#and if you are as fortunate as we were to be in a crowd of old-ass white people coming straight from church

[novelconcepts]

If you get a chance to see the SIX US tour this time around, jump on it. The whole cast is unreal, and, as an unrepentant Howard fan—there is no gut punch like seeing “All You Wanna Do” live. I couldn’t breathe by the end of that one.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer breaks your deal with Alastor

・❥ Your soul is owned by Alastor, and Lucifer is not pleased about it.

x: OVER 20k words!? strap in ya’ll, it’s a roller coaster.

xx: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. if you want to read it in chapter-form, you can read it over on my ao3 here.

warnings: adult themes, abuse, angst

‘Alright, deep breaths. You’ve got this. You’ve practiced this so much it’s a cakewalk, so just take it easy. You’ll rock it, like always.’

“Oi! Welcome to the show, ya dirty sinners! Didn’t think ya’d see me all the way up here, did’ja?!”

Screams and cheers echoed from the seats below, as the voice of the King of Greed boomed from the loudspeakers. 

"Well, listen up, ya pitiful souls! I've got a craving for some more cash, so I've decided to bring the whole shebang right here to the heart of sin, Pentagram City!"

The cheering erupted once more, the spotlights danced across the sandy pit underneath the large circus tent. On the perimeter were rows and rows of stands, packed with demons nestled against each other.

It was Mammon’s first circus show in the Pride Ring, a very rare sight to see him leave his cozy little ring in general. But, when a good portion of your fans are sinners who can’t leave without being incinerated, then you have to receive them on their home turf.

In the large pit, two lions jumped obediently through hoops, their handlers shouting commands and cracking their whips to further spur the cat’s maneuvers.

Bright green flame danced around the lion’s faces, resembling that of a large mane. Their eyes were soulless, black pits that glimmered in the bright lights as they continued maneuvers through the tight obstacles.

On the edges of the pit, support poles towered above the crowd. Thin wires snaked across them, anchored to large platforms that hung in the air from the pole’s side.

“As ya can see, we’ve got a big show tah’night! Lots of great fuckin’ acts for ya mongrels to eat up. But, before we get to the juicy bits, direct your eyes up to the ceiling to get a look at our first performance!” 

Hundreds of gazes lifted to sky, the spotlights below beaming upward towards a platform at one end of the tent.

Bright, white lights hit your vision, and you squinted your eyes to prevent them from burning to a crisp from the focused beams.

You stood, your bare feet planted firmly against the platform’s white surface. Before you, a tightrope connected your place to another platform in the distance, beckoning you.

A small hoop hung from the ceiling, encircling a small portion of the wire. The trick was that it was too small for you to stand up straight while walking through it, so you’d need to limbo underneath it.

"As you can see, we've got some sorry sap up there that is about to practically walk on thin air! See that hoop over there? They're fixin' to stroll right through it."

Small ooh’s and ahh’s emanated from the crowd, their eyes darting from you to the hoop.

"But hold your horses, folks! That ain't your run-of-the-mill hoop, no sir! That, my friends, is a hoop on fuckin’ fire!!”

Suddenly, the hoop ignited in a burst of green flames, illuminating the area before you. Gulping, you took another deep breath, steadying yourself.

Okay, well, you knew that was gonna happen. You’ve just never actually practiced with the hoop on fire, but it shouldn’t be too hard.. right?

You nodded to yourself, assuring your racing thoughts that everything was gonna be alright.

The skin-tight suit you were wearing sparkled in the spotlight, dazzling the spectators with a red gleam as you hovered right over the edge of the platform, waving to the crowd. 

You had been performing ever since you could remember, and this was just another part of the job. You weren’t a part of Mammon’s original crew though, only being given the opportunity when they arrived at Pentagram City.

You were a Sinner, which meant being confined to the Pride Ring just like the rest. Fortunately, one of Mammon’s acrobats was too sickly to perform, so when you saw the large poster detailing auditions, you jumped at the opportunity to make some extra bucks.

You had arrived at the settled convoy of vehicles and trailers at the outskirts of the city, you were ecstatic. You hadn’t performed in an actual circus in forever, and the make-shift village of performers and equipment was a fresh sight.

Mammon himself was a… colorful character. He was a hard party rocker with a big ego, and most likely had a swear jar at home overflowing with pennies, with how that guy talked.

You hadn’t really met him when you auditioned, but you could definitely hear him. He was loud, practically demanding everyone’s attention even when he wasn’t addressing them. 

You could hear him yelling about an absent performer, annoyance evident in his voice as he berated an assistant.

"What do ya mean he couldn't make it to practice 'cause he lost his voice? He's a bloody mime, mate! What the hell are we payin’ these blokes for!?"

When you had performed for the recruiters—which you were surprised to find wasn’t Mammon, since the guy seemed to stick his nose in everything—you displayed to them your . A few somersaults, a bit of ariel silk action, and the classic, juggling. 

“How good is your balance?” One of them had questioned, their pen tapping softly against the wooden desk, as they considered your skills.

“Good enough, I suppose.” You replied truthfully.

Long story short, you got the gig. Although, when you heard they wanted you to tightrope under a hoop, that was a little surprising. 

Good thing you weren’t afraid of heights, or this would have been a nightmare.

Backing away from the edge, your gaze rested on the hoop aflame in front of you. After Mammon would finish speaking, you’d begin your act.

"But that ain't the only thing heating up tonight, folks."

Wait, what did he mean by that?

“‘Cause the tightrope… is also on fire!!!” 

What?!

The crowd went berserk hearing that. They whooped and hollered, as their twisted little fantasies came true before their eyes.

“Oh, god damnit, Mammon!” You muttered.

When you told them you had a pretty good pain tolerance, that did not mean resistance to fire!

You sighed, it was a little too late to back out now. Plus, you needed the money. Bouncing on your toes, you attempted to hype yourself up.

Exhaling a large breath, your foot lifted from the stand, and slowly reached out towards the tightrope. 

‘Fuck, this is going to hurt.’ you groaned internally, your toe just inches from the wire. You could feel the heat of the fire as it hungrily licked at your feet. 

Right as you were about to place yourself onto the wire, you felt something tugging at the back of your collar. 

It was deathly cold, and you tried to pull away from its touch, but whatever was holding you had a strong grip. A thick green fog-like substance pooled at your feet, and you looked down in confusion as it began to circle around your figure.

You felt the force on your collar harshly pull you backwards, and your feet lifted from the ground. The smoke became so thick in front of you, it was only the bright lights from the spotlights below that gave you any visual. Suddenly, large eyes began to dot your vision, staring directly at you, into your hollow being.

“What the fu-”

Darkness suddenly covered your vision, and you felt like you were floating in mid-air. Though, you couldn’t tell where exactly in the air you were, other than the fact the surface below you had completely vanished.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but whatever had thrusted you into this chilling realm would not let you get a glimpse of your surroundings. It wasn’t until you felt your feet hit firm ground, and a much less intense light hit your eyelids. You opened them slowly, your mouth still partially open.

“-ckkkk?” You finished, your eyes darting from one side of the mysterious room to the other. It looked strange.. to say the least. It was old, a little run down. It screamed tacky. 

You observed the room again, trying to find anything familiar that could gauge your location.

Were you in a hotel lobby? But, why? How? You’ve never been here before, nor did you know anyone who stayed at such a dump.

“Ah, there you are, my friend! What a pleasure to see you!”

You pivoted sharply to face behind you, and your eyes widened in shock at the familiar face.

Standing before you, a large toothy-grin plastered across his face, was Alastor. The owner of your soul, your eternal boss, the Radio Demon, and the butt end of most of your unfunny jokes—which you would never dare say in front of him.

“You!”

Your finger lifted, pointing accusingly at the tall, red demon. He only tilted his head amusingly at you, that smile only growing wider as you frowned.

“Yes, it is I. I’m glad you remember my face, how are you today?” 

“What do you want?” You grumbled, ignoring his question. You crossed your arms before taking a step back. There were others behind him, but it was Alastor you were focused on as you waited for his response.

“Oh, just some charity work. My new friends over here are in need of some more helping hands, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services!” 

He motioned to the others behind him, and you glanced at the strangers. One of them was a woman with long, platinum-blonde hair, who smiled awkwardly at you with a wave. 

“That’s great!” You replied sarcastically, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “but couldn’t you wait until after my gig? I was about to make some good money!”

Alastor only sidled up to you, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his cheek as if you two were best friends. You wanted to recoil from his touch, but you knew you’d get nothing good out of that action. 

“Oh, I am terribly sorry about that, my friend. But, we do have an agreement, as I'm sure you are well aware. Which means, for the time being, you’ll be living here at the hotel!”

Of course you were aware of the “agreement”, the guy had your soul! 

“What hotel?”

“The Hazbin Hotel! What do you think about the name, hm? I came up with it myself!” 

“It’s kind of lame.” 

“Oh-ho! You are such a charm, my dear! I can always count on you to liven up the room with your jokes.”

You sighed, uncrossing your arms and lowering them to your sides in defeat. You were stuck here, with Alastor, until he no longer needed your presence. As always.

“I still would have appreciated a call beforehand or something.” 

“Take my arrival back in the city as the call, my friend. My return was no doubt discussed by many. You knew I’d acquire your assistance at some point.”

Yes, that’s right. Alastor had been gone a good, what, seven years? It was strange, how he had just disappeared without a word or any kind of clue to his location. Where had he gone? Why was he being so secretive about it?

You didn’t miss him, of course. His absence was a mini vacation for you, a break from endless favors that he deemed you worthy to complete. What a joke.

“Now, why don’t we go and introduce you to all these fantastic fellows, hm?” He spoke, a command deep in his static-laced tone.

You turned back towards the small group of demons, who stood a few feet away silently as the two of you bickered. Standing slightly away from the rest, was a familiar furry face. Husker. He was here too? 

Nudging you forward with his cane, you walked up to the onlookers, who regarded you with a mixed expression. The shorter gray lady stood glaring at you with suspicion, her eyes darting between you and Alastor.

Beside her, was that pretty pale-faced demon in the red tuxedo. She smiled broadly at you, her eyes practically gleaming in excitement at seeing the multiple new faces.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! I'm so glad to have you aboard!” 

“..Hi, it’s good to meet you too.”

“Let me introduce you to our crew! Over there is my girlfriend, Vaggie!”

She motioned towards the shorter gray woman, and you looked at her more carefully. She had an X across her eye, barely visible with the long hair she situated across half her face. She still eyed you with suspicion, but her demeanor had softened as Charlie spoke to you.

“And, over there is Angel Dust, our first resident of the hotel!”

“How ya doing, Sugar?” Angel winked at you, as he leaned against the bar counter. Husk stood behind the counter, a thin line on his lips.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Husker and Niffty, right?” 

You nodded, your gaze meeting Husk’s. His eyes softened just a teeny bit, before he let out a hmph and turned away towards the shelves of bottles against the wall.

Your attention turned back to Charlie, as she began filling you in with the details about the hotel and her plans.

She seemed like a sweet girl, passionate and imaginative. When she described her dreams to you, for the hotel, for the entirety of Hell, you listened carefully.

Sinners.. being redeemed? Going to Heaven? That seemed too good to be true. Unbelievable, almost. Sure, some of the demons down here weren’t too bad, but surely none of them were good enough to actually climb to the pearly gates. 

Charlie seemed… different from other dreamers, though, like she could actually get it to work. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made you think so. Maybe it was because she was the princess of Hell, and was the second highest on the food chain of this damned place.

You were lucky with how down-to-earth she was, or your bluntness would have probably gotten you smited by now.

In comparison to Charlie, you were a nobody. Well, you were nobody in general. You didn’t own anything of value, not even your soul.

Charlie didn’t act like a princess though. Such as how she spoke to you, and her friends. No command in her tone, no true motives behind layers of smiles and sweetly spoken lies. 

If she was the owner of your soul, maybe life wouldn’t be so bad. She treated everyone fairly, without judgment of who they used to be. Only dreaming of who they could be.

Was the King of Hell the same? How much did Charlie mirror her father, anyway? 

“So.. what can you do?” Charlie broke you from your thoughts, she was turned to you, her gaze meeting yours intently as she waited for you to respond.

“Well, I'm a performer! Mostly aerobatics, but I can dance and other tricks. Oh! I’m also a crowd-pleaser, i’m a really smooth talker.”  

“That’s ssooooo cool! You do that kind of stuff, like, in the circus?”

“Mostly, yes. Any odd jobs I can find looking for my skill set, really. I’m not picky when it comes to money.”

Charlie contemplated your words for a moment, her eyes darting. She’s already got a bartender and a cleaning lady, but where to put you…

“I’m also fantastic at pick-pocketing.” You grinned pridefully at her. It was something you were very good at, and that you had continued to perfect during your time in Hell.

It was also what led you to make that wretched deal with Alastor. 

“Oh.. um, let’s stick with your other skills, hm?” Charlie smiled awkwardly, before she turned her head, and her eyes landed on an empty desk situated near the large entrance doors. 

She perked, her eyes widening in glee as she spun around towards you. 

“That’s it! You can be our new receptionist! You’ll answer calls and greet all our newcomers, and you’ll be in charge of making sure all our guests are well taken care of during their stay.”

Your smile faltered, your gaze resting on the desk behind Charlie before meeting her eyes once more. You chuckled like she had just told you a good joke. Except when your eyes met hers again, she only smiled at you in anticipation.

Wait, was she serious?

“I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your hands up and shaking your head, “but that is not something i’m good at nor-“

“Well I think it’s a splendid idea!” Alastor appeared besides you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His claws dug slightly into your suit, and you whipped your head up, eyeing him with animosity. 

His eyes were squinted, a glare behind that wide grin. ‘Stay in line, or else.’ was his silent command. You scrunched up your nose, ready to argue, but the intellectual part of your brain smacked you upside the head. 

Your shoulders drooped, that frown deepening before you turned to Alastor. You pulled your shoulder from his grip, and looked at Charlie. 

“Fine.”

And, that’s how it was for a time. 

There wasn’t much to do, in all honesty. As the months ticked by, you sat at that desk drowning in boredom. The people at the hotel were lively, but the job? Not so much.

While Alastor was the face, you were the paperwork. Although, he barely acted like it, which meant you took most of the work. 

There were barely any phone calls, any new visitors, anything new at all really. So, you instead filled your days with walking around the hotel, observing the rooms of any renovations that Alastor could make, or you’d write shopping lists for groceries and other miniscule items for the crew, and going out yourself to shop. 

There was that one demon, the snake inventor, that had become a resident during your time working. You had been there, when he attacked Alastor on the hotel’s doorstep. Your mouth agape as you watched him tear a piece of your boss’s suit, waiting for the snake to meet his death.

He didn’t, surprisingly. Instead, he had arrived not too long after apologizing. Which was shocking, and.. eye opening. 

Could Charlie’s dream come true? Alastor spoke of it as if it would turn into nothing but a failure. You had believed him, but now, that doubt was fading from your mind.

Could.. there be a chance for you too? 

You had mentally slapped yourself for that thought. You, redeemed? With no soul, you were trapped here. Only ever being able to watch from the sidelines as those more worthy ascended. 

Thoughts like that only came when you had drank a little too much. Finger mindlessly circling the rim of your wine glass, brow furrowed as you lamented over your poor decisions, you’d sit at the bar in silence late at night.

Nobody bothered you during those times, not even Alastor. No one saw the way your lip began to quiver, the way your vision blurred with tears.

No one noticed the surface of your drink disturbed with a droplet of salty sadness as it mixed with the bitter alcohol. 

‘You don’t deserve to feel sorry for yourself,’ you’d think bitterly, soaked anger spilling down your cheeks, ‘you damned yourself to eternal suffering the moment you shook that demon’s hand.’

Taking the glass, you’d lift it to your lips and empty the rest of the contents. That salty tang still hanging on your tongue when you set the glass back down.

On the worst nights, you’d simply rest your head against the countertop. The cool surface refreshing to your warm cheek, as you curled into yourself, and drifted into a restless sleep.

When you’d wake a few hours later, your blood-shot, tired eyes would open to the sight of a glass of ice-cold water and a migraine pill sitting a few feet away from your face. 

You never saw who catered to your hungover needs, but you had an inkling of a guess.

Lifting your head, you’d blink away the morning fog before sitting up straight with a groan. Slowly, you’d reach out and grab the small capsule and the water, before swallowing both in one large gulp.

Then, it was back to work as always.

Sometimes, you’d actually that phone on your desk would brnnnggg loudly, and you’d leap out of your chair to have a conversation with a fresh new voice. 

“You guys at least provide free Hash, right?” The masculine voice on the other end questioned.

“Sir, this a hotel meant for redemption. Y’know, to Heaven? We don’t have any paraphernalia here.” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you listened to the guy.

“Wait.. so you’re saying Heaven doesn’t have joints?”

“I’ve never been up there, obviously. Though I'm sure drugs are a big no-no up there.” 

“Then what the fuck is the point of wanting to go up there?! No weed? No sex toys? Fuck Heaven! Fuck you and your stupid little hotel!” 

“Choke on dick and die!” You snarled, slamming the phone back into place. You leaned back in the chair, fuming silently. The calls never ended well. 

“Good job, you’re really pulling in all those potential residents.” A sarcastic voice piped up near you.

Your head snapped to the bar across the room, your gaze resting on the black and white feline who was busy cleaning glasses on the counter. 

Standing from your spot, you stroll over to the bar, before nestling into one of the bar stools. Placing a hand under your chin, you rested your elbow against the shiny countertop.

“Pour an old friend a drink, won’t you Husk?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him. 

His soul was owned by Alastor too, and even if you didn’t know the guy too well, you felt a kinship with him. You both were hollow beings, now.

“We ain’t friends,” the demon grumbled, “I'm just stuck with you and Niffty until I kick the bucket.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy-Pants.” You laughed as he reached for your go-to bottle. Same old, adorably-cross Husker. 

He was getting better, though. Happier, even. The night he disappeared to go retrieve Angel Dust, he came back with a bounce in his step. Seemingly more at peace, with whatever happened between the two away from prying eyes.

Once, you swore you heard him humming some old, happy tune while he organized the liquor bottles on the shelf. Husk.. singing? That was something you thought you’d never see.

He had a very good poker face, and half the time you couldn’t tell if the kitty even liked you. He always regarded you like he was behind a closed, see-through door. Getting close to you just enough to see and speak to you, but never enough you could actually reach out and use him for support. Hopefully, he was getting better with that too.

Maybe, with how things were going, he’d let you scratch his chin one day. You always wanted to try it, see if he purred just like they did back on Earth.

“What do you think about the hotel?”  You asked him, as he popped the cap off the bottle with his claw, and began pouring a glass in front of your seat.

“It ain’t too bad,” Husk replied truthfully, “But, it could be better.”

“I agree, I was having a pretty good time out on my own before this. Guess we’ll just have to get used to it, I’m not sure how long Alastor plans to keep us here.”

“You don’t know?” 

You raised an eyebrow at the feline, as you took a sip of your drink. “No, I don’t. Why would you think I do?” 

“Well, I just assumed the two of you would discuss those kind things.”

“You think I talk to Alastor about his deceitful plans with this place?” 

“Why wouldn’t you? I mean, you two are practically the same, with your silver-tongue and all.”

You leaned back, a mixture of surprise and disgust on your face at his words. Husk thought you and Alastor were like, what, best buddies? The demon that owned your soul?

“That’s a fucking lie,” You growled, glaring at him, “I’m not like that douchebag at all. Just because I’m good at talking my way out of tough shit, doesn’t mean I use them to manipulate people into making magical deals that fuck up their entire existence.” 

Using your feet, you pushed your chair back forcefully. It scraped harshly against the wooden floor, as you stood up from the stool. You didn’t even glance at Husk as you sharply turned away, and stomped across the room.

“Thanks for the drink, Asshole.” You called as you turned the corner into a long hallway, towards your room.

You didn’t speak to Husker for a while after that, or go to the bar. Instead, you worked and kept to yourself in your room. It wasn’t until you walked into the lobby one early morning, did you see the feline.

He was standing with the rest of the crew, concern etched across their faces as they circled around a mumbling, erratic Charlie Morningstar. 

“Why isn’t the hotel working?!” You could hear her fume, as she fussed over a large tack board filled with drawings and pictures. 

It wasn’t until about a half an hour later, when Charlie had hung up the phone with her father, did you realize the day was going to get much stranger.

“Alright, guys! My dad is going to be here in one hour, so we have to make this place perfect!” She said, a nervous smile on her lips as she addressed the small crowd.

Everyone tensed, their eyes darting to each other at her words.

Charlie’s dad was coming? Lucifer Morningstar? The King of Hell?!

Suddenly, the room bursted into action. Sir. Pentious slithered to the kitchen, claiming he needed to bake sweets for Lucifer’s arrival. Charlie was practically hyperventilating as Vaggie rubbed her shoulder soothingly. 

“Aw man, I gotta go put on my new perfume!” Angel Dust yelled from the chaos, as he sped away towards his room. Husk continued wiping down the bar countertop, but a little more feverishly now. 

Alastor was the only one seemingly unchanged by the news of the king’s arrival. He only stood there grinning, as the others rushed around him, before beginning to push back his cuticles.

“I’m just going to go… put on some better clothes.” You called, unsure if anyone was even listening as they scrambled about. 

You quickly left the lobby, running to your room to clean yourself up and look presentable. Your mind raced as you did so, recalling all the rumors and gossip you’ve heard over the years.

Was he a cruel king? He couldn’t be, not with how Charlie turned out. But, with her reaction to asking for his help… that was strange. She had never spoken of him before, so it didn’t seem like they were that close.

What was he going to think of you? You’ve never stood before such an important figure, other than Charlie, but that was wayyy different than speaking to the most powerful man in the realm.

You’d just have to make him like you, to avoid any trouble. You needed to charm the King of Hell, just like you’ve done successfully with so many others.

You adjusted your appearance in the mirror, before nodding your head in self-approval. You crossed your room, pulling open the door, and making your way down the stairs. 

When you returned to the lobby, everyone was making last minute preparations. 

Sir. Pentious was busy tidying the cookies on the cooking sheet in front of him. Angel Dust was finishing hanging up the balloons around the room, while Charlie was hyping herself up in the corner.

A large banner with a handwritten message ‘It’s A Boy!’ hung from the ceiling, and you shook your head in embarrassment with a smile.

When you had made it back to the group, there was barely any time to talk before you heard a knock at the front door.

Everyone froze, and Charlie exhaled a large breath of nerves, before crossing the distance towards the door. She pulled it open, and a white hat poked from over her shoulder.

“Charlie!” 

You heard him before you saw him, and he sounded like a burst of sunshine as you watched Charlie get pulled into his bear hug.

She sputtered against his tight grip, before he finally released her. You could see the wide brim hat poking out of her figure, see that silly apple that stuck out from the top of his cane, as they talked for a few more moments.

It wasn’t until Charlie turned to face you and the rest of the crew, did you see Lucifer Morningstar’s face. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you drank in his figure.

Fuck. He was gorgeous. 

He definitely presented himself like a king, with how he stood with his back straight and head held high. He rested slightly against his cane, his interest piqued at the new faces.

As his gaze swept across the lobby, it briefly landed on you, and your heart fluttered in your chest. God, his eyes were so pretty. They were a soft, muted yellow, like buttercream. 

They held many emotions too, you could see it. There was deep sadness that never left his gaze, as if it followed him like a shadow. It was something you felt followed you too. What was his story? 

Your eyes traced the rest of his appearance, landing next on the golden strands nestled under his hat.

That platinum-blonde hair practically glowed underneath the chandelier lighting, as it curled delicately around his face. It looked so smooth and silky, like the guy had a 10-step hair care routine. It probably smelled amazing too. 

And, those cute little rosy cheek spots on the sides of his mouth, that stood out from his pale skin. If you tilted your head just right, you’d say he looked just like a cockatiel.

But, it was his smile that enraptured you. Not the fake one, that wide, awkward mess across his lips he did as a way to appeal to Charlie.

No, it was instead that warm, genuine grin that lit up his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. The smile that only appeared during tender moments, like when his daughter rubbed her cheek against his affectionately. 

You hoped he would start to smile like that more often. 

Charlie had approached your group, introducing Lucifer slowly through your companions. Your heartbeat quickened as they made their way closer to you. 

Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands together, smiling warmingly at the duo approaching. Charlie stopped, turning to her father as she began to introduce you.

“And thisss is our receptionist! They’re in charge of handling most of our inbound and outbound affairs, and in helping us capture potential residents too!” 

“And I'm doing a fantastic job at that, by the way.” You declared to the two, that smile of yours widening as you edged closer to them. You lifted your arm, extending a hand towards the fallen angel.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” 

God, could this dude get any more perfect? The closer he got, the warmer you felt your body temperature become, like he was practically the sun itself.

He regarded it for a moment, before hesitantly taking your grip. His hands were soft, but firm. The gold band on his pinkie grazed across your finger, it was cool to the touch, giving you much needed relief to the growing intensity of the heat of his grasp.

His eyes traveled up yours once more, to your eyes as they flickered between your batting lashes, and to your pretty smile that only grew wider as you leaned forward.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He spoke softly with a grin, as he looked you over. His voice was like silk, and you wanted to wrap it around yourself like a sheet. 

A stark difference to Alastor’s, who gave you a headache listening to that static overlay every time the guy opened his mouth.

“This is your first time here, right?”

“Yes, I'm just here to give my daughter the support she needs for her little project.” Lucifer nodded, glancing over to Charlie as he spoke.

“Well, I hope your opinion of the hotel has improved now that you’ve seen it in person.” 

“Oh, believe me, it has.” He assured, that nervous grin disappearing from his face, and you could see a playful smirk slowly blooming on his lips.

That was before his eyes landed on the bar at the other end of the room, his hand left yours as he turned to face it. You pulled your arm back, clenching your hand as his warmth faded from your skin.

“What in the unholy Hell is that?”

You stood up straight, as he walked closer to the bar. Only for Alastor to appear right behind him, a deadly grin on his lips as he strutted forward.

“Just some renovations we’ve had done, adds a little bit of color! Don’t you think?”

You sighed, your lips twisting into a slight frown as you watched the tension in the room escalate with every word Lucifer and Alastor exchanged. It wasn't until Charlie sidled up beside her father, that the drama got good.

“I guess that’s why they call it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?” Lucifer grinned, nudging Charlie with his elbow.

You snorted, your hand coming up to cusp your mouth at the sudden outburst. His dad joke was just so hilariously stupid—not to mention, it was pointed at Alastor, which was bonus points—you couldn’t contain the noise you made.

All eyes turned to you, and you felt sweat beading at your forehead from all the sudden attention.

Alastor still had that large toothy grin, but his eyes were squinted in a glare as his head snapped uneasily towards you. 

It was Lucifer’s gaze that captured your attention, though. He turned in surprise, as if shocked someone actually laughed at his joke. It wasn’t until he saw that the person that laughed was you, did he seem to slightly puff out his chest, a prideful grin dancing on his lips.

Heat flooded your cheeks as he sent you a mischievous wink, before his attention turned back to Alastor as the demon laughed2.

“Yes, Ha-Ha. It was actually my idea, though.” 

“Ha-Ha, well, it’s not very clever!” 

“A-Ha! Fuck you.”

You had stood to the side, as the two demons bickered and fought for Charlie’s attention. The insecurities of both became increasingly obvious to you as time went on.

Alastor, with his uneasiness that someone of much higher stature and power could take his role in the hotel. And, Lucifer, who’s relationship with his daughter was sour enough that the idea of someone replacing his role as a father caused him to short circuit.

Then, when a short, rotund woman bursted through the front doors, dressed like a flapper and fawning over Alastor, you realized even more how today was looking to be a really strange day.

Mimzy, an old friend of Alastor’s from when they were both swinging through the 20’s and 30’s back on Earth. 

You didn’t know her very well, other than she never stopped talking, and in your opinion, had an ego bigger than Alastor’s. But, you’ve been around long enough to know that whenever she came around, it was only to beg Alastor for help when she fucked up.

Your opinion of her only worsened when the wall a few feet away from you blew open less than ten minutes later. 

The chaos that ensued was even worse, as bullets began ripping through the walls of the hotel. Loan Sharks, snarling Mimzy’s name with venom, threw another explosive towards the building. 

When Alastor had suddenly arrived, shifting into his demonic form, you breathed a sigh of relief as he began to decimate the little army outside.

One of them was falling right above your head, and you tried to scramble away. 

Before it could turn you into a stain on the carpet, it suddenly jerked away, smashing into the closest wall instead. Gold sparks faded from around its wooden frame, and you turned your head to see Lucifer at the other end of the room with Charlie, his eyes trailing your form as you beelined for the opposite wall.

Another explosion rocked the lobby again, and you stumbled on your feet. A table skidded quickly across the floor, heading right for you.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins sent your body into overdrive, and you swiftly lean down, lowering your hands to meet the floor. With a powerful push, you launch yourself into a graceful somersault, your body arching elegantly over the crashing obstacle. Time seems to stretch as you execute the maneuver with precision, feeling the rush of wind against your skin as you spin through the air. Your back barely grazing the table’s surface before you landed into a roll. 

You shoot up from the ground, heart racing, a dumbstruck smile blooming across your lips at the realization you were still in one piece.

You were too preoccupied with Sir. Pentious barreling into your side; that you missed the pale face mirroring your  expression, as he watched you clear the table. 

By the time you untangled yourself from the snake demon, the dust had begun to settle in the room. Alastor had killed—or eaten—most of the Loan Sharks, and was now standing on the front lawn, cleaning bits of meat from underneath his nails.

Husk lifted his head slowly from behind the bar, eyes scanning the perimeter for danger. Mimzy crawled out from under the bar stools, before scurrying outside to speak with Alastor.

“Jesus, is everyone okay?” Angel Dust called, while Charlie was helping dust off stray pieces of rubble from Vaggie’s hair.

“HELPPPP!” Came the loud, mousy squeal from above your head. Eyes lifting to the ceiling, you see Niffty clutching a support beam with her life.

“Niffty? How the fuck did’ya get up there?!” Angel Dust yelled back, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

It had partially dislodged from the ceiling, hanging loosely by one end. Niffty poked her head out from the side, her large eye darting across the room, as she waited for someone to come to her aid.

Your gaze traveled down from the support beam, your eyes landing on a water pipe, broken and sticking out from a large crack in the wall. It hung just perfectly in between you and Niffty, which would allow you to reach her quickly.

If you could just get a boost… aha! Your gaze lands on the partially torn couch that was scooted a few feet across the room from the explosions. If you leapt off its back, you could swing from the broken water pipe and use it to catapult yourself right next to Niffty. 

Lucifer analyzed the ceiling before turning to his daughter, smirking as he slowly lifted his cane.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got thi-“ 

“Hang on, Niff! I’m coming!” Your voice rang through the room, your footsteps echoing as you ran towards the damaged furniture. 

Taking a large leap, your feet hit the backrest of the couch. The muscles in your legs tense as you lower yourself slightly to vault forward and up, your arms shooting above your head as you close in on the pole.

Your fingers wrap around its chilling, metal surface; and with your palms snug against its frame, you swing forward, arching your body so your feet begin to lift above your head. 

You release the pole, your legs high in the air as you lift yourself up. You feel the wooden beam graze to the back of your knee pit, and you curl your legs around its base, hanging upside down.

Tensing all the muscles in your abdomen, you use the momentum to swing your legs around the beam and your butt hits the top of its base. You blink, your heart pounding in your chest as you exhale a sigh of relief.

Damn, that felt good. This was so much better than rotting at a desk all day, you really missed your old job. 

Niffty shot up next to you, wrapping her little arms around your forearm in glee.

“You came to rescue me, you’re my hero!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just hang on, little lady.” 

You pulled her close, before getting to your feet. You lean over the edge, the only thing catching your eyes that you could use was that water pipe.

Okay, you’ve done a bit of parkour before. Piece of cake. 

You knelt slightly, before leaping from the beam. You stuck on foot out in front of you, and you felt your sole hit the top of the pipe. It was like taking a large step, as you swung your other leg forward and launched yourself with the other. 

Curling your legs, you practically cannonball into the couch. The large, plush cushions swallowed you for a moment, before spitting you back onto your feet in front of it.  

“Holy shit, ya didn’t die!” Angel Dust exhaled a sigh of relief, walking up to you. Niffty fussed in your hold, and you gently lowered her to the ground.

Niffty ran to Angel, who kneeled down to fuss over her for any injuries. You turned from the duo, before you caught sight of another figure coming forward.

“You’re an acrobat, aren’t you?” Lucifer said, a hint of astonishment in his tone as he strolled up to you, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Yes, well, mostly. But I can do a lot of other things too.” You nodded, smiling bashfully at his facial expression.

“Wow! I mean, heh—boy, I haven’t seen anyone do that perfect of a maneuver in a long time. You looked like a ballerina up there with how strict your form was when you were swinging.”

Did Lucifer just.. compliment you? He knew about aerobics enough to make that kind of judgment on you? Man, this guy just kept getting better and better.

It should have been obvious, though. His silly red-and-white attire had struck you as familiar when you first saw him, and now you realized it was similar to the getup of a Ringmaster.

“Thank you, I've been practicing since I was young. I’ve even done a few circus acts before, and it’s always such a thrill. I'd do it over and over again without getting tired.”

“I think that’s called being an adrenaline junkie.” Lucifer teased, a playful smile on his lips. “But, really, that was good. Impressive, even.”

“Not as impressive as saving me from getting crushed by the ceiling.” 

Lucifer’s eyes widened just a tad, and he nervously adjusted his long collar, his smile turning bashful now.

“Oh, you.. you saw that?”

You nodded, “Yes, I did. Thank you. Also, your magic is just so pretty, they’re like little golden fireworks!”

Before Lucifer could speak, you leaned in closer to him. Your ear just barely grazing the brim of his hat as you smiled.

“And, I just wanted to let you know, I agree with you about the hotel name,” you inched closer to his face, your voice lowering as you spoke with a honeyed tone, “I have no doubt you would come up with a better name, Your Highness.” 

Lucifer tensed, and you thought you could see those red spots on his cheek darkening just a shade. 

He lowered his head slightly after that, his face mostly obscured by the brim of his hat. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but, was that an edge of a smile on his lips?

After a second, Lucifer cleared his throat, before lifting his head again.

“I’m glad we share the same appreciation for aesthetics. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” 

“Hey, Dad? Can I, um, speak to you? About the hotel?” Charlie spoke, approaching. A firm look on her face, as if it was rather important.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lucifer nodded, before turning back to you, “Again, a pleasure to meet you. I hope we get to talk again.” 

Then, he did something you never expected, he curtsied. Your eyes widened, the King, showing you such a gesture of respect? All for what, doing a few tricks in the air?

Heat creeped onto your cheeks after that, and you watched him turn away, following after his daughter. Leaving you to stew about your encounter with Lucifer for the rest of the day.

Well, your thoughts on the King of Hell definitely stayed when you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that. 

Your thoughts were still there in that lobby as you sat at your desk one afternoon, your hands organizing a large stack of papers. They had a picture of the Hazbin Hotel on them, along with words that basically screamed ‘Come check us out!’

The plan was to distribute the posters around the city.  Buildings, poles, doorways, anything that could hold a staple was your target. 

You were fiddling around in your drawer, searching for extra staples when you heard it. A gentle rapping against the front doors, which made you lift your head.

There was no one else in the lobby, not even Husk. Slowly, you walked towards the doors, and the silhouette of a hat stuck out from the bottom of the stained glass.

Is that..?

Reaching to the handle, you pull it open, and met the familiar soft, yellow gaze. His lips curved into a smile at your appearance, and he lifted his hand in greeting.

“Oh! Hello, again!” 

Fuck, he was still gorgeous. Definitely an Angel, no doubt about that. His pearlescent skin practically glittered in the red hues of the afternoon light behind him, and you averted your gaze for a moment, trying not to be blinded by his ethereal beauty.

“Your highness? I’m—ahem, well, sorry. I’m just surprised to see you back so soon. What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to see Charlie, of course!” He exclaimed, strolling right past you into the lobby. His eyes scanned the room, resting for a moment disapprovingly on the bar, before landing on the large desk. 

“Is this where you work?” He motioned towards its wooden frame, you sidled up to him, before nodding.

“Yep. Hardly move from there during the day.”

“You sit there all day? Yeesh, that’s terrible.” 

“Mhm. Pretty boring, actually.”

“Well, if you ever want a better career, I’m sure I could find you a job at LuLu World, I’ve got a circus that runs year round there.”

LuLu World? The theme park he owned? You had never been there before, but it always sounded amazing. And, he thought you’d be a great fit there too. He couldn’t have been that impressed by a few of your maneuvers. Maybe, he just needed to go to an actual circus and see the real performers.

“I’d love to, but I'm kind of stuck here.”

“Why?” Lucifer turned to you, an eyebrow raised. 

“Well, um—” 

‘My soul is owned by the demon you have beef with, and I can’t exactly leave without his permission. I also can’t tell you this because I apparently signed an NDA too.’

“—I just want to help people! So, I made a promise that I wouldn’t leave until I made a difference. Y’know, really make an effort to improve this wonderful community!” You responded with fake cheer, clasping your hands together.

Lucifer regarded you for a moment, his fingers fidgeting against the apple on his cane as he thought.

“Oh.. well, that’s generous of you. But, someone with your skill set doesn’t deserve to rot away in a place like this, I’m sure you’d make a difference somewhere more relevant.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Your Highness?” You teased, your nails grazing against the desk as you walked past him, before pivoting to face him.

“What? No! Of course not, just—forget I said anything.”  He chuckled nervously, before fussing with his long collar. He seemed to do that often when

Aw, he got all flustered when he thought you were serious. Who knew the embodiment of Pride had such bad self esteem.

“Charlie went out to run some errands, but she should be on her way back, actually. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“Chamomile Tea, if you have it?”

You nodded, before walking towards the small counter behind your desk. There was a coffee machine, a toaster, and a large, electric kettle. You placed the kettle underneath the small sink, filling it up, before switching it on and setting it down. 

It would take a little time for the water to heat, so you returned to where your visitor awaited.

Lucifer leaned against your desk slightly, his fingers mindlessly tapping at his cane, his eyes staring at the wall. There he goes again, lost in his thoughts. Which he seemed to do quite often.

Would it be rude to wake him from his stupor? You had only just met him, so maybe, don’t push your luck.

You turned your attention back onto the stack of posters, flicking through each one as you counted. You heard Lucifer shuffle beside you, before clearing his throat. 

“What are you doing?”

“Posters for the hotel. I’m going to put them up around the city later today.” You held one out to him, and he took it from your grasp. His fingers grazed yours, and you could feel the warmth seeping into your skin from just that small touch.

When he pulled his hand away, that warmth left you, and you felt that never-ending chill seep back into your bones again. It was something that followed you since you made that deal with Alastor. As if your soul was the sun, and you just got shoved down a long, dark well. 

You could only claw at the edges for so long, letting the blood from your nails drip into the standing water at your feet, before you gave up trying. You’ve been sitting in that well for a long time, allowing time to pass by.

