcing a shudder from you. “Though since it’s your first time, I will ready your body to take me.”

“Thank you Master,” you said again, resting on your elbow so you could maintain his gaze.

He smirked at you and bent a knee to bring his face closer to your heat. Your muscles twitched in anticipation as he lowered his gaze to your wet heat, his hands sliding up from your calves to your thighs, stopping so they could grip your tightly.

“Have you ever been touched here by another, little one? Kissed?” He asked, his breath ghosting over your heat.

You swallowed, shaking your head. “No, Master. N-never.”

“So pure,” his eyes ran over you before capturing your gaze once more. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

You cast your eyes downwards, “yes, Master.” You whispered, feeling shame bubble within you, your face hot.

His hands tightened around your thighs. “Look at me,” he commanded, and you quickly met his gaze. “Never feel ashamed for taking your pleasure. Worship me through it. Give into your pleasure, give into me.” He licked a slow stripe up your folds, and you cried out, your back arching against the hard wood of the altar.

From the angle of your gaze you could see the crucifix, inverted at your position. Blinking your eyes up at the sculpture of Christ, you felt your Master’s tongue swirl over your bundle of nerves and you moaned, still gazing up at the crucifix, as if you were expecting it to come to life.

You heard a low chuckle. “I told you. He’s long gone, little one.” Your brow furrowed- you still felt your Master’s tongue over your centre, hot and wet. How could you hear him?

“Look at me,” you heard his voice once more and pulled yourself up on your elbows to meet his icy gaze as he dipped a finger within you, causing you to shudder. “Do not question. Surrender,” he curled the finger on a spot that had you seeing stars, “surrender to me.”

You nodded, licking your dry lips as you panted. You were close. His hand was pressing hard into your thigh, while the other was quickly moving in and out of you, his tongue moving in tandem. “Let me feel your euphoria, little one. Let me drink it from your very soul.”

It was all so much, the feel of his fingers within you, the flick of his tongue against your most sensitive part. You were lightly moaning, the sound of your voice and his ministrations echoing off the stone of the church. His eyes were cold steel, demanding your gaze as he steadily stoked the fire within you, the flames licking at your skin.

“Oh! Oh my…” you trailed off, “God.” He finished darkly, and you came undone, writhing against the altar. As you rode out the waves of your high you whispered, “thank you Master,” over and over in prayer, your eyes slipping to those of blue-green below.

“Very good, little one. You’re ready to take me now. To feel me deep within you.” He pulled his fingers from you and stood, eyes roaming over your naked form. He ran one finger, wet with your excitement down from the hollow of your throat to the soft tufts of hair between your legs and you shivered, the cool air kissing the trail he’d left.

Smirking down at you he gripped himself, coming closer to run the head of his length up against your dripping core. You inhaled sharply, your hand gripping the wood of the altar below.

“You were built for worship. Body and soul,” he spoke, his voice rough. He slowly pushed in an inch, your channel tight around him. You squirmed, feeling a sharp pain as he continued to push in.

“Relax. Deep breath, little one.” You did as you were told, filling your lungs with air and he slid the rest of the way in on your exhale. The pain turned sharper still, and you whined, your breaths quick and pained.

“That’s it. Don’t cry,” he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “It will feel better soon. But I need you to feel the pain. I need you to feel me stretch you, to feel me break you.” His eyes went to the skin where your bodies met, where he was stretching you, holding still while you desperately tried to relax your muscles, your nails digging into the wood of the altar.

He brought his hand down, swiping around your folds. Bringing his fingers before you, you could see they were wet with slick and bright red with your blood. He brought his fingers to your lips and swiped them over your tender skin. He bent to kiss you, his tongue running along your lips. He hummed at the taste before kissing you deeply, the metallic-tinged taste lingering in your mouth.

He started to move his hips, pulling back out of you before coming forward. Your back arched, the pain mingling with some deep sort of pleasure as he began setting a pace. He moved to whisper foreign words over the shell of your ear.

