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missadangel · 1 month ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 8: Trick or Threat

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Chapter Summary: You and Harry are officially together, and everything’s going really well. However, something else is on the horizon… What could it be? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 9,5k, SMUT & ROMANCE & INTRIGUE, feelings!!! fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, jealousy, dirty talk, love triangle, intrigue, funeral, mention about death, car, racing authors note: Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

"When I returned from France, I took the reins of the business. Gerardo, Maria's husband, had managed things in my absence, but I could tell it was tough given their divorce. We're still piecing things back together."

In the morning, you two were lying in bed, just chatting and trying to unearth the smallest secrets lingering between you and Harry.

“So, was work really the reason you went to France or was it all about Lucy?”

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, looking deep into your eyes. “I can’t deny it; I was hurt. That much is true. But it didn’t last long. I threw myself into work to keep the melancholy at bay. But then I realized how unfair I was being to myself. Why should I mourn someone who wasn’t worth it?” His hand glided over the cream satin sheets. “So, I decided to move back to New York, even though Maria was always pushing me.”

“What about the matchmaker thing? What prompted you to feel such pressure to get married immediately after returning?”

He smirked. “Maria... You see she has always been like a sister to me since I was a kid. She was convinced I needed to tie the knot ASAP and organized everything. I went on five blind dates before I met you, and trust me, they were all disasters. It seemed like all they cared about was what I could offer them for a comfortable, luxurious life—totally loveless and insincere. Maria and I agreed to one last date, and if I didn't find what I was looking for, she promised to cut me loose.” He gently stroked your cheek. “When I saw Melanie Johnson’s profile, I was so relieved; it felt like just the evidence I needed to convince Maria. But when I came across your photo, something felt off about the information. Your appearance warmed my heart. I felt like there had to be a mistake, so I took a chance and wanted to meet you in person.”

You laughed. “Wow, looks like your instincts were right.”

“I think it was the best decision I’ve ever made,” he said, smiling as he slid his hand down your shoulder and along your arm, finally cupping your hand and leaning in to kiss it.

Your fingertips danced delicately across his lips, tracing their curves. "What about that Stella, the girl in the photo Maria baited me with?"

He sighed, a hint of a frown crossing his face. “I promise, it was nothing serious. That lasted just a week. She was always caught up in the modeling world, and honestly, I think I was too old to keep up with her glamorous lifestyle.”

“Well, now you’ve got me wondering—how many women have you been with? I’m almost afraid to ask,” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully.

He tilted his head, clearly thinking it over.

His thinking phase made you tense.

“Too many to even remember.”

Your jaw dropped in mock horror. “Slut,” you teased again, nudging him with your shoulder.

Well, he was a really handsome guy—why would that surprise you?

He chuckled. “Okay, your turn, baby. Spill it.” His voice was low and teasing as he traced his nose along your cheek to your chin.

“Hmmm, way too many to count; it’s like counting grains of sand on a beach.”

Suddenly, he stopped, looking at you with a serious expression. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how intense he looked. “Stop giving me that look. I’m just joking with you—relax.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his temple.

“That was worse than I thought,” he murmured with curiosity in his tone. “So how many?”

“Only three,” you admitted shyly. “All back in Atlanta—if you count high school. The second was a summer fling gone wrong. And the last one, three years back, was just toxic—emotionally draining, like an automatic routine... It felt like there was something essential missing. It had zero—”

“Passion,” he cut in for you, finishing your sentence.

You locked eyes, an electric connection sparked between you. “Yeah, exactly,” you murmured, your gaze dropping to his lips.

At that moment, he pulled you in closer and kissed you, pouring all his hunger and desire into it—just the kind of passion you’ve been talking about.

Yeah, passion was the word.

What a powerful force it was.

It felt like you were meant for each other, completely in sync. Being with him brought a sense of happiness you’d never experienced before. He didn’t just want your body; he craved your voice, your scent, every little part of you. It was like he found a piece of himself he thought he lost, and he was beyond thrilled about it.

What more could he ask for?

“So you're a chaste little kitten, huh?” he said, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Considering the dirty sounds you make with me, I was expecting something different.”

“Mmm, like what?” you teased, playing with his curls.