But, for some reason, since you arrived at the hotel, you’ve begun to start digging at the cracks of that well again. Maybe, if you got your claws in deep enough, you’d find that beam of sunlight.

“Hm, the drawings seems.. a little off. Did you do this?” Lucifer dragged you out of your thoughts, as he looked at you expectantly. 

Shaking your head, you chuckled softly. “No, unfortunately, stick figures are my only language in the arts. I think Charlie drew it.”

“Did I say this drawing was off? I lied! Ha-ha, yeah, this is great work.” Lucifer quickly replied, brushing off his earlier comment.

You were going to open your mouth to respond, before you heard the loud whistling of the kettle. You turned, watching the steam pour out of its lid, and quickly ran to fetch it.

You pulled a small tea cup from its stand on the edge of the counter, before filling it full with the water from the kettle.

Reaching towards a small cupboard, your fingers sorted through the different herbal flavors as you looked for one in particular. When your eyes finally caught the light green packaging, you pulled it out.

“Hey, this might seem like an odd question, but do you like caramel?” Lucifer asked from behind you. You turned your head slightly, taking a glance at him. His nails clicked against his cane, fast and nervous as he waited.

“Yes, I do. It’s not my favorite sweet treat, but I've definitely indulged in it a few times.”

Taking a few moments as you spoke, you ripped open the package. Holding the small string in between your thumb and your index finger, you carefully placed the tea bag into the steaming water. 

“Great! I was wondering, well, I mean—you see, I made some caramel apples for Charlie. Except, she hasn’t had one of mine since she was a girl, so I just wanted someone to take a test bite before I presented it to heel

Slowly, you could see the color begin to change as the herbal goodness was dispersed in the cup. You turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised as you regarded him.

“You want me to.. try one of your apples?”

“Yes! That would be great, just to know I still got the gourmet chef in me.” He smiled, lifting up a finger right above his lips, and swirling it in the air. As if twirling a long mustache.

“Your tea, Your Majesty.” You chuckled, bending your head slightly, placing it down on the desk in front of him. When you lifted your head, you were greeted with the sight of a large, light-brown coated apple. 

“It’s not poisoned I promise.” He teased, a lopsided grin on his face as he held the treat out to you, his fingers clasped around the kabob-like stick poking out of the bottom.

Carefully, you lifted your arm, plucking the caramel apple away from his grip. When you had it between your fingers, Lucifer reached down to take the tea cup from the desk, before swirling the mix around slightly. He blew at its surface, and the liquid rippled as steam still rose from it.

He gingerly lifted it to his lips, his pinky lifting away from the handle as he did so. His eyes softened as the herbal flavoring hit his tongue, and his body seemed to relax as warmth bloomed under his skin and the drink traveled down his throat.

‘He drinks with his pinky out? That’s so cute.’ You gushed silently, never did you think the King of Hell would practice such mannerisms. But, in all honesty, he didn’t seem like he should be in Hell at all. Guess that’s what happens, when the highest powers known to man punish you for being you.

His eyes never left you as he drank, as he waited for you to take a bite. You turned the treat in your grip, inspecting it a final time. Carefully, you lifted it to your face, and took a bite of its side.

Lucifer seemed to grimace as your mouth closed against the large chunk of apple. You chewed for a moment, letting your taste buds do the work. Then, your brain short-circuited at the sensations, and your eyes lit up.

“Woa-hu-ho! This is fantastic!” You beamed, and Lucifer’s eyes widened in a look of surprise.

“Really..?”

“Yes! It’s actually really good! I think Charlie is going to love it!” You nodded briskly, taking another bite of delicacy.

“Ha, well. Guess I still got it in me after all this time.” He boasted, chest puffing just slightly at your compliments.

You obliterated that apple in front of him, taking barely a moment to breathe as you scarfed it down. God, his cooking was actually really good. What else could he make?

Lucifer only watched you, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you devour the treat. As if he was fascinated by your sudden primal hunger. 

Your eyes met his and you stopped suddenly, covering your mouth as you continued to chew. Heat flooding your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, this is pretty rude of me..”

“No! Not at all, if I had more I'd surely give it to you,” he laughed, setting his almost-empty drink back onto the desk, “and please, call me Lucifer. There’s no need to use such titles in a private setting like this.”

Right as he spoke, the front entrance doors burst open, and Charlie and Vaggie strolled in chattering loudly. They held a few shopping bags in their hands, as they entered the lobby.

Right, so much for privacy. Couldn’t you get five more minutes with the #1 bachelor in the realm?

“Oh, Dad!” Charlie exclaimed, surprise etched on her face at seeing Lucifer standing beside you.

“Charlie!” He beamed, strolling over to her. He encompassed her into another of his signature bear hugs, and she sputtered for breath in his hold.

“Wha—gasp—what are you doing here?”

“I just came by to visit, also to take another peek at some renovations that really need to be done. Among other things.”

“Oh, okay! Let me drop this stuff off by Angel Dust, and we can do that.” Charlie smiled at her father, before turning and crossing the room to another hallway.

Lucifer watched her leave, before turning to you, his eyebrows raised as he spoke, “I assume you’ll still be sitting here the next time I stop by?” 

He wanted to see you again? Your brain couldn’t process that thought when the words left his lips.

“As always.” You smiled warmly at him, as you cleaned up the now-empty cup from the desk. You didn’t say ‘Your Majesty’ this time, but you weren’t sure whether calling your king by his real name was appropriate. At least, not yet.

“Good.” He nodded approvingly, before his back faced you and he walked out of the lobby. Your gaze lingered on the corner he had turned out of view from, before you sighed and returned to work. 

You didn’t notice those sickly red eyes watching you intensely from the shaded corner of the room, as you took a seat back at your desk. 

Days like that continued, where you’d be greeted by the soft knocking against the entrance door. And, when you opened it, you’d meet the handsome, smiling face of Lucifer.

“Good morning, I hope you’re hungry!” He’d state as he strolled past you, always stopping right next to your desk first when he came.

You made sure to save your stomach for the delicacy he always carried with him now. Usually, he’d bring two, one for Charlie, and one for you. 

“I need to make sure she’ll like this one too.” He had explained. You were apparently his official taste tester now, but you never complained.

He’d hold the treat out to you, one eyebrow raised playfully, as he presented the caramel apple like a rose.

“Now with sprinkles!” He’d exclaim as you’d gingerly take it from his grip, your fingers brushing against his. The warmth a welcome feeling to your skin.

You’d sit there, feasting on the apple in your seat as he leaned against the desk. He was very chatty, even when he still held reservations around people in general. It never bothered you, of course. It stopped you from getting so bored while you worked.

“Don’t even get me started on Mammon,” Lucifer groaned, as you told him about your most recent circus acts, “the guy will do anything to put more money in his pocket. Y’know, he thinks we’re best buddies or something, thinks that lets him plagiarize my amusement park.”

“Why don’t you tell him to shut it down?”

“Because it brings in more business,” Lucifer had shrugged, “People go there, expecting a good show, and don’t find one. So, they go to my LuLu World, and bam, they never want to leave!”

You chuckled at the name, ‘LuLu’. Yep, you were definitely speaking to the Sin of Pride, alright.

“What’s so funny?” He had asked, curious at your reaction. You straightened yourself, a lop-sided smile on your lips when you realized he caught your laugh.

“Nothing it’s just.. ‘LuLu World’? There had to be something better you could have called it.”

Lucifer gasped, placing a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. “Woah, woah. First, you say I'm good with names, and now you’re laughing at them? Dirty.” 

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Please, good sir, don’t smite me!” You mocked a pain expression, clasping your hands together in a gesture of begging.

“I will allow you to live for now. Can’t have the hotel going into shambles because you’re not here to keep it running.” Lucifer’s voice deepened as he fixed his posture into a much more royal stance. As if he was speaking to a lowly squire in court.

‘I barely do anything around here, but thanks for the confidence boost.’ you’d answer silently, as you leaned back in your chair, watching his antics with amusement.

You began to anticipate his arrival with excitement. Even pouring his tea beforehand, so when he walked through those doors, you’d place a steaming cup into his palms. You always enjoyed the way his eyes softened when he took his first sip.

Hell, you enjoyed.. everything about him. His smile, his jokes, the care he had for his daughter, even if he had a hard time showing it. He made you smile, which was something you haven’t done willingly in a long time. 

And, his smile? That real, true look of happiness that blossomed on his face? That slowly began to return as well. 

For a few months, everything was dandy. Until, one evening, when Alastor summoned you to his room.

He never did that, and that made you nervous.

You stood at the closed door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest. What did he want? Did you do something wrong? Your thoughts just couldn’t still as you fidgeted nervously.

Slowly, you lifted your knuckles to the door. Before you could even graze the wooden surface, the door swung open. It creaked loudly as it did so, and your breath hitched as you began to glimpse inside.

You poked your head in, your eyes scanning across the room. The decorations were so outdated, it almost made you gag. Skeletons of an alligator hung on the wall, its eyes glowing from the string of lights wrapped around its figure.

A large shelf of books, mostly for cooking, stood out against a small wooden table. A small radio sat snug on the desk, playing a gentle jazz tune. On the opposite side of the room, was where that freaky abyss lay. You had never stepped foot there, the part of the room that simply seemed to dissolve into a dark, swampy land. 

Then, you heard humming. Staticy, soft humming, coming from the left side of the room.

Alastor stood over a bloody cutting board, a large kitchen knife in his hand. He wore an apron that was spattered with blood, his usual overcoat was gone, replaced by a dark red tuxedo underneath and a—surprisingly—clean white dress shirt.

He hummed along in sync with the music wafting from the speaker, as he continued to slice along the large slab of meat on the counter. You couldn’t dare think what the flesh used to be as you slipped through the crack, shutting the door softly behind you.

It didn’t seem like he knew you were standing there awkwardly by the door, but you knew he did. How long was he going to have you wait?

Clearing your throat, you spoke softly, “you wanted to see me, Alastor?”

“Ah, hello there, my friend!” He pivoted sharply, his tone chipper as he smiled at you. The knife was still in his grip, and he swirled it in the air playfully. “How are you doing on this fine, hellish evening?”

“Fine..”

“Wonderful! I called you here today because there is something I’ve wanted to discuss with you for some time. You see, I've taken notice that you and our ever-so charming King of Hell have been growing closer these past few months.”

This is what he wanted to talk about? You fought to not roll your eyes at that. 

“Let me guess, you want me to stop talking to him?”

Alastor giggled at that, a maniacal fit of he-he’s as he forcefully stabbed the knife into the slab of flesh. It stuck out like a grim warning, as he brushed his hands against his apron before removing it entirely. 

“On the contrary,” he spoke as he hung the apron against a dining chair, “I want you to get closer to him.”

You blinked, leaning your head back slightly as you processed his words.

“Wait, what?”

Alastor nodded, confirming that you didn’t just hallucinate that. He slowly walked forward, before placing a hand on your shoulder as he moved behind you.

“You see, I believe it’s in both our best interests to forge a deeper connection with our illustrious King. There are certain… opportunities that may arise from such a relationship.”

“Opportunities? What kind of opportunities are we talking about here?”

“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Let’s just say that there are benefits to being in the King’s inner circle. Power, influence, the chance to shape Hell itself… But I’ve said too much already. Just trust me on this one, my dear.”

Trust Alastor? Ha! That was the first joke he’s ever spoken to you that was actually funny. 

Your thoughts raced as he appeared on your other side, his claw grazing across the back of your neck as he rested his hand on your shoulder once more. 

He wanted you to what, fake your attraction to Lucifer? Wanted you to lie and manipulate him so he’d bend to your will, and carry out Alastor’s evil deeds in the guise of caring for you?

“What makes you think he’d even fall for that? He’s an angel, he’s not stupid.”

Alastor chuckled, patting your shoulder as his grin widened. “Haven’t you noticed the change in his demeanor? The little.. pep in his step? Ever since he met you that first day, he’s only grown more attached to you.”

Was that true? Sure, Lucifer seemed to be getting better, slowly. Seemed to smile more genuine as time went on. But, that couldn’t be because of you! He was reconnecting with his daughter, of course he’d be happier at the hotel.

It didn't matter, in the end. You weren’t going to do that to Lucifer. You weren’t going to ruin the one relationship that was built by trust. The question is, could you resist Alastor?

“What if I don’t want to?” You finally ground out, your firsts clenching at your sides.

Suddenly, you felt a chill around your neck, and you gasped at the sensation. You lifted one hand up, to try and feel whatever was clenching at your throat.

Your fingers wrapped around a green, metal collar that seemed to tighten as the seconds ticked by. Energy sizzled against your fingertips, like static. Eyes widening, you ripped your hand away, your feet moving on instinct to get away from him.

Your back hit the wall roughly, your heart practically beating out of your chest as you watched Alastor slowly stalk towards you. His eyes began to shift, resembling that of radio dials. Those small antlers on his head began to rapidly branch out, growing longer every step he took.

“What if you don’t want to? My, what a foolish question.”

He was just inches from your face, that toothy smile practically ear to ear as he leaned in. Lifting a hand, his claws grazed your collar bone, before traveling up towards the glowing green clasp.

A single claw hooked underneath the metal surface, pushing roughly against your throat as he tugged you harshly forward by it. 

His breath hit your face, and you scrunch your nose from the foul odor. He reeked of death.

“It seems you have forgotten who owns your soul, my dear.” He whispered in your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut, your lip quivering as he spoke.

“If you try to resist, try to fight against your chains. I’ll make sure my radio broadcast is filled with nothing but your dying screams.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the collar only becoming colder as you writhed slightly against his touch.

“I-I’m sorr-“

“You sold your soul to me, don’t forget. If there is anyone to blame for your misfortune, it is you alone.” Alastor hissed, thrusting you even closer to him by your collar. You felt his smile crease brush against your skin, and you shivered.

You were becoming increasingly aware how sickly-yellow his teeth were, compared to Lucifer’s. Disgust began to boil in your belly as you opened your mouth.

“I’ll do it!” You whimpered, your heart pounding, “I’ll do it..”

“Wonderful.” He drawled, before leaning away from you. His claw released your collar, and it dissolved in green fog. You coughed, rubbing your neck, as Alastor took your shoulder and roughly nudged you to the door. 

It opened on its own, and you were pushed through the threshold. 

“I’m glad we could have this little chat,” Alastor’s chipper tone returned, as you stared at him with disgust, “Have a hellish rest of your day, my friend!”

The door slammed shut as he disappeared back into his room. Leaving a rush of angry tears to pool at your feet alone.

Two weeks had passed, since Alastor told you to tug the heartstrings of the King of Hell, to play him right into your fraud-loving palms. Oh, the universe must surely hate you.

You had begun to avoid Lucifer, though. Whenever he was around, catching you at work, you’d continue your silly little chats. You began to memorize the timeframe he’d show up to the hotel, and make some kind of excuse to not be there when he knocked. Either you were out shopping for supplies, or seeing the latest movie. Anything you could think of, you’d leave and force Husker to greet Lucifer.

The guilt of knowing what would happen if Lucifer fell in love with you? It ate you up inside. You hardly slept lately, tossing and turning with terrible nightmares of drowning in that cold, dark, bottomless well. The chains tied to your feet, preventing your escape to the surface.

Would anyone care if you just let yourself sink to the bottom? 

Those thoughts were still on your mind as you did your morning jumping jacks.

You had asked Charlie to use one of her empty storage rooms as a place to practice your acrobatics, which you had started doing every night now. It was any easy escape from your troubles, on the farthest side of the hotel from the lobby, where no one could bother you.

It was a large room, with ceiling-high windows that lit the room with a light red hue. You had convinced Alastor to give you a makeshift gym as a part of your “deal”. If you were going to be forced to be the bad guy, he could at least give you a place to kick ass.

There were multiple gymnastic bars set up at different heights, two balance beams, and a small-scale tightrope. The tightrope was a thick wire connected between two poles across one side of the room, roughly the size of your torso. There was a platform attached to each pole, allowing good foot room on each side of the wire.

Tonight, you were practicing walking on your hands across the balance beam. Sweat dripped from your forehead, and you watched it land onto the leathery cover of the beam beneath you. 

You had made it halfway across, when you heard the door to the room open softly. 

“I didn’t even know there were rooms back here!” An astonished, familiar voice came from the doorway. 

What was Lucifer doing here?!

Your brain short-circuited, and your arms began to wobble beneath you. You lost your balance, and  immediately tumbled off the balance beam with a breathless “Fuck!”

Your side hit the mats below, pain bloomed from your shoulder as you lay there in defeat. You heard a high pitched yelp from behind you, and the sounds of feet pattering against the floor neared.

“You’re not dead, are you?” Lucifer laughed nervously as he kneeled beside you. He reached a hand down to your face, before he hesitated, and instead lifted his cane.

You felt soft poking against your cheek, as he prodded you with the black stick. 

“Stop that.” You grumbled into the mat, stirring slightly from the floor.

“Oh, you’re not dead! What a relief.” He said, exhaling a breath he had been holding. “I’m terribly sorry about that! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You groaned, before lifting yourself up from the mat. You got to your feet, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. What are you doing here, though?” 

Lucifer processed your question for a moment, before he suddenly straightened himself up. Head held high, he strutted over to you, before halting. He glanced at you, before he began fussing with his bow-tie nonchalantly.

“Well, I came to find you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because, I wanted to speak with you. And, you’re conveniently always out of the room when I want to do that.”

Shit. Did he notice you were avoiding him? You didn’t think it was that obvious.

Lucifer watched you intensely, analyzing your reaction to his accusatory statement. He had a firm line on his lips, as if your actions didn’t bother him. 

“I’m not avoiding you.” 

“Oh, really?”

“I came here to improve my aerobatics, before you rudely interrupted me.”

“Right, like you need to improve.”

You turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re already good at it, there’s no reason for you to come here every day.”

He turned his head to face you as he spoke, and your eyes caught sight of something wiggling slightly on the top of his head. Is that apple decoration not fully attached to his hat?

Suddenly, you had an idea. A playful smile began to bloom on your lips, as you slowly made your way towards him. 

“Actually, that’s not true. I’m not that good at tightrope walking, I’ve told you that before.”

Right before he turned his head so he could trace your movements, you shot your arm above his hat, your fingers pinching around the small apple stem.

You sharply pivoted, facing him now as you walked backwards towards the tightrope platform. The apple hung behind your back, as you kept his gaze. 

“Buuut, I think I’m much better at it than you.”

“Excuse me?”

You turned to face the platform, moving your arm fluidly and taking the stem between your teeth, before lifting yourself on the white surface. 

Gripping the apple once more, you turn to him slowly, watching his eyes widen as you swing the apple between your fingers for his viewing pleasure.

“Actually, I think I'm better at this whole circus bizz than you. Look! I’m a magician even, would you like to see another trick, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer stood there in shock, for a few moments. His red pupils darted from the swiped apple to you, before they dilated slightly. Then, he laughed, an audible ‘Ha ha!’ at your words. 

“You think you’re better at the circus than me?” Lucifer asked slowly, a mixture of disbelief and teasing in his tone.

“Without a doubt!” You called, turning to face the wire. Not giving him a second glance, a smug smile formed on your lips.

Lucifer regarded you a moment, before a mischievous grin played on his face. “Well, let’s prove it then.” 

He lifted his cane, before tapping it against the ground twice. Suddenly, you found the platform vibrating underneath your feet. Then, it began to move. You stumbled, and then fell to your knees, gripping the edges as you squeezed your eyes shut.

What the hell was happening?!

The support pole began to rise up, and up, and up, until it barely grazed against the ceiling. Slowly, you opened one eyelid, and then the other. You were still safe, clutching to the platform. The tightrope was still holding, connected to the pole across the room. 

You exhaled a side of relief, before crawling over to the edge. Your eyebrows flew up in surprise as you judged the distance to the ground, you were roughly three stories in the air!

Did.. Lucifer do that? He took “prove it” to a whole new level with this one. 

You got back onto your feet, the apple still in your palm as you placed your other hand against the support beam. Now, where was Lucifer? Did he stick you up here to starve to death?

“Hey.”

You jumped, reeling back from the voice, right towards the edge of the platform.

“Woah—hang on there now!” Lucifer quickly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you back to the center of the stand. You blinked, slowing your heart beat, as you stared in surprise.

“Lucifer? How did you get up here?”

“I can fly, remember?” 

That’s right, he did have wings. You just didn’t think he was that fast with them. Lucifer had also completely ditched his hat and overcoat, instead he was in his red and white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to partially expose his forearms. 

His hair was slightly disheveled, no doubt from the flight up here. It wasn’t as slicked back as before, small strands of hair sticking out messily. You thought that was adorable.

Lucifer looked down, before smiling sheepishly and withdrawing his hand from your wrist. He brushed his fingers down your hand, his nails gently grazing against your palms.

This time, you didn’t feel the cool sensation from his gold ring against your skin, as his pinky lifted from your hand.

“Now, are you going to walk across that wire, or are you going to just give me back my apple?”

You met his eyes, his gaze playful as he smirked at you. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. Slowly, your heel hit the wire, and you halted. 

Lucifer watched you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. He probably assumed you’d turn around to cross the wire, and he’d nab the apple from behind your back.

Too bad for the King of Hell, you could walk on a tightrope backwards. You winked at him, as your feet moved fully onto the wire. You pivoted slightly every so often, your body fluidly leaning back and forth as you adjusted for balance.

Lucifer watched you, admiration in his eyes as you maneuvered your way down the tightrope. You pulled the apple from behind you, teasing it in front of his view.

“The big question is, how do you think you’re going to best me in those heels, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer glanced down at his knee-high boots, before slowly peeling them off his feet. He placed them neatly to the side, before moving a foot to the wire.

He began to put his weight onto the tightrope, wobbling a little as he adjusted for balance. He definitely did not do this often, and you laughed softly at his failing posture.

Lucifer huffed, glancing at you, who was still moving a reasonable distance away from him. Then, a smirk played on his lips, and you saw forms begin to appear against his back. 

The red feathers of his wing’s underbelly began to glimmer in the light from the large windows behind you, as he slowly opened them to full length.

Six ethereal, majestic wings flapped gracefully behind him. They began to pivot slightly, adjusting for Lucifer’s balance much quicker and with ease.

“That is so dirty!” You laughed at him, shaking your head disapprovingly.

“Looks like I'm going to getcha!” He teased, as he began to take much more confident steps across the wire; his wings flapping softly, boosting his speed.

You took bigger, riskier steps as you closed in on the other platform. Your heartbeat racing from the challenge, adrenaline beginning to pump in your veins.

“What happens if I eat this apple?” You asked, holding up the apple to your nose, before taking a deep sniff. Licking your lips playfully, you glanced back up to Lucifer.

“A tummy ache, I'm afraid. But, hey, I'll trade you a caramel apple for that one.”

Your stomach grumbled at that, and you genuinely licked your lips at his words.

“I might consider that proposition, if you can catch up to me that is.”

You spun on your heel, facing the base of the pole, as you began to increase your pace.

It wasn’t until you felt the wire jerk under your feet, did you begin to wobble. With a hitched breath, you try to regain your balance, but to no avail.

Your foot slips, and you feel your body beginning to lean off too far to the side. Gasping in surprise, you flail your arms hoping to catch anything in your grip to stop your fall.

Right as you begin to free fall, you feel strong arms snake around yours and grip you firmly. 

“Hang on, I got you!” Lucifer practically spoke in your ear as he pulled you forward, back up onto the wire. You breathe heavily, clutching his forearms tightly as you lean in closer, catching your breath.

Large wings flapping stronger now, Lucifer held you close as you both balanced along the same small portion of the tightrope. You felt his hot breath on your face, and realized how close the two of you actually were.

Your chest was practically against his cute little bow-tie, your legs brushing against each other as you balanced on the tiny surface. The steady wing beats of the fallen angel sent wind softly grazing past your ears, cooling the heat that was beginning to creep onto your cheeks.

He was so close, and so fucking gorgeous. Forget what Alastor wanted to do, what you wanted to do was kiss this man silly. For months, you both danced at the edge of each other's hearts. Gifts of affection, words of compassion, the whole shebang. 

Yet, you’ve never looked the King in the eye and told him ‘I want you.’

Was it because you were stubbornly fighting against Alastor’s demands, that you even ignored your own true feelings? Just to spite the powerful cannibal?

Couldn’t you just look at a sexy man in peace, without anyone else watching your every move?

“Are you alright?” Lucifer asked after a moment, pulling you from your ogling.

“You saved me..” You finally breathed, eyes wide and you met his soft gaze.

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I—”

Lucifer’s words caught in his mouth as you pressed your lips to his. He froze at the touch initially, but it only took a moment for his entire body to soften against yours. 

His hands found his way to your waist, and he pulled you flush against his body. Your fingers reached up, and you began to caress the sides of his face, twirling a few pieces of hair between your pinkies as you deepened the kiss.

The warmth that bloomed from his touch was intoxicating, your entire being craving for more as you leaned even farther into his embrace. 

His hands moved from your waist, until they brushed underneath your shirt. His palms coming up to cup the small of your back as he pressed you closer to him, as if worried you might dissipate into the air and leave him forever.

It was a good thing he had six wings to keep the two of you afloat, or else you would have been a splatter on the mats by now.

You felt Lucifer's teeth graze against your lip, and you had to fight to not bite his lip back. After a few more moments, you pulled away from his face, your breath coming out ragged as you gave him some distance. 

Lucifer blinked a few times, his eyebrows beginning to raise slowly as a dopey smile danced onto his lips.

“I really enjoyed that, but we should probably get on solid ground, don't you think?” He laughed breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you adoringly.

You reached up, brushing the few loose strands out of his eyes, before nodding. “That is a good idea.” 

“Well, just hang on.” Lucifer replied with a mischievous grin, and you opened your mouth to question him. Before you could get a word out, you felt him begin to lean backwards, pulling you along with him. 

You yelped and squeezed your eyes shut, as you began to free fall on top of him. Lucifer only hugged you closer, before his wings shot open, slowing your descent. 

Carefully, you peeled your eyelids open to the two of you gliding softly down, as Lucifer circled the pole lazily. Your feet swung in the air, and the wind rushed past your ears. The adrenaline rush causing you to laugh in glee as you felt your feet hit a hard surface.

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, the weight of what just transpired finally settling on top of you. 

Holy shit, you just kissed the King of Hell! From trying to stay as far away from him, to getting as close as physically possible. What a twist.

“Well, now that we’re down here,” Lucifer began slowly, his gaze meeting yours with a playful roll of his eyebrows, “we could continue our previous.. discussion.” 

You almost obliged, until you heard the familiar call of Charlie, as she searched for her father. You tensed in his grip, before pulling away from his hold. A pout formed on Lucifer’s lips at the absence of your touch, before he straightened himself. 

Snapping his fingers, that familiar white overcoat magically materialized onto his figure, along with his wide brim hat. Your eyes landed onto that spot where the missing apple usually was, and then you noticed how empty both your hands were.

“Your apple! I think I dropped it when I almost fell.” You explain apologetically.

“Oh, you mean this apple?”

Lucifer pulled the red, gleaming trophy from beneath his overcoat. He threw it in the air a few times, catching it gracefully. A silent boast as he grinned at you. Your mouth only hung agape, as you scanned the apple for any imperfections.

“There is no way you took that from me! How do I know you didn’t just make that?”

“Woah! Sounds like someone is a sore loser.” Lucifer laughed, before turning towards the door, he kept his gaze on yours as he did so, walking backwards as he talked.

Slowly, you kept pace with him, shaking your head in disbelief at his words. He was just as preoccupied as you, sucking on your face, you couldn’t believe he actually took it from you in the chaos.

“At least we settled the little debate, hm? Seems like i’m better at these kinds of things than you. Just like I said.”

“We’ll definitely come back and test that theory with your wings bound this time.”

“Oh, will we? Is that a challenge?”

Lucifer halted at the doorway, and you stopped a few footsteps away. You batted your eyelashes at him, grinning playfully, “it’s a promise, actually.” 

He grinned at that, before he leaned in closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“So, you haven’t been avoiding me, then?” 

‘Not this again.’ You groaned internally.

“No, I haven’t. I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” You quickly spoke, an apologetic look on your face. Would he buy your lie?

“And you’ll tell me when something is wrong, right?” 

You cracked him an assuring smile, “of course!” You lied through pearly-white teeth. 

Lucifer nodded approvingly at that, before he glanced out of the room. You both could hear Charlie a hallway or two away, and she seemed frantic to find her father. Lucifer only sighed, before turning to you.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you real soon, Darling.” He promised, bowing his head slightly to you. You wanted to scold him for that, about lowering his head to someone of lower class, if he did that in public no doubt the citizens of Hell would mock him for it.

But, you weren’t in public. You were alone, with someone you cherished, able to whisper all your secrets, hopes, and dreams to someone you trusted most. If only you could tell him the truth, and not be stuck here drowning in your own lies.

Lucifer gave you one final glance, before he turned away, strolling through the hall away from your room. A happy whistle came from his lips, and you could hear it slowly fading as he moved away.

Backing up, you plopped down on a bench on the side of the room. The recent events hit you like a freight train, and you realized how terribly stupid you were.

How were you supposed to protect Lucifer from whatever plan Alastor had in store for him, if you were going to keep disregarding your brain for your weak little heart? 

Yes, Lucifer was the most powerful being in Hell, far more powerful than that red demon. But, he was also a sad, lonely angel. Who craved affection and attention, which he seemed to want solely from you and Charlie. 

If your life were in danger, would he be stupid and risk his own for you? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Your filthy, sinning soulless self wasn’t worth the trouble.

You just wish Lucifer would see that. 

For an hour, you paced the perimeter of the room. Your thoughts clear as you evaluated all the metaphorical cards in your hand. If Husk taught you anything about gambling, it was always to call your opponents bluff before he had a chance to do it to you.

Your feet halted suddenly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you stared through the large windows. Your thoughts settling as you watched the waning light.

You weren’t some pushover, some scared little child in need of protection. You weren’t going to let some murderous psychopath take any more control of your life. You were going to call the shots this time, even if that meant being dragged by the throat into that well.

As long as everyone you cared about, even Husker, made it out.

There was only one plan of action you saw ahead. And, it was not going to be the easy route.

“I’m done.” 

Alastor halted, the wall sconces in the hallway illuminating his sharp grin as he heard the words leave your lips. It had been four days since you decided you were going to stand against him.

“Pardon?” The words left his lips slowly, his head cracking in-humanely to one side, his ears twisting to face you. 

“I said I’m done deceiving for you. I’m not going to lie to Lucifer, or anyone else, for any longer.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, his back still turned to you. His claws tapped against his microphone, rhythmic and loud as he processed your words.

“Is that so?” 

“Yes, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. There’s more to the world than power, Alastor.”

You felt something cold tugging against your neck, that familiar, sickening sensation returning to your body. You sucked in a large breath, calming your rapid heartbeat. 

Green illuminated your face as you felt something heavy begin to weigh on your body. Alastor held one of his hands out, before flicking his wrist with a painful pop sound. 

The chain snapped forward from the collar around your throat, snaking around your figure as it wove to Alastor’s palm, its green glow casting eerie shadows against the walls. You struggled against its hold, feeling the cold, metallic links digging into your skin. Alastor's laughter echoed through the hallway, a chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"You dare defy me?" Alastor's voice was low, dangerous. "You forget your place, little puppet."

Panic surged through you as you fought against the chain, but it only tightened its hold, squeezing the air from your lungs. You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume you.

"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Alastor said, his tone dripping with malice. "A lesson in obedience."

“Don’t you have any more tricks in the book than this fucking chain?” You growled between gasps, the back of your head sliding against the floor as you twisted against its metal grasp. “C’mon Al, this is just embarrassing.”

Immediately, his face contorted into a look into a large, crooked smile. His eyes shifted to resemble radio dials, as he harshly yanked you towards him. Your cheek slid across the carpet, and you felt the sting of rug burn bloom across your face.

‘Don’t let him see you scared, don’t let him win.’ You begged yourself internally, as you held your tears back. 

Alastor’s face began to change, his features sharpening drastically, that crooked smile growing all the more larger. His antlers branched farther from his head, gnarling together in twisting designs above his ears. 

Even his hair began to stand on end, as he stalked closer to you. Shadows enveloped the hall, like a fog rolling in. Obscuring the sight of your eventual corpse, as Alastor wrapped the chain around his arm, keeping it taut as he closed in.

“The only embarrassment,” He started, his voice flickering into pure static at his rage, “will be how fast it takes for your s̴͔̓̌̍ç̵̯̮͍͆̿r̷̼̥̿̒̊̐e̸͙̣̯͛̽̒a̷͈̼͗ͅm̵̮͑͛͆s̴̻͊̽̑ to die on your t̸̝͓̆͌͝ö̷̻͚̩̎͊n̸̨̘̭͍̕g̵̱̝͍̈́͛̍ͅû̶̞̼̲͜é̴̺, when I rip your h̷̟̣͚̅̏̔̚͜ë̵̺͙́́a̶͉͙̤͆͋r̶̼̈́͝t̴͙̯̕ out of your throat.”

Archaic symbols danced your vision as Alastor’s entire body seemed to contort into jagged edges, his arms and legs doubling in length, as his hunched back hit the ceiling of the hallway. His crooked neck lowered, his head itching closer. One claw coming out to hook  underneath you collar, pulling you up by the neck. 

“What will our dear King do then, when he finds your mangled body on his front door?” 

You snarled, trying to tear away from his grip. How dare he still try and bring Lucifer into this, even when the fallen angel could pulverize him in an instant. Couldn’t he face you one to one? 

The Radio Demon’s eyes flickered a darker red, and you feel the collar begin to tighten around your throat, squeezing the breath from your airways. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes as you clawed at your neck in a poor attempt to stop the sensation.

“Alastor? Is everything alright over there?” 

Suddenly, the squeezing at your throat dispersed like fog, as the collar and chain vanished into thin air. You were left on the floor, sputtering for breath, as Alastor quickly pivoted towards the voice. His body instantly shifted back to normal, with quiet pops and clicks as his joints squeezed back into place.

It was Vaggie, coming down the hall, her eye staring suspiciously at his shaded form. 

Clutching your bruising throat, you stumble onto your feet. Your back hits the wall, and you use it for support to catch your breath.

Alastor straightened his suit, his expression morphing into its usual grin as if nothing had happened. “Oh, everything’s just dandy, Vaggie. Just having a delightful little chat with our friend here.” He gestured casually toward you, his tone dripping with false cheerfulness. “Isn’t that right?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with an unknown expression.

“Yeah—cough—sorry, just choked on the water I was drinking.”

“Right. Listen, Alastor, I wanted to talk to you in private. If that’s okay with you.” Vaggie said, gesturing down the hall.

“Of course, it’s always a pleasure speaking with you, my dear!” You didn’t miss the way Alastor’s eye twitched, as if he was not thrilled about having to leave. But, he was deceiving everyone else, too. Which meant he had to play his little part to a T.

“I’m just.. going to go. I’m not feeling so well.” You muttered to the pair, before darting around the corner, out of sight. 

You ran to your room, slamming your door behind you. Your back hit its frame, before slowly sliding down until your bottom hit the carpet. Tears of anger flowed down your cheeks, as you continued to rub your neck.

Fuck. Why were you so powerless?! If only you had even a sliver of magic in you, you could have defied him better. Now, what was Alastor going to do? 

‘What did you expect?’ A part of your mind hissed scoldingly, ‘You just tried to fight the demon that owns your soul, and got your ass handed to you.’

You growled, rising to your feet. Frustration, sadness, pain, everything seeped out of you, and you felt like killing someone in that moment.

“It’s better—”

You picked up a spare shoe from the ground, your nails digging into it as you bared your teeth. Swinging it behind you, you vaulted it towards the opposite wall.

“—than doing nothing at all!” 

You heard glass shattering, and watched shards spill from the mirror above your dresser. You could see your face, partially obscured in its remaining reflection. You could see the slight purple marks around your neck, see the tears spilling from your cheeks.. see that dark look on your features, like you actually would kill somebody.

Reeling back, you placed your knuckles to your lips. Maybe, to stop that lip from quivering so violently. That face in the mirror reminded you of everything you hated about this wretched place.

And, now, you were becoming just like him. You stepped backwards, trying to distance yourself from the reflection, before the back of your legs hit the side of your bed, and you sank into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into a ball as you sobbed the frustration out of you.

You could still feel the dark magic sizzling against your neck, as if it refused to release you of its hold just yet.

It wasn’t until you heard soft rapping of knuckles against glass did you lift your head. Turning towards the balcony doors, your eyes widen at the sight of the familiar figure standing outside. His silhouette illuminated by the dark red hues of the evening light, as he waved through the frosted glass.

“I see you over there! Can you let me in for a moment?” 

What was Lucifer doing here?! This was terrible timing for him to make an appearance! But, he knows you're there, can see your silhouette through the glass as you sit there on the bed. You sighed, quickly cleaning your face of tears, and taking a few deep breaths.

“Come in.” You called hoarsely, cracking the best smile you could muster.

The glass doors slowly pushed out of them, and Lucifer quietly shimmied through the cracks. He pivoted to face you, a large smile on his lips as he squinted at you through the darkness of your room.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I was just about to leave and then I remembered I never gave you your caramel apple!” 

Lucifer began to stroll forward, your face becoming less obscured in the shadows as he closed in. You tried to shrink away slightly, turning your knees away from him so he couldn’t see them quivering slightly.

“I put a layer of chocolate on it too, and so—wait, why are you crying?” His gaze intensified, as your face finally illuminated in the light.

“I-it’s nothing! I just had something in my eye!” You lied, cracking a wider smile.

“What are those marks on your neck?” Lucifer ignored your excuse, as he stalked closer to you. His eyes constantly scanning your figure looking for any more oddities. 

“Please, Lucifer.. I’m just tired and-”

“What is this?”

Lucifer had asked, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. Something more than the small purple marks.

You began to rub your thumbs together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch. 

‘Please, just stop here,’ you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, ‘don’t ruin this moment by digging any farther.’

Your reaction only spurred him, however. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.

Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace. 

Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didn’t, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.

A soft golden light illuminated from Lucifer’s palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.

Backing away, he yanked a long, thin chain from your figure, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. As he stepped backwards, it only dragged across the floor, still connected to your neck as it lengthened.

A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.

Lucifer’s palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Lucifer’s unreadable expression.

The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death. 

Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.

Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind soul and rip it away from its owner. 

You weren’t some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that. 

Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.

Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.

That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Lucifer’s figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.

You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demon’s hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.

Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused him to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.

Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the king’s anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.

“Who did this?” He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demon’s name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him. 

You knew he wasn’t angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.

You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.

But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.

Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment. 

Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.

Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.

How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didn’t belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making? 

Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.

“I-I..” You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.

As your mouth shut in frustration, Lucifer’s anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.

He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved. 

Lucifer’s thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly. 

Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity. 

Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, you’d still be happy after the fact. 

Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demon’s side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Lucifer’s soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back. 

Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldn’t keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your lover’s hold forever.

Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are. 