You felt a warmth wash over you, the pain slipping away with it, leaving the pleasure. He came away from you, standing back up to his full height as he looked at you, his head tilted. “Does that feel better, little one?”

“Yes, Master,” you moaned, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. His hands gripped either side of your waist, long fingers pressing into the skin as he continued to move with you.

“That’s it little one, worship me as I fuck you. Worship me as I taint you.” He continued to thrust into you, the stained glass windows of the church framing his dark figure. He gave a little flick with his fingers in the air and you felt a pressure on you- similar to finger tips, gently rubbing at your clitoris. You cried out, and he bent forward to clasp his fingers over your wrists, pulling them upwards to hold them firmly on the altar over your head as he continued to thrust within you.

You were writhing against him, the soft, woven material of his suit rubbing up against your sensitive skin, the phantom touch still continuing below. He was grinning at you, the glint in his eyes that of pure sin as he watched you lose control. You came fully undone beneath him, giving in to the pleasure he was wringing from your body, every nerve alit with it. Your vision blurred slightly but you kept your eyes open, his smirk taunting you as you came thanking him at the top of your lungs.

The touch below had continued as you rode out your orgasm, coming back in full force once your breath settled. He moved to grip your wrists with one hand, the other coming to firmly grasp your jaw, pushing your face to the side. You felt his tongue against the shell of your ear and you cried out at the sensation. He chuckled lowly before taking your earlobe between his teeth, marring the flesh then running his tongue over the heated skin. Your breaths were quick puffs, your chest rising against his as he continued to nip, bite and lick at your skin.

“You will cum once more, little one. Cum for your Master and I will reward you,” he nipped at your earlobe once more, “I’ll fill you little one. Would you like that?” His voice was divine, the dark tone of it bending you to his every will.

“Y-yes please, Master, please fill me,” you stuttered, your hips arching towards his thrusts, angling you slightly off the altar.

He chuckled once more, “good. Now, little one,” he licked the skin beneath your earlobe, “cum now.” With that he bit you- you could feel his teeth break the skin of your neck as you moaned, the pain mingling with the pleasure sharply bringing your release. The pleasure electrified you, you couldn’t keep your body still as it fully overtook your every sense, clouding your vision.

As if it were far away you heard your Master moan. His muscles tensed against you, and you felt him twitch within you. As your breath returned he pulled out of you, stepping backwards to admire your form.

He smirked and brought two fingers to your dripping hole, swirling them in the wet there. Removing them, he traced a line down your chest in the slick, forcing a shudder from you.

He connected the vertical line with one horizontal, painting a cross over your breasts. You flinched when his fingers skimmed across your nipples, your body still overstimulated.

“Perfect,” he breathed, his hand moving to close his trousers.

His eyes falling back to you, he held a hand out towards you. You took it and he guided you to stand, the cum dripping down the insides of your thigh.

He snapped his fingers and suddenly you were clothed in a tight fitting tunic, the neckline low and the colour a rich emerald green. A golden pendant hung between your breasts, a small, detailed snake on the end with emeralds for eyes. You could still feel the cold wet slick on your chest and between your legs- he hadn’t given you any underwear. “That will do,” he nodded, “very fitting of a high priestess.”

He swiftly turned on his heel, heading down the steps and down the nave. Your heart beat loud and fast in your ears as you watched him walk away, unsure if he wanted you to follow. Stopping at the final pew he turned, long fingers of one hand beckoning you.

“Come along. You have work to do, little one.”

Part II here.

End Notes: There will be a part 2! Keep your eyes peeled- let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

I apologise if I got some aspects of the church wrong- I spent some time researching but I am in no way an expert.

Want to read more Loki fics of mine? My masterlist is here.

And as always, thank you for reading!

[1kook]

BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons​ !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu​ *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning. 

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver. 

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else. 

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work. 

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone. 

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow. 

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again. 

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears. 

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards. 

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning. 

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good. 

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life. 

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you. 

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands. 

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word. 

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him. 

But still. 

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess. 

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning. 

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience. 

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned. 

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants. 