“I kind of thought many guys from your past would pop up.”

You chuckled lightly. “Nope. I’ve been so caught up with work that I barely have time to think about love. And let’s be real, I’m no beauty queen or model or anything—I’m not exactly turning heads everywhere I go.”

He pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes alight with sincerity. “Are you kidding? You’re heartbreakingly beautiful. I’ve never told this to anyone before, but the first time I laid eyes on you, it felt like I was struck by lightning.”

You giggled, a playful spark fluttering in your chest. “That sounds like something straight out of a movie, or maybe even a cliché.”

“I know it does, but it’s the truth, believe me. I really appreciate the real Melanie for bringing us together, even if it was in a pretty strange way."

Your smile widened. “Same here. And about those sounds I make, I have to admit, no one has ever made me feel this alive before.” His lips tugged into a teasing smirk. “Now I’m the one sounding like a cliché, right?”

"I’ll gladly accept that as a compliment.”

"You should," you laughed and pressed your lips to his ear. "Because in my previous experiences I have often "pretended". But with you it's all real you slutty ol'man."

He laughed darkly. "I fluttered, baby," he said as he lifted the sheet off you, exposing your body to the sunlight flooding the room. He pressed you down on the bed with his weight, pinning your wrists over your head with one hand and holding your chin in the other. You swallowed hard, blinking repeatedly as waves of ecstasy and exhilaration surged through you. "I really hope you won’t be mad at me for doing my best to make you this old man's little slut." He leaned down, grabbed your lips, and sank forcefully into your mouth, spreading your legs with his knee.

"Harry." Fluttering your eyes open you searched his face silently pleading with him to ease the bubbling sexual tension built between you.

Pinching hard on your stiffened breasts he listened to you yelp. “Be a good girl and tell me.” He rubbed the tip of his hard cock against your slit, causing you to writhe and moan with ecstasy. Your body on fire, your breath filled with heat. “You wanna be my little slut?” He whispered sweetly.

With your body trembling, cheeks burning with heat, back arching, biting your lower lip you nodded frantically. “Yes,” you breathed harshly. Your body shuddered and flushed in anticipation at the thought of being filled by him.

And you were out of patience.

Your eyes flashed with a glint of mischief, pulling down your teeth crashed hard into his neck as you sucked roughly on his skin until you felt his hand leave your chest and clasped around your throat.

“Naughty kitten,” he purred with delight.

The sound of you moaning and mewing like a real kitten into his ear sent a churning sensation through his stomach, sending him dangerously over the edge.

Not so soon, he thought himself, eager to make it last longer.

He turned his head to find your lips once more and pulled them close to his, devouing your mouth eagerly, passionetly. Grabbing your thighs tightly, he plunged himself deep with your dripping pussy. “Fuck-” he groaned “-that never gets old.” He started into a pulverizing rhythm of pulling himself almost completely out and then pushing himself as deep within you as your bodies allowed.

It was that moment of struggle again, he felt incredible inside you, he felt alive, indestructible, but he couldn't wait to get to the grand finale, eager to spill himself inside you, desperate to feel your walls close around him, and once again, he was caught in the middle.

It felt like he could never get enough of you, not at all.

Egged on by your gasping for breath he switched his hand positions from your waist to your hips to bring you both closer to the edge.

Your eyes glazed over with ecstasy watching the muscles on his arms and chest flex as he pounded into you mercilessly. You loved the way his brow furrowed in concentration as you made love. His body was perfect, like a statue sculpted by the many hours spent.

“Mmmh—I don’t mind being your slut—if this is the view,” you choked between his brutal thrusts, gripping his biceps wildly. “Fuck your little slut harder!"

“You’re so—mmh—you’re so fucking dirty, baby. I love it. Gonna come—.” Letting out a loud groan he felt your walls contracting hard around his throbbing member. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the bed, pulling your body close to his.

“Me too,” you replied breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck, your nails dug into the back of his neck. Hopping onto his lap violently up and down caused your nails to graze his skin painfully, and he groaned loudly.

However, he didn't even mind if you almost made him bleed.

You could do whatever you wanted with him; he was yours to take.

Ragged breathing halted as he poured himself into you. His movements slowed as you held onto one another. He leaned your bodies back down to rest against the bed.