Lucifer’s feet carried him back to the lobby, his eyes glowing as he noticed the cat-demon, Husk, cleaning glasses behind the bar. He sharply turned in his direction, surely, this other being 

“You, bartender.” Lucifer hissed, as he lifted himself up onto the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. Acting as if only wanting to have a friendly chat with the demon. His claws extended slightly, as they tapped impatiently against the countertop. 

Husker looked up from the glass in his hands, his eyes bored and his mouth a thin line as he worked. It wasn’t until he saw Lucifer’s deadly expression did he drop the glass immediately, ears slightly pinned to his head, before straightening his back to address the king.

“I-uh, how can I help you, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer’s lips upturned into a lopsided grin, those sharp teeth on full display. That’s right, some people have to remember exactly who they are dealing with.

“Where is your master?”

Husk paused, regarding Lucifer for a moment with an eyebrow raised. He was very aware of the tension between the two powerful demons, but he didn’t expect the King of Hell would go looking for Alastor.

“I’m not sure, sir. You could bring it up with Charlie when she gets back, I’m sure she knows more than little ol’ me.” 

Lucifer grimaced slightly at that. Of all the people in the hotel, his daughter was the last one he’d want to bring into this whole debacle.

“There’s got to be something you must know, bartender. He owns your soul too, does he not?”

“What, you think I keep track of the guy or something?” 

“No, but you should,” Lucifer snarled, leaning over the counter, causing Husk to reel back slightly, “it’s clear no one here keeps eyes on that filth, enough to stop him from hurting people in this very hotel.”

Husk seemed to deflate at that. Those long, feathery eyebrows of his lowering slightly as an unreadable expression crossed his face. He set the glass down, before sharply turning away from Lucifer.

“He’s usually in his room, by now,” Husk spoke quietly after a moment, “down the left hall, last door on the right. Ya can’t miss it.”

Lucifer didn’t give thanks, instead he tapped his cane at his side, and golden waves circled around him. In an instant, the King was gone, a few pieces of gold dust landing softly against the barstool. 

“Asshole.” Husk muttered, before popping open a bottle of liquor and lifting it to his lips.

Lucifer opened his eyes to see a large door in front of his face, green symbols glittered against its frame, etched into the wood with practiced precision.

Only Lucifer could see them, though. Only powerful wielders of such a force could see these runes. Magical spells, cast upon the room. Protection, defense, muffling, everything an evil guy could dream of.

Although, the demon’s magic was strange. Unfamiler, even. Seems like he’s been dabbling in a new form of sorcery.

Lucifer stood there, for a few moments. He didn’t knock at the door, or jiggle the handle. The Radio Demon was not the one in control here, so he simply waited impatiently for an answer.

“I know you’re in there, you rat.” Lucifer hissed, the horns poking from his head continuing to rise. “I know you can hear me. Why don’t you do us both a favor and show yourself, or are you too much of a coward now?” 

Slowly, the door to Alastor’s room creaked open. The interior obscured by thick shadows, with soft lights flickering from the edges of the room as Lucifer continued to stand there.

“Your Majesty!” A cheerful voice called from the shadows of the room, and Lucifer bared his teeth at the tone. “What an honor to have someone like you gracing my presence. Please, come in!”

Lifting his head high again, Lucifer took a confident step into the room. He had every right to be, even in the demon’s own abode, the King’s powers were unmatched. 

Lucifer’s lips curled into a sneer at the saccharine greeting. “Save the pleasantries, rat. We both know why I’m here.”

As Lucifer stepped further into the room, the door behind him remained wide open, the light from the hallway illuminating the King’s figure. Alastor’s silhouette still danced within the shadows, the glow of his red eyes illuminating the space as he carefully followed the King’s movements.

“Ah, but do we really, Your Majesty? Enlighten me.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “You have an uncanny knack to create suffering with everything you touch. Now, you pull the strings of innocent lives. Do you thirst for power that fucking badly, to make a deal for someone’s soul?”

“They made a deal on their own whim,” Alastor retorted, waving his hands in a sweeping motion, brushing off the accusation, “How could I say no to such an offer? I’m a demon, if you can recall.”

The lights in the room began to flicker with renewed life, and Alastor’s sharp grin only made the fallen angel want to tear it from his face.

“Demons like you deserve to be ground into dust.” Lucifer snarled, closing the distance between the two. He lifted his head, meeting Alastor’s piercing gaze. His claws wrapped around the Radio Demon’s black bow tie, and he harshly tugged him down to his eye level.

Alastor stared at the grip with a deathly silence, his face contorting into sharper features, his pupils taking the dialed form once more. 

Energy crackled in the room, a mix of both demon’s powers as the tension only continued to escalate. Alastor didn’t move from the hold, he knew better than to test that fate. 

The lines above Lucifer’s lips scrunching as he stared at the demon with disgust. “You steal the souls of those weaker than you to fill that emptiness in your own, it’s pathetic.”

“Maybe.” Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, before a green spark sizzled against his bow-tie, and it limply fell from his clothing in Lucifer grip. He turned away, stalking towards the cutting board on the counter.

“Don’t walk away from me, you freak. Lest I do everyone in this hotel a favor and remove you from existence right here.”

A dark chuckle bounced against the walls, filling the room as Alastor kept his back to Lucifer. “Ah, but if you kill me, they die too. Souls entwined with each other, you see. Such a dilemma, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucifer gritted his teeth, cursing his oversight. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Alastor’s voice took on a sly tone. “But fear not, Your Majesty. I’m not without mercy. I understand the affection you hold for such a.. charming demon.”

Lucifer’s gaze hardened, suspicion clouding his features. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we.. make a d̴̻͉̺̆è̴̛͎̟̖̻͐a̵̭̫͆͆̽l̸͓͍̽̆̀̕?” Alastor’s tone crackled with static, as he spun to face the fallen angel. His head tilting curiously to one side, watching Lucifer’s expression.

Lucifer laughed, an audible ha-ha as the words left Alastor’s lips. He twisted his cane between his fingers, his claws leaving small etched lines trailing behind his movements.

“A deal with you? Do you actually expect me to give you my soul?”

Alastor’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, not your soul, silly! It’s nothing too extravagant. Just a little exchange of power. After all, what’s a deal between demons?”

“And, what exactly does this deal entail?”

Alastor paused for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving. “I have.. a few affairs I never got to settle when I died. I’d like to be able to return to that filthy place, whenever and wherever I want.”

“That’s it?” Lucifer asked in disbelief, his head leaning back slightly as he processed the demon’s words. “You want access to the human realm? You’re standing before the King of Hell! Why not simply ask for my title?”

Damnit, Lucifer, is it really the time to get your pride twisted?

“Oh, I couldn’t be bothered to bare such responsibilities of a king. I’d take your strength in a heartbeat though, but we both know you aren’t powerful enough to bless me with such a gift.”

The mockery in Alastor’s tone of the fallen angels' lack of heavenly abilities, spurred Lucifer. Who’s horns were fully out for view now, that small fire licking hungrily between them.

“Well? What is it going to be, Your Majesty?” Alastor hummed, his nails clicking against the countertop. “Do you want their soul or not?”

A demon like Alastor, being granted the ability to leap from the realms? It was much different than giving Amsodueus’ little spawns access via that orange crystal, who didn’t hold the kind of magic the demon before him did. 

What would he do when he was up there? Steal more souls? Go on a slaughter spree? There was no telling with the twisted man before him.

But… it was Heaven’s problem. Wasn’t it? It was them who cast Lucifer away from the place he helped create, and now it was their job to clean up the messes.

“Why would you give me something of such value for something like that?” Lucifer asked after a  moment.

“Because your little lover is a deep pain in my side, always disrespecting and challenging my words. If it wasn’t for that silver tongue of theirs, I’d have killed them ages ago.”

Lucifer growled, golden flames dancing on his fingertips at Alastor’s words. 

“They also don’t have any value. No power, no status, just a beggar on the street when I found them all those years ago. You could say I only made such a deal because I pitied their pathetic existence.”

‘If this guy keeps talking, I might just have to kill him.’

Time stood still in that room for a moment, the ending of the song playing from the radio the only indicator that the realm was still moving around them.

“I’m waiting~” Alastor sung, both demons locking eyes with each other across the room instensly.

As Lucifer weighed the consequences, a firm line set on his lips as he nodded. "Very well, Alastor," he said, extending a hand towards the demon. "We have a deal."

Their hands met in a firm shake, and as their fingers intertwined, a surge of dark energy crackled between them. Wisps of shadow and flame danced around their clasped hands, swirling around the duo.

Alastor was lost in a maniacal fit of laughter, as large eyes and symbols danced around him. That smile on his lips changed, as lines of thread locking his teeth together, as if someone had forcefully stitched that grin in place.

The air itself seemed to tremble with the force of their agreement, and the room pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend around them as the terms of their pact solidified.

Suddenly, you burst into the room, your eyes widening in fear as you saw the two demon’s hands entwined. You placed a hand to your mouth in shock, as you realized exactly what they were doing.

“Oh, no no no NO!” You cried hoarsely against the loud rushing wind, pushing you against the wall. What kind of deal was Lucifer making?! 

With a final burst of darkness, the pact was sealed, and both demons drew back. Alastor’s eyes gleamed with newfound power. His aura crackled with renewed strength, and the demon’s grin widened with satisfaction.

His eyes landed on you, a twisted smirk on his lips as he vanished in a plume of smoke. The intensity of it causing your eyes to water, and to fall into a fit of coughs.

The echoes of their agreement lingered in the air in a mixture of green and gold sparks of energy. Lucifer stood alone in the room, before he took a step backwards, stumbling slightly as you reached him. 

Taking his arm, you yank him out of the room, into the hallway. You scan over his figure, your heartbeat quickening as you search for any kind of injuries.

“What did you do? You didn’t make a deal for your soul, did you?!” You cried in panic, your hands on both sides of Lucifer’s face as he blinked away the fog from behind his eyes.

“Of course, I didn’t.” Lucifer muttered between your palms, “I simply gave him some power that he can go fuck off with for the rest of eternity.”

“But.. he c-could—oh, why would you do that?! That was so stupi—”

Lucifer quickly wrapped his fingers around your forearms, shaking you gently to get you to look at him. The slits of his pupils trained intently on your look of distraught.

“For you!” He growled, and you slammed your mouth shut. His breath was ragged, his lips downturned into a painful frown as he watched your lip begin to quiver.

“I made a deal to exchange your soul for a little power, because I cannot bare seeing you suffer any longer. Do you get that? I walked into your bedroom, to find you bruised and in tears. Over what, spilled milk?!”

“I can take it, I've been taking it.” You cried, arms shaking as you fidgeted in his hold. Shame clawing at your throat. Why did you have to be so fucking useless when it came to things like this?

“No! Stop that. Stop lying to me! That ‘everything is fine and dandy’, when it’s not. I’m the goddamn King of Hell, and I can’t even protect you because you refuse to let anyone prove that you matter.”

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, head leaning into your shoulder as he took a deep breath. Your scent easing his anger slowly as he sunk into your embrace.

“You matter so much to me, you and Charlie. If I have to make a deal with a douchebag like him, to save your soul, then so be it. I don’t care what he takes from me.” 

Tears spilled from your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to your knees, and it was your turn to lean into his embrace. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest.

You were finally free from that monster. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, couldn’t lay a finger on you without consequence. Yet, your tears were also of sadness. You had tried so hard to prevent this, to prevent Lucifer from being selfless and allowing Alastor to win. 

You felt hands gently rubbing at your back, a soothing motion that quelled your quivering figure slightly. It was so warm, like laying in front of a lively fireplace. You wanted to stay there forever.

You were so tired. The mental exhaustion that had been plaguing your mind all these months finally slamming into you, and you lay there limp against his embrace.

“Please.. please don’t cry. I love you, I love you.” Lucifer whispered softly, his voice cracking as he pulled you deeper into his hold. He kept repeating those words, ‘I love you’, as he placed soft kisses against your forehead.

You felt the soft touch of feathers graze against your ears, and cracked open an eye to see Lucifer’s wings engulfing the both of you. They nestled into you, rubbing against your cheek softly, lulling you into a sleepy daze.

“I’ve got you, I promise.” Lucifer whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, you’re loved, I'm so sorry.” 

You placed a soft kiss to his collarbone, and snuggled deeper into his chest. Thankfully, no one was around to bother the two of you as you sat on the floor in the hall.

Just five minutes. That’s all you needed, five minutes basking in his warmth, in his soft words of affection. Five minutes to promise yourself you’d never let him do something like this again.

And maybe, everything would be alright. 

you guys 😭 i made sure this fic was cooked, damnit!! A little more fast-paced than usual, but I hope you can forgive me for that. i also could not settle on what kind of deal alastor wanted to make, so i blind drew out of a hat. i just wanted to bring in a little drama, and it’s hard when one of them is can be easily bodied haha

i honestly have to stop telling yall how long I think my fics will be bc i said “oh i want this to be as long as artist!reader pt. 4”, yet it’s roughly 6-7k over it someone kill me

let me know what you think 🫶

[Lucifer] taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ ACE OF SPADES

part two. | rich boy aven masterlist.

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your first date with rich boy aventurine is more fun than you initially expected, who knows where things will go from there // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. fluff, slightly suggestive, rich boy au, reader wears a dress, flirty aventurine, a/n. this will have a part two if you can't tell, fem! reader ♡

you turn your face to the left and let your visual perception take in the luxurious casino you've been invited in— undeniably, your first reaction was dedicated to the chimes of whistles of various slot machines announcing wins and losses, in combined action with racketing noises of their shafts being pulled.

your jaw parts and your eyes grow, it felt surreal to stand here with an expensive dress hugging your body tight, a small gift from your date, nothing more, nothing less. rich boy aventurine slowly slides his palm over the back of your hand to lure your thoughts back to himself as he intertwines his fingers with your own.

you stiffen, it didn't take a genius to notice that you were slightly nervous about your first date with the infamous gambler. if only he would've picked a better place to get to know each other— alas, in a way it was exactly what you've expected.

well yes, aventurine choose the probably, most unromantic spot for a first date— but, you got a dress as a gift, together with an embellished necklace and a free entry to a luxurious, private casino.

so, did you really mind? hmm, not really. in fact, it was quite unique and exciting to be here, you also felt safe by his side, and especially intrigued to get to know more about his, quote on quote, playground.

men, or how people called them here; high rollers in pretentious suits, glide like sharks over the soft tumble of the dice. it's all very crowded and distracting, needless to say it was interesting to witness, but you notice how your heart was thumping faster, that's when you began to feel yourself getting difficulties to breathe evenly.

snugly pressed against aventurine, you walk past the shrill murmur of crowds and bells of roulette wheels as the gambler spins you towards his chest, his hand carrying on to hold yours gently, "are you okay? you look a little nervous," he says nonchalantly, although his handsome voice told you a different story, an affectionate perception, "our table is right there, we can take a seat and talk if you want. "

your gaze slowly shifts to where aventurine was pointing his head towards as you look at a large table right next to the exclusive sight of exquisite gold and silver fountains and statuaries. this must've cost a fortune, you were certain that this area alone was the most breathtaking one.

you awkwardly glare up at him, your breathing picking up on tempo, "of course, but..." your last note was drawn out as aventurine cocks a curious brow at you, "would it be okay to excuse myself for a bit?"

you continue shortly, fists balled, "it's a little stuffy here, you see, i'd love to take some fresh air without bothering you about it,"

in all honesty, the air was, well, utterly despicable. the lofty mixture of overpriced cologne and sweat penetrated your nostrils to the point where it began to ache and scratch your brain.

despite the fact that everything was overwhelming in its entirety.

being embarrassed by your human reactions might be an imprecise wording and false emotion to feel, you shouldn't feel bad about this. although you felt awkward and uneasy to ask aventurine if you could take a swift breather outside.

what if he found you to be boring now? or even worse, ungrateful when it was him who made it possible for you to see something like this in the first place.

a high class casino that could never be visited by the ordinary.

he looks at you through his glasses and you could swear his eyes had a mellow glow, a tender glimmer of serenity as his lips carve into a handsome smile, "oh of course, lets go right away so you won't get nauseous," he utters out, his stomach sitting heavy with lead and eagerness to look out for you.

you freeze for a second, "uh, wait, i really don't want to ruin this night for you," and sigh, letting your gaze wander around everywhere but his direction before tapping out a nervous rhythm against the soft marble on the floor.

all aventurine does was laugh airily, "you're adorable,"

"you're not ruining anything, in fact, you really couldn't, even if you tried,"

ugh, everything about you is just so pretty, you're sweet and angelic and he's glad he's bought this dress for you, it fits you like a second skin— aventurine takes note of your beauty, he stores it into the most important places in his brain so he could dream about you later.

memorize how this dress looks on you. closer and closer.

"but here, take my jacket, okay? it's rather cold," he flips his jacket down his shoulders before draping it over your own before suddenly closing the distance from his lips to your ear— silent, there's a voice next to your skin, it's deep, handsome and smoking hot. barely above an octave as it holds a teasing verge to it, "i wouldn't want you to catch a cold, yeah?"

you hum in agreement as you rest your hands above his clothed chest, butterflies storm through your belly and settle heavily inside as aventurine wraps one arm around your waist, his breath wafting around your lovely lips.

you felt the need to kiss him, and so did he, feel the same towards you. for a moment, you two linger feeling each others warmth a little longer, relishing in your precious attempts to getting to know each other better. it's slightly awkward, you could tell that aventurine noticed how your eyes were fighting the urge to keep admiring him.

yet, he's not complaining— he could never, not when you're so cute, and your touch on him was consistently warm, your trace firm but confident, content and safe.

he hopes you will enjoy yourself tonight, and maybe, only maybe, you will invite him over to your place later.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[motelofmermaids]

finnick odair who has been by your side for as long as your memories stretched. as children, you played on the beach, celebrated your birthdays together. your parents often remarked, “they’re attached at the hip,” with chuckles and eye rolls when you’d ask your mom for the third night in a row to have a sleepover. you and him were inseparable.

he was the same finnick odair who would give you seashells that resembled the colour of your eyes or braid your hair after a tiring swim. he was the same finnick who stood tall; gave you a nod of ‘it’s going to be okay’ when he was reaped for the 65th hunger games. he was the same boy you always knew when he hugged you goodbye as you sobbed into his chest.

he remained the same finnick odair who returned home after the games, only to eventually turn into what they called the capitol’s darling—meaning he was absent more often than you’d prefer. for some time, you were left in the dark. he’d return dejected, eyes weary, and quiet. the truth eluded you until that night you held him in your arms, the both of you cried, your fingers gently brushed through his hair as he told you everything.

he was still the finnick odair you knew when your named had been called during the reaping for the 70th hunger games. fortune could have favored you; you were recently eighteen, and you could’ve been free after this year’s games. yet, there you were, standing next to another district 4 boy who once worked for your father. when you found finnick in the crowd, you nodded, as he now occupied the position you were in years before.

he stayed the same finnick odair you forever knew, who embraced you as soon as you returned. he was still the same man when he gently brushed your hair away from your traumatized eyes. you didn’t eat for a week, despite his attempts to encourage you. he was there when you woke up screaming from nightmares, and he was there when you ran to the bathroom to vomit.

“we’re alike in ways i wish we weren’t, sweet girl.” finnick had finally gotten you out to the beach since your victory in the games, it’s almost been a year now. he worries at his bottom lip, looking down at you while shaking his head softly. “i love you… and…,” finnick started in a whisper, “you’ve always been my anchor. you’ve always been that one thing that could mend the broken parts of me.” you took a sharp inhale, unable to help the stinging feeling in your eyes as tears formed. finnick odair, the man that never changed in your eyes; the man who cared for you at your worst. he was the same man who had a collection of seashells on his nightstand, only because they were the colour of your eyes. the man who loves you.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!

This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^

I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* （￣ ｗ￣）Ψ

Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader

Word Count: 6K

TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing

“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd. 

The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air. 

“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table. 

“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way. 

The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face. 

“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows. 

He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric. 

“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”

The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared. 

“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.” 

Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital. 

“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage. 

The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.

“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.” 

“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.” 

“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” 

The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables. 

“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”

He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.

“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.” 

“(Y/N).”

“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

You gave him a sharp nod. 

“I do.” 

He swung a lazy eye at Saber. 

“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?” 

He gave you a bright smile. 

“I do.” 

The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you. 

“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”

He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest. 

“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.

You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face. 

“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!” 

He chuckled.

“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.” 

He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking. 

“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.” 

He shrugged. 

“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?” 

You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.  

“Maybe I should have let you die.”

Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head. 

“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!” 

You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket. 

“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!” 

You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see. 

“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you. 

“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.

His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck. 

“It won’t come off.” 

You nodded proudly. 

“Exactly.”

He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again. 

“Interesting,” he murmured.  

“What? What does that mean?” 

He smiled and shrugged.

“Lead the way, spouse.” 

You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things. 

“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.

“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.” 

He ignored you, looking around. 

“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.” 

You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms. 

“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”

You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin. 

“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.” 

He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands. 

“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.” 

Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water. 

“What are you doing?” 

He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through. 

“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”

Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you. 

“How long have you been living alone?” 

You blushed, embarrassed. 

“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.” 

“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.” 

You gave him an indignant snuff. 

“At least I’m not a thief!” 

He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings. 

“Hey! You stole that!” 

He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?” 

You sucked in a deep annoyed breath. 

“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.” 

“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 

What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him. 

But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup. 

A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might. 

Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task. 

Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door. 

“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task. 

“Sit down,” you barked. 

A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head. 

“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?” 

You wrinkled your nose at him. 

“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!” 

He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump. 

“S-sorry,” you muttered.

“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.” 

You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line. 

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?” 

He paused for a moment before he jerked his head. 

“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.” 

“Why?” 

“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”

He sighed. 

“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.” 

Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly. 

“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.” 

He swiveled around to look at you, smiling. 

“Thanks, doc!”

“I’m not a doctor.” 

He shrugged. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Ten years of special-”

You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.

“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving. 

“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked. 

“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.” 

He frowned. 

“No meat?” 

You blinked at him. 

“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?” 

He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly. 

When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him. 

“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table. 

“Why, trying to run off?” 

He smirked. 

“No, why would I want to run away from you?” 

He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued. 

“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.” 

Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. 

“A couple of miles in any direction.” 

“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.” 

You shrugged. 

“I can’t be right at your side every minute.” 

He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 

“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?” 

Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup. 

“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.” 

While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction. 

You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes. 

“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go. 

“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on. 

“There’s a couch in the living room.” 

He wrinkled his nose. 

“It’s covered in stuff.” 

You shrugged, trying to hurry past him. 

“I’ll clean it up.”

You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.” 

He patted your butt for emphasis. 

“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!” 

Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled. 

“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!” 

“They were going to kill you!” 

He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck. 

“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin. 

“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.

Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants. 

“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.  

He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes. 

“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!” 

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison. 

“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas! 

Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot. 

“Get in,” you said. 

Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. 

“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!” 

You let out a long sigh. 

“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”

Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him. 

“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”

He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” 

He shrugged, his jaw tightening. 

“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.” 

A long sigh slipped past his lips. 

“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”

Your mouth fell open. 

“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”

He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair. 

“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.” 

“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”

He smirked. 

“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.” 

He pinched your chin. 

“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.” 

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him. 

“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.” 

You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you. 

The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together. 

“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness. 

You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before. 

Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe. 

When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream? 

The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not. 

Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing. 

“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual. 

Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something. 

Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping? 

You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work. 

You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled. 

Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered. 

Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside. 

“Morning, spouse!” 

Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders. 

“What’s that?” 

He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders. 

“Meat!” he announced proudly. 

You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat. 

“Where are you off to?” he asked. 

“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path. 

A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.” 

You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow. 

“Helloooo? Helllloooo?” 

A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs.  Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.

“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?” 

“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier. 

Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you. 

“Saber! There you are!” 

She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes. 

“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?” 

“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!” 

When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. 

“Not someone. Me.” you interjected. 

You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm. 

“Saber is my husband. Who are you?” 

She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you. 

“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?” 

Saber’s shocked face tightened. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.” 

She scoffed. 

“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned. 

His brow drew, looking between you and her. 

“What child?” 

She huffed, frowning at you. 

“Fine…If you must do this, this way.” 

She turned to the carriage and yelled. 

“Nora, bring the baby!” 

A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn. 

Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands. 

“This…he…is mine?” 

Melody nodded. 

“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.” 

He glanced up at her. 

“You want to get back together?” 

She let out a cruel but trilling laugh. 

“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!” 

Anger roiled under your skin. 

“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded. 

She snorted as if that were a foolish question. 

“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”

She fluttered her iridescent wings. 

“It only need be a fairy child.” 

You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls. 

“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.” 

She glanced at you. 

“What do you want? Money?”

You let out a tight chuff. 

“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.” 

Her eyes jerked to Saber. 

“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."

She glared at you.

"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"

Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace. 

“Have you named him?” he asked. 

She looked contrite but lifted her chin. 

“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...” 

He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child. 

“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.” 

“But Saber-” 

“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.” 

You jerked your chin at her. 

“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”

Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels. 

“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”  

Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama. 

“Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.” 

He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.

“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?” 

You smiled at him. 

“Let’s talk it over over lunch.” 

The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.

“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.” 

He looked down at you. 

“You won’t miss this place?” 

You sighed. 

“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.” 

“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.” 

You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.

“What? I thought you said you were broke?” 

He smiled down at you. 

“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.” 

He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink. 

“I think we can buy a nice place with this.” 

You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.

“I thought you lost it gambling?” 

He shrugged. 

“I lied.” 

“Why did you keep it?” 

He gave you a long look.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.” 

“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?” 

“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.

I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.” 

He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.  

“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.” 

His gaze dropped to the baby. 

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”

He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say. 

“What about Arel?” you asked. 

“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.” 

You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks. 

“It is…it means ‘treasure’.” 

He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe. 

“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek. 

Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon. 

Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face. 

“Is he okay?” 

“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.” 

Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.

[on-leatheredwings]

Second Chances 18+

Yandere! Older! Damian Wayne / AFAB Reader

> romantic, 18+ > tw/cw: dub-con, manipulation into sex, gaslighting(?) > request: Can we get damian gaslighting and manipulating a fem reader into sex when she tries to leave him please :? Like the typical "we've never talked about (insert issue) you know I wouldn't keep doing it if I knew it was upsetting you" and "let me make it up to you" > a/n: this reader is captain fix-a-hoe i can't > word count: 2187 > damian wayne is 21

You crane your neck away, but he takes it as an invitation. 

“Damian, I…” you struggle. 

His hands slide forward underneath your arms, kneading your chest. It does feel good, you regret to admit. 

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, trying to inch away but his hands drag you back once more. Not by force, just by suggestion. By pulling the invisible strings that play your body like a fiddle, and it seems this morning Damian wants it to play his favorite song. You shrugged on your flimsiest robe on your way out of bed this morning, and nothing else. So here you were, paying the consequences. 

“Mm, maybe later, Damian. I have–” you gasp at a wandering digit “–to run errands today.”

You hear a huff, feel an exhale hit the shell of your ear.

“Errands? Where? With who?” 

The questions, absolutely dripping with disdain and suspicion, make something in you snap. 

“Oh, that’s it– I want to break up!” you cry out, throwing your hands up. You bound out of his hold, whirling around.  

Damian flinches backward as if struck. He had snuck up behind you in the kitchen, peppering kisses along the column of your neck. A sweet gesture, but too little, too late. Fuck waiting until you were better prepared – better scripted – to break up with Damian. You just can’t take it anymore. 

Damian stares at you in disbelief.

“You... What?”

You sigh, annoyed at the squeeze of your heart at his dismayed expression. Life as Damian’s girlfriend had been great at first. Like, really great. 

Despite his surly exterior and sharp tongue, Damian proved to be nothing less than devoted, adoring, and awfully caring. He was giving and generous. During dates and every minute besides, he was a perfect gentleman. None of your exes had ever opened doors for you. Or pulled your chairs out. Or guided you gently through a crowd of paparazzi with a protective hand on the small of your back. 

Maybe it was his unique rich kid training that made him the perfect lover for you: the presence of a British butler in his developmental years paired with the strict assassin upbringing. Or maybe, as your friends claimed, you simply had standards below sea level and were lucky enough to fall for a man who could throw money around without blinking. 

You didn’t listen to them, didn’t question your good fortune. You had been glad Damian was in your life. You had been.

“I want to break up,” you say, nearly a whimper. You look away from his shell shocked face. He must have seen this coming, right? How could he not see this coming? You two seemed to barely be getting along these days.

You recall green eyes narrowing after a glance over your outfit. “... I never liked her,” from a sneered lip, when you mention you’re going to your friend’s birthday party. The guilt tripping that occurred once you got home. The unsaid accusations of entirely untrue infidelity. You recall many more instances identical to that. How draining it all was. How you rarely seemed to go anywhere without hesitation, a niggling feeling bidding you to see how Damian felt about it first. 

Without missing a beat, Damian’s jaw hardens. He folds his arms. 

“You want to break up,” he responds in a clipped voice. “Why.” 

‘Why,’ he asks. Though it was hardly a question. He was demanding you answer for yourself. Answer for your crime of daring to maintain agency in your life. How dare you dump him? You narrow your eyes.

“You… you isolate me,” you say, folding your arms and mirroring his stance. You wish you could get angrier. Damian could really bitch out in an argument when he wanted to. Fights felt more balanced if you decided to get angry too. If you didn’t let him kick you around. But any lingering fury has simmered into hurt at this point. Decayed into you prematurely grieving a good thing gone bad. 

“You accuse me of things. You don’t trust me! Or worse, you do trust me, and still want to monopolize me because I’m something you own. I… That’s not good,” you blurt.

Damian isn’t moved. He taps his foot, and your eye twitches. “Is that all?” he says.

Perhaps you did have enough anger, after all. Before you can curse him out, Damian takes a step forward, like a piece on a chess board. 

“If I had known I would have stopped. Immediately,” Damian presses, not looking very apologetic or thoughtful. He instead looks determined. He seems entirely like his old self, at the very beginning of your then-tenuous friendship. That was three years ago, and you liked to believe he had grown a lot since. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay. Good to know,” you return flatly, unsure what he expects you to do with that information. 

Another step, and he grasps your arm. Had it been anyone besides him, you would’ve felt fear. But Damian – for all his faults – could never hurt you. Even if he already has, you think drily.

His grip trails down to your hand, and brings it to his chest, above his heart. Your own heart skips a beat at the gesture. “I would have. You’re everything to me.” His heart beats under your palm. It beats for you, he always liked to say.

You cringe. Not at his words, but because of how they’re said. Damian wields them like a weapon. And they’re effective. You already feel guilt begin to fester.

You swat your hand away, scoffing and shaking your head. “It feels like half of the time, you say that to make me feel like shit. It’s… it’s manipulative.”

“Manipulative? So every time I’ve said I… care for you, you felt manipulated?” He looks at you, in a pitiful expression crossed between crestfallen and offended. You sigh, exhausted. That’s not what I meant, you want to interject, but he continues. “I feel… very deeply. For you.” 

Even now, sharing his feelings was hard for him. You feel proud that he’s trying. You feel angry that he’s trying. You feel angry that you’re the bad guy. The croak in his voice makes you want to reach for him, but...

“Feelings… feelings aren’t enough,” you say mournfully. You hug yourself, because you need one. And giving one wasn’t his place anymore. 

You two stand in silence in his kitchen, which you’ve shared together for a year now. You glance around. You spy your colorful cooking sets, the couple's aprons that hang beside the pantry, the photos of you two at Wayne family holiday parties stuck to the fridge, and other paraphernalia.

You haven’t even left yet, but already you can see the ghost of you that will haunt this house. The hollow chill of guilt sweeps through your body, but you ignore it. You instead tread to one of the kitchen barstools under Damian’s watchful eye and settle on the seat.

“I’ll… I’ll stay at a friend’s,” you say, fighting admirably to keep your voice from cracking. “And I’ll have all my stuff packed within a week.” And you can keep the cat, you want to jest, but you luckily were born blessed with the skill of reading the room. Damian blanches, as if realizing, finally, what you were saying.

“You’re leaving.” God, his utter shock was not making things easier on you. 

“We fight all the time now, Damian,” you reason, almost pleading with him. Why was he making this so hard? The entire situation seems so … undignified. ‘Unlike him,’ is what most people would say. But no, this is entirely like Damian. Always deceptively more delicate than what meets the eye. Always trusting you to hold his heart gently. Not rend it to pieces. Guilt swirls once more, while Damian’s shock yields to insistence. 

“We fight because we’re in love,” he asserts, confessing. You are in awe of his cheeks flushing - what a pure display to be had during a break up. “People fight when they’re in love. Sometimes.” You frown, knowing he’s referring to his father’s failed relationships. What great role models, you scoff inwardly. You had zero desire to emulate that dysfunction.

“... Don’t you?” he says, a desperate lilt in his voice. You bristle. “... Love me?” And the way he says it breaks something in you.

You respond, the words like ash on your tongue, “Of course I... I do love you, Damian. But–”

“I love you, too,” he says quickly. “... so please, don’t leave.” You start to get up from your seat, unable to withstand anymore of this, when Damian falls to his knees in front of you.

You fill with mortification that Damian may start begging. And you don’t know if you can withstand that. He’s Damian Wayne. He who does not beg. 

“... Please,” he begins, as if the word was physically taxing. For him, it probably was. Damian bows his head, dots kisses on the expanse of your thighs. Each kiss is loosening your resolve. Each a balm over bitter wounds. 

“You haven’t given me a fair chance to correct myself. That… that’s not fair. That’s cruelty,” he whispers, along with other such mutterings that drive knives into your heart.

How heartless you were being. Were you going to give up on him so easily? Had he not shown he could change? The guilt swarms into an evil, dark monster. One you know you cannot defeat. You throw back your head, trembling from his butterfly kisses.

“Let me… let me make it up to you,” he says after he finds you writhing under his lips. You don’t know what to say, mesmerized by the need in his eyes and the promise in his words. “I can be better. I will be better.”

No, your mind begs you to say.

Yet looking into those green eyes, lost in its dark forest, you can’t deny him.

“... Okay,” you condone. Your okay is barely audible, weak and helpless like pollen in the wind. But it’s enough for him. It’s going to be enough for you, too. It’s okay. He’s going to change. He knows if he doesn’t, you’ll leave. You’ll leave.

You sate yourself with these thoughts, numb to Damian’s continued affection. You finally do realize he’s still licking at you, when a pair of hands gently separate your knees. 

“Damian!” you exclaim, snapping your knees shut. Your robe flutters with the action as you look at him with disbelief. “D-Damian,” you say. His eyes flutter open at the calling of his name. You sharply inhale at the lustful glaze over his pretty eyes. 

“Let me show you how deeply I feel for you,” he requests. 

But you know this is … strange. Maybe even wrong, if the uncertainty in your gut meant anything. You had just agreed to mend your relationship. You didn’t need the throes of an orgasm to complicate and muddle your feelings.

“... Please.” His voice mutters into your thigh. You’re so close you feel the vibration of the sound, and your skin prickles over with goosebumps. That’s the third ‘please’ he’s said within the hour. It's usually three a day. “Unless," Damian says, brows pinched, "you do not want me anymore.” The look on his face makes you feel sick. 

You don’t know how you can ever leave him in good conscience. Damian’s grown, yes, but he’s still that confused, frustrated boy from when you met. Still searching for acceptance and belonging.

“Yes,” you blurt. “I want you, but–”

“Then, ‘but’ nothing. You are mine.” You fill with heat, from irritation as well as arousal. It’s not as though you’d stopped being attracted to him, after all.

“I–” am not yours, you begin to combat, when Damian licks a hot stripe up your cunt that makes your mind blue screen. 

“And of course, it goes back the same way. I am yours.”

Damian lowers his head, wasting no time in suckling on your clitoris. He knows exactly how you like it, after all. Your hands leave your side and find his hair. You pull on short raven locks, enough that it’s probably painful, but Damian doesn’t protest. 

Damian hikes your legs onto his shoulders, and he’s off to work as if you hadn’t been about to break up with him just ten minutes ago. You feel whiplash. It’s all back to normal. You’re together. He’s between your legs. And despite his administrations feeling great, amazing – it also somehow feels like punishment. 

He may need you, but you need him as well. Only he can make you feel like this. Only he has ever made you feel like this. The heavy tongue that’s probing into you, the hands whose thumbs draw circles on your skin – they’re his. The pressure building in your body, the pleasure being wrought from you – he causes it. The devotion, safety, security and love you have in your life – it’s due to him. 

When you eventually finish in his mouth, you come with a whimper, eagerly being lapped up by the boy before you. He's right. You do belong to him.

And a growing part of your mind is having a hard time finding that so wrong.

[siren-serenity]

when he loves you

characters: portgas d. ace, gn!reader warnings: fluff, slight swearing a/n: - ace's time to shine!!! we love ace in this household <333 - took place before SPOILER!! teach betrays them :D (but we hate him-) - honorary tag for my wifey -> @officialdaydreamer00 - feedback is appreciated!

part one (shanks) // part two (ace) // part three (buggy)

when ace loves you, it is obvious to everyone. he's on fire, both figuratively and literally with the amount of teasing he receives from everyone on the whitebeard crew. he can never escape the little remarks yet his heart still does a traitorous little stutter whenever somebody mentions yours and his name in the same sentence.

"soooo," thatch dragged out, raising an eyebrow. "when's the wedding?" ace spat out his rum; some of the droplets got onto izou's clothing. he shrieked, swatting ace's bare shoulder. ace continued to cough but now, his cheeks were burning. "w-wedding?? with w-who?" ace stuttered, staring into the cup of rum as if it was the most interesting thing in existence. thatch scoffed, leaning in. "y/n, duh!" when you walked into the kitchen, you came face to face with a blushing ace who was busy tackling thatch to notice your presence. (un)fortunately, thatch noticed you and beamed: "Y/N! ACE WANTS TO-" "shut up!"

when ace love you, he starts to learn to become more vulnerable. more open-hearted, more open to things such as hugs and simple kisses. things he thought the demon child of him didn't deserve. things that he grew up without; sabo was too similar to even initiate physical affection, luffy was always trying to kill him by hugging him too tight. but your hugs always seemed to blanket him in a cocoon of warmth, your kisses were like little sparks, your featherlight touches blaze a trail of tingles down his skin.

he collapsed on his bed, face smashing into the pillow and almost snoring away if it weren’t for your fingers trailing down his tattooed back. it blazed a path and goosebumps raised onto his naked skin, sending a shiver of delight down his spine. "don't stop," he begged when he felt your finger lift off his back. "i love it!" he could almost hear your smile and feel your warm gaze on his back. "of course."

when ace loves you, he learns to accept himself for who he is. of course, the world government those bastards know him as 'firefist ace' and some know him by gold roger's son, but to you? he is just your silly boyfriend, the second division commander of the whitebeard pirates and the man that is utterly whipped for you. he has more nicknames of course, being luffy and sabo's older brother, but he is just 'ace'. or 'beloved', on rare occasions.