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet. 

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord. 

But he’s scared. 

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you. 

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character. 

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t. 

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made. 

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors. 

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs. 

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up. 

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.” 

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you. 

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease. 

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean. 

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes. 

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead. 

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness. 

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there. 

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything. 

“__?” he says before he can stop himself. 

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you. 

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin. 

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?” 

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained. 

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind. 

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words. 

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before. 

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch. 

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you. 

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him.  With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.) 

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh. 

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed. 

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.” 

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that? 

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so. 

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not. 

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.” 

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.” 

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place. 

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion. 

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later. 

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car. 

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his. 

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.” 

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly. 

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out. 

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different. 

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you. 

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you. 

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity. 

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up. 

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his. 

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content. 

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you. 

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that. 

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long. 

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm. 

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back. 

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open. 

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat. 

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again. 

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?” 

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips. 

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again. 

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now. 

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once. 

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”  

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in. 

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t. 

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms. 

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?” 

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough. 

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist. 

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him. 

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl. 

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple. 

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror. 

The sight of him is… weird to say the least. 

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface. 

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down. 

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side. 

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck. 

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day. 

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close. 

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday. 

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips. 

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself. 

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him. 

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?” 

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him. 

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.” 

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space. 

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin. 

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you. 

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it. 

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress. 

It felt good.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[folklorelise]

Captain’s girlfriend taking care of the kids

PART 1: here

 - Eren when his experiments fail

When you found out that Eren was a titan, you and Hange would talk about non-stop which would drive Levi crazy.

”Erwin agreed to my experiments!” Hange informed you one morning, really excited.

”Can I come please?”

”Levi’s the boss, gotta ask him.”

”He’ll say yes!” you cheered.

Hange brought you to the old survey corps headquarters which was where the experiments would take place. It was also where Levi’s squad where.

”Leviii!” you yelled happily.

”No.” Levi stated once you were beside him.

”What do you mean ‘no’?”

”I meant no you’re not supposed to be here. How did you even know about Eren?”

”Hange told me because I am their best friend! Please let me stay.” you begged him. To your luck, Levi loved you, so he agreed to it. ”But you stay behind me, I don’t want that titan touching you.”

You greeted Eren just before he went into the pit.

”Eren, you got this!”

”Thank you Y/N.” Eren answered nervously. ”You are going to be there?”

”Yes, I’ll there the whole time so don’t worry about it.”

But during the experiment Eren just couldn’t transform, no matter how hard he tried to bit his hand over and over again.

”We should stop, he’s obviously hurt.” you protested.

”It’s Hange call.” Levi explained while taking you far from Eren in case he would transform.

”Y/N! Come back please, Eren’s hands aren’t healing either.” Hange screamed.

You ran to Eren and started to put alcohol on his hand and bandage everything.

”Are you feeling alright Eren?” you asked.

”Why can’t I transform?”

But before you could say anything, Hange took Eren. Levi walked to you and took your hand in his.

”Don’t worry about him. He’s going to be fine, he’s a titan.”

”Yeah...”

That night, you brought Eren his food.

”I’m not really hungry.” Eren assured.

”You have to eat, you didn’t eat anything at lunch too so you have to now.” you said putting his tray on his bed. ”Don’t force me to feed you like I did with Jean.”

”Fine.” he laughed.

”It’s alright if you didn’t transform today.”

”I disappointed everyone! Squad leader Hange had so much faith in me and I did nothing.”

”Eren, honestly, it’s fine because you don’t know how this works. Trust me, you’re doing great.” you smiled.

”Y/N...”

”Yes?”

”I heard something earlier. Something about the Captain.”

”Oh? What about the Captain?”

”Hange said that the Captain and you are... you know.” Eren ranted.

Except for the squad leaders and the commander, no one knew Levi was in a relationship with you. You did not hide it but wouldn’t scream it on top of every roof either.

”No actually, I don’t.” you hesitated.

”Captain Levi and you are... intimate with each other.” Eren whispered the last part.