Your lips sucked softly against his flesh, tasting the glistening salty tang that coated his body. Gratefully, he returned the favour, licking your neck up to your chin, biting, sucking, savouring your sweet taste and the moment itself.

Feeling his heart beat returned to its normal steady rhythm you looked up to see his face looking down smiling at you. "I love you, baby," he purred.

"I love you too, Harry."

He smiled before leaning down to kiss you. “Shower?”

“Count me in,” you said, laughing.

His mouth broke into a playful, cheeky grin this time. "How about a hot shower?"

He asked as if you hadn't just had incredibly hot sex.

You widened your eyes in surprise. "Seriously? It’s been like 5 or 6 times since last night, and you're still being greedy, mister."

He buried his nose in your hair, breathing you in. “You bring it out in me, baby.”

"Okay, but let’s make it quick; I need to be ready for work soon."

He lifted you effortlessly into his arms. "It’ll be the fastest and hottest shower ever—buckle up!"

You both giggled all the way as he carried you to the bathroom.

As Harry dropped you off at the hotel around noon, a wave of relief washed over you. Alan wasn’t lurking around, and that was a small victory. You couldn't bring yourself to share the weight of what Alan had told you last time—not yet. The prospect of creating unnecessary tension made your stomach churn. Besides, he would surely come to understand the seriousness of your relationship in time, and he would give up, wouldn’t he?

Before saying goodbye, Harry mentioned he had a special event to attend that evening and invited you to join him. Your instinct was to decline—after all, you had a million things to do—but his persistent charm won you over. You didn’t want to disappoint him, so you reluctantly agreed. That meant you had to cut your work short to prepare, which sent you rushing into the hotel, straight to the kitchen.

In the midst of the chaos, Bruno reminded you about the upcoming fair. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he explained that if you launched your own bakery brand in time, it could be the perfect opportunity to promote it. That news felt like a double-edged sword. On one hand, you had promised Harry you would leave your cleaning job behind, meaning you’d spend the entire week at the hotel—including those dreaded Mondays and Thursdays. Your internship was finally nearing its end. But on the flip side, the thought of starting your own brand meant you’d need to open a shop soon, which required financial support. Harry was eager to help, but you felt a deep sense of obligation that made accepting his generosity uncomfortable.

And, of course, with your renewed schedule, you’d definitely run into Alan more often.

Just what you needed.

Shaking off the worry, you reminded yourself that you were close to achieving your dreams; patience was key. But the moment you spotted Alan in the dining room, anxiety flared up again. The memory of your last conversation haunted you, and just seeing him sent your nerves into overdrive. Then you noticed Maria seated across from him, her expression growing increasingly troubled. Each time she glanced at him, her frustration deepened, and when she abruptly stood up, you felt compelled to go after her.

“Maria!” you called out, sprinting after her. She turned around, and your heart sank—she looked on the verge of tears.

“Are you okay? What happened?” you asked softly, touching her shoulder gently.

“It's nothing, really,” she replied, pulling a handkerchief from her bag, but her eyes revealed a different story.

“Come on, Maria. You look awful. What’s going on between you and Alan?”

Her lip trembled as she fought to mask her anger. “He’s an asshole—a truly wicked, evil man.”

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

“Just forget it, okay? I’m begging you, please don’t tell Harry you saw me here, especially with Alan.”

“But if he asks me—”

“Please,” she interrupted, almost pleading.

Seeing her like this was shocking; she was usually so strong and fearless. “Okay, of course, I won’t say anything,” you assured her softly.

She pulled out a compact mirror, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll catch you at the reception tonight,” she said, turning towards the exit.

You watched her leave, your mind swirling with questions about what had happened to upset her so deeply.

After work, while waiting for Harry to pick you up in the hotel lobby, you decided to give Zoe a call. Thankfully, her ankle had fully healed, and she told you she'd be back at work on Monday.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you two are finally official!” Zoe's excited voice rang through the phone.

“Yeah, it's about time,” you laughed. “So, how did everything go with John?”

“It went amazing! Just so you know, we're officially a couple now. Our first date is lined up for next week.”

“That’s fantastic, Zoe! I’m so happy for you.”