"what do you call ace?" one whitebeard pirate, lost in the crowd, shouted over the loud cheers of the party noise. your arm was wrapped around a slumbering ace's shoulder. you pulled him closer and he was practically sleeping in your arms. he blinked slowly. ace knew he was safe, judging by who's scent he was smelling now, but he had caught the last bit of the pirate's question. ace blushed. he knew what you called him, but that was only during private moments. "you okay, love?" you pressed a kiss to his lips, breaking him out of his stupor. he nodded, still feeling slightly dazed from waking up. "can i say it?" he rasped out a quiet 'sure' before nuzzling back into your chest. "i call him beloved. because to me, he is the most important treasure in my life." ace's heart fluttered at your statement and he just hugged you tighter. he didn't dare speak, not with the choking feeling in his throat and the slight wetness in his eyes.

when ace loves you, he would do anything for you. he would give up his soul, his body, his heart, his mind, anything to keep you smiling and happy. even if it meant he would be sacrificed in your stead, he would still do it. because if being a pirate had taught him anything, it is that pirates should be selfish with what they love most.

whitebeard treasures his family and he would raise war for them.

luffy treasures his nakama and he would stop at nothing to let them achieve their dreams.

portgas d rouge treasured him the most and had sacrificed her life for him.

so for portgas d ace? he treasures you the most in his life and he would do anything for you.

"y/n fell overboard!" without a moment's hesitation, even though something in the back of his mind rang an alarm bell, ace dived into the ocean. he barely registered his fellow commander's tired sigh, or the rambunctious laughing of the crew. "ACE! YOU CAN'T SWIM!"

"seas- ace!!" he felt your hands clasping onto his tight. the battle still raged on around them, but in yours and his safe bubble, it was just you two. "don't ever do that again!" the large gash in his side gushed out blood. he coughed weakly and his chest throbbed at the sudden motion. "sorry, y/n," he could barely see you, but his heart stopped when he saw your teary face. he never wanted to see such a pain-stricken look on your face, but he would jump in front of a sword anytime if it meant that you'll live. "but i can't promise that." as his vision faded and his subconscious took over, he registered a kiss on his lips. "my hero." he beamed one last time before fainting. "yours."

[webslingingslasher]

Care less

for the frat!peter girlies.

Peter blames his aunt. 

May went and raised him to look forward to the middle of february. She would make little boxes and handwritten notes tied up with a fun-sized candy bar. May told him it was a day to celebrate love in its entirety. For a friend, for a teacher, for just the sake of love existing everywhere you went. 

Except, not everyone likes valentine's day. Some even hate it. Some would loathe the day so much that Peter feels like an idiot for caring. Dinner reservations that were going to be ignored, flowers that would go wilted and chocolates that were never going to get eaten. 

Peter has a handful of nothing and the one time he really wanted to outperform himself, it was brushed off and it was his aunt’s fault for getting his hopes up about valentine’s day. He had been so thoughtful too, planning weeks ahead to book a dinner slot and a fun date. Not to mention the mini fortune he spent on roses, not that you were a giant fan of roses but every girl deserves a bouquet on valentine’s, even if they triple in price. Peter even bought a second bunch of your favorite kind, just to prove he cared. 

It meant nothing. His efforts meant nothing and maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but he never thought that you’d hate the holiday. It was a day entirely built around feelings, around love- and you just rolled your eyes at him. 

“I fucking hate valentine’s day.” You said it like it was nothing, taking two bites of a banana and handing it over to Peter. He asked if you were excited, maybe even hinting at that you should be excited. Peter Parker was about to romance the hell out of you. But not anymore. 

“Explain that one for me?” A toss, the peel falls into the trash can. You shrug as if you’ve never thought about it before, but it’s something you’ve held in your chest for as long as you can remember. 

“It was a holiday created by girls who didn’t feel loved enough by their boyfriends, or something. I think the practice is stupid, you should treat me good and do nice things for me everyday, not just once a year. And everything is crowded! Everyone has the same lame idea about dinner and a movie and flowers and… it’s just not something I buy into.” 

Peter feels every bit of him curl up and die inside. Valentines is his third favorite holiday, he adores the pinks, reds, and purples. He loves seeing couples of every stage, the beginning stages or lifelong partners. They all love the same; with everything in them. 

“Well, actually, I do have a confession. Chocolate covered strawberries. They’re outrageously expensive, but I buy them every year. If you’re wondering, I was hoping we could boycott the baby holiday and eat some strawberries or something.” 

A small lift in his heart, it’s something. You’d be happy with one thing and he could deliver that, but first he has to try and sway you, right? Peter needs to preach what valentine’s is about, he needs you to understand how lovely it is. 

“I’m surprised you hate it so much. I figured you’d love it, since it’s pink and feelings, and stuff.” You wink at him, you think it’s a joke and Peter’s in the same boat as you. “I know, right? It always seemed so gimmicky to me, I think.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You pretend gag, Peter feels his heart sink into the hollow of his chest. “You’re right, it’s cringy and that makes it so much worse.” Peter doesn’t agree, not even in the slightest. Nothing about it is cringy, there’s nothing embarrassing about showing you love someone. 

“Right. It’s cringy and a gimmick and everyone who participates is stupid.” Maybe he’s a little cynical, it hits harder when you nod with exaggeration. “So glad you agree, petey!” He doesn’t. Peter couldn’t be further away from your opinion but he’s really not in the mood to be shut down or judged, so, he just changes the subject and tries to ignore everything crumbling apart in the back of his mind. 

“Isn’t this cute?” 

You squint your eyes when you read the card, a tiny smile shows. “It’s cute. Not worth…” You snatch the glorified cardstock and flip it, your eyes widen, you pretend to choke on the dollar amount. “Ten dollars, holy shit. For some glitter? Fuck that.” 

You want it out of your hold, scared that if even a speckle spread you’d be forced to buy it. “What happened to the good old days of making your own card? My mom used to eat that up.” 

Peter delicately sets the card down, he tries to see it how you do, but he can’t. Sure, it’s wildly marked up, but wouldn’t your partner be worth the price? Peter would buy the moon for you if he could, a ten dollar Hallmark card won’t be his holdup. 

But, maybe you’d like a handmade one more. He can do that. 

Peter’s trying to be mindful of your opinion while also planting the seed that valentine’s isn’t all that bad into your brain. It’s days away and all he can hear in the back of his mind is ‘I fucking hate valentine’s day.’ 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Peter- do you fucking see this?” 

A romantic gesture? A public display of love and admiration? Dozens of carefully inflated heart shaped balloons? A girl crying into the arms of her friend while her partner showers her with flowers. Is it the love? Is that what you’re pointing out? 

“Yeah, it’s-” 

“Disgusting.” 

“-cute.” Peter frowns, is that what you really thought of valentines? Nothing was swaying your mind, Peter thinks that you’re more solidified in your mindset than before. 

“I’m sorry, trouble, but I’m finding it hard believing you hate valentine’s day.” It’s like he just called you a slur, you pull your hand from his and stuff it into your jacket pocket. 

“I don’t hate it, I loathe it. What do you see watching that? Personally, I’m seeing gravel covered flowers and wasted space that turns into deflated balloons. Fuck that.” Peter shakes his head, you’re seeing it wrong. “It’s about the gesture.” 

“It’s about how you love someone so much, there aren't enough things in the world to buy to show it, and there are never the right set of words to say it quite right. I’ll buy all the flowers in the world for you, and I’ll use all the air in my lungs for these balloons but it’ll never match the love I have for you.” 

Peter clears his throat. “That's what I see, anyways. I think valentine’s day is an excuse to be a little cringy and basic because we all want that sometimes.” He might’ve finally broken through, but you crack a grin and bump your shoulder into his. 

“Ah, yes, because I’m so unfulfilled that a man has never gotten me a teddy bear for valentine’s day.” Would you want one? He could get you one. Or could that be a reason you might detest the holiday, not that he’d ever take your opinion for resentment or bitterness. 

“Have you ever had a valentine?” A small stumble, your hand is tied into his again. “Besides elementary, nah. And honestly, I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.” 

‘I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.’ But, now you do, don’t you? 

“Trouble, you do realize you’re my valentine this year, right? And I’m yours?” You feel your breath catch, no, you hadn’t realized. It’s always just been another day for you and you assume the same for Peter, it’s not like there was much to celebrate. 

“It’s also just a day that ends in Y.” Is that really the answer you have? It’s just another day to you, even if you finally have someone to claim? You might not care about the holiday, but Peter does and he’s going to get his valentine’s day, no matter what. 

And you’re going to enjoy a handmade card. 

And a teddy bear. 

Peter’s finger-combing his hair after a shower, he’s had the reservation for weeks, but he also wasn’t aware of your detestment towards red hearts and arrows. 

“Wanna grab some dinner wednesday?” If he didn’t say it by name he’s hoping you won’t scream bloody mary on him. “Sure.” A smile washes over Peter’s face, it drops in a second. “Wait, isn’t that valentine’s day? Ha, yeah, no thank you. You, me, and the entire city? Fuck that.” 

‘Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.’ Weeks boiled into nothing. “But, if you wanna cuddle and watch a movie I’m down.” It’s something. He’d get to give you flowers and a card and a teddy bear and he can’t forget the strawberries. You told him you loved them. 

“Good with me, trouble.” 

Peter tried to sway your mind, he tried to make you enjoy the love and glitter and colors. But you hated it all. So all he has to do is ditch the flowers and the dinner and just… do nothing. 

Peter’s first real valentine and all he has to do is… nothing. 

Three rose bouquets tossed onto his closet floor, it was haphazardly done. Petals scattered around the cellophane, some even reached to his shoes. They were thrown in without care, they were hidden. 

But they were beautiful. A few front buds have taken a beating, but the others were fully blossomed and lively. You’ve never seen roses in such a vivid red, their petals almost like velvet under your fingertips, their smell unlike any other. 

The thorns have been expertly shredded, nothing but smooth, soft stems in their wake. It doesn’t matter if Peter didn’t mean to have you see them, they were too gorgeous to leave locked away in a dark room. They deserved the affection water and sunlight would give them. 

You clutched all three in your arms, the weight welcomed. You laid them out nicely across his bed, the third bouquet dropped a small card and you picked it right back up. 

‘Trouble- 

This day was made for you. 

Charlie’s at 8. 

Yours, 

Peter’

You bit back a smile. Charlie’s? It’s nice, too nice. And expensive. Peter got you reservations at Charlie’s? Holding the card to your chest you nearly squeal, you have no idea how he kept the secret from you. Or the roses. 

When you hear his bedroom door open you spin, waiting for him to be in the doorway so you can place a thousand kisses. Instead it’s Ethan and he looks surprised. “You’re here?” He points to the flowers, “Peter gave you those?” 

“I found them in his closet, he just tossed them in here! And he must’ve forgotten to tell me about Charlie’s.” Ethan doesn’t smile with you, he’s not sharing any joy. For a second you start to wonder if you were the person who was supposed to receive the gifts. 

“He didn’t forget.” You scrunch your face at him, “I think he did and I need to start getting ready now. Ethan, do you know how nice Charlie’s is? It’s fucking fancy.” You’re not prepared, you don’t have anything that screams Charlie’s worthy in Peter’s closet. 

“No, you’re not hearing me. There is no Charlie’s and there weren't supposed to be roses. I was supposed to get them before you got here, but, here we are. No roses and no Charlie’s.” You smack at his arms, pulling at his fingers to drop your flowers. 

“They’re mine!” Ethan’s on a mission to steal them, and he’s not being gentle. 

“No, you didn’t want them.” 

You watch him for a second, how could he say that, of course you want them. Thirty six reminders of Peter, how could you ever say no? You fight for what's yours, Ethan allows you to keep one bouquet. 

“I do want them!” 

Ethan’s not being nice to you tonight, he’s gruff with his response. “No. You didn’t.’ 

“You keep saying didn’t! I never said I didn’t want…” 

Except you did. Just like you said you didn’t want to get dinner with Peter. You feel terrible, you feel like crying. He’d had this planned for weeks and the whole time all you did was poke fun and degrade the holiday not knowing you were crushing him behind the scenes. 

You wanted the flowers, but you didn’t deserve them. You hand over the last bouquet silently. 

“I think it’s best if you pretend you didn’t see these.” You can’t imagine the ache Peter must have in his chest, he planned something out just for you to stomp all over it. It’s not about the value, it was the gesture. He can’t tell you how he feels, but taking you out to one of the nicest places in the city, where you know it has a month minimum reservation list makes you understand him just a little bit better. 

“This is so bad, Ethan. This is so,” you suck in air, “so bad.” 

“It’s not terrible,” a crinkle when he shifts weight. “But it’s not great.” You wince, if you could, you’d go back in time and shove your foot in your mouth, or tell yourself to shut the fuck up. 

“Well, I mean, what the fuck?! It’s fucking Peter! How was I supposed to know he was pro valentines day?”

“How was he supposed to know you were anti valentines day?” 

You sink to the bed and hold your head in your hands, “I just want Peter right now.” You want to hug him and kiss him and tell him how sorry you were. Ethan hesitates for a second, before stepping closer to lay the flowers across your lap. 

“You found them. They’re yours.” You protect them from being taken, but still have self-pity. “I don’t deserve them.” Ethan scoffs, “of course you do. Everyone deserves pretty flowers.” 

You pout at yourself in the mirror and fix any smudges. Brushing out any stray wrinkles your newest dress might’ve made on the way over. Ethan had very kindly instructed a pledge to pick you up an outfit so you could change before Peter got back. 

With minutes to spare, he’s back and taking a deep breath at your appearance. “Wow.” A surprised hum when you kiss him, you wipe red from his bottom lip while you apologize. “I’m so sorry, petey.” 

“For what?” A look around the room, red roses give him the reason. “Oh. Hey, it’s no big deal and I-” A frown when you silence him by holding a finger to his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I found those flowers and all I could think about was you and how much it meant to me that you got those for me, then I saw the card and I couldn’t believe you got us reservations and I just felt… special. I’ve never had a valentine, but I get it now. It’s just a day you get to dote on me extra hard.” 

Another surprise kiss, “and if you didn’t already cancel I think we can get to Charlie’s on time. But if you did, that’s okay. Because I think those are the most lovely flowers I have ever gotten, and I might have seen a little teddy bear in there but I didn’t wanna get too presumptuous.” 

This time, Peter kissed you. “There’s also a homemade card.” 

“You didn’t!” You fall in closer to his chest, his hands can have free reign tonight, you wore the dress just for him. 

“I did. I even wrote a little poem.” 

A chaste kiss, “just when I think you can’t get better.” 

“There’s also glow in the dark mini golf planned for after.” A peck, “so thoughtful and handsome.”

A whisper, he’s got blown pupils and hoping he’d get another kiss. “And your strawberries are in the fridge.” 

Your hearts about to explode, “fuck, I love-” you stop yourself, but you heard it and so did Peter. He brushes it off, “love?” Fuck it, you’ll both keep circling around it. 

“Yeah, I love love.” 

A hungry kiss, a squeeze to the back of your thighs. “Yeah, I love love, too.” 

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham’s greatest detectives.

[chapter 2]

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The Batcomputer hummed with activity, casting an ethereal glow on the somber faces of the collected vigilantes. Five figures stood in a semi-circle, their eyes fixed on the screen.

"It seems we have an unexpected addition." Bruce, the one who called for their presence, broke the heavy silence.

The images of the young high school student continued to linger on the screen. Bruce's gaze drifted to Damian, the youngest among all of them, whose narrowed eyes betrayed a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"What nonsense is this, Father?" The young boy’s voice cut through the air.

Bruce spared a glance at the stoic faces of his other sons, each processing the revelation in their own way. Dick's expression held concern, and Tim seemed lost in thought.

"She is a potential blood relative, a daughter,"

Hearing Bruce’s explanation, the rest stayed in a deafening silence. Silence in which did not last long as Jason was the first to break it with a cynical smirk.

"A long-lost daughter? You sure know how to keep things interesting, Bruce."

The man in question’s jaw tightened, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes. "This is no time for jests, Jason."

The youngest of the bunch crossed his arms. "This is preposterous. We need evidence, not some blurry images claiming to be family."

Bruce, torn between the skepticism that fueled his vigilante persona and the yearning for a connection lost in the echoes of tragedy, took a deep breath.

As the initial shock settled inside of Dick’s inner turmoil, he stepped forward, his eyes meeting Bruce's with a hint of understanding.

"Alright, what’s our next move?"

Returning his gaze to the screen where the same haunting eyes looked back at him, he answered,

“We can’t disrupt her life until we have concrete evidence.” Looking back at the faces of his sons who looked back at him expectantly, he continued, “For now, we observe.”

Through the symphony of slamming lockers and loud chatter, a figure clothed in the infamous Gotham Academy’s prestigious uniform navigated through the school halls, a mysterious aura surrounding her.

Her demeanor was an ironic mix of grace and clumsiness, her backpack swaying with each step. Unbeknownst to her, the school’s surveillance cameras tracked her every move and captured her interactions with fellow students, the footage easily accessed by those who were over taken by curiosity.

Being one of the said individuals, Damian Wayne—who fortunately goes to the same school as the said girl—observed his potential sister from a distance. His piercing gaze followed her, skepticism etched in his features.

Nothing extraordinary.

She seems normal enough. Too normal to be considered a Wayne.

As she approached her locker, Damian skillfully maneuvered through the crowd, ensuring a safe distance. He observed her interactions; the genuine smile that adorned her face, and the unintentional charm that seemed to draw people toward her.

The boy had attempted to interact with her at least once, yet couldn’t bring himself to think of a topic to talk about, as the girl was as much of a mystery as the shadows that cloaked Gotham City.

The school day continued, each passing period carrying the young girl further into a world where her identity remained a mystery, and her every move became a piece of the puzzle for those who watched in silence.

[smileysuh]

Sunday Sinner

🌙 staring. Mark & Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Everything is wrong,” Mark sighs. “Doing this with you two is wrong. Wanting you this badly is wrong. Getting hard in Church is wrong. What I want to do to you is wrong. But… as crazy as it sounds, it also feels right.”

tw/cw. threesomes, inexperienced!Mark, fingering, blow jobs, deep throating, pussy eating, spit roasting, voyeurism, lots of masturbation (especially in the shower), Hyuck has a dirty mouth, sin sin sin, unprotected sex, creampies, cum play, kink for being 'full', religious contention, Mark gets hard during Sunday Service, Mark getting outed as low key virgin, proposition, Mark uses a cross necklace in sinful ways, praise, slight degradation, inklings of corruption kink, squirting, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel. (Mark's) church boy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 12.6k

🍭 aus.frat/uni au, soccer player au, church/inexperienced!Mark, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've wanted to do a fic about Mark being Christain for a while, but I wanted to make one that was still respectful. This idea popped into my head, and I think it turned out really well :) it's only slight blasphemy.

There’s nothing like a frat party after a big win for the university soccer team. Even though Mark doesn’t really drink, and he’s never smoked a joint in his entire life, it’s nice to be surrounded by happy energy. 

His team always laughs at him when he notes how celebrations can feel almost church-like, but the indescribable buzz that fills the entire frat is familiar to the man who’s been going to Sunday Services his entire life. 

Mark likes seeing familiar faces, and if he hadn’t been raised in a very big family type of system, he’s not so sure he’d be this okay with crowds, or the number of people who reach out to pat him on the shoulder and shake his hand in congratulations for scoring the winning goal.

It had been a great game, and when Mark’s ball had sunk into the top left corner of the net, he’d run to the side lines to fall to his knees and make the sign of the cross, grabbing at the religious pendant around his neck to kiss it. People have always made fun of him for this tradition of his, but nothing will ever stop him from thanking God - his God - for the fortune life has brought him.

Even now, the necklace is securely around his throat, the cross resting just below his shirt. The cool metal brushes by his skin when he moves through the frat house, a constant reminder of his faith. 

Something is drawing him outside, and Mark has always been someone who leans into the feelings he can’t put his finger on. It’s something like divine guidance, and Mark exits the frat to step onto the back patio, where his friends are in a circle around a fire. 

It smells like weed, something Mark hadn’t liked at first, but it’s now a scent he’s used to, and he heads over to stand next to his roommate. 

Lee Donghyuck and Mark have been friends since high school, where a few ‘less woke’ teachers had assumed - because of their shared last name - that two were cousins, or something of the sort. They’d always been put in group projects together. At first, Hyuck had been too much for Mark to handle, but over the years, he’s come to like the chaotic energy of his closest friend, despite all their differences, mainly, their disagreements on religion.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Hyuck bellows, throwing his arm around Mark to pull him tight to his hoodie covered side, which reeks of marijuana. 

“Church boy Mark!” Yuta grins from across the circle, raising his beer in a mock toast to the man who had won them their soccer game. 

“Can he even be here?” a bitchy foreign exchange student from Thailand asks, earning a shove from Mark’s frat ‘big’ Johnny.

“Of course he can be here,” the man from Chicago laughs.

“I just mean-” Ten is quick to correct himself, “we’re playing Never Have I Ever. Are we sure this is suitable for him?”

“Mark plays games,” Hyuck insists, but Mark’s not so sure about this one. 

“He doesn’t even have a drink,” Ten notes, looking Mark up and down.

“Someone get him something,” Hyuck says, snapping his fingers at one of their pledges. “One of the iced tea mixes, the low percent ones-”

“Hyuck-” Mark sighs.

“Trust me,” Hyuck assures him, “you hardly do anything with your life, it’s not like you’ll have to drink that much.”

Mark still doesn’t feel too enthused about joining the game, but he supposes his heart led him out here for one reason or another, so he accepts the hard iced tea can Jisung hands him. His eyes immediately scan it for the alcohol content, and he sighs. “This is the same as beer.”

“Come on, church boy,” Hyuck groans. “You’ll only have like three sips, max. Watch-” without waiting for Mark to agree, Hyuck is addressing the circle again. “Never have I ever sucked cock.” 

The girls in the vicinity all make sounds of annoyance, raising their drinks to their lips. In the periphery, Yuta also sips his beer, and after a moment and a groan, so does Ten. 

“See!?” Hyuck squeezes Mark’s shoulder. “You’re already zero for one.”

“That was a low blow, Hyuck,” your voice draws Mark’s attention. You’re standing on the other side of his best friend, which shouldn’t be that big of a surprise, seeing as you’re Hyuck’s fuck buddy. 

Mark takes a moment to assess you while Hyuck rolls his eyes and defends himself. The church goer has always thought you were pretty, and you’re smart too, much too smart for the crazy gemini he has as a roommate. 

“Two can play that game,” you warn, raising your voice to announce, “Never have I ever eaten pussy.”

Mark’s skin prickles, panic washing over him as every man around the fire - and even a few girls - drink. The church boy can feel his grip on his can shaking slightly, and for a brief moment he considers having a swig of the hard iced tea just to protect himself, but, well… it would be a lie. And if there’s one thing Mark Lee doesn’t do, it’s lie. 

Mark can feel eyes on him as he downcasts his gaze to the ground. His skin is heating with embarrassment, and he just prays to God no one makes a big deal out of this-

“You’ve never eaten pussy?” Jeno yells, and Mark just knows the question is directed at him. 

He looks up, lips parting at the shock of being put on the spot. 

“Wait, you guys haven’t heard the church camp story?” Hyuck asks, and now Mark’s really panicking. But it’s too late to stop his loose lipped roomie, who is already diving into Mark’s past for the whole circle to hear. “This one time, he fucked a girl at church camp, and a Jesus picture fell off the wall, so he hasn’t even touched a girl since then.” 

A few people laugh, and while Mark can understand that - objectively - they’re not laughing at him, but at the story, he can’t help but get defensive.

“It fell off the wall, Hyuck,” Mark insists, voice shaking. “How else do you explain that?”

“I’ve always thought you were just banging that girl too hard,” Hyuck suggests, earning a few sounds of agreement from other frat boys. 

But Hyuck wasn’t there when it had happened, and Mark knows for a fact there was no true bed rocking going on. He’d been taking things slow, and the only possible explanation for the picture falling - in his mind at least - is that he’d disappointed God. 

He’d done a hundred Hail Mary’s as repentance, and now that his secret has been put out where everyone can hear, he thinks maybe he should do fifty more for good measure.

“I’ve gotta go,” Mark mumbles, handing Hyuck his drink.

Mark’s roommate tries to stop him from scurrying away, but the damage has been done, and the man who scored the winning goal at the soccer game rushes back into the frat house with red ears that betray his shame.

“You can’t still be mad at me,” Hyuck whines, chasing after you as you exit the frat bathroom.

“Why do you assume I’m mad at you?”

“Because I followed you to the toilet and you didn’t wanna smash?” Your fuck buddy manages to pin you to the wall, hands on either side of your head while he looks at you with serious eyes, a contrast to the sentence that’s just come out of his mouth.

“Sometimes a girl’s just gotta pee, Hyuck,” you laugh.

“Don’t play games, angel,” he insists. “You’re mad about the Mark thing.”

“So you admit I have something to be mad about.”

Hyuck lets out a sigh. “Fine, yes.” He pulls away from you, throwing up a hand in defeat. “I shouldn’t have told everyone his stupid Jesus picture story. There, I said I’m sorry, are you happy now?”

“You said what?”

He groans, and in one motion, he’s pinning you to the wall again, his lips just millimeters away from yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, and his eyes drill into your own, “I’m sorry.”

After a moment, you say softly, “I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to.”

“You want me to apologize to Mark?!” 

“Among other things.”

Hyuck pulls away, looking you up and down. “You better not be suggesting what I think your horny ass is suggesting.”

“I don’t know,” you smirk. “What do you think I’m thinking?”

“It looks like you’re thinking about going upstairs to offer Mark help with getting over his Jesus sex fear.”

“And that would upset you?” You cock your head to the side, assessing your fuck buddy.

“Angel,” he groans, “you’re mine.” 

“Am I though?” you counter. “Am I really?”

When you’d started sleeping with Hyuck, he’d made it clear that he’s not the kind of guy who likes to be tied down to one person. While he can be somewhat possessive, part of your arrangement is that you can both do what you want, and right now, you’re seriously considering fucking the sweet church boy you’ve had a slight infatuation with since year one.

“Fuck the fact that you’re not my girlfriend,” Hyuck says finally. “There are bigger reasons you shouldn’t do this.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Well for one,” your fuck buddy leans in, his lips ghosting by your ear as he whispers, “Mark has a massive crush on you.”

For some reason, you find yourself laughing. Leave it to Hyuck to spill two of Mark’s biggest secrets in the span of one hour. 

“If Mark has a crush on me, then I have to do this. You can either join us, or go cry about it.”

Hyuck sighs. “For an angel, you can be a bit of a fucking demon sometimes.”

“And you love it.” 

You and Hyuck are standing outside his bedroom. The door is locked when you try to open it, and Hyuck watches you let out a deep sigh before knocking. “Mark? You in there?”

“Of course he’s in there,” Hyuck whispers, rolling his eyes.

“Shh! Be nice!” you chastise him, playfully smacking his arm. Your voice is soft when you call out again, knocking gently a few more times. “Mark? Please let me in.”

The music from downstairs is too loud for Hyuck to hear movement in his room, but after a few moments, the door opens and Mark peers out.

“Oh, it’s both of you.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Mark,” Hyuck nearly laughs, placing his palm on the wood so he can force it open before his friend tries to shut the door again. “I live here too, you know.”

“How could I forget,” Mark sighs, heading over to flop onto his bed.

You and Hyuck enter the room, and he clicks the lock back into place behind him. He watches you approach his friend, sitting on the foot of the mattress. 

When you reach out, ghosting your hand over Mark’s shin, Hyuck leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He wouldn’t define himself as a jealous type of guy, but watching you be gentle with Mark is definitely bringing up some suppressed emotions, and Hyuck’s not sure what to make of it.

“Mark,” you stroke his leg. “Hyuck has something to say to you.”

“Huh?!” Hyuck’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and his roommate. 

You’re going to make him proposition his friend for you? 

“Yeah, didn’t you tell me you wanted to apologize?” There’s a warning tone in your voice, and when you look over your shoulder at Hyuck, you give him an expression filled with expectation.

“Right,” Hyuck coughs. “I uh… I’m sorry for what happened at the fire.”

He can tell by your small eye roll that you’re not fully satisfied with his apology, but Mark doesn’t seem to mind. The church boy sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s okay,” he mumbles.

“It’s not okay,” you insist, turning your gaze back to Mark. “I’m also sorry for saying never have I ever eaten pussy. I was trying to attack Hyuck and make him drink, but you got caught in the crossfire.” 

“You didn’t mean to, though,” Mark says. “I shouldn’t have joined the game. This is a lesson for me, I guess.”

“Aw, Mark,” Hyuck can’t see your face, but he knows you’re frowning. “We wanted you to join the game. We like it when you do things with us.” 

It’s interesting for Hyuck to hear you saying the royal ‘we,’ as if you’re a couple, a unit. 

“I’m sure the incident with the Jesus picture was very traumatizing for you,” you continue, sounding as genuine as ever while your hand continues to smooth up and down Mark’s leg. “I can understand why you’d be… apprehensive about doing anything sexual after that.”

Mark groans, covering his face with his hands. Hyuck can’t help but smile when he sees his friend’s ears flaring red with embarrassment, it’s always so easy to get the church boy riled up.

“I just want you to know…” you shift a little where you’re seated, moving closer to Hyuck’s roommate, “this is a safe space. If you ever wanted to… try something like that again, there aren’t any Jesus pictures here to knock down.”

“What?” Mark’s lips part with shock, and he looks between you and Hyuck. “Are you two…”

“Propositioning you?” Hyuck suggests. “Yeah, she is.” 

“I’m not-” Mark swallows thickly. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you assure him. 

“She wants to fuck you, Mark,” Hyuck says, trying to be helpful. “It will be good for you.”

“Good for me?” Mark squeaks.

“You’re a frat boy who’s practically a virgin, dude,” Hyuck nearly laughs. “You’ve gotta dip your dick in the sinful water sometime. What’s life without eating a little pussy?”

“Oh my god,” Mark groans, covering his face with his hands. 

“It’s not that bad, Jesus won’t mind, you don’t even have to put your dick in her!” Hyuck can’t believe he’s the one backing this now, but he also can’t really believe his roommate is a near-virgin. 

“This can’t be happening-” Mark is still hiding his face, his ears as scarlet as ever.

“Listen, “ Hyuck sighs, “we usually fuck while you’re at church on Sundays. But if you wanted, we could wait a little and let you join after your service tomorrow.”

Mark’s eyes widen. “After my service? Are you two crazy?” 

“You don’t have to decide right now,” you assure him. “I’m sure this is a lot to take in, especially after the day you had. I don’t think I’ve congratulated you on your goal in the game today yet-”

Hyuck scoffs at how you could be bringing that up right now.

“Just think about it,” you continue, giving Mark’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to go home now, but, tomorrow, if you want to try eating pussy, Hyuck and I will be here.”

Hyuck wonders what would happen if it was just you propositioning Mark. If he’d be more willing to agree. It’s definitely an added level of sin to have Hyuck in the room while Mark rips his virgin bandaid off, but it’s not like Hyuck’s going to leave Mark alone with you.

You’re his angel, even if you’re looking to save Mark.

Mark can’t pay attention to the sermon. His palms are sweaty, no matter how many times he rubs them against his pants. He feels like - at any moment - a big Jesus statue could just fall over and everyone in the church would turn to him, knowing he was the cause due to his sinful thoughts.

What makes it worse, is the way he can feel blood rushing to his cock. He’s half hard at the Sunday service, and he’s never felt like a worse Christain. 

This experience definitely trumps the losing of his virginity, if that’s even possible, and he hasn’t even done anything with you yet.

But in the dark, back corners of his mind, Mark knows that will change. He knows he won’t be able to resist you, you’re just too tempting. He doesn’t have that kind of control over himself, no matter how much he wishes he did.

When the service is over, Mark stands on shaky legs, grabbing a Bible to hold in front of his crotch while he exits the place of worship to head back to the frat. 

The fresh air does little to calm his nerves. If anything, the closer he gets to his home, the more sinful he feels. He knows each step is one step closer to you, one step closer to religious paraphenia being miraculously moved by the hand of God- 

Yet, he can’t stop. He can’t even alter his course, and when he reaches the frat, he doesn’t say one word to the boys kicking around in the kitchen, he heads straight up to his room. 

When he gets to his door, Mark pauses. His hands are shaky as he reaches for the knob, and for a second, he wonders if he should knock. Taking a deep breath, Mark decides to ignore his manners, pushing into the room.

He’s almost relieved to find you and Hyuck sitting in his bed, fully clothed, watching something on Netflix. 

“Hiya, Mark,” Hyuck waves, as if their relationship isn’t about to be completely altered.

“How was Sunday service?” you ask.

“How was it?” Mark shuts the door behind himself, giving his head a little shake as he hurries over to the closet to discard his jacket. “You know, good.”

“Why are you carrying a Bible?” Hyuck asks, looking him up and down. “Did you steal that from your church?”

Panic shoots through Mark. He had most definitely accidentally stolen it from his church, wihtout giving it a second thought. His mind had been so focused on you and covering his boner- 

“I can give it back,” Mark insists, palms sweating again as he places the book gently on top of his backpack. 

“You look spooked, dude. Did some pastor try to touch you?” 

“Hyuck!” you practically scream, slapping your hand over your fuck buddy’s mouth. “You can’t say things like that!”

Hyuck mumbles something against your hand that sounds like ‘historically accurate,’ and Mark wants to strangle him. 

“You want to know why I look stressed?” Mark sighs. “Because you two are sinners who propositioned me last night!”

Hyuck moves your hand from his mouth, smirking. “Come on, Mark, be sinners with us!”

“This is not helping,” you whisper to your fuck buddy, gently pushing his shoulder before you stand from the bed, approaching Mark with an empathetic expression. “I’m sorry about last night, we shouldn’t have pushed that on you.”

“It’s okay,” Mark shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze.

“It’s not, we’re horrible, dirty, sinful people,” you reach out, linking your pinkie with Mark’s. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. “Forget we ever said anything.”

“I can’t forget,” Mark states, finally looking at you. He licks his lips, thinking of something else to say, but all that comes out is “I can’t forget,” and it’s the truth. 

You open your mouth, and Mark hangs on what your next words will be-

Hyuck interrupts the moment. “So are you gonna eat pussy or what?”

“Hyuck!” you yell, turning to flash a warning glare at the man who’s giggling to himself on his bed. 

Mark doesn’t even want to focus on his friend right now. Instead, he reaches out, taking your other hand gently. He gazes down at your fingers, too scared to look at your face. 

“I think…” Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “I think we should do this.”

“Really?” you ask while Hyuck lets out a loud “What?!”

“You’re both right… maybe it will be good for me.” Mark can’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. “But- I’m not sure what I’m even ready for.”

“We can go slow,” you assure him, squeezing his hand. “Anything you’re comfortable with.”

Mark looks up at you. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

Hyuck scoffs loudly, but it’s an afterthought in Mark’s mind when you nod, reaching up to cup his face. “You can kiss me,” you tell him softly. 

Mark’s free hand reaches out to grab your waist, and he moves closer. He can feel your breath on his face. He’s never been this up close and personal with you, and you’ve never been prettier. There’s a softness in your expression, an acceptance, and it makes Mark feel confident enough to press his lips to yours.

It’s a gentle kiss - a perfect kiss - and Mark can feel the tension releasing in his shoulders. 

You step even closer, and your breasts press against his chest, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your tongue smooths over his bottom lip and Mark stifles a groan, opening his mouth just enough for his own tongue to meet yours. 

He can count the number of girls he’s kissed during his life on one hand, including you, but none of them have happened like this. Mark had never imagined he’d end up in this situation before, and despite the calming effect you have on him, he still finds himself pulling away and struggling to catch his breath.

“I want to touch you,” he admits, in fact, he’s been thinking about it all day. 

“Yeah?” There’s a sparkle in your eye and you smile at him. “Where?”

Mark can’t bring himself to say it.

You gently take his hand, bringing it to your throat. “Here?” you ask, and Mark traces his thumb over your jugular, surprised to find your heart is racing just as fast as his own. “Or…” you move his hand down, his palm cupping at your breast, “Here?” 

Mark lets out a low groan at the feeling of you. He’s touched even less boobs than he’s kissed girls in his life, and yours are absolutely perfect in his hand. 

“Mark,” you whimper, and he brushes his fingers over your pebbled nipple, peaking through your shirt. He can feel his cock throbbing in his pants, and he shifts uncomfortably. 

“Or maybe…” you move his hand lower, dragging it across your stomach until it reaches your pussy through your sweatpants, “were you thinking of touching me here?” 

He nods, still unable to speak as you guide him to apply more pressure to your core. You feel so warm, and a sinful voice in the back of his mind tells him you’re probably wet too. Or at least, he hopes you’re wet, hopes he has the same effect on you that you have on him.

You let out a soft moan, and it’s like music to his ears. You grind down slightly on his hand, wiggling your hips in a motion that’s hypnotizing. “Do you want to…” you bite at your lip, toying with the waistband of your sweats. “Do you want to put your hand inside?”

“God, yes,” Mark groans, finally finding his voice.

You pull the waistband away from your skin, giving Mark access to slip his hand below it. Then your lips find his again, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he teases his fingers along your panty clad core.

You’re as wet as he’d hoped you would be, and Mark moans at the realization. 

He’s only watched porn a handful of times in his life, and always felt bad about it after, but he knows where the clit is, and he gently circles his fingers around the spot.

You gasp into his mouth, and Mark eats up the sound, applying more pressure.

“Fuck, Mark, just like that-” you tell him, threading your fingers through his hair as you deepen the kiss.

You rut your hips, grinding down on his hand, and it drives Mark wild. He wants to touch you, really touch you, without any fabric in the way, and when he opens his mouth to ask, “Can I-” you’re agreeing without even hearing the end of the sentence.

He takes a breath, and then he moves your panties to the side. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your pussy lips feels like nothing he’s ever felt before, and the wetness he collects against his skin makes his cock throb again.

He teases your opening, earning more gasps from you as your lips move to his neck. When your mouth makes contact on a spot just below his ear, a shiver runs through Mark’s entire body. He’s heard about sweet spots, but no one has ever kissed his, and the feeling has his eyes closing with pleasure.

Without a second though, Mark slides a finger into your pussy, and you mewl in his ear, holding him tighter. “So good,” you whisper as he slowly thrusts the digit in and out of you, building the confidence to add another. 

You're grinding down against him still, and his palm works your clit while his two fingers curl inside of you. The sounds you’re making are increasing in pitch and frequency, and you’re gently pulling on his hair, licking at the spot on his neck that has his body tingling. 

He’s never made a girl cum before, but he can tell by the way you’re reacting, that he’s going to get you there. He wants to get you there, more than he’s wanted any goal he’s ever scored in a soccer game. 

The cool weight of the cross around his neck has Mark wondering if he’s going to go to hell for this. But can he really go to hell for something that feels this good? This right?

“I’m close,” you tell him. “Don’t stop.” 