”Yeager!” Levi yelled from outside the cell startling both Eren and you.

”Captain Levi!” Eren saluted him, spilling his soup on his bed.

”Clean that mess. Y/N, Hange is asking for you.” Levi waited for you to leave before talking to Eren, ”I didn’t know you were into gossip.”

”I’m not sir, Captain, sir. I apologise!”

Levi did not say another word and left Eren alone so he could find you.

”Hange didn’t need me.” you said once Levi entered his bedroom. ”What did you say to Eren?”

”Nothing.”

”Riight. Anyway, let’s sleep because there’s nothing else we can do.”

”I can think of one thing we can do.” Levi whispered next to your ear.

 —————

 - Armin after he killed a guy to save Jean

You were fighting alongside with Levi against Kenny and his soldiers.

”I can take care of this Y/N, go back to the kids.” Levi ordered.

”I’m helping!”

When you went back to the cadets, you spotted Jean corned by one of Kenny’s pawn. You were ready to shoot the person, but a gun was fired before you could. You thought for a second that Jean was shot dead, but that unknown person collapsed right in front of Jean. You moved to where he was and found Armin with his gun still pointing toward the dead body.

”Oh...” you mumbled, ”Armin, are you okay honey?” you knelt down to him.

”I... I killed someone.” he voiced absently.

At night, you were preparing the bedrooms in the abandoned house before joining the rest of the squad outside.

”... you save Jean.” Levi said.

You looked at him asking him what they were talking about and he nodded toward Armin.

”We should all go to sleep, it has been a long day.” you suggested.

Before walking away, you made sure Jean was doing great and then you went to see Armin. He was sitting in the corridor, holding his gun as if his life depended on it. You sat down next to him and he automatically rested his head on your shoulder.

”You did great today. You saved your friend’s life.” you tried to cheer him up.

”Levi said the same thing.”

”Levi’s never wrong.”

”I...” Armin started after a long pause, ”I constantly feel like I’m going to puke and I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes, I see myself pulling the trigger.” he finished sobbing. You circled your arms around him and told him it was going to be fine.

”Do you want me to stay so you could sleep?”

”I- you have to sleep with the Captain though...”

”You can come in our bedroom then, I think there a couch there.” you cheered softly.

”Captain Levi wouldn’t agree.” Armin guessed.

”Don’t worry I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

—————

”What? No!” Levi shouted.

”Oh my! Not that loud! Armin is just outside!” you shouted back just as loud, ”but please say yes.”

”Is he supposed to sleep between us or something?”

”I was thinking about... hm, how do I put this delicately?” you asked yourself, ”I was thinking you should sleep on the couch because it might be uncomfortable for him to sleep with you.” you said cautiously.

Levi stared at you without smiling, saying ‘are you serious?’. Armin at this moment came in the bedroom worried.

”I don’t to be the cause of a fight, I can sleep with the others, it’s fine!” Armin inquired.

”Fine.” Levi sighed, ”but I’m not sleeping on that that thing.” he showed the old couch.

”The bed’s big, it’s fine!”

You were in the middle while Armin was on your left and Levi on your right. Armin fell asleep rather quickly while you and Levi were still awake.

”So that’s how my life’s going to look like? You and these kids?” Levi stated.

”They won’t be needing me anymore in a few years, so then it’s going to be just you and I. How does that sound?”

”Great. Sounds great to me.” he answered while spooning you. ”Are you really spooning Armin?” Levi asked you.

”Yeah, it’s more comfortable for the three of us, believe me.”

 —————

 - The night after Armin was captured as Historia (after that weirdo who said weird things and touched my boi)

When you found Jean and Armin, you kicked that old pervert in the balls and threw in far away from Armin. That same night, you found him crying silently outside of your tent. You and Levi sat down beside him.

”You did great.” Levi told him.

”I’m sorry you had to go through that.” you said.

”I think he’s asleep,” Levi started, ”That boy falls asleep so quickly when you’re here, it’s insane”

”Should we just sleep here?”

Levi ended up carrying Armin to his tent and you and Levi stayed with him, because neither of you could sleep anyway. Through the middle of the night, Jean opened Armin’s tent slightly and you came out.

”What’s wrong?” you asked worried.

”I just wanted to make sure Armin was alright.”

”He’s asleep which is great. You can’t sleep either?” you saw that Jean just looked away blushing, ”come, there’s enough place for a giant like you.” you joked.

When you came back Armin was awake.

”Why aren’t you sleeping?” you asked to which he responded with a shrug. ”Let’s all go back to sleep, and that includes you too Levi.”

Levi was right when he said that his life would the kids as long as you were there.

 —————

 - After the serum had to be given to Armin

Hange was screaming that Erwin had to have the serum. Mikasa and Eren were screaming that Armin should have it instead. While they were screaming, you were silently crying over Erwin’s almost dead body. Levi looked at you and for a second he thought about given Erwin the serum, but in the end, he gave it to Armin. When Levi made his move, you broke down crying, you were a mess.

You knew Levi had a special bond with Erwin and giving the serum to someone else was a hard choice. On top of that, Erwin was one of your closest friends. Which meant that you knew about his goal of discovering the secret about titans. And knowing how close he was to fulfil his dream broke your heart. Hange was beside you, on their knees beside Erwin. Very soon after, Levi joined the two of you.

”Y/N,” Levi started, ”I-”

”W-we have... we have to bury hi-his body.” you said sobbing uncontrollably, ”we can’t... we can’t just let him here.”

”Y/N, we still have to go to the basement.” Hange explained while you refused to let go of Erwin.

”I can stay here, I can wait for you to come back.” you chocked on your words.

That night, you hardly had any sleep. Levi holds you in his arms the whole night. By the morning, you had stopped crying, there were no tears left to cry.

”Do you want to go and eat?” Levi asked you.

”Not hungry.”

”I’m still going to grab some bread for us.”

The day passed too slowly for you, you stayed in the infirmary the whole day, but no one needed help - almost every member of the survey corps were dead anyway. But someone still knock on your door late in the afternoon. Before you could answer, the door opened on Armin. None of you talked - you could only assume that Eren and Mikasa filled him in about what happen.

”I can’t replace Commander Erwin.” Armin whispered. ”Please don’t hate me.” he faltered.

”What? I could never hate any of you! How — why would even think that?” you yelled.

”Erw—”

”Erwin’s dead yes, I know! But— all that matters is that you are here, and I’m glad you are.” you calmed down. ”I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Armin came running toward you and hugged you so tight that you could hardly breath.

”I thought you’d hate me.” Armin confessed.

”I would never because I love you.”

  - Reunion with Reiner

When you heard Gabi saying that Reiner had passed out, you follow her without saying anything. She showed you the house where Reiner was, and you opened the door slowly. He was on the ground, wrapped up in an old and thin blanket.

”Reiner?” you asked softly next to his ear, ”wake up and tell me if you’re hurt somewhere, Gabi told me you couldn’t heal properly.”

He groaned and opened his eyes. The last time you saw him was during the Shiganshina attack he planned with Bertolt and Zeke.

”I-”

”Reiner, are you alright?” Gabi asked worried.

”I just need to rest.” Reiner answer looking away from your stare.

You sat down and put Reiner’s head on your lap so he would be more comfortable.

”Sleep a bit before the others come, then we’ll move again.” you told him.

”I’m sorry.” Reiner whispered. He turned his head toward your stomach and curled up on himself. He was so afraid that you reject him after what he did, but he was one of your kids — you could never throw them away when they needed you.

—————

  RANDOM HCs

- Sasha would always ask you for your food because she knew you could never refuse.

- You always helped Connie take care of his mother after she was turned into a titan.

- One of your ritual with Armin would be reading together at night, before sleep. After hearing your stories from when he was sick during the training days, he never got tired of hearing them.

- Mikasa teaching you combat skills because she does not want you to die during expeditions.