Mark works his fingers into you even faster, eager to have you coming undone on his hand-

A clinking sound in the periphery makes Mark’s eyes open, and when he looks over at Hyuck’s bed, he sees his friend wiggling out of his pants.

“Dude, what the Hell-” Mark freezes, making an attempt to pull his hand from your pants, but you latch onto his wrist, shaking your head.

“No, Mark, please, I’m so close, please-” There’s a look of desperation in your eye, and it has him swallowing thickly, focusing on you while he picks up his motions again.

“I’ll wait,” Hyuck says in the background, and there’s some comfort in that at least.

“Mark, it feels so good, you’re so good at this-” you praise him, whispering in his ear while you work your hips faster against his hand.

“Oh God-” Mark groans, watching your face contort with pleasure. 

“There’s no God here, dude,” comes Hyuck’s snarky voice.

Mark’s eyes begin to shift to his friend, but you cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “Focus on me,” you tell him. “Like I’m focused on you.” 

He swallows thickly, breathing deeply as he fingers you harder, earning all sorts of sinful moans that drown out anything Hyuck could ever bring to the situation.

“Yes, Mark, yes- I’m gonna-” You’re gasping now, and you can’t even finish your sentence. Your pussy clenches around Mark’s fingers, your lips finding his as you cum. 

He continues his motions, wanting to draw out every second of pleasure that he can-

Mark has heard all sorts of ideas about what Heaven could look like, but he’s never heard that Heaven could be standing in your frat house room, hand down your best friend’s fuck buddy’s pants, with her pussy throbbing around your fingers. 

You begin to shake, reaching down to grab at his forearm, and Mark knows you’re finished. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and he pulls his hand away, marveling at the slick that’s covering his digits.

“Here,” you say gently, grabbing his wrist to guide his fingers to your mouth, licking them clean. Then you reach for him, bringing your mouth close to his own. “Taste me.”

Mark’s never kissed a girl so fast in his life, and he groans at the flavour of your tongue. If this is what your pussy tastes like, Mark had missed out by passing up the opportunity to eat you out, but at the same time, he’s really not sure if he’s ready for that yet.

“Okay, you two,” Hyuck’s voice makes Mark draw back from you. “This is enough teasing, I’ve gotta fuck something now or I’m gonna explode. Mark, are you staying?”

The church boy swallows thickly and then he shakes his head. If he’s not ready to eat you out, he’s definitely not ready to watch his best friend fuck you. “I’ve gotta…” he stumbles for an excuse. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Right, shower,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “Have fun with that.”

You go in for one last kiss before Hyuck is pulling you away from Mark, and he watches for just a moment while Hyuck presses his own mouth against yours-

Mark tears his eyes away, reaching for a towel in his closet before escaping the room.

The towel covers his boner while he runs down the hallway to the bathroom, and he strips himself naked in record time, stepping into a shower stall.

His hand is around his throbbing cock not two seconds later, and Mark throws his head back, closing his eyes while his brain struggles to process everything that’s just transpired. 

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to the edge. His toes curl against the vinyl floor, and his vision goes practically black as he cums. 

There’s no time to aim, and Mark feels sticky warm fluid coat his chest, but his hand doesn’t stop. He jacks himself off until he’s a nearly overstimulated, gasping mess, and he thanks God for the water cleaning his body of the sinful filth.

He’s never cum this hard in his entire life.

You’re at your usual Wednesday lunch with the girls before class when you notice one of your friend’s looking at something over your shoulder. She’s done this a few times now, but when you turn in your seat to assess the room, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Are you looking at someone?” you question.

“It’s just…” Hyuna leans forward. “Did you do something to Mark?”

“What?” you look behind you again, thoroughly confused.

“Every time you turn, he pulls his baseball cap down,” she explains. “He’s over there, by the window. Green cap.”

When you scan the area again, you do notice a pair of cute red ears sticking out from a baseball cap, the guy’s head downcast as if he’s just staring at his french fries.

“How many times has he looked over here?” you ask, grinning.

“Like, a lot.” Hyuna cocks her head. “You did do something to Mark.”

You stand up, leaning forward. “Actually, he did something to me.” With a wink to your girls, you turn to head off toward Mark’s table.

He looks up once during your approach, and you see him scrambling with his bag. It would be very entertaining to watch him run away from you again, but he doesn’t have the chance, as you arrive before he’s done shoving papers into his binder. 

“Hey, you.” You take the seat across from him. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” His voice is shaky, and you find it adorable. 

“You know…” you reach your foot out under the table, grazing it by his calf. “I can’t get you out of my head either.”

Mark coughs, adjusting the cap on his head. “What?” 

“I said, I can’t get you out of my head either.” You’re enjoying the effect you have on him, and you’re very aware of how public the space is. You don’t think Mark’s going to confirm that he’s been thinking about you, so instead, you ask, “Are you planning to go to church on Sunday?”

“Yeah, of course,” he swallows thickly. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to pay attention while you’re there?” 

“I uh, I-” Mark stutters over his words. “I think so?”

You study the pretty virginal frat boy. As soft as you’ve been with him so far, you feel like teasing him, just to see how he reacts. “Just so you know, if, while you’re at Sunday service, a Jesus picture falls down, it’s because Jesus knows what you did.”

Mark lets out a groan, and you see his neck has turned red now too. “I-” Mark’s gaze dips down to your breasts, which are pushed together in your low neckline shirt as you lean forward. “I have to go-” he grabs his things, fumbling with all of them while he stands abruptly. 

The loud sound of his chair scraping across the ground draws a few eyes, and the pool boy nearly knocks the table over in his haste. You notice the way he immediately holds his binder over his crotch, and you lick your lips while looking up at him.

“See you later,” he mumbles, running away.

You watch him enter the men’s bathroom, and you think you can imagine what he’s going in there to do. Last time he’d run away from you, Hyuck had mentioned he was probably going to jack off in the showers.

The frat bathroom is one thing for a quick wank, but a public restroom is another.

You shake your head, walking back to your girls table, Mark’s tray of fries in your hand. They’re all gawking at you. 

“Damn,” Hyuna whistles. “I know you just said he did things to you, but girl, you definitely did a number on that church boy.” 

There’s nothing Hyuck loves more in the world than making you cum on his cock. He loves the noises you make, gripping at his bed sheets as your orgasm overtakes you. He loves being the source of your high.

What he doesn’t love however, is the way that today, you immediately ask, “How’s Mark doing?” as Hyuck pulls out of you.

He can’t help but laugh slightly, shaking his head at you. “Been acting weird all week.” 

“Do you think he’s going to join us tomorrow after church? I’m kind of shocked he wasn’t here today, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that why you came over? Wanted to see your precious little Mark?” Hyuck lands a smack to your inner thigh that has you giggling. “And yeah. He’ll probably join tomorrow. Jeno says he’s walked in on Mark jacking off in the shower like, four times this week. It’s actually starting to be a bit of a problem.”

“Is frat boys jacking off in the shower not a common occurrence around here?”

“It is, but not when it’s Mark,” Hyuck laughs. “That guy needs to get fucked.”

“I’m not sure he’s ready for that yet.” 

Hyuck studies you. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Well, maybe he just needs to cum properly.”

You sit up, teasing your hands over Hyuck’s thighs. “Tell me, how does a guy ‘cum properly.’”

“Buried inside something nice, and wet, and warm,” Hyuck reaches out to grasp your chin. “Your mouth would work.”

You laugh at the idea, “Maybe if he lets me,” and Hyuck grins, getting off the bed to pull on his pants. 

“I’m gonna head to the kitchen for water, need anything?”

“Just you,” you tease. “Hurry back.”

“You got it, angel,” Hyuck winks at you before heading to the door. He pulls on his shirt as he exits the room, but just when he gets his head through the neck hole, he catches a quick glimpse of one mister Mark Lee rushing into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Had Mark been listening this whole time? Had he been outside of the door, listening to Hyuck fuck you? 

The thought makes Hyuck laugh again, and his ego triples in size. There’s something very… intriguing about this whole situation with the frat’s ‘designated’ virginal church boy, even if this experience is making Hyuck rethink his ideas of commitment. 

If the last Sunday service had been torture, today might just be Hell for Mark. 

He’s sweating, shaking even, his knee bobbing up and down anxiously while he sits in the back row. 

He’d returned the Bible he’d stolen last time, but he fears that he might end up taking it again. Every time he thinks about you, thinks about what it felt like to have his hand down your pants while you sucked on his neck- 

No, he can’t think about it. He can’t-

But it’s too late, he feels his cock growing in his pants, and shame washes over him. He runs a hand through his hair, fanning himself and taking deep breaths. 

It’s not ten minutes into the hour long service, and already, he’s at his breaking point. 

Mark battles with himself for another two minutes, and he finally gives up. When everyone stands to sing, he quietly excuses himself from the back row, ducking out of the church without looking back. 

“Mark?” you sit up hastily from Hyuck’s embrace, blinking at the boy who’s just entered the room. “You’re back from church early!”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sit through it,” Mark mumbles, throwing his jacket in the closet before collapsing on his bed, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s unlike you,” Hyuck sits up next to you. “Are you sick or something?”

“Definitely sick in the head,” Mark groans. 

“Enjoying sex doesn’t make you bad,” you tell him. “Besides, we haven’t even fucked yet.”

Mark sighs. “Yet.”

“So you were thinking about her fucking you while you were in church,” Hyuck grins next to you. “That’s sinful, Mark.”

“I know!” Mark flops onto his stomach, shoving his face against his pillow.

You look at Hyuck, and he makes a face, motioning to his friend. ‘Say something’ he mouths.

‘No, you say something!’ you mouth back.  

Instead, Hyuck simply pushes you out of his bed, and you stumble onto your feet. 

“Mark…” you approach the sulking churchboy. “I know a few things that could cheer you up.” 

Mark groans, but he sits up all the same, looking at you with eyes that tell you he wants you to elaborate.

“I was thinking…” you swallow, choosing your words. “Based on your history, it sounds like maybe you’ve never had someone go down on you before-”

“Fuck, she’s so good with her mouth,” Hyuck quips. 

“I know this whole thing started with you not eating pussy, but, seeing as you made me cum last week with your fingers, I thought I could return the favour somehow.” 

Mark’s lips part, and he allows you to take his hands, pulling him to be standing in front of you. 

“What do you say Mark?” You lean forward, your lips almost touching. “Can I suck you off? Pretty please?”

Instead of answering, he kisses you, cupping the back of your neck. 

Your first kiss with Mark had been slow and gentle, but there’s a new fire in him now, and it’s only a moment before his tongue is gliding past your lower lip, begging for entrance. You release a groan, reaching down to loop your fingers in the waistband of his pants, pulling him tighter to your body.

You can feel that he’s already hard, and you love how easy it is to turn him on. You love the way he’s already becoming more explorative in the way he interacts with you, his hand steady on the back of your neck, insistent that you stay lip locked. 

For a guy who doesn’t kiss girls much, he’s a phenomenal kisser. There’s emotion in it, and he tastes like spearmint. 

You get lost in the feeling of him, but after only a little while, you’re aching to touch him properly. Your hand slips down, cupping him through his pants. The church boy shivers at the contact, and you squeeze him. It’s the first time you’ve really touched his cock, and you bet he’s already aching-

He releases the back of your neck, and you take it as a sign to begin kissing down his body. You start at his throat, licking the sensitive spot that has him grabbing your hips and releasing a moan. He makes such pretty sounds-

You continue rubbing his cock, but when your mouth gets to his collarbone, you grab at his shirt. “Can this come off?”

“Yeah,” Mark mumbles, releasing you so he can unbutton the nice church shirt he’s wearing. 

When he discards the fabric, revealing his body to you, you simply enjoy it for a moment. 

Mark and Hyuck both have such wonderful bodies. Sure, some of your friends make good arguments about the muscled forms of Jaehyun, Johnny and Jeno, but you prefer Mark’s understated physique. 

He’s a soccer player, and his body is perfectly athletic without being too much to handle.

Your kisses begin to descend, and you find yourself pausing at the cross necklace. You lean forward and press your lips to it softly. Mark lets out a shaky breath. 

You know he’s watching you, and this is your way of showing him you still respect his religion, despite persuading him to partake in the more ‘sinful’ side of life.

“Wait,” Mark says, and he lets go of you to reach behind his neck, fumbling with the clasp. You watch him with curiosity as he removes the cross, holding it gently and placing it onto his bedside table.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him without the gold chain around his throat, and you wonder what the removal of it could mean, but you try not to think too hard about it.

You sink to your knees on the floor, undoing his belt and looking up at Mark. If he doesn’t want this, he can stop you, and you give him more than enough time to make that decision. But Mark only watches you, breathing heavily as you undo the button, then the zipper-

“You want this?” you ask, hooking your fingers in his pants and briefs.

He nods. “I want you.”

You smile, tugging the fabrics down so they pool at his feet. 

“You have such a pretty cock,” you whisper, grabbing the base and swiping your thumb across the leaking tip. You notice the way Mark’s chest and neck flush pink, as if he’s embarrassed by your words, but you know that praise is good for Mark. 

You press a kiss to the head of his cock, suckling a little while Mark moans above you. 

It looks like he’s not sure where to place his hands, so you reach for one, placing it on your cheek while you take more of him into your mouth. 

“God-” Mark whispers.

“She feels good, right?” Hyuck asks.

“Yeah,” Mark nods. “Really good.”

Having them both give you praise has your pussy throbbing, and it encourages you to sink further down onto his cock, sucking harder-

“Shit-” Mark nearly whimpers, and you think this might be the first time you’ve heard him swear. 

You know it’s wrong, and bad, and dirty, and sinful- but there’s something about corrupting Mark that has you going insane. You bob up and down on his cock, stroking the base that you can’t reach with your mouth. 

“This is too hot,” Hyuck says. “I’ve gotta join.”

“How-” Mark begins to ask, but a second later, hands are pulling you off of Mark’s cock.

“Both of you, on the bed,” Hyuck instructs. “You’ve heard of spit roasting, right, Mark?”

“I-” the church boy’s skin is flushed again, and when you hop up on the bed, he follows, clamoring after you. 

“Look, you’ll have her mouth,” Hyuck gets on the mattress behind you, and you hear him undoing his belt, “and I’ll have her perfect pussy. It’s a win, win.”

Mark doesn’t argue, his eyes moving down to meet yours as you take his dick back into your mouth, picking up where you’d left off.

Hyuck, meanwhile, tears your pants down, and a moment later his fingers are gliding through your pussy. “Fuck, angel, you’re soaked. Sucking Mark’s cock really turns you on, huh?”

You groan a sound of affirmation around Mark, and his hand is quick to grab your head again, fingers flexing in your hair. 

“You can fuck her face if you want,” Hyuck suggests, working two fingers into you easily. “She loves getter her throat fucked-”

Mark’s hips twitch at the words, but he doesn’t follow through. You think maybe he doesn’t want to hurt you, and it’s an endearing idea.

Hyuck pulls his digits from your core, and they’re replaced with the head of his cock, which he rubs the length of your pussy, teasing your clit before pushing into you.

Your fuck buddy lets out a loud groan, his hands finding your hips as he sinks his length fully into your core. 

“Dude,” Hyuck breathes, “her pussy is literally Heaven-”

His first thrust sends you further onto Mark’s cock, and the man above you gasps when he hits the back of your throat. 

“Is fucking pussy going against God?” Hyuck asks, in an almost rhetoric manner. “Isn’t there some weird church loophole where anal doesn’t count? Her ass is great too, scout’s honor.”

At this point, you’re pretty sure Mark’s not even listening to Hyuck. He’s much too focused on your lips wrapped around him, and the sounds slipping out of him make you think maybe he’s close to the edge.

All things considered - for a guy who’s never been blown - Mark’s lasting remarkably well, but you don’t want him to last. You want him to cum, like he deserves to cum. 

When you suck harder, you feel Mark’s cock twitch, and he lets out a groan. “Shit, I’m gonna-”

“Cum in her mouth,” Hyuck states, pace getting rougher inside of you. “Do it. She’s a good girl. She’ll swallow. Fuck, it’s so hot when she swallows.” 

Mark moans, and he pushes his hips forward, sending his cock into the back of your throat. Your gag reflex is the thing that makes him cum, and an “Oh my God!” leaves his lips as he explodes down your throat.

Hyuck’s right, you are a good girl, and you swallow every drop, working Mark through his orgasm until he’s gasping. He pulls out of your mouth, and Hyuck takes the opportunity to fuck you even harder.

Now that you can moan freely, you fill the room with sounds of your own pleasure. When Mark gets off the bed, you fall onto your face, turning to press your cheek to the mattress while you watch Mark find his pants on the floor. 

His eyes meet yours, and you can see his pupils are blown. It’s so incredibly sexy to have Hyuck fucking you on Mark’s bed while Mark watches, and your pussy throbs around Hyuck’s cock. 

“Fuck, you just got so tight, angel,” Hyuck groans, fingers digging into your waist while his hips buck wildly. “Shit, I’m not going to last like this-”

You reach a shaky hand under your body, finding your clit, and it only makes your pussy clamp down harder on your fuck buddy, who releases another loud moan. 

“You close, angel? Sucking off Mark must have really got you going-” 

“I’m close,” you confirm, grabbing at the bedsheet with your free hand while your fingers continue on your clit. 

“Yeah, you are,” Hyuck growls. “That’s my good girl, my perfect angel. I want you to cum so bad, it’ll tip me over the edge- Fuck! I’m gonna fill you up so good, so fucking good-”

You love it when Hyuck talks dirty like this, and you gasp as you get closer and closer to your high-

“Come on,” Hyuck lands a smack to your ass, and the pained pleasure has you crying out, rubbing your clit harder. “Cum for me,” he commands.

It’s all you need to reach the edge, and you fall over it with a loud moan, forcing your eyes to stay open while you stare at Mark, who watches you with parted lips and a dazed expression.

“That’s it, that’s it-” Hyuck grunts, pace faltering as he cums too, fulfilling his promise of filling you up just the way you like it. He fucks you through your highs, and your hand falls from your clit to the bed, body on the cusp of overstimulation as Hyuck’s motions begin to slow.

As things come to a stop, Hyuck lets out a deep breath. “Mark, come over here, you’ve gotta see this.”

“I don’t want to look at your dick,” comes Mark’s quick retort.

“Then don’t look at my dick, look at her pussy with my cum dripping out of it. Trust me, it’s so fucking hot-” Hyuck pulls out of you, and you whine at the loss.

You watch Mark go around the side of the bed, and you can feel both of their eyes on your hole, which is already beginning to drip Hyuck’s cum-

You place a hand under your core, not wanting to get any of this on Mark’s bed, and Hyuck laughs loudly. 

“Aren’t you two worried about pregnancy?” Mark asks.

“That’s what birth control is for,” Hyuck says. “Cumming inside feels like nothing else in the whole world.”

“What about STI’s?”

“Well, I mean…” Hyuck gets off the bed, and you watch him grab a tissue from his desk, “we’re only really fucking each other and we’re both clean so…”

“Wait, you two only sleep with each other?” Mark sounds justifiably confused. “So… why aren’t you two… why aren’t you two dating?”

It’s a very good question, and from the way Hyuck brushes it off with a ‘you know’ and a topic change, it feels as if neither of you really have a good answer. “Anyways, you have to try this sometime,” Hyuck says again. “Next Sunday.” 

Mark sighs. “Can’t we do this on any day but Sunday?”

“Where would be the fun in that, church bitch?”

You let out a groan of annoyance, but you think you’re starting to understand this is just the way their relationship is. 

Getting through a full week while being on the same campus as you is starting to feel like Mark’s own personal Hell. Every time he so much as catches a glimpse of you running between classes, blood rushes to his cock. 

Hell, even at soccer practice with Hyuck, every time Mark looks at his forward position roommate, all he can think about is the visual of Hyuck fucking you from behind on his own bed. 

By Friday, he’s too pent up to even attend his last class, and he rushes back to the frat to get some shower time.

He’s becoming much too used to jacking off in the shower, but he really can’t help himself. 

Mark feels like an absolute sinner, especially with the cross necklace around his neck. Today, something comes over him, and he takes it off, wrapping the gold chain around his right hand. He looks at it for a moment, and there’s almost something like curiosity-

He wraps his hand around his cock, flinching a little at the cold metal on his heated skin. As he begins to move his fist up and down his aching length, the bite of the necklace feels like repentance, like something he deserves. 

Mark takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he thinks about you. 

He thinks about the sounds you make, the expression on your face as you cum- how your mouth had felt on his throbbing cock- 

He can’t believe how easy it is to get himself to the edge, especially with the added pain of the necklace around his hand. Does this make him even worse? It shouldn’t be this easy to cum- it shouldn’t be, but it is.

When he reaches the edge, it’s not God’s name on Mark’s lips, it’s yours.

He gasps, body tingling as he pumps his way through it, the necklace biting into his skin-

“Jesus Christ Mark! Get a fucking room!” comes Jeno’s voice. “Some of us are just trying to fucking shower!”

The outburst makes shame flood through his body, but it also only adds to the powerful sensation in his cock, his cum shooting across his chest. 

Mark’s decides he’s definitely going to Hell for this.

Another Saturday win for the soccer team means another frat party, and Hyuck loves the attention you give him on days when he gets a goal. You’re even touchier than usual, praising him for his skills-

Yet, Hyuck finds it hard to focus on you with Mark blatantly staring from across the room. 

Hyuck has enjoyed sharing you with his roommate, more than he ever thought he would, but tonight, he wants you for himself, and when you begin kissing his neck, pushing him against the wall, Hyuck’s had enough of this public bullshit.

“My room, now,” he commands. 

With a giggle, you turn, darting off towards the stairs, and Hyuck follows you with a smile. As he climbs the steps in twos, he gets a feeling he’s being followed, and he stops on the first landing to turn and look at Mark.

“What are you doing?”

“Huh?” Mark blinks. “I’m uh… coming with you?”

“It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“So,” Hyuck sighs, “you only get access to angels on Sundays, all good Christians should know that.”

“But-” Mark opens his mouth to argue but Hyuck’s not in the mood for it tonight.

“No joining,” he says firmly. But as he looks at Mark’s defeated expression, Hyuck feels something like pity. “I guess you can stand outside the door and listen, you perv.”

Mark’s skin flares with embarrassment, but as Hyuck continues up the stairs, he gets the suspicion that Mark’s going to do exactly what he’d just suggested.

When you arrive at the frat house on Sunday afternoon, Hyuck is waiting for you in the living room. He pulls you into a kiss, and his lips linger against your own, his fingers digging into your hips. “Are you ready for today, my little demon?”

You laugh. “I’m always ready. But we have to wait till Mark gets back from church.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “We could always start without him.”

“That wouldn’t be very nice,” you note, grinning at your fuck buddy.

“Making me wait isn’t very nice,” Hyuck counters.

“It’s important to learn how to be patient,” you tell him, pressing another peck to his lips. “Come on, I’m sure we can find an episode of something to watch on Netflix.”

When you get to Hyuck’s room, the last thing you expect is to find Mark waiting for you. He’s sitting on his bed, staring at the floor, and his head snaps up as you enter.

“Mark?” You can’t hide your confusion. “Shouldn’t you be at church?”

“I’m not going today,” he states, standing and placing his cross necklace on the bedside table.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, walking over to grab his hands, assessing him for head injury.

“Everything is wrong,” Mark sighs. “Doing this with you two is wrong. Wanting you this badly is wrong. Getting hard in church is wrong. What I want to do to you is wrong. But… as crazy as it sounds, it also feels right.”

Hyuck lets out a whistle behind you, and you hear him locking the door. “Damn, Mark, I’m actually kind of impressed.”

“So…” you look into Mark’s eyes, “does this mean you’re ready?”

He nods. “Yeah… I’m ready.”

“Are you sure about that, church boy?” your fuck buddy asks. “Do you want us to put up a cross and see if it falls down as a sign that God thinks you’re a sinner?”

Mark takes a deep breath, and his eyes shift to Hyuck over your shoulder. “Fuck God, and fuck the cross.”

Your lips part in shock, and Mark takes that moment to grab your face and kiss you. It’s the hungriest kiss you’ve had from him so far, and you melt into his embrace, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your chest to his own. 

His tongue explores yours, as confident as ever, and his hands move down to your hips, needy and rough. When his palm slips down to grab your ass, your moan loudly, all consumed by this new Mark. 

“Shit, dude,” Hyuck whispers from behind you. “Guess I should stop calling you church boy.” 

Mark lets out a groan, and then he’s tossing you onto his bed. A squeal of delight escapes you at the roughness of it all. 

“I wanna taste you,” Mark states, breathing heavily as he looks down at you with dark eyes.

“Then taste me,” you say simply, already grabbing at your pants to push them down.

Mark helps you tug them off, and then his own fingers are hooking in the waistband of your panties, tearing them down your legs with one rough motion.

“Oh my God, Mark-” you gasp, shocked at his sudden change in attitude.

The man who gets on the bed between your legs isn’t the same man who had whimpered while he fingered you two weeks ago. He’s not a soft church boy worried about boundaries, he’s a confident man who knows what he wants. And what he want is you. 

You can’t even take a moment to breathe before Mark’s pressing his tongue against your pussy, hands firmly grabbing at your thighs while he licks a stripe of your most sensitive area.

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair.

His response is a moan that sends shivers through your body, his lips suctioning around your clit like he’s a seasoned pro. There’s no hesitation or worry about correctness, there’s only a pussy deprived man who seems to know exactly what to do to have your toes curling as you drag them across his back.

You’ve had good oral sex before, Hyuck’s particularly skilled in this field, but as wild as your fuck buddy is, he’s never been feral like this. 

Mark’s tongue is unpredictable, lapping at you and pushing into your hole, teasing your walls as he rubs his nose against your clit. “Shit, Mark, you’re so good-”

“Better than me?” Hyuck asks.

You hate to admit it, but when a strangled “Yes!” leaves your lips, it only makes Mark go harder on you. 

You have no brain space to focus on Hyuck, your eyes closed as Mark’s tongue pleasures you like no one ever has before. 

It’s like he knows your body already, as if he’s divinely guided- 

The thought has your pussy throbbing, and as if he senses your need, Mark lets go of one of your thighs, adjusting so he can slip a finger into you while his tongue returns to your clit.

“Shit, just like that-” you gasp, legs quivering over his shoulders.

Another digits slips into your wet hole, and more moans leave you as the church boy finger fucks you even better than he did last time. 

You’re consumed by Mark, completely, and it feels like Heaven to get lost in the pleasure he’s providing you. 

You apply a bit of pressure on his head, wanting him to go harder on you, and he rewards you by sucking your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking the sensitive bud.

“Fuck-” you moan, pushing your hips up toward his face. You’re already so close to cumming that it’s almost insane, and you trust that this time, nothing Hyuck could do in your periphery would prompt Mark to let up on you.

He seems Hellbent on getting you to the edge, and as his fingers crook up to stroke your gspot, you know he’s going to accomplish his task with flying colours. 

“Sounds like she’s close, dude,” Hyuck muses, reading your reactions like the back of his hand.

When you turn your head to open your eyes, you find Hyuck has his cock out, and he’s stroking it, gaze fixed on the man between your legs. 

There’s something so… fulfilling about being watched like this. To know that Hyuck’s just as turned on as you and Mark, even though he’s taking no part in your pleasure. 

Hyuck has a nice cock, and the sight of his fist wrapped tightly around it has even more lust coursing through your body. 

To have both men worshipping you in this way- it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

“I’m gonna-” you stutter, licking your lips as the pleasure builds between your legs.

“Cum for me,” Mark groans against your pussy. “Please, angel, I want you to cum.” 

The ‘please’ is the cherry on top, as is the petname that usually only Hyuck ever uses on you, and combined, they throw you over the edge. 

You cry out, rutting your pussy against Mark’s face while he tongue and finger fucks you through your orgasm.

The church boy lets out sinful sounds, and you can tell he’s enjoying being used like this, enjoying making you come undone on his fingers. Your pussy is throbbing around him, and his unrelenting digits continue stroking the spot that has you tinging with overwhelming pleasure.

“Mark!” you nearly scream, overtaken by the kind of ecstasy you’ve never felt before. 

“Fuck, dude,” Hyuck breathes, “you made her squirt-”

You’re almost twitching when Mark finally pulls his tongue from your clit, and his fingers slow before slipping out of you. You open your eyes to watch him lick them clean, and he lets out a deep groan, clearly enjoying the taste of you.

You need him to fuck you, like you’ve never needed anyone - even Hyuck - to fuck you in your entire life. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Mark-”

“Let me get a condom,” he states, sitting up-

“No!” you reach out to grab at him, locking eyes with him as you state, “I want you raw.” 

It’s the first time today that he looks unsure. “I don’t-”

“I’m clean,” you insist, “and so are you-” 

“Bruh, just raw dog it,” Hyuck says. “Trust us-”

With one last look between your thighs, Mark relents, and he gets back on the bed, tugging off his shirt and his pants while you work on getting yourself naked. 

As soon as you’re both bare, Mark is laying his body over yours, pressing you into the bed while his lips move feverishly against your own. You tangle your fingers in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his cock trapped between your bodies, rubbing over your clit as he rocks his hips.

“Please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Inside-” 

Mark pulls away from your lips, breathing heavily as he looks into your eyes. His gaze shifts down, and he reaches a hand to grab the base of his length, teasing it against your pussy.

You moan loudly as he toys with your clit, and then he’s testing the head of his cock against your aching hole. The tip slips just inside and you whimper, only for him to pull back, then do it again-

“God, Mark-” You dig your nails into his shoulders, throwing your head back against the pillows and closing your eyes.

He pushes his cock deeper inside of you, and you both let out groans of pleasure. His mouth returns to yours while he slowly sinks into your pussy, until his hips are flush against your own. 

“Fuck,” Mark whimpers, twitching from the new sensation. 

“Told you raw was the way to go,” Hyuck says, as if he’s the most helpful person in the room.

Both you and Mark ignore your fuck buddy, and Mark takes a test thrust that has you both gasping. 

“Just like that,” you encourage him. “Fuck, you’re doing so good-” 

His lips return to yours, and the kiss takes your breath away as he begins to find a slow pace. Each thrust is deep, intentional, and in some odd way, this doesn’t feel like fucking. Fucking is hard, fast, fevered- but this is different. This is more like making love.

Mark sucks on your bottom lip, and he adjusts one of his hands so it can come up to grab at your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple and making you shiver. Your body reacts, pussy throbbing around Mark’s cock, and he groans into your mouth.

“Feels like Heaven,” he whispers, massaging your boob with a loving hand. 

Your skin tingles at his words. You can take the church boy out of church, but you can't take the church out of the church boy. 

His pace is getting faster, and each thrust has the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach. It’s insane how this is Mark’s first time- it sounds like he hadn’t gotten far with the last girl he’d had under him before the Jesus picture incident- 

He’s an absolute natural, and each brush of his lips against yours has you feeling closer to him than ever before. His cock fits perfectly in your pussy, and the sounds continuing to escape him tell you that he feels just as good as you do.

“I’m not-” Mark gasps, kisses moving to your throat. “I’m not going to last long-”

“That’s okay,” you assure him, gently rubbing his back. “I’m proud of you.”

He groans, sucking on your neck. Mark’s hand moves down to your hip, anchoring you to the bed while he ruts into you faster. You know you’re close, but it can be hard to cum without clit stimulation, so you sneak your own palm down your abdomen, fingers seeking out your most sensitive spot.

You both groan when you make contact with your clit, and Mark’s breath is hot against your throat. “You close?” he asks.

“Almost,” you nod, rubbing soft circles around your clit while Mark’s cock slides in and out of your pussy. 

“Ya’ll better cum quick or I might bust a nut just watching.” Hyuck’s voice makes you laugh, but the laugh quickly becomes a moan as Mark fucks you harder, fingers digging into your hip.

“I’m so close,” Mark whispers. “Please, this feels too good-” 

“Mark,” you whimper, loving how sweetly he talks to you while buried balls deep in your pussy. 

“Please, angel, I can’t hold on much longer-”

Your skin tingles at the idea that he’s working hard not to cum, that he won’t allow himself to get there until you can reach your high with him. He’s such a soft boy, the most perfectly wonderful man you’ve ever fucked-

“I’m gonna-” you bite at your lip, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of ecstasy that you’re so close to reaching- 

“Cum with me,” Mark begs. “Cum with me, angel, cum-”

The desperation in his voice is what finally sends you over the edge, and you gasp as your core clamps down on him. Mark echoes your sound of pleasure, groaning loudly in your ear as his fingers dig into your hip. 

You can feel him filling you up, and it makes you extra sensitive as you ride out your orgasm, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline. 

To Mark’s credit, he fucks you through it, hips only faltering slightly before the end.

When you’re both done, you pull your hand away from your clit, and Mark all but collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as he buries his face against your neck. 

You can hardly have a moment of peace with Mark before Hyuck’s pulling at his shoulder. “My turn,” your fuck buddy insists. “Come on dude, I’ve been waiting forever-”

A laugh bubbles out of you at Hyuck’s antics, and with a loud groan, Mark gets off of you. There’s a dazed look in his eyes as he rolls onto his back in the small twin bed next to you. You wonder if he’s going to just lay there-

Hyuck’s not having it, and he reaches down to scoop you up in his arms, tossing you onto his own mattress. 

“Fuck, angel,” Hyuck looks down at your body. “How do you want it?”

You consider it for a moment, and then roll onto your stomach, lifting your hips as an invitation.

Hyuck groans loudly. “God, you’re perfect.”

He’s straddling your legs not a second later, grabbing your waist to tug you up a little bit more while he glides his cock between your closed thighs, grazing your pussy. 

“Shit, this is going to be so good,” Hyuck mutters to himself, using one hand to wrap around the base of his cock and guide it to your entrance.

He moans as he slips inside. “Fuck- I’ve never banged you using another guy’s cum as lube before, but shit, angel, I could get used to this.”

His words make you feel dirty, sinful even, a little like a whore- but something inside of you actually enjoys it. 

“Hyuck-” you whimper at how good the position feels. With your legs closed and your ass in the air, things feel more snug, and the angle has Hyuck hitting a sweet spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“I know, angel,” Hyuck assures you. “Feels fucking fantastic.”

His breath is hot against your back as he begins rutting into you, and you grab onto Hyuck’s pillow, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne that has perfumed the material. 

“You look so good like this,” your fuck buddy says, and the slapping of his hips against your ass is making you go crazy. “I’m never going to get used to the way you look with my cock buried in your perfect fucking pussy.”

Your grip on his pillow tightens, the praise going straight to your core, which throbs around him.

“Yeah, I know you love it when I praise you. You just love being made out to be an angel while doing dirty shit an angel would never do.” 

He knows you so well it almost hurts. And when he talks to you like this, it makes you wonder why he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet. Although, if you had been his girlfriend a few weeks ago, you would have never propositioned Mark, and the idea makes you sad.

You open your eyes, looking over at the church boy you’ve come to enjoy spending time with. 

Mark’s watching you, and as Hyuck fucks you harder, you have to break the eye contact in favour of pressing your face into the pillow. Your sounds are just getting too loud, even for a frat house.

Your pussy feels like magic, to have been fucked by Mark and now Hyuck- you know you’ll be cumming again soon, whether you want to or not.

“I can feel you clenching, angel,” Hyuck laughs, as if reading your mind. “So this is as good for you as it is for me.” 

“So good,” you confirm, which only prompts him to fuck you faster, gliding in and out of your cum lubed hole easier than ever before.

“Watching Mark have you first was torture,” Hyuck tells you. “I was so close to busting multiple times- but I held out, because we both know you’re going to love being filled with us both. Dirty fucking angel.”

You whine at his words, so close to the edge you can almost taste it.

“Don’t be shy,” the man fucking you announces, “cum on this cock. I know you want to.”

Your skin tingles on the cusp of pleasure-

“Be a good little angel and cum for us.” 

There’s something about the word ‘us’ that just does it for you, and you let out a loud gasp as you fall apart. Hyuck echoes your sound, fingers digging into your hips as he reaches his own release. He fucks you even harder, groaning while your pussy clenches around his twitching cock.

“Just like that, just like that-” he pants, encouraging you while he rides you through your highs.

You’re not sure how long you cum, but when Hyuck finally slows to a stop inside of you, you think you might just pass out from all the pleasure you’ve received in such a short time.

Your fuck buddy leans over your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder that moves up to your neck, and you tilt your head to give him better access.

“That’s our angel,” Hyuck muses softly in your ear.

You find yourself smiling. It’s the happiest you’ve been in months. 

Nothing else matters, all there is right now is safety and love and acceptance… and maybe a little bit of filth.

When Hyuck pulls out of your pussy, you feel yourself immediately begin to drip, and you do your due diligence, shifting your hand under your body to collect the fluid so it doesn’t ruin Hyuck’s bed.

Your fuck buddy grabs a few tissues, and then he’s sitting by your thighs, spreading your ass cheeks so he can get a good look at you while he groans at the sight.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, gently wiping your abused hole, cleaning you of his and Mark’s cum. “I don’t think you even know how hot you are.”

He’s probably right about that, but you’re sure that if you keep doing this with him and Mark, they’ll make you learn.

When Hyuck’s done with his very basic aftercare, he flops onto the bed behind you, back to the wall while he cradles you to his chest. His lips return to your shoulder, and the soft kisses make you whimper from sensitivity.

Then- something is falling on you, and you jolt, eyes snapping open-

“Shit,” Hyuck groans, and you realize the soccer poster has slipped off the wall and onto your bodies.

Your gaze immediately goes to Mark, and you see a look of shock in his expression. “Oh my God-”

“It’s not God,” Hyuck assures you both. “It’s probably just Jeno fucking some chick on the other side of the wall.” As if to prove his point, your fuck buddy bangs the wall three times, and a moment later there are three returned bang noises. “See? Totally just Jeno fucking.”

Mark doesn’t look very convinced, and he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling while he runs his hands through his hair.

“I hope this fucking poster isn’t going to stop you from joining us again next Sunday,” Hyuck says as he pushes the symbol of Jeno’s sex life to the floor.

“Next Sunday?” Mark turns to look at you both.

“Yeah, next Sunday,” Hyuck repeats. “You do want to cum again, don’t you?”

The church boy lets out a deep sigh, but then he’s nodding. “Yeah.”

“Perfect, then it’s settled,” Hyuck grins against your shoulder. 

Your fuck buddy is something of an enigma, and you’re never quite sure if you’ve gotten him figured out. He’d started this whole thing being reluctant to allow Mark to join, but now, it seems as if he relishes the thought of having Sunday dick appointments with his best friend.

Although, as you stare at the pretty church boy in the bed across from yours, you really can’t say that you mind. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I just love Markhyuck?

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “I’m bad?” Hyuck gasps in shock. “Says the people fucking in an accesibility washroom?” He has a point there, and even Mark lets out a chuckle while he presses his lips firmly to your neck, his hips beginning to thrust so he can glide his cock in and out of your wet pussy.“I expect this from her, but from you, church boy?” Hyuck shakes his head while leaning back against the locked door, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m still shocked by how sinful you’ve become.”