- Once during training years, you tried to separate Jean and Eren and received a punch from Eren. They apologised a lot and you said it was fine, but Levi was so mad he almost went there himself to kick their butts.

- Reiner, Bertolt and Annie feeling bad because you were always so nice toward them. Plus, when you saw Annie again, you just hugged her and told her you were glad she was back.

  —————

MASTERLIST

NEXT POST IS GOING TO BE: that one time the kids called you ”mom” and that one time Jean called Captain Levi ”dad” —> really excited to write this one :D

Also, yes it was a lot of Armin but when I made my rough drafts of ideas, it was a lot of Armin. Also (x2) shorter than expected but yeah, wanted to get this out of my system before writting something else, hope you guys liked it though :) also (x3) it did looked better in my mind

[shortpplfedup]

Some shall be pardon'd, and (none) punished Bad Buddy Episode 12

Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, Which craves as desperate an execution. As that is desperate which we would prevent. If, rather than to marry County Paris, Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, Then is it likely thou wilt undertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That copest with death himself to scape from it: And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.

Oh they got us GOOD. If I ever in life meet Aof in person I'm gonna smack the back of his head. But when I think about it, the only twist left to twist in this romcom Romeo and Juliet AU is to make the fake death plot actually WORK. In this episode, we catch up with Pat, Pran and the whole gang 4 years in the future, in the softest, fluffiest, most low-stakes middle-ending EVER. Everything isn't rainbows, but it's good enough for the moment, and there are signs that better days are coming.

ROMEO AND JULIET SUCCESSFULLY FAKE DIE

O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! This is thy sheath...

I really didn't expect them to return to being a secret...but they weren't really? All the important people knew this time, which must have made things easier. And as we realise by the end, their parents pretty much know as well, and...well they aren't fine with it, but they won't interfere, which is where I originally thought things might land before I went full clown off last week's preview. They do love their children and don't want to lose them, but they are also still saving face. And Pat and Pran get what they want, which is to be together without lying to anybody they care about.

HOUSE CAPULET-MONTAGUE...SOMEDAY

I will raise her statue in pure gold; That while Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet.

As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie; Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

In the end, I think Aof tried to thread the needle between a totally happy ending and a realistically happy one, and mostly stuck it, though I think some won't like the solution. The rift between their parents is an old, deep wound, and it won't easily be healed, but the parents DO love their children enough to let them be happy together, and maybe try to make some baby steps toward each other. There are signs that forgiveness will come eventually, things can't and won't stay at this detente forever. Ming drinking the liquor that is obviously from Pran, and crossing the line to deliver Dissaya's mail, and Dissaya leaving the guitar on Pran's bed, and both parents knowing the two are sneaking around at home to be with each other and just letting it go are tiny, tiny things, but they're not nothing. They still can't reconcile, but they've at least stopped putting it on their kids. Things work for now because Pran is away, but when he returns something will have to shift, I think that's clear. It's an ending to the story, but not the ending.

Commentary from the Chorus

This really was more like a special ep after the finale feeling of last week.

The fakeout lasting 2 parts was just cruel 🤣

Pran really rubbed that tee ON HIS JUNK and gave it to Pat to sniff, I can't.

I'm so glad they didn't do Wai/Korn. Wai remains bitchmade.

Ink and Paa when is the wedding?

They found a way to do the end of the novel without doing the end of the novel and I kind of love that.

Pat's mom and Pran's dad definitely have a 4 year WhatsApp chat going where they roll their eyes at the stubbornness of their respective spouses and keep each other up to date on their sons-in-law.

The chaos of the ending scene...these two are just FERAL and I kind of love it. Pran climbing up on the counter...I CACKLED. Get yours my Virgo son!

[boykingdom]

Dean doesn’t have to drive far before he finds Cas. He’d had a hunch Cas might be waiting for him no matter the direction he went, but still he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees the slump of Cas’ shoulders among the trees.

He doesn’t have to walk far, either, once he’s pulled the Impala into the grass beside the road and let the metal door shut behind him with a creak. He’s in the forest after a few paces—it’s a pretty forest, all green and overgrown, the tan of Cas’ coat standing out purely for its dullness. Cas’ back is to him and he’s looking down at something, hands in his pockets, but the rigidity with which he holds himself gives away his awareness of Dean’s presence. Cas won’t turn toward him but will angle his head so Dean can see the sharp line of his cheekbone, like he’s any sort of thing that would need ears to gauge how close Dean is.

Dean has half a mind to hesitate, to stop and take a deep breath and collect his thoughts or something, but he’s so fucking tired of not being near Cas and of schooling how much he gives away to Cas in every conversation that he walks up so their shoulders are inches apart and he doesn’t think twice about it. He looks down to take in what Cas is looking at and finds a small pond with a few muddy-gray fish scooting their bellies across the silt. Dean thinks Cas might be gearing up for a speech about the fish and creation and humanity, something nice and cinematic to bookend their journey, but instead Cas says, “Hello, Dean.”

That works, too. At least Dean knows how to respond to that one. “Heya, Cas.”

They’re silent for a second.

“Sam?” says Cas. 

“Went off to the Roadhouse. Wanted to see Bobby and Ellen and Jo,” says Dean. “But you knew that already.”

“Mm. I did.”

They both watch the fish drift. One comes close enough to the surface to form gentle ripples in the water.

Then Dean is smiling, because he can see Cas out of the corner of his eye, see the way he shifts and fidgets and is so clearly also looking at Dean out of the corner of his own eye. It occurs to Dean that Cas is nervous—that after everything they’ve been through, after the end of the world, after Cas’ big sacrifice, this angel of the Lord is nervous to speak to his best friend of twelve years. Dean can’t help but take the opportunity to tease him.

“What, did you think we’d never talk about it?”

A pause. Cas half-grumbles, “I thought I’d have a few decades to prepare something to say.”

And then Dean is laughing and laughing and bent over double with it because this whole thing is so fucking absurd and he’s so happy to be standing here next to Cas, weird and awkward Cas who pulled him out of Hell and told Dean he was in love with him just months ago. Cas who he thought he had lost forever. Dean laughs so hard he cries and then he—he cries, and cries, and he’s not laughing anymore. It happens fast and hard. Cas finally turns to him, eyes wide and hands suspended in front of him like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Dean’s sniveling and holding his jacket sleeve under his nose so his face doesn’t get all snotty but he probably looks fucking gross anyway, the way the tears won’t stop coming. Cas says, “Dean?” all worried and concerned. Dean practically falls forward into him, wraps his arms around Cas’ waist to clutch at the back of his coat and shakes when Cas immediately holds him in return.

“I missed you so bad,” Dean sobs into Cas’ shoulder. “I missed you so bad. I thought I would never see you again. I missed you so bad.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Cas hugs him tighter, leaving no spaces between their bodies. His voice breaks a little when he says, “I missed you, too.”

They stand like that for a moment. The forest buzzes around them, twiddling with birds and squirrels and insects. Dean breathes Cas in, feels him warm and safe and real in his arms. It’s a small piece of Earth here in Heaven. Unlike any other time before, Dean lets himself lean into it, touch Cas without Death looming over their shoulders. It feels good.

Dean does calm down after a few minutes, and as much as he would love to freeze time and stay suspended in that moment, he knows he can have even more if he gives it one last push. He pulls away, Cas’ hands sliding off his coat, lingering. “Sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed despite himself.

“Don’t be,” says Cas, in a way a that shows he really means it. Dean clears his throat and looks at him. Cas looks back. The whole thing is so achingly familiar, so akin to how they were when they first met. Even when Cas was alien and unknowable and potentially a threat, Dean always had to stifle the breathless thrill of having Cas’ attention. He doesn’t stifle it now.

He hasn’t quite internalized all the things Cas said to him, but he can see Cas was telling the truth about one thing—he is clearly so happy to be standing at the edge of this pond with Dean. Nothing in his gaze is asking for something more.