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, threesome, hand job, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, mention of fingering and pussy eating, praise, some degradation with affectionate use of ‘whore/slut’, the constant ‘sin’ mentions, slight cumplay/leaving panties on after having 2 men’s cum in you, bathroom sex, etc… I petnames. (hers) angel. (mark’s) church boy. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2k I teaser wc. 270

🌙 staring. Haechan & Mark x afab!reader

bonus

It’s been something like four months since you and Hyuck invited Mark into your unconventional relationship, and so much has changed since then. Having battled for a long time with perceived self-worth, it seemed that the inclusion of a friend within the relationship was all Hyuck had needed to realize his deeper feelings for you, and feel comfortable enough to share them.

Now, Hyuck’s having the best sex of his life with his two best friends in the entire world. Despite Hyuck’s growth, however, it’s clear that the person most changed by your relationship is none other than the OG church boy himself.

Hyuck had thought he’d been horny when he entered university, but it feels as if Mark’s pent-up energy has made him significantly hornier. 

Sitting in class, knowing you and Mark have a spare right now… well, Hyuck can only imagine what the two of you might be up to. As the lecture gets particularly boring, Hyuck pulls out his phone, opening snapchat maps to see if he can pinpoint you and his roommate.

Hyuck’s not shocked to find you were both active on snapchat ten minutes ago, in a building closeby. He’d never been one for maps, but since you and Mark had started fucking, Hyuck had been forced to learn all feasible sexcipade locations on campus. If he’s not mistaken, you and Mark are in one of the single occupancy accessibility bathrooms on the first floor of the arts building, and the thought makes him swallow thickly. 

With one last look at his boring teacher, Hyuck grabs his backpack and he slinks out of the lecture hall.

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general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

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✘ nct taglist

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and thanks to those who reblogged the teaser :)

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[heyhiwhatsupdude]

Here’s a dumb thing I wrote enjoy. Astarion x Reader :3

(You were in a particular rough battle, one that ended in Withers needing to resurrect you, and Astarion is not happy)

His eyes are dark as life jolts back into your body. No longer are you in the cave in the Underdark where your life was torn from you, but lying in Astarion’s arms in a camp amidst glowing mushrooms. Crowded around you are your other companions, a mix of worry and relief hanging in their expressions. As you try to sit up, Astarion gently guides you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks softly. You nod and start to stand up, stretching your recently replaced soul throughout all of your limbs, trying to make it fit back where it once had. Karlach extends a hand and helps you to your feet.

“Thought we lost you there, soldier,” she says, a weak laugh creeping out behind her words. “Fortunately for you this guy is better than us at healing.” She gestures over her shoulder at Withers, who seems rather uninterested in the whole ordeal. He nods slightly, and then continues to stare blankly ahead of him.

“Thanks, guys,” you say. You reach your hand up the back of your neck where in theory a gaping wound should still stand, but there isn’t so much as a scar. The sword that should have ended your life for good didn’t even leave a mark.

Astarion rises to his feet next to you, eyes still dark with something you can’t distinguish. Suddenly all of your other companions have somewhere else to be, quickly and awkwardly slipping away to their tents as Astarion stares you down, eyes taking in your every movement. Rather than ask him his thoughts, you silently begin to walk away from the camp, towards an area where your conversation will not be so easily overheard. After a moment you hear his footsteps follow you.

“What were you thinking?!?” His voice comes out in a hiss, anger seeping into his words. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

You turn to glance at Astarion. “It wasn’t stupid in the moment. I didn’t think he would be so fast.” Astarion tilts his chin up.

“But WHY did you have to do that? I was perfectly fine to handle myself!”

“Are you angry with me for trying to protect you?” Despite the haze of being resurrected, you still remember seeing the rush of a sword toward Astarion, and feeling your body move on its own. Though he may have been able to evade it, the blade meeting it’s mark on Astarion would have meant his certain doom as well.

“Yes. I am.” Astarion takes a step closer to you. “I would have been fine.”

You shake your head. “You don’t know that. It might have ended up like this anyway, someone being resurrected.”

“Something that we didn’t even know would work until just now. And might never work again!” He adds the second sentiment on hastily, pointing a finger at you.

“But it did work, and I’m fine now.”

Suddenly he can no longer contain himself.

“You didn’t have to watch you die!” Astarion shouts, his voice breaking. “You didn’t have to watch all of your blood rush from your neck, the life slip from your eyes. You didn’t have to watch as the only person who you have ever cared about crumple to the ground. And it was MY fault.” Tears spring from his eyes. “I thought I lost you forever, love. Hells, you DIED.”

Tears pour freely down his face, his voice catching in his throat. Tears well in your own eyes as well, knowing the hurt you have caused him, knowing you would have reacted the same had the situation been flipped, still further knowing that you did not regret your decision one bit.

“I would do it again, Astarion. For you.” He grabs your face in his hands, thumbs forcing your chin to tilt up, forcing your gaze to his.

“Don’t. Please, for my sake, don’t. I don’t care if you’re fine in the end. I cannot….. I cannot…” he buries his face in your neck as a sob cuts off his words. You wrap your arms around him gently. After a moment he regains his composure and whispers,

“I cannot bear to see you die again. Please. Don’t make me watch my worst nightmare a second time.” He pulls back, making sure you meet his gaze once again. “Please.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Astarion brushes his thumb across your lips before gently bringing them to his.

“Thank you, darling.”

You spend the rest of the night wrapped tightly in his embrace, his fingers tracing the back of your magically unscarred neck as though afraid your wound may reopen and steal you from him once again.

[babygorewhore]

Unholy Contrition

Rafe Cameron immediately wrote you off as some Bible thumping prude. And when his father died and left the entire fortune to him, he absentmindedly chose your father, A preacher, to speak at the funeral. But he catches something about you that reminds him of his favorite Porn Star. And he decides he’s going to corrupt you. What he doesn’t know is…you’re not as innocent as you act.

Okay guys the horny demon got me and I once again had to write about cocaine daddy because I’m addicted to him. Thank you so much to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for helping me with this and beta reading. I love you dolly.

Word count 5K!

Moodboard

Warnings! Talk of religion (duh) reader is a porn star, masks, masterbation, slight cat and mouse, choking, degrading, oral, unprotected sex! Virgin reader! Daddy kink! Kinda perv reader tbh but same. Slight breeding kink. And barely proof read I apologize.

Disclaimer: female in photos just for aesthetic purposes!!

When Rafe first saw her, it was at the annual outdoor movie where the pouges and Kooks got together. The pouges served food and drinks while he and his family sat comfortably in the front row. Topper, Kelce and himself watched JJ and Pope after their encounter. He thought they knew better than to fuck around with him and his friends. But he’d have to teach them. Burn it into their brains.

He was Rafe fucking Cameron. And they would learn their god damn place.

“Watch them.” He told Kelce and he got up. Kiera was getting a drink and this was an opportunity to assert his intent.

“Tell your boy, we know what he did.” His warning did nothing to sway her loyalty as she walked away. He smirked and then it fell when a girl was walking up to the line. It was the Preachers daughter.

He towered over her like most people but what caught his attention was the high neck shirt, covered thighs and worse. A cross on her neck and a wrap around cross bracelet around her hand. Her hair was in pig tail braids. She had doe eyes and bitten pink lips.

And she was carrying a fucking Bible. Which was a shame. She was pretty. Beautiful even. But he hated the church.

“Excuse me,” She whispered and moved past him. He had an urge to snatch it out of her hands and throw it. But he had more important things to do.

“Yeah; go ahead Jesus freak.” He hissed, bending down to say it to her ear. Her eyes widened and her brows pulled together.

“I-“

But he walked off. He wasn’t going to waste him time when he had two pouges asses to kick.

Your dad gave funeral talks all the time but now you were weirdly excited to go. Not that you were excited about Ward’s death but more about who’s attending. Rafe Cameron would be there and you actually thanked god for it. It wasn’t that you didn’t have your own belief system but the entire restriction? Fuck no.

But for the sake of your poor older father, you kept up the good girl facade. It was easy really. Keep everything simple, light pastel clothes while hiding what was underneath. Your nickname was Kitty from the cat ear beanie you had since you were a teenager. But your dad had a variety of nicknames for you.

All of them were gentle. Pure.

You adjusted your white lace turtleneck before your hands settled on your ankle length pink skirt. The very sight was way out of your true style but it would do for the service. Your white socks and black Mary Jane’s. Your cross bracelet, and necklace was a little overkill.

But no one knew how you used the cross in secret on your only fans.

The black thong you were wearing was already growing wet as you stood next to your father waiting for him to arrive. He greeted everyone with a handshake. Your eyes drifted over the crowd, mascara thick on your lashes as you subtly rose to your tiptoes. Damn, was he late to his own fathers funeral?

“Kitty, look who it is. Hello, Sarah.” You forced yourself to smile. She was crying with Topper on her arm. Apparently she and John B, Rafes arch nemesis, had broken up. For now anyway.

“Hi, Sarah, I’m so sorry…” You gave her a genuine hug and she squeezed tightly.

“Thank you, kitty.” She sniffed.

“Mr. Cameron, now that you’re here-“ You tried your best not to snap your head too directly in his direction but you slowly turned your head.

Rafe was wearing a suit and his hair was slicked back out of his eyes. Different than he had been running around a few weeks prior before he inherited the entire fortune.

He seemed…more unhinged. Something in his eyes flashed when he saw you, drank you in like a man after a day in heat. You gave him a sympathetic smile and you rolled your ankles, trying to seem smaller. More vulnerable. “Hi…Mr. Cameron. I’m so sorry for your loss…” You murmured.

His strong hand engulfed yours, his fingers long, covered in gold rings and warm. You looked into his blue eyes, shining on you and he said. “It’s still Rafe, little bunny.”

The nickname made you want to cum in your panties but you ducked your head with a blush. But you couldn’t blame him with your modest clothes and makeup. He returned to speaking with your father and you tried to keep your glances to a minimum. He was going to work for it.

The service was simple. Outdoors and you stood next to your father. You held a small Bible that was gifted to you in middle school as your cross dangled from in between your fingers. Rafe was staring at you. You could feel it but you wouldn’t give him the chance to meet your gaze yet.

You had a lollipop in your pocket. One you took out of your collection as you left your house. You always sucked on something. Your cross. Your dad wouldn’t think twice as you subtly unwrapped the paper and slowly licked a circle around the candy. Your tongue was lewd as you then pressed it passed your swollen lips.

You took another measure by your pointer and thumb pushing it back and forth and then you stuck it further…until it hit the back of your throat. Playing dumb, you gasped quietly and coughed. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, lipstick slightly staining. You then took an opportunity to look at Rafe.

His jaw was tight and he was biting his lower lip. Blue eyes were darkening as he inhaled the process of your action. His chest moved up and down rapidly. You wanted him to know you were baiting him. But you also wanted to fuck with his mind. So you did the most reasonable thing your thoughts came up with.

You gave him a small wink.

After the funeral, he was out of your sight. But you took the extra step by linking your second account on your instagram story. You knew he would watch it.

Your obsession with Rafe Cameron started in high school. He was a few months older so he graduated sooner. But when you first saw him, hanging around other girls and guys at the private school. Disobeying rules but having enough family power to ignore them. Turned you on. His rebellion was something you craved. Your attraction only grew when you saw him one day yank a girl into a closet and you heard how good he made her feel. Granted, you hid right outside the door. You wanted to be her.

You want him to throw you around. Use you. Take you like you were only made to be his little toy. Your fantasies only grew when you followed him on social media, he was public so you had fast access.

What he didn’t know was that you used your second account. Where you wore your sluttiest clothes without showing your face. You posted stories about sexual thoughts, songs and thirst traps of your body. And he commented on every single one.

“Fuck, I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I want to fuck you. Fuck your throat. Watch you leak with my cum.”

It was an endless amount of fun. You knew he wanted you. He just didn’t know you were both versions yet. And each response you gave him, ended with a wink.

“Kitty, you look tired. Do you want to head home?” Your father asked. You nodded sheepishly. Finally, you could get home and post more on only fans. You knew he would watch as well.

“Thank you, dad. I’ll see you later.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek and started to the car.

It wasn’t an accident you parked across from him and you saw him walking in the direction. You dipped your hand into your pocket, acting like you were searching for your keys as you dropped a thin fabric on the ground. Quickly, before he could approach you, as you heard his shoes you got into the driver's seat.

Playing dumb was simply picking and choosing when you showed innocence. As you drove away, your plan cemented and you bit your lip.

Getting home and settling into your bed, you wore the lingerie Rafe always requested. Normally you charged him more, but you’d give him a treat today. You pulled out your rabbit, spitting on it and slathering it with lube. You barely needed any on your pussy as you set your phone exactly where it showed the best angle.

You wore the cross on your bracelet as you traced your clit with it. A lot of girls did this but Rafe would consider that it’s yours. Maybe he wouldn’t. The doubt would drive him crazy. Just like he drove you crazy.

He was infamous for snorting coke at parties you were never invited to and you imagined smearing it across his gums before licking them. Or his strong fingers holding you down as he did a line on your body. What you wanted most? Being pinned down as he spat on your mouth and slapped your pussy. These thoughts drove you to easily slip two fingers inside as you grind onto your hand.

“Fuck me, daddy. I need you.” You whined. You wish he was here. You wish it was his hand instead of yours.

You tried to hold back, usually taking longer for a video but you came extremely quickly. As you laid there, sweaty and still needy. You glanced at the notifications. They were repeated. Sliding on your side, exposing your bare ass, you picked up your kitten mask and read the messages.

They were all from Rafe.

He was sending money. “Please, let me see that fuckable face. I’m begging you, kitten. I need it. I need to fuck that soaking pussy. Daddy needs you.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling.

Normally, you just winked. But this time, your fingers swiped and you replied.

“Work for it, daddy.”

Rafe couldn’t get the image out of his head of you sucking the lollipop out of his fucked up head. You were the preacher's daughter for god's sake. Someone he teased for being some sort of Bible thumper and she probably didn’t even know what kinky meant. But…god she was pretty. The way she innocently batted her eyelashes at him like a bunny. That was what stuck out to him. A little bunny rabbit.

And then she winked at him. It felt so pointed. Purposeful. She also dropped a black damp thong on her way to her car. Rafe snatched it up before anyone could ever see it and he half scoffed and moaned. A creamy stain that was recent. Either she secretly touched herself or she was so wet that it soaked through and ran down her pretty legs.

The last words of the mystery girl on Only fans, who was his favorite porn star, gave him more than a wink this time. Work for it, daddy.

It made him cum all over his hand again just from her words so he couldn’t even imagine her pussy. But the doubt. The doubt was there. But she was-he clenched his fist. It was during the day and he had a second to breathe in between meetings.

Rafe typed her name on instagram.

As he suspected, it was mostly scenery shots, half faced selfies and photos with your father. A few of them you were smiling, apparently whoever took the photo made you laugh when you were at the beach. He almost swiped to another photo when he narrowed his eyes.

It was very small. He almost missed it but there was a small…handprint? Right below your swimsuit above your thigh. It had to be your hand, given the size but his mind drifted to a particular video where mystery girl spanked herself to his request. Was he being paranoid? He looked at another photo, a flashback to your graduation where John B took you to prom. And he felt at twitch in his jaw. But not before another detail caught his attention.

Underneath your bracelet. Left wrist. He saw a black mark. Not a mark, he zoomed in, careful not to like the picture.

It was a tattoo.

He couldn’t see what it was but his eyes widened. Mystery girl also had a tattoo there.

But you couldn’t possibly have one. Not the preachers daughter. Weren’t they forbidden or some shit? It was starting to drive him insane when his alarm went off.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself and clicked the button. Turning his screen black. It couldn’t be you. Not this innocent girl who called him Mr. Cameron. But what if it was? He’d have to find out for himself. Anyway he needed to.

And here he was. At fucking church. He couldn’t remember a time he was here other than his dads funeral. Your dad was on the stage, flipping through a book he assumed was the Bible when he looked up.

“Mr. Cameron. What a pleasant surprise. Kitty, guess who’s here!”

He tried to keep his expression neutral as you came from a door on the left side. You wore a long light colored dress right above your ankle with the same shoes as the funeral. Your hair was in two braids with a kitten beanie, in this weather? And you still wore your two crosses.

But you were so pretty. Prettier than last time if it was possible. You gave him a small smile, ducking your head. “Hi, Mr. Cameron.”

He neared you both, trying to think of a way to subtly touch you without catching the attention of your father.

“Rafe. Um. I just wanted to stop by. Say thanks for the service. It-helped. Especially with Sarah. She’s all emotional and shit.” He quickly glanced at your dad. “Sorry.”

“No need. Freedom of speech is a gift. But you don’t need to thank me. It was Kitty who told me about him as well. So I could make it personalized.”

Rafe swore your eyes flashed. Just for a second. So he pushed. “You did? You friends with Sarah or something?”

You twirled your hair, apparently sucking on some sort of candy. When you opened your mouth, your tongue was red. “Yeah! We talk sometimes. I just wanted to help, you know?” You started sniffing. “I can’t imagine losing my dad.”

“Oh, honey…”

Rafe cleared his throat. Desperate to get you alone. “Hey-can I talk to you? Just for a minute, I wanted to ask you something.” He eyed you carefully and you nodded. Your dad didn’t seem suspicious. Which made his doubt increase.

Maybe the wink was a fluke. A nervous habit? Or maybe you did that to everyone.

You both stepped away, slowly walking down the aisle. He felt uncomfortable, wearing a suit when he wanted to feel loose. It was too constricting. You played the cross on your bracelet. He raked his brain for something or someway to look at your arm. He had to prove that you didn’t have a tattoo and he was just crazy.

“So, what did I want to talk about?” You prompt him and he clears his throat.

“I’m-“ Oh, no. What could he possibly say? “I’m trying to be more spiritual. You know, with my dad dead. I just want to have hope, you know? That I’ll see him again someday. I would ask your dad but you know. You’re more my age-“

“Oh, Rafe. You don’t have to explain yourself. Do you want me to help you? I can just…go over scriptures with you. Meet with you here. Doesn’t have to be complicated.” The way you said his name made him feel insane.

You had a tilt to your voice. The way you said the word. You didn’t sound like a little mouse for an instant. You sounded-confident. And then it quickly disappeared as your eyes flicked away. “Only if you want, I mean if you don’t, I understand-“

“No, I’d love that. And I also wanted to apologize for what I said. A while back.” This was the most awkward conversation he’d ever had in his life. You started twirling the end of your hair with a painted fingernail.

He squinted, trying to see any sort of ink. Nothing. He was right. And now he was stuck with some sort of scripture offer. “I-“ and then you stretched.

Your arms over your head and he didn’t know where not to look. Your tits were lifted, your neck exposed and then he saw your sleeve lift.

It was a black butterfly tattoo. It was medium sized. Pretty. And then he saw a few more peeking on yiur skin. Mystery girl had the same tattoo but it looked like you had more. Rafe snatched an opportunity.

“I like your tattoo.” He complimented. Hoping to get some sort of answer.

“Oh, thank you. The first one is from a while ago but the rest are new. Dad doesn’t approve but I promised to keep them covered up.” The candy you were sucking on. You rolled it around in your mouth and Rafe was bouncing with some sort of frazzled energy.

“What do you do? Outside of church?”

“I make jewelry. My own business. Sarah actually bought a few things. It’s obviously not Cameron level but I do pretty well.” A blush reddened your cheeks. Jewelry making? Damn. He didn’t have a fucking clue. But why did you wink?

He was going to lose his mind.

“That’s cool. I’ll have to-“He checked the time. He stopped here before going to the building for work.

“I have to get going. But I’m glad we talked. And I’m sorry again.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I understand. Besides, I was still in high school and I was a little awkward.” You giggled behind a hand. Your smile was adorable and he had an urge to cup your face.

What was he doing? What was this end goal?

“Yeah, me too. Um-“

“Here,” You brought out your phone and opened the number key. “Just put your number in here and I’ll let you know when we can get started if you still want to!” She chirped as he quickly typed in his number.

Her phone in his hand was so small and he felt a twitch in his crotch. Her camera roll. It could be so easy. Just a Quick Look. Just to see. Just to be sure. But to his surprise, you took it back before he had a chance.

“It was nice to see you,” You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah! You too.” He said quietly and watched you walk away. His mind was even more fucked.

Who were you? Or who was the mystery girl? For once in his life, he did consider praying for an answer.

Getting more tattoos at the same time he showed up at church wasn’t planned but it worked out exactly to your favor as you shut your room door with your hip and set your bag down. But you saw the wheels turning in his head. He was taking the bait and you smirked. This was almost too easy. Trapping him. But he was so desperate.

You needed to spark something in him, either get him to ask directly or get him to cave.

Adjusting your hair in your car mirror, you scanned your white dress for any stains. The small flowers decorating the fabric and your cross on your body. But this time you wore a pair of boots that your father nearly had a heart attack with. They were completely different than you normally wore. But you needed more proof that you were his favorite little bunny.

The church loitered with a few people, as they normally did after a Sunday service. Your knee bounced as you waited for Rafe as you sat in the front. You had a few scriptures in mind, ones to stir him and you knew he’d never imagine were in the Bible.

“Sorry, I kept you waiting.” His raspy voice caught you by the surprise but you slowly turned and looked up at him.

Rafe wasn’t in his suit today, instead his casual clothes but there was nothing casual about the way he was staring at you. His eyes were on fire. Full of desire and confusion.

“Oh! That’s okay, Rafe! I wasn’t waiting long! Please sit,” you scooted over and he seated next to you. His knee against yours. You didn’t move it.

“So, you want to hear a few scriptures, or I can pray for you, which would you prefer?” You spread your legs a little and Rafe swallowed. His jaw clenched.

“Uh-I-i don’t think I’ve ever prayed before. So the Bible is fine. I just want to make peace, you know. With my dad. But I have another problem.” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s someone I really want. And I know it’s…against the lord of whatever. And I need some help. What should l do? How do I resist it like you?” His question hung in the air and your chest tightened. You were so tempted to tell him but that’s not what you wanted.

“Well. I just listen to what the Bible says about that. It keeps me strong. What it says is clear.” You nodded. You opened the book on your lap, “1st John 1:9 ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness’” you looked at him.

“So, if you confess, God will help you.”

Rafe bit his lip and leaned in closer. “This girl. She’s a fucking porn star,” he growls. “And she wears a little kitten mask and she fucks herself all nice and obedient for me. But the problem is she teases me like a brat. She never shows her face even though I give her more money than she’s ever seen. She’s her fathers only child but she calls me daddy. And had the nerve to tell me to work for it. She fucks her cross on her pussy when she knows damn well I could do it better. But she hides. Hides behind this little innocent act with the holy Bible and looks at me with eyes that make me want to rob every single innocence away from her and expose her for the whore she is. And baby, I think it’s you.”

Your core was dripping on the bench. You were almost shaking with want and you almost had to look away from him. You felt exposed. He did figure it out. You weren’t quite prepared as you thought with his reaction. Despite your activity behind your close door, you hadn’t fucked anyone all the way. Making out with friends at sleepovers was as far as you got in real life. Your obsession with Rafe made you wait. You always knew he’d be yours. And you made it happen.

“I-“ he held a finger against your lips, cutting you off.

“No, no, no, see you’ve fucked around with me a little too long, little girl. Now, I get to show you exactly how big of a mistake that was. So, you’re going to go home and think long and hard about what’s going to happen next. For once, I think your God isn’t going to protect you from me.” Rafe pulled away and stood.

“How does it feel to be left high and dry? And by the way, nice tattoos.” And then he winked at you.

You gasped as he walked away.

Your thighs were growing damp from the leaking arousal and you were breathing heavily. Holy shit. It worked. You bit your lip as you pulled out your phone.

He had texted you. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

When you got home, your dad was out. He was gathering his sermon scriptures and then to spend time with his small circle of friends. You told him you didn’t feel well enough to go. Your mask was secure on your face as you took photos in your bra and panties.

You planned on making more content but it was getting harder because you wanted Rafe so badly. You wanted him to fuck the brat right out of you, making all your dreams come true from his earlier talk. Pouting, you started going through tik tok, laying on your stomach. But then a noise caught your attention. Sitting up, you went to grab your robe when your door was bashed open.

Eyes wide, you see Rafe walk towards you, with a sadistic smirk on his face. He tilted his head, trailing his blue irises over your body, your naked knees pressing together.

“Hey kitty.” He said, stalking towards you. Rafe kneeled on your bed before grabbing your ankles. You shrieked as he dragged you towards him and loomed over you. “The mask was a really nice touch, baby.” Rafe glanced at the cross on your neck after he tore off your mask and threw it. He pulled it, tugging you up.

His breath hit your mouth. “You want to be my slut? All those fucking videos for me. Making me crazy. Making me doubt myself. You’re gonna regret it. Open your fucking mouth.”

You immediately obeyed and Rafe spit inside. He grabbed your jaw and closed it.

“What’s wrong? What happened to that little brat? Aw, she’s done isn’t she? Fuck, and I haven’t even done anything.” He tapped your cheek harshly. You felt his silver rings against your skin.

You were trembling but you grabbed his face and smashed your lips together. You tried sitting up but Rafe would have nothing less than submission as he pinned your hands above your head and dominated his tongue in your mouth. He kissed you with brutal force and you almost came just from that. All these years and it was better than you could have ever imagined.

He ripped away and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Tell me you’re going to be good.”

Your air was cutting off and you nodded rapidly. “I’ll be good.”

“Say I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry for making me have to search for answers. And finally break into your fucking house.” Rafe snarled and tightened his grip. You could feel him hardened above you.

He shoved his hand inside your underwear, grazing your soaking pussy. His two fingers rubbed your clit but with too light pressure. Your eyes rolled back as your stomach tightened.

“You’re so pathetic. Gonna cum and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You’re a fucking virgin, aren’t you? A little whore but you’ve never done this with anyone but your own tiny fingers.” Rafe lent down and hovered over your mouth that was parted.

He pulled his hand away and you whined. “No, please, I’m sorry daddy. I’m sorry for doing all this-“

“I’m sorry daddy,” Rafe mocked you, his fingers shoving inside your greedy entrance. “I’m sorry daddy that I’m a dripping whore and I need the Bible to get you to fuck me.” He started chuckling as you grew noisier. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“I’m-“ He stopped and you almost screamed. “I’m so sorry, daddy. I’m a stupid dripping whore but I want you so bad. You can do whatever you want to me. I’ll take anything but please stop teasing-“

Rafe broke then, his hand removed from your neck and you sucked in air. His mouth slammed against yours as he ripped your underwear off, and fumbled with his belt. He slid down, kneeling on the floor as he spread your legs. Your glistening cunt made his eyes darken. “You’re so fucking wet for this.”

His tongue lapped at your clit, circling it around the bud before he licked the underside with pressure. You mewled and clawed the bed as he devoured you. Rafe’s tongue slipped inside you with ease as you clenched. You were so close it was painful. But he was relentless. Slowing when you were just about to reach your peak.

“Daddy, please make me cum.” You cried out, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m sorry, but please daddy.”

Rafe stopped and yanked off his pants and boxers. His heavy leaking dick was bigger than you thought as he wasted no time running it down your pussy. “This may hurt a little,” He warned before slamming in. “But you can fucking take it.”

Your nails clawed his back as he thrusted again. You moaned so loudly it surprised you but he met you in volume. “Fuck, daddy!” You said against his ear.

“Are you going to behave?” Rafe grunted as he crudely started massaging your clit. “Are you going to behave from now on?”

Your vision went white as your stomach tightened, “yes I promise,” You whispered before your pleasure exploded.

Rafe did too, his movements stalled as you felt him empty inside you, and your damp forehead rested against his.

“Maybe I fucked a baby in you, kitten.” Rafe sneered with a fucked out look. He was still inside you. “Looks like you corrupted me to your religion.” He smirked before pulling out.

“So…” You cleared your throat and looked at him with a small amount of vulnerability. “What does this mean? Is this it?”

Rafe inhaled and his fingers went to grip your jaw. His powerful face above you sent chills down your naked spine. “If you think you’re anything else but mine, then you’re a dumb little bunny. No one will ever touch you but me. Be with you but me. And besides,” He grinned wickedly. “Your dad already likes me.”

Tagging

@imyourdaninow @drewstarkeyslut @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @slvt4jamesmarch @reidsbtch @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Espionage" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

SUMMARY: Lord de Witt is throwing an exclusive banquet for socialites - just the perfect opportunity for Kaz to put his hands on whatever the aristocrat has in his safe. Fortunately, being an ambassador's daughter, you can easily smuggle him in but the two of you must pretend you're engaged to avoid suspicion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.7k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

If Jesper didn’t know Kaz, he’d think he was having a laugh.

“When you said you know someone, I was expecting everything but the daughter of an ambassador.” Then, in a slightly anxious manner, he turns to look at you apologetically. “No offence.”

There is something quite amusing in his uneasiness as though Jesper is expecting to be decapitated for as much as giving you a sour grimace. You’re probably the closest thing to nobility he’s ever been around.

“Worry not, sir,” you reassure him with a polite smile on your face, “I will try my best not to spoil your criminal quality.”

His eyebrows furrow and he leans towards Inej. “Did… did she just call me ‘sir’?” he asks quietly.

“Don’t get used to it,” she answers half-heartedly, busy pondering something else.

“How do you even know each other?” Jesper points between you and Kaz but the moment his index finger is directed towards you, he quickly puts his hand down. “I doubt you’ve been to the Barrel before.”

To any passerby, the sight of you and the Crows standing next to each other must look like a skit. With your expensive, light-coloured dress and back about as straight as a broomstick, you really do stand out like a sore thumb. Are those lowlifes bothering a proper lady or is she perhaps noble enough to offer them a few coins?

“That’s quite right. When my father was fraudulently accused of conspiring against the crown, mister Brekker,” out of pure habit you vaguely gesture towards him, “had been so kind as to solve this perplexing hoax. It is only fair that I agree to help him when he asks.”

Kaz checks his watch. Then, his expression suddenly becomes stern, focused, and you know exactly what it means.

“We should go,” he states. His eyes have a strange glint of both coldness and concealed worry to them. “There’s no backing out now.”

Your polite smile doesn’t falter. “I wasn’t considering such a thing.”

The dearth path around the lawn in front of the manor is blocked with countless carriages - horses of one freight have their nostrils pushed against the rolling stock of another cart. It seems as though Lord de Witt has invited half of the continent to his exclusive banquet. Half of them, one might assume, came out of courtesy or simply because of the other guests sure to attend.

Mixing into the crowd of rich men and aristocracy, choking on the powder and perfume, you tell Kaz the basics of banquets like this:

“Let me do the talking. You’re accompanying me, which among socialites makes you akin to a show horse. Of course, someone might ask you a question but it will be pure courtesy. They don’t actually care, because they don’t know you. Answer shortly and politely.”

“Will it not raise suspicion that the ambassador’s daughter is engaged to a no-one?”

“Not if he’s a First Army veteran, wounded on the front lines by a Fjerdan savage,” you say in a theatrical manner. His perpetual frown elicits a chuckle from you. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m sure you can sell it. Besides, if you seem grim enough, which shouldn’t be a problem honestly, the guests won’t dare ask any more questions.”

The porter nods knowingly in your direction. Despite his old age, he’s quick to recognize the little lady you once were. You offer him the invitation but he waves his hand in dismissal. His fingers tremble slightly, making you wonder in all of your melancholy whether he’d still be able to do all those small magic tricks he used to entertain you with.

Following the mob of guests, you end up in a spacious ballroom. Crystal chandeliers reflect candlelight, causing ethereal rainbows to dance across the frescoes painted on the ceiling. Some of the artwork presented landscapes, other battles and even Saints - all of them equally breathtaking. The hall is filled with a plethora of scents: vertigo-inducing perfume, imported fruits, freshly-cut flowers, braised meats. To Kaz, this is the smell of wealth but to you, the ballroom only smells of home.

Appearance-wise, Kaz falls a bit behind compared to the three-piece suits and cylinders but the difference is not stark enough for people to give him contemptuous glances. In all honesty, this will help you sell the yarn you’re spinning. After all, what veteran has enough money to buy a whole suit for just one evening?

“Come on, we should say our greetings to the host,” you say quietly while gently nudging his arm.

As though you are something of a Grisha yourself, the middle-aged man in question suddenly appears in front of you. His face has gained a few deep wrinkles since the last time you saw him but still, his prominent laughter lines are the first thing people notice about him. Considering what kind of person Lord de Witt is, it’s a reliable first impression - a rare occurrence among thieves and noblemen alike.

The man’s face beams with happiness when he recognizes you, his eyes nearly disappearing in a genuine smile. “Ah, принцесса!” he exclaims, opening his arms. “You’re more beautiful every time I see you.” Holding your hand, he meaningfully leans down but never presses a polite kiss against your skin. Instead, he curtly nods while maintaining eye contact, uneasy at the thought of such a gesture.

“I thank you for the kind words, Lord de Witt,” you answer. “It is a pleasure to be your guest.”

He furrows his eyebrows and dismissively waves his hand. “Nonsense, you’re not just an ordinary guest. Tell me, how’s your father? Is our ambassador in good health?”

“The weather is terrible on his knees, I’m afraid. Only laudanum and nettle curb his pain enough to let him work. If I may inquire as to where Lady de Witt is? I haven’t seen her among the guests.”

Lord’s face grows brighter once again but this time there’s a sense of longing in his tired, grey eyes. “My dear Betty left for Novyi Zem just a few days ago. Ever since Lady de Serre expressed interest in her antique collection, she’s been eager to go back.”

Kaz, so far unnoticed by the aristocrat, glances between you and the man. You’re exchanging mere greetings and courtesies, yet he’s learned quite a few interesting things in just those few sentences. Nobility, as it seems, will say everything and anything as long as they think they’re talking to an equal.

His inquisitive thoughts must have pushed some Saint’s hand because Lord de Witt suddenly turns his attention to him, although continues talking to you. “The dapper young man is your husband, I presume?”

“Not yet, unfortunately,” you say with a bashful giggle - very ladylike, even if forced. “Igor Dreesen,” you introduce him. Kaz shakes the Lord’s hand without ever giving away that he’s never heard that name before. “He has fought in the First Army, on the front lines.”

“You have my eternal gratitude, gentleman.” Lord de Witt has an iron grip on Kaz’s hand, holding it significantly longer than Brekker is comfortable with. “May we all have your bravery and loyalty. Please, enjoy the evening.”

Kaz waits for the Lord to be out of earshot before turning to you. “He seems to know you well.” Maybe you’re reading too much into it or maybe there is a hint of suspicion in his tone.

“When I was younger, I used to come here every week. Valeriya de Witt, Lord’s eldest daughter, taught me embroidery. I know this manor like my own home.”

“Then you surely know where the safe is.”

“It could be in his bedroom or in his office.”

Kaz cocks his head. “So you don’t actually know.”

“I’ve met quite a few noblemen and state officials, Kaz. The older the money, the less we’re careful. De Witt’s office is next door,” you motion your head to the side.

Strolling through the ballroom towards the office door, weaving your way between gold-threaded gowns and made-to-order suits, you can’t help but wonder about the master thief by your side or rather what the world looks like through his eyes. You can recall so many gossip exchanges where a group of complete strangers would discuss their wealth and business, believing that their secrets are safe among socialites similarly to unaffiliated thugs discussing their commissions over a pint of watered-down beer. In a thief’s world, you’re something of an encyclopedia on fast enrichment. Maybe telling a secret or two could be treacherous of you but in the grand scheme of things, you think it’s not nearly enough to cover your debt.

You lean towards Kaz, speaking in a low voice. “See that lady with a scandalously huge hat? That’s lady Maria de Bouvier, harbors so much contempt towards her stepmother, she’d probably be elevated if some of the jewelry was to disappear.”

Brekker spares you a questioning glance but doesn’t say anything. 

“Or that retired soldier by the pillar? Next to the girl dressed in all-white?” you ask him. His keen eye quickly finds the dark green jacket with an obnoxious amount of medals attached. “Captain Geoffrey van der Greiss, earned most of his fortune from smuggling. Open any crate with fish at the Eastern harbors and the sides of the box will be filled with cash. Yours to take if you can bear the smell.”

Kaz suddenly steps in your way, stopping you. His usual frown appears more like a scowl now. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he spits out. “You’re so eager to point me towards easy wealth. It’s not just about returning a favor, is it?”

You look away for a moment - you should have expected that if someone was to notice your motive, it would be Kaz Brekker himself. His face is still contorted into an expression of contempt or anger when your stare returns to him.

“Have you ever, even for a single second, considered what would have happened to me had my father been found guilty?” you ask in a hushed tone.

“I can’t say I have.”

“I often do. He would have been locked up in Hellgate or simply killed. The family fortune would dwindle rather quickly as my mother and I would live off of it. Then one day the money would run out, we’d have to sell our house and live modestly if not on the streets. No one would employ us because of the scandal and soon we’d find our place in a brothel. All of that did not happen because of you, Kaz.” His expression visibly softens, even if he’s doing his best not to show it. “I owe you my life.”

“I don’t want it.” 

Without waiting for you to continue, he resumes walking towards the office door. Although off-limits to the guests, the manor staff is simply too busy to pay attention to anything else other than restocking drinks and food. On the other hand, the guards employed by Lord de Witt are so convinced drunk aristocracy doesn’t need nannies that they’re playing cards in some dark, isolated corner and drawing lots when someone has to go swipe some alcohol and lamb from the kitchen. Perhaps they are paid to complete much different tasks but if someone is familiar with de Witt’s banquets, they wouldn’t be exactly surprised - a scandal is yet to happen inside his manor.

You meet Kaz’s gaze but immediately regret it. There’s something both chilling with determination and burning hot with focus, making you feel rather flustered at the intensity of it all. 

“Make sure no one comes in here,” he says quickly before swiftly crossing the remaining meters and sliding inside the room. For a man with a limp, he’s exceptionally agile.

Minutes go by while Kaz is absent and you begin to worry. What if someone caught him? Or if he got injured somehow? He may be something of an atelier of theft but he’s still a man, after all.

Debating whether to go after Kaz or trust his expertise, you don’t notice a young man approaching you:

“Excuse me, my lady, but you are the ambassador’s daughter, are you not?”

Torn out of your spiraling thoughts, you look up at him with wide eyes. He has a kind face with strong features. His tanned skin is in contrast with his creme-coloured suit, creating a quite enticing sight. Warm, brown eyes study you with interest.

“I am, master…” you make a meaningful pause.

The man immediately picks up on your cue. “Tolkov Ilya Romanovich. My father is the legat of Ketterdam’s Merchants’ Guild.” Contrary to Lord de Witt, Ilya doesn’t hesitate to plant a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Oh, I have heard about you. Horse racing enthusiast, is it not?”

He gives you a flustered chuckle. “My vices precede me, I see. As does your beauty, if I may say so.”

You feel your cheeks warm up. There’s something about Western men’s charm that really gnaws at a lady’s heart. “That’s very kind, master Tolkov.”

“Lord de Witt spoke of you with exceptional fondness. I thought it only appropriate to witness your marvel myself.”