And as much as Cas would argue differently, Dean isn’t as good as him. He was never content just wanting. He had long ago accepted that he could never have Cas, sure, had recognized that he would spend the rest of his life with a horrible ache in his chest, that he would white-knuckle the wheel of the Impala to keep himself from touching. But he couldn’t find peace with it. Love rotted in him like a body at the bottom of a well. He spent a long time thinking it would kill him and kill Cas too, that it was a weapon to be used against them both, that the heat of his gaze would actually burn Cas if he looked long enough. He still has to choke down those half-formed thoughts when he looks at Cas now and can see in his eyes that he loves Dean without reservation, that despite everything he doesn’t think of Dean’s love as a death sentence. That he wants him.

Dean’s mind was made up the second Bobby had mentioned Cas’ name on the porch. It took him too long to untangle that part of himself that couldn’t separate loving men from danger, but he did untangle it, in the end.

“I know I can do it,” Dean says, both to Cas and to himself, “but I think it might be hard.”

Cas’ brow flickers in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he answers, gesturing lamely at the two of them, at the space between them. He swallows, steels himself, thinks of all the words he spent the nights since Cas died murmuring into his pillow, deliriously drunk. “I don’t know— I don’t know how to be this to someone— to you. I’ve never— and you’re—”

He’s getting frustrated, is upset that after thinking so long and hard about this moment for so many years he somehow still doesn’t know how to explain to Cas how much he means to him, how much he wants him, how hard it is to beat down his self-hatred and accept that he might just deserve Cas, too. But Christ, he wants to try.

“Dean?” Cas says. Dean can see in his expression the flowering bud of hope. He is so beautiful.

“I love you too,” Dean says, because it’s the best explanation he can give. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. Cas blinks; his mouth drops open. “God, Cas, you have to know that. Of course I love you too.”

“You mean...?” Cas can’t finish the question. He’s looking at Dean like a man finding faith, finding Heaven. Dean feels so overwhelmed and so happy for the two of them and surely he’s still red from crying before, but again he feels himself burning.

“I’ve been yours,” he chokes out. “You can have me. Please.”

Cas kisses Dean. It happens so fast that Dean feels it coming rather than sees it, feels Cas’ hands on his face, feels himself be tugged forward. Cas’ hands are shaking and Dean’s are too when he grips the front of Cas’ shirt and the back of his neck, eyes closed tight, learning the shape of his mouth. It’s hard and a little desperate and not at all artful, and Dean’s whole self feels a bit like an open wound but Cas is healing him, like he always has, like he has since the beginning.

Dean pulls away for air but doesn’t pull far, keeping his forehead pressed to Cas’ and his eyes shut. Cas’ thumb strokes his cheekbone. “Dean,” Cas says, and Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath. The way Cas says his name doesn’t scare him anymore.

Dean opens his eyes. He smiles. “Hi,” he says.

Cas smiles back.

**

They’re sitting in the Impala, Dean’s hand on Cas’ thigh, when Cas asks, “What do you want to do now?”

Dean pauses, thinks. The answer to what do you want has been Cas for so long, but he never let himself think far enough to decide what he would do if he ever got him. He’s safe, Cas is safe, Sam is safe. Realistically, he shouldn’t want for anything.

He looks out the Impala’s windshield, smooths the hand not holding Cas over the steering wheel. He knows that he loves this car with everything he is—that for a long time it was the only home he had. He also knows that he’s tired of the road. Desire has always come too easily to Dean.

“I think I’ll build us a house,” he answers, and immediately he knows it’s the right thing to do. They can pick a spot wherever Cas wants—Dean’s not picky. It’ll be something solid, something with walls that he built with trees he cut himself. Something that reflects the home he already built for Cas, the one that lives between his ribs.

Cas’ eyes light up. “I like that plan,” he says. “I want that, too.”

Years ago, Cas had sat in Dean’s passenger seat and asked him if he would rather have peace or freedom. Dean never got the chance to answer him.

Dean leans across the seat and kisses Cas again, open-mouthed, slow. He does it for him now and for the version of himself who mourned the distance between them. It’s answer enough.