At the same time, Kaz is slipping back through the office door into the ballroom. Judging by the lack of interest he attracts, none of the guests even noticed his disappearance. He is making his way back to you, when he catches the sight of a rather dignified man politely kissing your hand. Although you don’t look swept off your feet, there’s nothing akin to discomfort on your face either. Kaz feels sudden uneasiness in his chest like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be, while being unable to place his gaze elsewhere. He doesn’t even know his face has turned into a grimace of distaste.

“You’re finally back, my love!” you dramatically exclaim when Kaz reaches you and the stranger. His expression is rid of anything pleasant but you decide to play along for now. “Master Tolkov, this is my fiance, Igor Dreesen. Darling, this is the son of the legat of the Merchants’ Guild, Ilya Romanovich.”

Legat of the Merchants’ Guild? Finally someone worth knowing of.

Kaz shakes Ilya’s hand but that marks the extent of his politeness. “I do not take kindly to anyone descending on my lady,” he says in a stern voice.

“But of course, sir.” Tolkov nods curtly. Annoyed or not, he’s proficient at keeping his face blandly kind. “My sincere apologies.”

Ilya gently bows his head towards you before leaving the two of you alone. Your gaze follows him until the man disappears among coiffures and cylinders. Then, you look at Kaz with hardly hidden amusement:

“You play your part better than I was expecting.”

Kaz, however, completely ignores your comment. “The safe isn't here. It must be in the bedroom. Where is it?”

“Upper floor. There’s the grand staircase in the vestibule but we can take the kitchen stairs, there won't be many people in that part of the mansion.”

The presence of ground floor guards is revealed only by loud laughter from behind the door leading to the staff rooms. All of the guests could just leave at once and none of them would notice. Still, you’re exceptionally careful when sneaking between the tables that are bending under the weight of food - even a small misstep, nudging one of the silver platters, could cause a cacophony loud enough that someone might hear it, even if not the guards in question.

You’re leaning against the wall when walking up the spiral stairs. Cocking your head to the side, you’re trying to look into the hall on the first floor but there’s not much you can actually see. As it appears, theft takes a lot more faith than you had previously thought.

The upper floor guards are out of sight but you don’t let yourself give in to the sudden feel of relief - this is only the first step into this little big scheme. There’s still a safe to find and an exit to make.

There’s a long, red carpet covering most of the floor. Although it muffles Kaz’s cane, it also makes the steps of the guards hardly audible. If you do see one, you’ll have to rely on quick thinking and a certain level of stupidity accredited to aristocracy.

Left turn. Pair of doors. Two right turns. Another left and another right. And then - footsteps.

“Someone’s coming,” Kaz whispers. His keen eyes are scanning the long corridor to find anything remotely close to a hiding spot. Decorative cabinets could well work but only if the unwanted passerby doesn’t walk past them.

The idea, a true testimony of quick thinking and aristocratic carelessness, hits you like a bolt out of the blue:

“Push me against the wall,” you order him.

His head snaps towards you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen. “What?” he stutters out.

“No one likes clingy couples.”

There isn’t any time to discuss and ponder as the footsteps grow louder. Visibly displeased, he puts his arm against the wall next to your head. At first you’re wondering just how enraged your father would be had he heard about this but then you smell Brekker’s cologne and suddenly one nervousness is changed for another, a more bashful one.

The footsteps, as one might expect, belong to a lonely guard patrolling the manor. His face is grim even before he notices the misplaced lovers. When his eyes do glance at you and Kaz, the soldier’s cheeks visibly raise and the frown quickly becomes more of an expression of disgust. Passing by the two of you, he grunts in distaste or irritation and continues walking farther down the corridor.

Kaz, to your surprising displeasure, wastes no time in putting more space between the two of you when the guard is out of sight. No words are exchanged like a collective agreement to pretend this little embarrassment had never taken place. But, it can’t really hurt him if he doesn’t know you’re thinking about it, can it?

With a confident push, you open the ivory-coloured door, their golden decorations glistening in dim lighting.

Lord de Witt’s bedroom is strangely dark compared to the rest of the house. At first glance, there is nothing that stands out as a possible hiding spot for a safe: a bed that could easily fit five people, a vanity with boxes of jewelry and cosmetics, a small desk with private correspondence, a cold fireplace, a folding screen. The artisan taxidermy hanging on the walls only adds a touch of grim macabre.

But a master thief is not so easily dissuaded. You watch Kaz in a slight confusion and interest as he walks through the room, gently knocking against solid wood or carefully. brushing his hand along some surfaces. More than once he tapped different parts of the floor with his cane, only to let out a short sigh as if the strange rite gave him some kind of information but not necessarily the one he was hoping for.

Then, as though he had known all along or played a secret magic trick, he pulls the base of a taxidermied boar’s head. The decoration, for a lack of better word, moves on hinges, revealing a strongbox - one of those that will survive explosives as the manufacturer promises. The safe has a dial and a handle, rendering any kind of traditional lockpicking useless. But Kaz Brekker, as you’re about to witness, is not much of a traditional thief either:

He puts his ear against the iron box, turning the dial a few times in one direction and the other. Then, he lays his other hand on the safe’s door, his whole body leaning against it. Kaz begins slowly turning the dial in one direction. A silence falls between the two of you.

You can’t be sure whether the tension you’re feeling is because of the hallway perplexity or because he’s so determined to open this strongbox but either way, you’re completely uncomfortable with that. “To be honest, I used to be intimidated by you,” you throw at him in hopes of some kind of conversation, no matter how pointless.

“What changed?” he asks in an absent voice. His hand stops turning the dial only to start rotating it in the opposite direction - whatever he’s doing, it seems to be working.

“You have turned out to make a rather lovely spouse.”

A loud click resounds in the room and Kaz immediately pushes down on the handle, opening the strongbox. He reaches inside, pulls out some documents and quickly reads through them. Some he puts back, others he stuffs between his waistcoat and shirt.

“Such nimble fingers you have. I know a market for that,” you joke partially expecting the thief to say something sultry enough to get you to be quiet for the rest of the night.

He spares you a glance and goes back to rummaging through the contents of the safe. In an unexpected act of goodwill, he takes only some of the cash. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Even a lady of my sort has her weaknesses.”

You wait for his answer but Kaz doesn’t as much as look over his shoulder at you as though he hasn’t even heard your words. Although awkwardly, you patiently wait for him to be finished with whatever selective theft he’s committing. That tense silence again.

After a longer while, he closes the safe and locks it again. When he turns around to face you, something glistens between his fingers - a string of pinkish pearls. They flow along the shape of his hand as he offers you the necklace.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips. “I don’t want a payback, Kaz,” you shake your head to accentuate the refusal. “You have helped my family tremendously, this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand, “is the least I could do for you.”

“This isn’t payment,” he states.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Whatever do you mean?”

His intense gaze bores into you for a minute or two before he slowly answers. “It’s a bastard’s inclination.”

With a flustered ‘oh’, you take the string of pearls from him, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks. Still feeling his passionate gaze gliding along your face, you’re a little too abashed to meet his eye. Who would have thought - a thief with a heart!

[yaespook]

Indulgence.

✧ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! AMAB! Incubus! Reader x Sub! Switch! Priest! Kaveh x Sub! Bottom! Incubus! Alhaitham, mostly focused on Kaveh, threesome, sacrilegious themes (Catholicism), worshipping and blasphemy, inexperienced virgin Kaveh, Kaveh has religious guilt regarding masturbating/sex, Kaveh wears a clerical collar, handjob (reader receiving), frotting (Alhaitham with Kaveh), vague incubus powers (entering dreams and binding tattoos). Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: [The head of the fortune cat appears on the front desk.]

It started out quite innocently in Kaveh’s mind really.

It was another early morning Sunday mass. The same old kind where it was mostly just grandparents attending, when the warm sunlight hasn’t quite fully peeked through the clouds yet. The lights in the church weren’t all on either because only the front few pews were occupied anyway, dousing the environment in a cold sort of blueish grey.

For Father Kaveh, the processes were all the same. The same parishioners, the same blue-greyness, the same prayers. It was always the same and it has always been for a while now.

But today was different. During his homily, he caught a glimpse of two unfamiliar faces sitting amongst the congregation in the wooden pews of the church. It’s hard not to notice such a charming presence intently listening in on the homily he had prepared in a crowd of churchgoers who looked half asleep.

(He would be lying if he said that the both of you weren't attractive too. Unfortunately, lying is definitely a sin. Hence, he simply admits it in his mind and files it away in a mental archive for… further reflection when he has the time. Ugh, it’d be better if that man next to you put down the book he was reading.) 

If he injected a little more pep into his homily after you piqued his interest, then no one but God has to know.

However, he's later promptly caught off guard when the two of you were the first ones to approach him after mass for a chat. Kaveh’s never one to turn down an opportunity to get to know and welcome new parishioners so of course he enthusiastically grasped at the chance to talk to the both of you.

Sparing a subtle glance up and down, he drinks in the sight before him. You were both dressed impeccably, not a single hair out of place, sinfully glamourous. But Kaveh knows better than to ogle so he tears his gaze away and instead focuses on making conversation instead.

“A blessed morning to the both of you! I don't think I've ever seen you two in the early morning congregation before, I am Father Kaveh, the priest of this parish.”

He extends a hand for a handshake, first towards you, which you grasp firmly. When you make contact with him, Kaveh is slightly taken aback at the heightened warmth of your touch on his skin. 

“Sorry, I’ve been told I run hotter than most, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Father Kaveh,” your voice is smooth and pleasing to the ear, a shake snaking its way down his spine when you say your own name. Silently, he repeats your name in his mind, and he’s further charmed when you remark, “I’ve heard a lot about you, all good things, don’t worry, which is why Alhaitham and I came to see you.”

Kaveh’s head swivels to look over at the other, Alhaitham, and when he shakes his hand, he finds out that the both of you run rather hot. There’s a book held in his other hand, the one he was reading earlier during mass.

“Likewise, a pleasure to meet you,” Alhaitham says, levelling Kaveh with an unreadable stare, “We look forward to getting to know you more.”

At this, Kaveh beams, a cheery grin on his face, “As do I. If you ever need it, the mass timings are always in the weekly church bulletin, I hope to see the two of you more often.”

He excuses himself to chat with the other parishioners, bidding the two of you goodbye. However, even whilst talking to the others and hearing about their day-to-day troubles, and throughout the rest of the week, he finds his mind drifting back to the both of you. What makes you so memorable, so charming to him? Is it the way you carry yourself? Your voice? Or is it simply just, you?

He catches himself looking forward to the next mass where he might see you again, to spot your faces amidst the tired crowd, to converse again. And he does, every Sunday morning mass.

Kaveh sees you and Alhaitham sitting in the same pew every time you attend and it’s almost like clockwork whenever his eyes quickly dart over to the two of you when he’s addressing the congregation. And he firmly attests that you crack him a small smile when you catch him doing so, as if you knew he was going to glance over at that very second.

Over the weeks, he’s grown attached despite the warning bells scolding him not to at the back of his mind.

“Kaveh, get a hold of yourself, you’ve dedicated yourself to the church, this is no way to be thinking of your parishioners,” slapping his cheeks lightly, he tries to shake the thoughts of you out of his head but it seems like no matter what he does, you’ve managed to slither your way into his brain, where you now reside in 24/7.

Sighing, he says a prayer (one imploring for the strength to resist temptation) before he tucks himself into bed for a restful night.

Except, it’s anything but.

As soon as he succumbs to slumber, his eyes snap open at the sensation of a hand stroking through his hair. They adjust to the ceiling light in his room, strange, didn’t he turn them off before sleeping? 

Blearily looking up, he sees the twin troubles plaguing him. But there’s no way the two of you are here, you don’t know the church grounds that well and there should be no reason for you to know which room he stays in either. It’s all improbable and that’s how he figures out that this is just some sort of fucked up lucid dream. (A small buried part of him deflates at this knowledge for some reason.)

“Hey Father Kaveh, sorry we couldn’t wait until the next Sunday, so we’ve come to see you early,” your words snap him out of his thoughts. 

“Oh no, for you to infiltrate even my dreams, just how much am I thinking about the two of you?” Kaveh grumbles as his hand goes to rest over his eyes. He hears you chuckle before Alhaitham speaks next.

“So you think about us too?” The bed shifts and another hand joins in to roughly tussle his hair.

“Begrudgingly so, it’s as if you’ve consumed my every waking thought,” a weak sigh, “Maybe it’s a test from above, something meant to test me.”

“That’s rough, Father Kaveh, to be reduced to ‘something meant to test you’, after all these weeks,” you feign a watery tone, “Is that all you see us as?”

“No! Of course not!” He yells out, snapping to sit upright and grabbing your hands. As if he could ever see you as a burden to shoulder. You’ve been nothing but courteous and kind to him, a rare indulgence in his routine days and scheduled masses. Someone who actually consistently converses with him, asking about him, caring for him. 

The bed shifts again, Alhaitham and you moving to sit in closer next to him, and you ask, “That’s a relief, then what do you see us as?” 

Kaveh feels that familiar quiver snake its way down his spine, like all those weeks ago when it first started, the words caught in his throat as he scrambles to produce an appropriate yet truthful answer to your loaded question. 

“I… I can’t lie,” his voice is shaky, trying to navigate the chaos in his mind for the right thing to say. 

“It’s fine, you can tell us,” Alhaitham’s voice lulls.

Whatever. It’s a dream after all.

Kaveh sucks in a breath before blurting out, “My thoughts about the two of you have veered into more sinful territories-!”

A beat of silence passes and he buries his face into his hands, bright red all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Such an honest priest we have here on our hands, anything else you want to confess, Father Kaveh?” Your tease makes him flush even more, intense embarrassment washing over him but it changes instantly when you turn his hand over and gently kiss the back of it.

Great, now his mind is making him dream of such situations?

His vision spins when he feels Alhaitham’s hands roam up his back, the heat permeating through his pyjamas as you lean in next to his ear, your breath on his exposed skin hot, hot, hot.

“I would give you your penance but it seems like we’ve run out of time, shame,” your tongue darts out to lick the shell of his ear and he shakes. You snap your fingers.

“Wake up.”

Kaveh snaps up, awake for real this time. The warm sunlight streams in through a window but he can’t find it in himself to enjoy such a wonderful morning when his mind is still reeling from such a depraved dream. He looks down. He’s hard.

No matter what he does, his usual morning prayers, an awfully cold shower, nothing helps to solve his problem. And he’s running out of time with the next scheduled mass coming up soon.

Biting his bottom lip, he experimentally presses his palm against his clothed cock, immediately rewarded with a rush of pleasure through his body. Repeating the action, he palms his erection, breath coming out in pants at the ramping buzz in him. 

“Hah… Forgive m-me Father, for I- ah! -have sinned,” Kaveh blubbers out pitifully between breaths, praying as he tries to tear his mind away from the sin of his act.

He’s never… touched himself in such a way before, and to discover how terrifyingly addictive the bliss that he’s been holding himself back from experiencing all this time is, he feels his resolve crack.

Hurriedly, he shimmies his pants and underwear down, just enough for him to wrap his hand around his cock, revelling in the newness of the sensation. He starts with a light tug, aided by the amount of precum from his earlier palming, and the direct friction goes to muddy his brain. He resorts to biting down on his finger to muffle his noises lest anyone comes down the corridor.

Thoughts of you and Alhaitham flood his brain, the way his hands crept up his back, your tongue on his skin. Unconsciously, his hand speeds up its pace, slick sounds and stifled lewd moans filling the room the more he thinks about the two of you, the fantasies growing more and more unrestrained.

What would you think if you found out this is how your church’s priest spends his time? Would you berate him? Or would you indulge him? Maybe you’d teach him how to masturbate, your hand covering his own as you guide him on how to stroke your dick while Alhaitham steals kisses from him.

He thinks of your voice whispering lowly into his ear, frighteningly realistic, “We want you, Kaveh.”

Head thrown back, he feels the pressure building up to a peak in him, muscles draw taut as a blinding white-hot pleasure shoots through him, and he cums for the first time in his life ever, the forbidden fruit that he’s denied himself up till now. 

Kaveh struggles to catch his breath after his high, desperately rutting into his hand to ride it out. After he does, he’s instantly filled with an indescribable guilt, rushing into the bathroom to wash off the evidence of his act, staring at his dishevelled appearance in the mirror. 

How could he think of you in such a way? (How could he not?)

The next time he approaches the both of you after mass, he makes sure to do it after most of the crowd has already gone off, leaving the three of you alone. Avoiding your gazes, he starts.

“Apologies to keep the two of you waiting… some of the others had a lot to chat about,” a forced laugh, “But it is in my best interest that I should stop interacting so much with you both.”

You give him a quizzical look and Alhaitham quirks an eyebrow at his words, making him quickly tack on some reassurance, “It’s not the fault of either of you, worry not. And it would be too much for me to get into-”

“Certainly not,” Alhaitham cuts him off, his voice alluring, “It’s fine, you can tell us.”

Unable to stomach the thought of his relationship with you souring and ending on a bad note, he swallows down his fear and invites the two of you to his quarters to come clean about everything.

So, how is it that he’s found himself in this position?

It started out already rather lewdly in your mind. 

Catching wind of a devout priest in town, loved by many, adored by most. Naturally, it was your job as an incubus to corrupt him. And they’ve assigned your lovely junior, Alhaitham, as your partner in sin.

The first meeting went well enough, charming Kaveh without the use of your powers, it seems as if he was as taken with you as you were with him. His lovely blond locks, his sweet voice, that downright sinful waist of his. How long would it take until he would snap and tumble into bed with the two of you so that you could defile him and show him the delectable paradise of ecstasy that he’s been abstaining from?

Over the weeks, you’ve teased Kaveh in the most minute of ways. Sly innuendos tossed in nonchalantly during conversations, lingering touches that you can see him secretly longing for. And perhaps you can’t say that Alhaitham and you aren’t unaffected by his charm too.

The impatience was driving the both of you wild, judging from how uncharacteristically antsy he’s been behaving. You’re no stranger to being intimate with him, indulging him when he gets particularly needy. And you can tell he’s pent up when he’s grinding on your thigh as he kisses you, so spoiled. 

When you break apart, cupping his cheek, you ask, “Think our priest is asleep yet? How about we pay him a little visit?” Snapping your fingers, you transport the two of you into Kaveh’s dream, where you plant the final seeds of temptation and guide him down the blissful path of damnation.

The dream ended way too fast for your liking but it all worked out in the end, since now you’re here, in Kaveh’s room with him seated in your lap facing you.

Kaveh’s mind is spinning, unable to comprehend how fast all this is moving. First, he invites the two of you in to talk everything over in a more private location. Then, everything comes spilling out, his thoughts about you, even the sensual dream. His eyes are pinned to his hands clenched into fists in his lap, in fear that your gazes might be one of disgust towards him. It’s all too much, he’s backed himself into something too raw and too vulnerable and he can’t help when tears well up in his eyes, falling onto his hands.

A quick glance over to Alhaitham, and you pull Kaveh into your lap, an act to console him. Gently moving his head onto your shoulder for him to cry into, you shush him.

“Oh Father Kaveh, please don’t feel so guilty, after all, isn’t it natural to be tempted?” Patting the back of his head, you watch as Alhaitham rises from his seat and moves Kaveh’s long hair aside to brush his lips along the exposed skin of his nape.

“If holding it all in is causing you so much distress,” Alhaitham plants a kiss on Kaveh’s neck, “Perhaps giving in is the answer.”

“...No, I can’t,” Kaveh weeps, yet there’s a hesitation in his voice, as if he’s not fully convinced that he should turn away from the pleasure that you two can bring him.

“No one has to know,” your hands cup the sides of his face and move him so that you can look into his eyes, the sincerity behind them startling him when you say, “We want you, Kaveh.”

The world seems to stop when you say those words, his heart soaring and in the split second, his resistance slips away. He abandons it all for you, for a longing reciprocated, for a tangible love, and he presses his lips onto yours.

He whines into the kiss when you take charge, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip and he gasps. When you enter his mouth, your saliva mixing with his, his breath hitches as his desire suddenly heightens tenfold. You can feel him getting hard in your lap, ever so slightly grinding down without even realising it.

“Will you let us take you apart? Allow us to worship and love you like you deserve? To open your eyes to the true salvation of human pleasure?” 

Kaveh’s drowning in your words, the blessing that the two of you are gracing him with, leaving him bare and naked in his longing.

“Please.”

Soon, you have the blond seated on the edge of his bed and stripped of all his clothing, except for his white clerical collar, which still lays clasped loosely around his neck.

“Look at you Father Kaveh, perhaps mankind was indeed made in God’s image,” you watch on from above him as Alhaitham laves a tongue over Kaveh’s clavicle, “If not, how else would you look so divine?”

He flushes crimson at your praise, bashful at how unaffected you are in this scenario. You move and sit next to him on the bed, unzipping your pants as he watches on with bated breath.

“From your mouth to God’s ear, Father Kaveh, your fantasies have been heard and they’ll be fulfilled today.”

Like him, you’re already hard, precum beading at your tip. Your hand goes to grab his, bringing it over and wrapping it around your shaft. Covering his hand with yours, you entertain his desires, cooing as you slowly start to move his hand, pumping your cock at a steady pace while you savour the sensation of his hand.

Kaveh’s eyes are glued to the sight of you guiding his hand up and down on your length, the warmth of your hand over his own. He’s enraptured until he feels fingers under his chin, tilting his head up and suddenly he’s locking lips with Alhaitham. When he realises that the two of you are actually recreating the scene from his imagination, his mind is left reeling. 

He moans into the kiss with Alhaitham when he feels you throb in his hand, more pre dribbling from your tip.

“You’re so good, Father Kaveh, always so kind, so understanding, hmm?” Your praise gets him so worked up, his hips uselessly rutting up against nothing but something settles onto his lap and presses against his own cock. Cracking his eyes open, he realises that Alhaitham has slotted himself into his space, and breaking away from the kiss so that Kaveh can breathe, he frots his erect hard-on against Kaveh’s.

“Maybe this way I’ll keep your attention on me too,” the grey haired male says, hands going to rest at Kaveh’s hip to steady himself as he ruts.

He can feel his legs shaking as that daunting pressure starts to build inside of him again like before. The pacing of his strokes under your hand begins to falter as he chases after his high, grinding more and more frantically against the man in his lap.

But just as he’s seconds away from reaching his orgasm, Alhaitham clambers out of Kaveh’s space, at the same time, you remove his hand from your body 

The sudden detachment brings him back down from his almost peak, his mind clearing up just enough for him to whine out, “Wh- What was that for?” 

“We’re saving the best for last, Father Kaveh,” you say as the two of you manhandle his pliant body into position.

Alhaitham’s beneath him, hands gripping the headboard as he lays on his back, facing upwards. Alternatively, Kaveh’s on all fours on the bed, hands and knees on either side of Alhaitham with you standing at the foot of his bed, hands firmly gripping onto his hips.

“Are you ready to take us into your heart, to accept us for all that we are,” and you all but purr his name, “Kaveh?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” he begs, desperation akin to a sinner’s prayer. 

“Such a lovely obedient lamb, truly the best one in the flock. I’d say you should finally get a reward for such excellent behaviour,” He gulps at your words, the praise you’re showering him in muddling his thoughts as he anticipates whatever the two of you have planned for him. 

Goosebumps rise on his skin when you trace a blunt nail up his spine. However, the breath is punched from his chest when he looks back down at Alhaitham, pointed horns crowning his head, emerging from his mop of grey hair. His head snaps to look at you over his shoulder where he sees a similar sight. Coiled horns like a ram’s adorn you, leathery unfurled wings, and a long slender tail that’s tipped with a heart at the end.

“My dearest lamb, I ask you once more. Do you take us into your being, to love us for what we are,” your voice takes on a sultry tone, dripping with sinful indulgence, “To let us defile you?”

His head bowed, he dutifully replies, “I offer all of myself up to you.”

And with this, you partake in the feast of him.

Coating your fingers in your thick aphrodisiacal spit, you rest one hand on his ass, spreading him apart as you prod at his rim.

“Relax for me, Father Kaveh, you’re in good hands and we’ll never lead you astray.” You hear him release the breath he’s holding and he untenses, allowing you to slip a finger into him.

“Ah-!” The sensation is unfamiliar but not unwelcome, the stretch gradually turning into a growing pleasure thanks to its aphrodisiac qualities, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled as you prepare him to take you.

A finger loops through his clerical collar and pulls him down. Looks like Alhaitham’s had enough of being ignored. He kisses him like a man starved, teeth clacking noisily as he drinks in Kaveh’s moans.

Taking this opportunity to slip in another finger, your other hand goes to grip his waist, steadying him as he loses himself to the mounting delectation. Scissoring your fingers, it proves to be too much for the inexperienced Kaveh and his legs give out from beneath him, pressing him against Alhaitham’s body.

“Haitham, did you prep yourself beforehand?” He nods briskly at your question. Lowering yourself down so you’re bearing down on Kaveh, you lick the shell of his ear, (he shivers), and ask.

“Do you think Haitham can take you? He’s been waiting for you for so long, he’s even prepared himself for you.”

Between dazed blinks, Kaveh manages to process your words, nodding his head and muttering out a dumb, “Uh- Uh huh.” 

With this, Alhaitham lines his hole up with Kaveh’s drooling cock, and with you pushing down on his hips from above him, Kaveh’s head pushes past Alhaitham rim, a guttural growl leaving your junior’s lips at the sensation of Kaveh sinking into him with your guidance.

“M-Move please…!” Alhaitham groans out when Kaveh doesn’t seem to do anything when he bottoms out inside of him. The lewd heat that surrounds his length overloads his mind, bliss coursing through every vein in his body.

The erotic sight of your two sweethearts under you, the one who’s supposed to be the incubus pleading for sweet salvation from the once-pure, clueless lamb laying above him who’s finally had a taste of the forbidden fruit. Both of them dewy-eyed and left greedily wanting more. It’s easily all too tempting.

You remove your fingers from Kaveh with a wet shlick! before replacing it with your tip at his entrance. As you push into him, the pressure causes him to reach deeper into Alhaitham, resulting in a lascivious harmony of wanton moans in the room.

And when your tip brushes past his prostate for the first time, he can’t help but mewl, “O-Oh God!”

“Rude to call out someone else’s name when- ugh! -you have two incubi pleasuring you right here, Father Kaveh!” Punctuating this with a sharp thrust, you wring a drawn-out cry from Kaveh.

“S-Sorry! For- hng!! -forgive me!” Pitifully sobbing out, he rocks his hips clumsily back against yours, urging you to fully sheathe yourself in him. With his motions, Alhaitham finally gets the stimulation he’s yearned for, as Kaveh moves in time with your thrusts.

Your tail wraps itself around Kaveh’s thigh when you encircle your hands around his slim waist.

“I’ll fuck you so good that you’ll be worshipping me when I’m done with you.”

Pulling out until just your tip is left in him, you position your mouth at his shoulder and when you bite down on his pristine untainted skin, it’s the only warning he gets before you sink your length back into him, all the way down to the hilt.

You’ve left your mark on him, marred him, sullied him, defiled him for all of eternity in the eyes of the church. But Kaveh can’t find it in himself to care, too fucked out from the carnal pleasures he’s wrapped up in right now. The way you pound into him, the way Haitham’s walls squeeze down on him. Who is he to say that this isn’t heaven on earth? Who is he to say that this is damnation?

Perhaps he’s found his God in you.

“Hah! God, please! I’m close- ah! -so so close!” He’s delirious and Alhaitham swears he can almost see the hearts in Kaveh’s eyes.

“Calling me your god now, Father Kaveh?”

“Yesss! Please, I’m s-so close, let me- hng! -finish, God, I beg of you!” Kaveh quivers under you as both him and Alhaitham approach their climax. Their breaths come out in ragged pants as you speed up your pace, also chasing your own peak.

“Then take all I give unto you, Kaveh,” you bury yourself as deep as possible as his walls clamp down on you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as the three of you cum together. The searing rapture rips through him as you fill him up, eyes wrenched shut with him seeing stars behind his eyelids. His lower abdomen feels hot as he cums into Alhaitham, whose eyes have rolled back into his sockets, breath hitching at his orgasm.

You complete it with short shallow thrusts, helping the both of them through the fading waves of pleasure, wringing out the last of their debauched noises. When you pull out of Kaveh, a raspy whine rips from him. Manoeuvring his spent body to lie on his back, you’re pleased to see that the session took, evident from the glowing fuchsia tattoo on his lower abdomen.

Pressing a kiss against it, Kaveh shakes at the increased stimulation. Curious, he peers down at it, ghosting his fingers over it as he watches the tattoo’s glow intensity slowly fade and settle into a faint pink outline.

“The three of us have been unified, we’re bound together now, my dearest lamb.”

Alhaitham lazily rolls over to leave a kiss on Kaveh’s cheek before you pull him in by his clerical collar for a chaste kiss on the edge of his lips.

And suddenly, his Sunday mornings don’t seem so dull anymore. 

[> You add a clerical collar to your collection.]

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

[junipers-archive]

And They Were Roommates

Word Count: 1k

Includes: Fluff, fluff, some more fluff and a kiss? You confront Spencer about your relationship status after Penelope informs you of everyone's belief of you being more than roommates :)

(Prompt from this challenged by @imagining-in-the-margins)

You were at the coffee shop nearest to the apartment, desperately trying to find a pick me up. It was 6:30am...a new record for you. Seeing as your roommate and best-friend Spencer hadn't alerted you that you guys ran out of coffee at home, you were now standing in what you deem the longest line in the world you'd ever seen for coffee.

Then again it was one of the first times you'd been up this early to see people who actually got up early. It'd only been 10 minutes but you swore if you didn't get your daily caffeine boost soon you'd start to shut down.

The line was moving at snail pace so you decided to see what the problem was, only to catch a Penelope Garcia with 8 coffees in her arms, trying to balance her way out of the crowd.

Fortunately for her, Spencer had introduced you to the team a few months ago after they'd wanted to see where he lived and he was essentially peer-pressured in showing them by Derek. You'd been given a 5-minute notice at the late hour of 11pm and to this day are still making him pay on movie-nights where you got to choose the film.

You were torn between helping Penelope and staying in your spot in line, but seeing as you remembered how kind she had been and she was about to drop all that coffee, you took pity. Rushing over and calling her name,

"Penelope, you need some help there?"

"ah!-oh hi Y/n, sorry you scared me for a moment! And yes please."

You took one of the trays of coffee from her, holding her purse around your other arm. "Not that I mind helping, but why all the coffee?"

"Well" She was now wobbling over to a table that was just freed up by a couple, talking to you while placing her many belongings on it,

"Sometimes, I like to get up really early and get coffee for the team, cause you know the coffee at work sucks and I'm sure Spencer's already alerted you, but someone's been stealing the curate cups from the kitchen!"

You now placed the tray you had been carrying on the table as well,

"No...uh Spencer doesn't exactly talk about his job much, we usually just talk about other stuff"

She looked surprised at this, "Really? I thought he'd be more open about what he does with his girlfriend. But I guess thats just Spencer."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I-I'm sorry, did you say girlfriend?"

"Well, I mean yeah, you live together, he talks about you all the time, and when we went over you two just had so much chemistry we all just assumed-" she stopped talking as she saw the growing disbelief on your face, "I-I just- I'm sorry are you not dating?"

You were speechless. Absolutely speechless.

I mean sure you liked Spencer, he was one of your best-friends and you did live together and yea maybe you had feelings for him. But could other people see it too?

I mean, it made sense, now that you thought about it, you two were practically never seen apart, having roomate-movie-nights, going on consistent 'friend-dates', eating almost every meal together and getting each other gifts for holidays, even sometimes falling asleep in each others beds when you both got black-out drunk on occasion...

Were you dating?

Penelope had taken your silence as her cue to leave, gathering her things, but you had another idea, one that wouldn't leave you overthinking for the rest of the day.

"Wait- I- I'll help you! I mean you can't carry this all yourself!"

"Thank you" she smiled " but you're sure you don't have anywhere to be?"

"Not a place in the world." You would just call in sick today, you thought.

On the drive to the BAU as you talked to Penelope who you found was alluringly talkative, you also realized you might not even be able to get into the building. When you asked she waved her hand, shooing away your worries it seemed as she explained that as long as you weren't a spy you'd be fine for staying a couple minutes since she had clearence.

The topic of Spencer didn't come up again.

Once you got there and helped Penelope up to the office you caught sight of your roommate sitting at his desk. Excusing yourself, you began walking over, It was more decorated than you assumed, containing his adorable action figure favorites and small trinkets you'd given him over the years. And as you got closer you even found he had a picture of the two of you posing at a theme park you'd forced him to go to with you.

He saw you before you were closer, standing himself up as well.

"Y/n? What-What're you doing here?"

"Are we dating?"god you needed to get a filter, but you were really curious.

He sputtered at that, which admittedly made you smile, "I-uh-Who-did Garcia?-What?"

By pure instinct you grabbed his face so he had to look at you now, as he had a habit of looking down when nervous.

You asked him once more,

"Doctor Spencer Reid Are you dating me?"

You could feel him blush against your palms as he answered,

"Uhm...do you want me to be dating you?"

You don't know what had gotten into you that morning, but the next thing you did surprised both of you, pulling him closer as his hands circled your waist hesitantly and you kissed him.

It was soft at first, almost gentle in the way the both of you were nervous, but eventually he deepened it, grabbing one side of your face, the other circling your waist completely now as you arms came to rest around his shoulders.

When you both had to finally come up for air you breathed out your more than obvious response, "yes."

And while you both grinning like idiots at one another, Penelope was adamantly taking photos of the two of you for your wedding which she had already informed Spencer was to be on October 31 of next year.

You never even noticed you didn't get your coffee, knowing you were now with the Dr.Spencer Reid was enough of a pick-me-up to last you a lifetime.

Reblogs and Comments appreciated!!

Update: Part 2

[kikyan]

Hellfire

Cw: Yandere content means Yandere content y’all, dub-con, stalking, obsessive behavior, abuse of power, Father/Priest! Rollo (AS IN PRIEST NOT INCEST), masturbation, body worship, oral (GN! Reader receiving), fingering, riding, religious themes, etc

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Pairing: Rollo x GN! Reader 

Words: 9.5K 

A/N: Everyone look at your calendars and do you see how in reality it isn’t a New Year but rather Halloween and this Halloween special is coming out on the day it was meant to and not almost 3 months later? Fantastic, moving on. . .enjoy :)) 

A/N2: I want to preface this by saying that this fic does have religion/religious themes. This is not an accurate portrayal either, so please do not come for me-! I did grow up catholic but in my teen years became a full atheist so anything said in this fic is me recalling my childhood. Also, I googled bible verses because I don’t remember any and they were all in Spanish so, yeah. . .enjoy! :))

The bells rang throughout Fleur City, signaling the start of Sunday mass. The crowd gathered, rushing to find any available seats to sit down on. Those unfortunate would have to stand, as they did not dare miss the mass. Father Rollo was an exceptional man, his voice and words rang throughout the church and captivated everyone who was blessed to be in his presence. He handled himself professionally, standing with an upright posture and his head was always looking ahead. He was truly a man befitting to be god's messenger. Fleur City was fortunate to have Father Rollo, he was a man adored by his people and [Reader] was no different. They were locked on Father Rollo who strutted with confidence,

 “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you” 

His eyes locked with [Reader]. They broke away from his eyes but could still feel his piercing eyes on them. 

“I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” 

Cheers erupted from within the church the moment he finished his sentence. Mass was shortly concluded after the church staff asked for donations. Plenty of people offered whatever they could spare, but it was appreciated. The church was emptying but a few others stayed behind to have a few words with Father Rollo. [Reader] stayed seated but looked over at Father Rollo from the corner of their eye. He was attending to the people and their needs, he truly was a virtuous man. They averted their gaze when they saw Father Rollo turn to them. He bid goodbye to the troubled crowd. His heeled shoes echoed loudly through the emptying church, stopping in front of [Reader]. 

“[Reader], good morning. How have you been?” 

“Oh. . good morning, Father Rollo. I’ve been well, how about you?” 

“It has been a pleasant morning so far and I can only pray that it shall remain that way. Though I will say, it’s certainly comforting knowing you’re here. I did not see you anywhere last week.” 

“R-Right. . .my apologies. It certainly wasn’t my intention to miss last week’s mass, but I’m afraid I did end up catching a cold. It has since passed and I feel quite better.” 

“ You ought to take care of yourself, [Reader]. It would be a shame if something terrible happened to you. You are, after all, our number one devotee here at the Church. It would be rather quiet and lonely if you were to go.” 

“Ha ha, it was only a cold Father Rollo, not the plague. I assure you, I am fine. Besides, I’m pretty strong enough to handle an illness.” 

[Reader] returned a smile to Rollo, whose face remained expressionless, but his eyebrows furrowed upwards in un-amusement.  

“That you are, you have God’s protection as one of his children. Alas, I must be off. Till next we meet, [Reader].” 

Rollo turned around and left the main hall, leaving [Reader] alone. It was only for a split second, but he turned around to gaze at them again. 

~ 

[Reader] was in love with Rollo. Their greatest sin that would be known to the dead once they passed. They remember their first meeting, plain as day, unlike that stormy night where this story takes place. 

There was a storm and it was pouring. The kind that people were warned to stay indoors because of the severity, yet here [Reader] was running to the middle of the town where the church lay. Their face was coated in rainwater which made it almost impossible to keep their eyes open, they were struggling to breathe, and the cold that accompanied the storm did little to help. They were staggering over to the Church. 

“[READER!] GET BACK HERE NOW AND I MIGHT FORGIVE YOU!” 

Panic rose and they didn’t dare look back, for if they did, surely it would be their last. They didn’t dare scream for help, because they knew their cries would be drowned by the storm. They finally made it to the center, running up the stairs of the cathedral, and lunged to the door. No surprise that it was locked. 

“[READER]! STOP!”

“L-LEAVE ME ALONE! SANCTUARY, PLEASE GIVE ME SANCTUARY!” 

[Reader] pleaded and began to hit the doors with all their might. The person who was no doubt chasing after them continued their pursuit. They were approaching the steps and soon, close enough to reach out to [Reader]. Just in the nick of time, the door opened enough for [Reader] to throw themselves inside. They landed on the cold stone floors and used whatever strength they had to scramble away from the door. They looked up to see a skinny man with a pale face, green-blue eyes, dark bags under his eyes, and silver hair behind the door. He was adorned in an ankle-long robe and wore black-heeled loafers. His outfit certainly was nothing too fancy, then again it was the middle of the night. 

“S-Sanctuary! P-please, give me sanctuary!” 

“What seems to be the matter-!?” 

The man turned to them but was cut from the person chasing after [Reader]. 

“[Reader]! C’mere, now.” 

The anger in his voice disappeared but there was sternness laced in his request. The silver-haired man turned to the other person. The storm showered them, and the mud that they tracked in did not go unnoticed by the silver-haired man. 

“Forgive me. My name is Rollo Flamme, I am one of the priests here. May I ask what seems to be the issue? I certainly did not expect there to be anyone leisuring out in the streets with the storm raging outside.” 

The silver-haired man, now named ‘Rollo’, asked. Rollo turned to the person outside with an unamused expression. 

“Father Rollo, pardon the intrusion. You see, that person over there is named [Reader], they're my partner. My partner also suffers from an unstable state of mind. It would be best if we returned-!?” 

“Father Rollo, is everything alright?” 

They all turned to look at an elderly woman who no doubt worked for the church. Rollo shook his head and the woman took it as a sign to approach the door. 

“Everything is alright here, there is no need for the both of you to concern yourselves over our issues. Me and [Reader] would be taking our leave-!?” 

“I think not. It would be against everything we stand for if we turned away someone who came to this holy place and asked for sanctuary. I apologize, but I’ll be asking for you to leave. Madam, take this one,” 

Rollo turned to face [Reader], 

“This one inside. Run them a warm bath and please get them a fresh set of clothes. As for you, sir. . please leave.” 

[Reader’s] partner scoffed and stepped forward, 

“I wouldn’t recommend that.” 

He stopped after Rollo’s warning. Soon, others started to arrive within the church, including the guards. [Reader’s] partner glared at Rollo but decided against their actions. They just scoffed and went outside. The church’s door was shut and locked following his departure. 

[Reader] had been sitting on the floor, trying to steady their breathing. Rollo walked over to them and helped them off their feet. 

“You’re safe here in the house of God, he cannot hurt you any longer.” 

Rollo then walked away, moving people to their station leaving [Reader] alone with the Madam. 

“Come child, let’s get you out of those freezing clothes and into a warm bath.” 

That was the first time they met Rollo. 

Several weeks later, [Reader] was still within the church and assisting in any way they could. They would sometimes join the community in cleaning the church, making meals to provide during the holidays, and so forth. They were currently helping the volunteers make bread until Rollo arrived in the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Father Rollo! How may we assist you?” 

The elderly woman asked Rollo, who turned to face her. 

“Good morning, Madam. I see you’re all hard at work assisting the church so I won’t take up too much of your time. May I speak with [Reader]?” 

At the mention of their name, [Reader] perked up. The Madam turned to them and asked, 

“Of course, is that alright?” 

[Reader] nodded, dropping their task and washing their hands. They turned to look at Rollo who nodded, 

“This way, please.” 

Rollo led the way to his office and closed the door once they were both inside. He turned to them and offered the chair across from his. 

“Sit, please. Good morning, [Reader]. How are you this morning?” 

“Father Rollo. . .great. This morning has been great so far, busy but no complaints from me yet! How about yours?” 

“Fine, busy as well but such is life as God’s servant. Now, I wanted to discuss some things with you. The man that pursued you when you arrived at our doorsteps, I presume you would be content knowing that he has since left the town. He is no longer residing in Fleur City.” 

[Reader] let out a sigh of relief, since the day they arrived at the steps of the cathedral they have been residing within it. All housing was provided by the church as well as their meals. They weren’t expected to assist with the chores at the church, but they felt it was the least they could do. They would leave to go into town occasionally but always went with a guide or a guard in case anything happened. Rollo had made arrangements for them to avoid any further issues. They weren’t aware that their partner who had tormented them relentlessly had left the city or had any plans to. 

“Thank you. . . Father Rollo. I appreciate you informing me.” 

“ Of course, now that he has permanently left Fleur City we can arrange to get you a small place within the city. Don’t worry, if you still wish to assist the Church it will be nearby and the place will be within the guard's post. The area will be carefully monitored and maintained.” 

“Father Rollo. . that’s too much. I appreciate all you have done since that day, but asking for my living quarters would be too much-!” 

“Nonsense. You requested sanctuary from the church and since then, we have worked hard to provide that for you. It’s no trouble at all, you’re a precious child of God after all and he never abandons his children.” 

Rollo faced [Reader] who was deep in thought. A place to stay without the haunting memories of their partner who could care less about them. [Reader] turned their gaze to Rollo and smiled, 

“Thank you for your kindness, Father Rollo.” 

From then, [Reader] had been living in the house provided by the church. Their place was warm and cozy, but most importantly, theirs. As days went by, [Reader] continued to attend weekly mass and stayed behind to help the community with events. Though Rollo was a well-known priest, he certainly wasn’t the only one present in the cathedral. The community had gotten together to thank the priests and were thinking of how to repay each one. The madam took the request and decided to host a small celebration for them with food and games for the community. 

The entire town was invited to attend and they did, for there was no greater honor than celebrating their townsmen. Rollo stood in the center, overseeing the event rather than partaking in it like the other priests. He saw how his colleagues engaged with the town, his eyes were trained on them. They had no problem mingling with others and taking the front while Rollo chose to stay behind. 

“Are you not enjoying yourself, Father Rollo?” 

He turned to the voice, it was [Reader]. 

“I am, but conversing with others isn’t something I do quite well at. I leave that task, to the others. What about you, [Reader]?” 

“Oh, I am as well. I too, don’t tend to mingle with others, at least not in events like this. It’s still taking me a while to adjust to being in control of my own life.” 

Rollo spared a glance at [Reader] who sadly reminisced. Their partner would often take control of the conversation and not allow [Reader] to speak. They would often leave [Reader] in social gatherings to fend for themselves and never acknowledge their feelings. After a while and per their adored partner’s request, stopped leaving their shared home. This resulted in [Reader] self-isolating.  

“I see. Often, just being in the company of someone you trust is more than enough at events like these. However I do hope that moving forward, we can heal from the past.” 

Socializing wasn’t his strong suit; if he did, it was always formal and respectful. There was no time for jokes or silly banter, that is why Rollo helped Fleur City behind the scenes. He handled all formal matters while the others tended to the city with their words and charisma. Even now, his words of comfort were formal and didn’t properly convey his feelings. 

“One day, I will join the crowd again and this time, maybe I can take you with me, Father Rollo. Oh, by the way, I have something for you.” 

Rollo faced [Reader] who was looking into their pocket. 

“Here! I know it doesn’t mean much and it’s certainly a very cheap gift, but I want to express my gratitude. Thank you for all that you’ve done, Father Rollo. Without you, I don’t think I would be here with the Madam and the Town, so thank you.” 

He looked at his hands to see a wine-red handkerchief with purple embroidery on the outer edges, his name was woven into the corner. It was a simple gift really, but the difference with most gifts that he received was that this was hand-made. Handmade with love, love from the person that he cared the most about. Rollo stammered, 

“T-Thank you, I shall keep this with me at all times. It’s lovely, [Reader].” 

[Reader] turned to see his eyes gazing deeply at theirs. It was different, unlike a small expression of gratitude with professionalism laced Rollo’s eyes betrayed him. Behind his eyes, desire and love peeked through, even if it was for a split moment. 

“Of course. . .my pleasure, Father Rollo.” 

Rollo was called shortly after to attend to a matter within the cathedral, but before parting from [Reader], he promised he would return promptly. Rollo left and attended the matter fairly quickly, but before leaving to meet up with [Reader], he walked to his office. Locking the door, he took out the handkerchief and brought it up to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent from it. 

‘[Reader]’ 

Rollo recalled the memory of when he first laid eyes on them. It wasn’t anything too special, he was just in town when he stumbled upon them. Rollo has observed throughout his life all the filth from others and their actions. [Reader] had remained a pure innocent soul devoid of any sins. 

‘ Humans are sinful creatures and  that is why we exist. . .’ 

Rollo had engraved that concept into his mind. There are 7 sins within mankind - pride, wrath, envy, gluttony, sloth, greed, and lust. Humans will lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, and take advantage of others for personal greed. In reality, society has failed itself and remains to be a stain on this world. [Reader] was a positive chum, but was a sight to behold in a world of sin. 

Rollo was walking through town, which was a rare sight considering the only place you could glance at him would be in the cathedral. He noticed hidden behind a stall that there was a child, looking confused and scared. 

‘ No doubt lost.’ 

Rollo thought to himself but did not step forward just yet. He recalled a conversation he had with the Madam, a woman whom he respected as she was not like the others either. She had devoted herself to the church and helping others after the passing of her husband.  She would confess that no human was free of sin, but that didn’t mean that they were undeserving of God’s love and a place in his kingdom. It was silly, but he remembered what he told her after, 

“You’re right Madam, everyone is worthy of God’s love. Though do not underestimate humanity’s free will, some of them choose to sin and relish in their filth.”  

The madam shook her head and reminded Rollo that he should not be so quick to place judgment on others, but it was futile. 

He recalled that memory as he saw the scene displayed in front of him, a defenseless child turning to adults begging for help. Those same ‘adults’ had brushed the child off and some even as far to push the child away. 

“P-Please, I can’t find my mommy-” 

“Not interested.” 

“Stay clear of the road! Damn, brats. . .” 

‘Are these the same people who deserve God’s love, Madam?’

Rollo began walking to the child but stopped when he noticed another individual walk up to the child, 

“My name is [Reader], are you lost? Did you lose your parents?” 

The child nodded and [Reader] lightly brushed the tears that were forming away, 

“I see, well let me try to help you find them. When did you see them last?” 

“I saw my mommy over there. . .” 

The child pointed towards the growing crowd. In theory, this mother could be anywhere but if she was observant then no doubt she noticed her child missing. [Reader] nodded and held out their hand to the child, asking permission to hold their hand. The child allowed it, letting [Reader] lead them into the crowd. The child's grip tightened, afraid to lose their newfound savior. Rollo followed them, wanting to make sure that this child wasn’t going to be kidnapped. He saw how ‘[Reader]’ was holding onto the child and stopping in the area, asking the child if they saw their mother. When the child shook their head, [Reader] would begin calling out if someone lost their child. The town was busy and [Reader’s] cries were lost to the wind, but they did not lose their determination. After half an hour, Rollo heard a woman frantically calling out what was probably the child's name as the child perked up at the mention of it. [Reader] carefully maneuvered their way across the crowd to reunite the mother and child. Rollo witnessed the scene of the mother and child holding each other close, the mother turning to [Reader] and thanking them, and [Reader] reassuring them. Rollo scoffed, one person was not enough to persuade his mind that humanity was any different. It didn’t just stop there, weeks after the incident they had another run-in with them - at a distance, of course. 

[Reader] was in the market with the intent of buying groceries, but instead offered to help the people at the stands. It was a never-ending cycle, when they finished their task another person went to them asking for help. 

‘They’re a fool, they’re being taken advantage of by the others-’ 

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t mind helping but I haven’t finished my shopping. When I finish and if you still need help I can come back.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry [Reader], I didn’t mean to take up your time! It’s fine if you can’t, but thank you anyway.” 

[Reader] politely excused themselves and finished their shopping. A couple of instances off the top of his head that Rollo remembered, [Reader] buying food for a beggar on the street, helping an elderly person cross the street, helping a cat out of their collar once they noticed it was choking from it, and when they helped stitch back up a child's toy once it was ruined. Rollo was getting irritated at this point, 

‘Madam, I swear it’s like you enjoy tormenting me. . .are you trying to prove a point?’ 

The scowl written on his face was unwavering as he continued to observe this happy-go-lucky person. He managed to overhear the conversation between [Reader] and another person. 

“You’re so nice [Reader], it’s so rare to find someone who cares about people the way you do!” 

“You think so? I don’t think I am doing anything too grand, I just do what comes normal to me.” 

“Yes! You have a heart of gold, I mean you offer to help when needed. You should be careful though, people out there would take advantage of that kindness.” 

“Hm, I guess. I mean, I just do what I can but if it’s too much or something I can’t do I’m not opposed to saying no. I think a lot of people just think I’m too nice because they’re just used to being treated with little kindness. I don’t want to be a bystander if I can do something. I hold the door for people if they’re close and I’m not going to shut the door on them, it’s not like it takes too much time.” 

“Aw, you’re so nice.” 

“I don’t think so, I mean would you shut the door on me if I was behind you?” 

“Well. . .” 

“Then you’re just too mean.” 

[Reader] and the person exchanged a laugh before parting ways. Rollo stood still and turned to see [Reader] back in the distance, leaving the marketplace. His resolve didn’t sway, humans were still corrupt and undeserving of salvation, the only difference now was that there was an exception. Rollo would be lying if he sometimes didn’t go into town to glance at [Reader] and if he was lucky enough, he would be there at the same time. Over months though, he began to see less and less of them. He started to worry a bit, for the first weeks he chalked it up to [Reader] wanting time away from town but was surprised to know that nobody had seen them in the market for a month. Rollo approached a vendor, starting small talk, 

“Good morning, Father Rollo. How do you do today?” 

“I’m quite fine, thank you for asking. How about yourself?”

“Aw well, same! Business has been booming but I haven’t seen my top customer in a while!” 

“Oh, and who is that?” 

“[Reader]! They’re a sweet thing but suddenly stopped coming into town. I won’t lie, I am a little worried about them.” 

“[Reader]? I don’t believe I’ve seen them at mass. . .” 

“]Reader] used to go if I remember correctly, but I’m not too sure. I know they used to into town daily, aside from their work they loved to walk around the city. I think they stopped coming out as much a year or two ago, sometimes though they’ll come daily but it’s so rare when they do! I’m not quite sure why-!” 

“It’s because of their partner!” 

Rollo and the vendor turned to another person, an elderly lady who had joined the conversation. 

“Their partner. . .?” 

Rollo questioned, 

“Yes! At first, it was sweet. They met at [Readers’s] work and instantly became close, I would sometimes frequent their workplace you see. Their partner treated them with so much kindness but after a while, it was plain as day, he was isolating them! I remember I was walking home when I overheard them get into an argument, he wanted [Reader] to quit their job. [Reader] refused and that was the end of it, I’m not sure how they managed to persuade him because all I could hear was his yelling. After a while, [Reader] didn’t come to work and I thought they did quit, but when they came back they weren’t the same. They were still kind as ever, but you could tell something was off. Whenever they do come into town, it’s because their partner isn’t in Fleur City. I heard he sometimes goes back to take care of his ill parents.” 

Rollo was conflicted, who was this woman to be spreading such personal information of theirs but he had to thank her, without her, he never would have come to realize what needed to be done. Rollo had to admit, over the time he spent observing [Reader] he did become enamored with them. One true nature is revealed in several ways, how one presents oneself, their thoughts and actions, and what one preaches. Their nature had long been revealed, [Reader] was the only person whom Rollo believed was deserving of God’s love and he would not let them become a martyr for those deserving the flames of hell. 

Rollo set his plan in motion. He carefully wrote a letter and paid someone who the town would never recognize to deliver it into the hands of [Reader’s] partner. Their partner read the contents and before they could react, the person who delivered it had vanished to report to Rollo. 

“It’s been done?” 

“Yes, Father Rollo. May I ask though, what do you plan-” 

“That’s enough, you needn't worry about the content of the letter. Your task was to deliver, which you have. You’re free to go.” 

The man excused himself, leaving Rollo at his desk with his elbows propped but his hands were close together. He was deep in thought, 

“He would be wise to appear later tonight if he truly cares for his parents.” 

Later that night, their partner had walked down to the waterways. There, they met a cloaked individual. 

“Are you the one who sent me that letter? Who the fuck do you think you are to threaten my family-!” 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

The cloaked individual placed their hand out, to halt them from coming closer. They used that same hand to point upwards. When [Reader’s] partner looked up, they were met with several shadows who were not afraid to display their weapons. 

“What do you want?” 

Their partner scoffed out. The cloaked individual spoke out, 

“You have a partner by the name of [Reader]. Let’s just say that they owe me something, that being said it’s hard for us to come in contact with one another. This is where you come in, I need you to lure them into town. Do it on a rainy day, when there are fewer people to overhear, but I need you to lure them to the center of town. Make sure that nobody sees you two or asks about you, do you understand?” 

“What do they owe you-?!” 

“That’s none of your concern! Just, lure them into the center of the town. My men will be watching to make sure no one interferes but remember, if someone comes to find out about this plan. Well, you know what will happen to your family, understood?” 

Their partner gulped in fear and nodded, 

“You may go, and remember to not tell a single soul about this. I’ll always be listening.” 

They remained still for a brief moment, processing the words of the individual, before running out. Once they were out of sight, the person removed their cloak. Rollo stood in the center, looking at the moon and breathing out a sigh of relief. Those armed shadows turned to Rollo and asked, 

“Father Rollo, may I ask who that man is?” 

“Just someone this world would be better without. Keep me updated on his location and if he says anything. Remember, this is all to protect Fleur City.” 

Rollo disappeared within the waterways. 

Rollo approached the fireplace in his office and looked down at the handkerchief once more before tenderly caressing it into his face. 

“[Reader], I’ll repeat your name over and over like a prayer, I’d never tire of it. . .if only you knew of all things I did for you to be by my side. . .” 

The memory rolled over in his head, 

“There is a storm coming, we should make preparations in case of anything.” 

“Oh, you’re always so diligent and a step ahead, Father Rollo.” 

“Madam, one can never be too prepared.” 

The madam shook her head at Rollo’s comments but carried out his request. He had stood in preparation for anything. If what was revealed was true, then [Reader] was certainly being isolated by their partner. Their abusive partner would take advantage of another. That being said, he planned to make it so that they lured [Reader] out into the center of town, where the cathedral lay. Their partner may not know it as he was certain he had never seen him before but [Reader] should. They would request sanctuary from the church and there, He would be by the door, awaiting his beloved with open arms. 

Before he knew it, he could hear the shouts and screams outside the door. 

“Sanctuary, give me sanctuary!” 

Before long, Rollo had opened the door and with a perfect facade, displayed concern. He could tell the way their partner trembled that he had feared for his family, he was caught by the church. Their partner had no choice but to flee the scene with their tail between his legs. After Rollo instructed the Madam to watch over [Reader], Rollo had the guards chase after their partner. In the meantime, Rollo had placed his cloak on and made his way to the outskirts of town where he was being held. 

“L-Let me go! Damn it, it wasn’t my fault-!” 

“Didn’t I tell you not to let anyone interfere?” 

“I-it wasn’t my fault! The church and that stupid priest got in the way! P-please leave my f-family alone-!” 

Rollo removed his cloak and presented himself to their ex-partner. 

“Y-you!?” 

“Don’t worry, your family won’t suffer. Though I will admit, I didn’t think you would go through with sacrificing them.” 

“Y-You threatened my family, w-why wouldn’t I?” 

“I suppose there is some logic to that reason. Tell me, did you even love them?” 

“W-what? I-I suppose I did?” 

“You suppose? You’re not certain?” 

Rollo questioned them further, 

“I mean yes! Yes, I did love them! W-what does this have to do with anything, you said they owed you something no-?” 

“ No, they don’t. I did this more to see what you would do and you played right into it. Once again, I was proved right. Humanity is undeserving of God’s love and salvation, you’re all just scum that turn against each other at any moment it’s convenient. You disgust me.” 

“Y-You did this to prove a point!? Y-You think I won’t reveal to the townspeople who their beloved priest is?” 

“Not very intelligent either, are you? I’m not worried, because this is where judgment shall be passed onto you. This goes a little deeper than what you think, but no matter. I hereby declare you, guilty, and your sentence, punished by death. Dispose of him.” 

Rollo turned around, ignoring the pleas of that man. He did turn around to see their execution, before turning back. 

“We shall burn his body, but in the meantime place him somewhere no one will find out. Oh and, arrange for someone to take care of his parents. Hire a doctor to live with them.” 

The others nodded and carried out the order. Rollo headed back to town with a clear conscious. 

His attention remained on the flames. They had burned his body and afterward, devised a plan to break the news to his parents.  As far as they were concerned, he had passed away from a natural cause but because he was such a good member of the church, he was able to have a doctor stay with them full-time. He placed a chaste kiss on the handkerchief, 

‘This burning desire is turning me to sin. . .’ 

~ 

Rollo was sitting at the Confessional and while he was a man of God, he was also human. Like humans, he was running short of his patience. Father Rollo was a devoted man to his occupation, but of course, even messengers of God need time of their own. He was covering for another priest, Father Phoebus, who unexpectedly became ill. Rollo’s face turned into one of annoyance and anger, he was certain that the priest wasn’t ill but rather skipping out on his duties. 

‘ No matter, confession ends in about 10 minutes. . .I just need to hold out till then.’ 

Rollo’s optimistic outlook was shattered the moment he heard someone else sit on the other side of the confessional. He rolled his eyes before turning to the wooden lattice opening but stiffened when he saw it was [Reader]. Luckily, this confessional was designed so that the priest would be hidden away and the penitent was visible. 

“I do apologize for coming in so late, Father Phoebus. . but I would like to confess my sins.” 

Rollo cleared his throat, 

“Of course, please, confess to me what ails you.” 

He placed his gaze at [Reader], who remained unaware that instead of Father Phoebus, it was Rollo. 

“Right, to be honest, I’m not quite sure where to begin. All I know is, I’m committing a grave sin. I ... . .in love with a man that I cannot have. He is married to a vow.” 

Rollo’s breath hitched, turned to stare at [Reader] who looked down in regret and disappointment.

“M-married? May I ask, which vow this man is married to?” 

[Reader] stiffened at the question, 

“Father Phoebus. . .it's Father Rollo who I am enamored with. He is God's messenger and as such, I know my feelings will never be reciprocated yet! Yet, I can’t help but still love him.” 

Rollo knew that Reader required guidance and genuine support, but he couldn’t help the need or desire after hearing that the one he loved also felt the same. He pulled out the wine-red handkerchief with the beautiful purple embroidery that outlined the cloth and spelled his name on the corner. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it as his dick hardened at the idea of [Reader]. 

“T-tell me, how much you love him?” 

Rollo swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“O-Oh w-well. . .” 

It was an awkward question no doubt so there was some resistance from [Reader]. Rollo pressed on, 

“I would like to know how deep your admiration goes so that I c-can properly guide you.” 

“R-right. . well, I love him. At first, I thought it was just admiration because he helped me get back on my feet. When I gave him his handkerchief, I saw more than a simple thanks on his face, but a face of genuine gratitude, which made me fall deeper. I know he’s only being kind to me because it’s the right thing to do and not because of any special treatment, but I can’t help but-” 

Rollo continued to listen to their feelings, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t thinking about stroking his cock to their voice. Rollo had never experienced such feelings towards anyone before, but after meeting [Reader] he became a victim of the sin of greed and lust. 

“Though I will admit, maybe the reason I love him is because I feel safe and secure with him. With my past partner, I didn’t feel the same sense of security. I did at first, but after a while, they became the aggressor. I’m not sure why I didn’t leave immediately after and I kept beating myself up about but Father Rollo, assured me that it was not my fault. He was so kind and understanding, it was different from the others who told me something similar. It was sincere from both sides, but with him it was. . it was different.” 

When they finished confessing, Rollo spoke, 

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of your feelings. It’s a natural human thing to feel, love that is. You’re right, Father Rollo is a man tied to an oath by the Church. Under the eyes of God, he may not reciprocate your feelings but that doesn’t mean he would see you any less different. Your sins are forgiven, my child.” 

[Reader] nodded and bid farewell to ‘Father Phoebus’. Rollo watched their figure retreat and let out a breath of relief. Though he could not stop the pounding in his heart nor the tent in his pants. 

~ 

“F-Fuck! [R-Reader]-!” 

Rollo had retreated to his office once confessions were over, there he had his handkerchief wrapped around his dick, jerking himself off. The one that he loved felt the same for him but he was sure their love was not the same as his obsession with them. Such a pure and innocent crush on him whereas he shamefully was stroking his cock to the idea of touching them. 

“Ha. . ha. . wanna t-touch you, fuck-!” 

He threw his head back at the pleasure, how would [Reader] react to seeing their beloved Father Rollo fuck the handkerchief that they had gifted him. His orgasm was approaching and his whines were getting louder, he leaned over his table and spilled his seed onto the wine-red cloth, sweat adorning his face. He let out a sigh of relief and sat down on his chair. He thought of [Reader] and this new found confession. Rollo’s mind was made up. 

~ 

“I think we’re all good to go, [Reader] we’re heading out now!” 

“Have a good night!” 

[Reader] bid the other church volunteers farewell before giving the church one last good look. They were about to grab their things to depart as well before the doors opened. They turned to look at Father Rollo, who emerged from his office. 

“F-Father Rollo. . .what brings you out here so late?” 

“I’m just giving the Church one final look, but I did hope to catch you before you left.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, come [Reader], take a walk with me.” 

[Reader] approached Rollo and their walk began. He was taking them across the Cathedral to put out the candles. 

“I know it’s been a while, but how have you been enjoying yourself in Fleur City?” 

“Oh, just fine! Thank you again, for all that you’ve done of course. It certainly feels amazing being able to freely leave and return without being shackled down. Not to mention, it’s a lot more eventful than I remember.” 

“I see, Father Pheobus has attempted to get more events hosted by the church. He would like the city to get together once in a while. It’s something new that he has been doing, but it seems that the townspeople enjoy it.” 

“That they do, may I ask, Father Rollo? Do you not like to get involved in events like these?” 

The main hall of the Cathedral was darkening with each step, 

“I wouldn’t say I dislike it. Socializing with others isn’t my strong suit, I tend to other matters that I excel at rather than mistakenly saying something I don’t mean.” 

[Reader] had noticed that Rollo tended to stay in the shadows and only speak when something needed to be said. If someone approached him and tried conversing, Rollo would maintain the utmost professionalism. He wasn’t one for idle chatter but never turned someone down if they wanted to have a word with him. Rollo continued his task, with [Reader] following close behind. 

“That’s fair. Sometimes not saying anything is the proper response, but I can see how that may stress you out. After all, you are a priest and everyone’s eyes are on you. Sorry, don’t mean to add to the pressure either.” 

As the candles were extinguished one by one, Rollo’s heels added to the ominous vibe that the Cathedral was giving. 

“You’re right, [Reader]. As a priest, all their eyes are on me waiting to hear what I  say but as such, my eyes are also on them. Despite what I preach, I believe that not everyone is capable of salvation. Humans are not devoid of sin, that is the truth. Though we are created in God’s image, we certainly are not perfect. There are those where their sins are mistakes and nothing more. Then some’s sins are perfectly under their control yet still choose to see nothing wrong in their actions. You can have that outlier where one of those wishes to repent and truly feel regret, but then some parade around shamelessly into God’s house asking for forgiveness. It’s laughable.” 

[Reader] remained silent. There was nothing they could say because ultimately, Father Rollo was right to some degree. Though they would be lying if they weren’t off-put by his sudden change. 

“ Did you know that the baker is having an affair? Ongoing for four years actually, yet he never fails to bring his wife and kids into mass every Sunday morning, thanking God for allowing them to live the way they do. They recently had their marriage anniversary, married for 10 years to be exact. I remember I was the one who renewed their vows. His words still ring in my head,”

“I will love you forever and until the end. You’re the pillar that provides me with the strength to keep going. I would never want another partner other than you, the woman I chose to be the mother of my children. I thank God for this blessing that is you, my love.” 

“How romantic, don’t you think? That same night he went back to his other partner, claiming that they had a big order for an event and he needed to be one step ahead of the game. How could I forget the previous head of the Orphanage, asking for food to provide for the children? The church and townspeople helped with what they could, but every time those children would come into mass they remained as thin as ever but the head remained full and content. It wasn’t until I stepped in and of course, led an investigation to find out that he was starving the kids and eating all the food. Now the orphanage is under the care of the Church, to be more specific, under my direct care. Don’t you see how happy those children are every time you come to mass? I even remember when Madam first came to the church, she told us the story of her husband's passing. She and her beloved husband were walking back home when an armed assailant was waiting for them, upon asking for their valuables he stabbed her husband over 27 times before fleeing. When the man was caught, he was just a petty thief who confessed to the crime. Their reasoning was they had no need to steal but got a kick out of watching the fear in the eyes of the defenseless manifest and to make matters worse, this was his first time killing since he never dared to do it before. What could an elderly man do to him had he chosen to fight back, nothing. That same thief pleaded with God before his execution that I had carried out, to spare him.” 

By the time Rollo had gotten to his part in his talk, almost all the candles were out except for four in the front of the altar. There Rollo turned around, facing [Reader] who stood in the middle closest to the altar. He was closest to the church doors but that area had been pitch black. He continued his speech and though he did not pose a threat to [Reader], yet, They couldn’t help the goosebumps that were forming on their skin and the sudden draft within the Cathedral. 

“Of course, the world is not black and white. There is no right or wrong, for if there was I too would have been punished. It’s not practical for me to base my distaste of humanity on a few bad apples, Madam, even after everything she went through still says that everyone deserves salvation but it’s like you said, [Reader]. We’re all so used to this world the way it is that a simple act of kindness, normalcy if you will, is considered a rarity.” 

[Reader] had recalled when they told that vendor that, those were their words and they still stood by it. The only thing was, they told that to the vendor, not Rollo. They shakily took a step back but kept their eyes trained on Rollo. He noticed their expression as well as their stance, but it was no use. The door to the church was locked and only Rollo had the key. He took a step forward, emerging from the darkness and [Reader] took a step back. 

“F-Father Rollo. . is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Sorry. . I just don’t know how this relates to me. . .” 

He let out a chuckle, 

“ You asked why I don’t like to get involved, right? That is my answer. It’s hard to get involved when I am surrounded by the same people I wish I could condemn. However, you are different. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I too have been keeping an eye on you long before we officially met.  You treated everyone with kindness even those that did not deserve it. You remained as human as possible, someone who could voice their feelings and care for everyone equally, even yourself. It was a sight for sore eyes, like an angel in a sea of devils. You tried your best and worked hard, but you knew what you could and couldn’t do. You were even starting to make me regain hope in this world but I quickly noticed that warm light inside of you start to flicker. It was all because of him, [Partner’s Name]. He had slowly started to dim that warm light inside of you and I couldn’t do anything, or so I thought. Your partner driving you out of your home was not accidental,  I can assure you. I had him lure you here, into the Church. There, I was able to save you from him.” 

[Reader’s] breath hitched. They had always assumed that all the events that led up to now were a mere coincidence, life just being its usual confusing self. It was not unusual for their partner to enter their shared home and demand things, bossing them around. They had assumed that it was the usual same old story. This didn’t change how they saw their partner and their relief that he was no longer in their life, but it changed their perception of Rollo. Had Rollo orchestrated their whole thing? Since when? For how long? Most importantly, for what? 

“Since we are in a church, I might as well confess. I have kept my eye on every single Fleur citizen since I became a priest, but I have kept my eye on you for months now. It’s hard for me to communicate with everyone, but not you [Reader]. Since I’ve been admiring you from a distance, I’ve come to love you. I love your person and your way of being. Your kindness, your truth, your struggles, everything about you I have come to love.” 

By now, [Reader] was up against the altar with Rollo standing in front of them. Both were illuminated by the remaining candles, his hand reached out to caress their cheek. 

“I’ve come to love everything about you, [Reader], even the parts that you aren’t aware of. I’ll remain to love them as well, for there is no one else.” 

“F-Father R-Rollo, I-!” 

He leaned closer to them, his piercing blue-green eyes staring into [Readers] fearful and confused ones. He placed a kiss on their lips, tilting their head back to get a better angle. Seconds passed before he lifted his lips from them, 

“. .And if you were to fall into sin, let it be by my hands.” 

Conflicted could not begin to describe it. The person they loved reciprocated their feelings, so much that they kissed at this very moment. Though logically speaking, Rollo had just admitted to orchestrating the whole thing. Who knew what was the truth and what was a lie? Did their partner move? Was it willingly? Most importantly, did it matter? Sure, maybe there was a time when logic was sound but that time wasn’t right now. Thinking with their heart, [Reader] kissed back. They shared a deep and sensual kiss that neither one dared to break. Rollo pushed his body up against [Reader], grinding into them. The altar luckily wasn’t too high, but there were small steps on either side that allowed them to effortlessly get on the altar. Rollo managed to push their back flat against the cold marbled table, 

“F-Father R-Rollo, are you sure? Y-you’re a man with a vow and-” 

“[Reader], I love you.” 

Their eyes widened once more at the confession and looking up, they weren’t meant with the Rollo they knew. He was no longer stoic and professional, this Rollo was vulnerable. His cheeks were flushed pink as he straddled [Reader’s] hips. His body loomed over theirs and his hands went to open their top. His eyes were glossed over with love and desire. [Reader’s] top was opened to expose their chest and his hands lightly touched their skin. His cold fingers trailed from their neck, chest, and lastly their nipples. Rollo let out a shaky sigh, 

“I love you. Let me worship you, with God as my witness let me prove my devotion to you. .” 

Rollo’s lips neared [Reader’s] and they exchanged a kiss. He lightly bit on their bottom lip, asking for permission to further taste them. A moan escaped [Reader] but they opened their mouth to allow his tongue inside. Rollo pressed himself further into [Reader], afraid to let go. Needing air, [Reader] placed their hands on his clothed chest, pushing against it. Releasing their lips, Rollo straightened but released a breathy moan. [Reader] could see the warmth spreading across his pale skin, but could also feel his growing bulge. Rollo began to lean back down but stopped when [Reader] went to open his top. He allowed them to strip him of his shirt, allowing his pale chest to be exposed. 

“I want to see you too, R-Rollo. . .” 

The tip of his ears turned pink at the comment. He leaned down to their neck, licking up and down. Nibbling and biting down to create hickeys. His lips trailed down, kissing the skin around the newly formed hickey and down to their chest. Moans spilled from both Rollo and [Reader], the pleasure shared between the two. His tongue swirled around their nipple, lightly biting and sucking on them. [Reader] tenderly held Rollo’s head as he worked on their chest. Shaky breaths echoed throughout the Cathedral. 

“F-Fuck. . R-Rollo-!” 

Rollo lifted himself from their chest and saw the bright pink/red circular marks all across their chest. 

“Not enough. . .it’s not e-enough. . “ 

Rollo leaned back down, kissing down to their navel area. His hands played with their bottoms, opening them agonizingly slow. He pulled them down their legs and he shifted back, making sure he could properly remove them. 

“F-Fuck, y-your sex. . .” 

Rollo’s shaky moans slipped out, he stared in awe at [Reader’s] aroused sex. He shifted back before nearing their sex and inhaling their scent. Rollo’s fingers carefully touched around, going to their most sensitive spot and circling his finger around. 

“R-Rollo…right there…feels good….” 

Rollo nodded, continuing to circle his finger. After a while he leaned down, placing his tongue on their sensitive spot. He licked around, replacing the movement of his finger, and began to lick up and down. [Reader] let out soft moans and breaths as he continued pleasuring them. He began to kiss, suck, lick, pinch, and stroke their sensitive bits. Rollo took a break to lick his fingers and pushed them against [Reader’s] hole. Lightly inserting a finger inside, feeling them clench around it. 

“Do you lust for me. . the same way I lust for you?” 

“ I-I’ve a-always wanted you-ngh!” 

Though Rollo wasn’t attending to their sex with his mouth, he was still reaching inside them with his fingers. Slipping a second finger to curl up against that soft spot inside them, pumping rhythmically. Rollo leaned back down, placing his mouth back on their sex. Rollo himself wasn’t too experienced, but based on their sounds, he knew more or so where to touch. His long slender fingers managed to reach thoroughly and the stimulation with his tongue was overwhelming.

“F-Fuck Rollo, g-gonna cum-!” 

Rollo continued to abuse their sex, giving them that final push needed to orgasm. Rollo’s face was drenched with drool and cum, but still managed to swallow everything that they released. He unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock that was already leaking pre-cum. He wrapped his hands around it, stroking himself. 

“Can I-fuck! P-put it inside you. . .?” 

Rollo’s half-lidded eyes pleaded with [Reader’s], begging to fuck them.  [Reader] propped themself up with their elbow, sat up, and kissed him. Rollo leaned forward to reciprocate. They placed their hands on his cheeks and lightly caressed, 

“You may. . .but can I. .be on top?” 

Rollo softly nodded, letting [Reader] guide him to lie down on the altar instead. [Reader] went to stimulate his already hard dick, but wrapped their hands around it and jerk him, smearing his pre-cum around. They licked their fingers and trailed them down to their hole, lightly fingering themselves to adjust to his size. They scissored themself and when they were ready, hovered over his cock. They lowered themselves onto Rollo’s cock, clenching down on his dick. 

“F-Fuck you’re tight-!” 

Rollo threw his head back at the sensation and his hands reached to hold [Reader’s] hip. [Reader] stayed still to adjust to his size but after a while, began to move. Riding his cock, [Reader] threw their head back as breaths left them, their back slowly arching. Rollo thrust, matching their pace as well. One of his hands moved to their sex, stimulating it at the same pace. 

Aside from the candles, the moonlight entered the Cathedral through the stained glass. The hue of the deep blues and purples reflected off their skin, creating an almost angelic glow. Their moans and whines echoed throughout the church, Rollo’s back was on the altar and his body coated in sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears, looking over at [Reader] who fared the same. Their body was sweaty and warm, their movements were slowing with time. Rollo’s thrust became more erratic, reaching deeper into [Reader]. 

“I-I’m close-! F-Fuck, f-feels s-so good-! Rollo!” 

Mewls spilled out of [Reader]’s mouth. 

“M-Me too-! I-I love you! L-Love you so much! God, I love you so much, [Reader]!” 

“I l-love you too, R-Rollo-!” 

With their final declaration of love, [Reader] came all over Rollo and he came deep inside of them. Their deep breaths were heard throughout the cathedral. [Reader] slumped on top of Rollo with his cock still inside them. They nuzzled into Rollo’s neck, peppering light kisses. 

“Love you s’much, Rollo.” 

“I love you too. . .[Reader].” 

His arms wrapped around them, pressing them closer into him. They stayed like that for a while, before [Reader] perked up, looking at his face. 

“I-I do have a question though. . .did you know that I liked you?” 

Rollo looked down to see their curious gaze, he adverted his eyes with a blush staining his cheeks. 

“It. . .it wasn’t Father Pheobus in the Confessional. It. . .it was me. . .” 

[Readers] face fell, 

“S-SO I CONFESSED TO YOU?” 

[Reader] buried their face in his neck, Rollo let out a soft smile at their antics. 

“That you did. Though I am glad, without you confessing to me, this never would have happened.” 

Still buried in his neck, they mumbled a couple of words. 

“I love you. . .” 

Rollo, of course, said it back. He could hear their soft snores, they had passed out from exhaustion. Only one thought lay in his mind, there was no one else other than him that could preserve the purity within [Reader]. 

‘If hellfire must consume me, so be it. I will never let anyone else take you away from me. Your purity is for me to preserve and to taint, no one else.’ 

This was only the beginning of the tragic tell that would come about to Twisted Wonderland. The story of the righteous priest and judge who burned down Fleur City, all because of their desire for someone they could never truly have. 

A/N: So that was a long one. . .how we feeling? I don’t think I will ever write a part 2, sorry :(( UNLESS I get inspiration but I do want to write headcanons for him so maybe? That being said I will be posting another post that will talk about the future of this blog (I AM NOT LEAVING DW)! That being said, I want to thank my friends for helping me with this fic! Special mention to my friend who helped me confirm his personality for me (I love you Nova) and my other friend, who got horny thoughts when they went to church! :3