You couldn't help but wonder if John had shared everything with her. You knew you should ask her in person instead of over the phone.

“Since you’re at your boyfriend’s place now, when do you plan to pick up your things?”

“Whoa, I’m not moving in just yet. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Wait a sec... Are you trying to rush me or something? Or is John thinking about moving in?”

She fell silent for a moment.

“Babe, don’t you think this is all moving a bit too fast? It feels kind of early, right? I mean, does it really make sense to move in together when you’ve just started dating?” You were running your fingers through your hair when you suddenly noticed someone next to you. You hung up just as you caught Alan giving you this awkward smile. “Call you back…”

What the hell?

How long had he been standing there, and did he hear any of that?

Avoiding his gaze, you got up, acutely aware of his eyes on you.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk today. How have you been?”

The jerk acted as if nothing had happened.

Why would you want to talk to him anyway?

That was the real question.

"Fine," you replied coldly, looking away, your tone sharper than intended, fingers tightening around your bag's strap. Just then, he reached out, his hand clasping yours.

“What happened to your hand?”

Oh right, when you were rushing around in the kitchen, you accidentally splashed hot oil on yourself.

Bruno had treated the burn, it wasn’t serious but still.

“It’s nothing,” you said, trying to pull your hand back, but he held on tight.

You looked away as he examined your hand, and your heart nearly stopped when you caught sight of Harry through the glass windows at the entrance. Panic surged through you, and you tried to tug your hand free from Alan's grip with all your might. Immediately, you regretted it—the sudden burn stung painfully against his skin, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.

At that moment, Harry spotted your expression and strode through the revolving door toward you, shoving Alan away.

Alan stumbled back, initially shocked but then laughing angrily.

"What the heck are you doing to her?"

"Harry, calm down."

But he didn’t hear you; the two men were locked in a tense, unwavering stare. Alan casually adjusted his tie. “Don't be so dramatic, Castillo.”

Harry turned to you and stepped protectively in front of you. “Why are you always lurking around her? What's your problem?”

People in the lobby were watching intently, all eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

“Don’t be ridicolus. This place is mine. It’s my hotel, and she’s my employee.”

"I wonder if you’re equally concerned about your other employees?”

You grabbed Harry’s arm, “Harry, please, let’s just go.” You tugged at him as the curious gazes around you felt more pressing.

But seriously, he wouldn’t even look at you.

What the fuck?

“I warn you. Stay away from her.”

“And if I don’t?”

Harry was fuming, and you gripped his arm tighter.

"Alan, cut it out!" you snapped at him. With all your strength, you pulled Harry toward the exit. “Let’s just get out of here. Everyone's staring at us.”

“Keep away from my girlfriend, Finnigan,” he warned, pointing his finger at him, his voice low and threatening.

“Did you bother to mention your family background to her? I’ll bet she’ll walk away the moment she finds out.”

That crossed the line for Harry. He grabbed Alan by the collar, his fury erupting. “You say one more word, and I'll make you regret it.”

Alan shot back with a smirk, “Ooh, I’m really scared, Castillo.”

You stepped between the two men and pushed them both apart with an assertive shove. “Enough! Just stop it!”

They turned to look at you, along with the doorman and a few others. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t care. But I’m not going to stand here and watch this nonsense,” you declared, pivoting on your heel and striding toward the exit.

Harry shot Alan a glare, pushed him aside, and quickly followed you outside. “Wait, please,” he said, reaching out to grab your wrist and turning you to face him. “Let me see your hand.”

You turned away from him. “Oh, now you’re concerned? I guess you were too busy bickering with Alan to notice.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, but when I saw he was touching you, it really ticked me off.” He examined your hand. “What exactly happened?”

“It’s just a little burn,” you replied with an exasperated huff.

But as you saw the worry on his face while he tended to your wound, your anger began to wane. “This is becoming really tiresome, Harry.”

He looked straight into your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to explain what’s going on between you and him. It clearly goes back a long way.”

He glanced at your hand again. “There’s nothing to explain.”

“Oh yeah? It certainly doesn’t look that way to me.”

He brought your hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss over the bandage. “Baby, I promise I’ll tell you everything later, but right now, we really need to go. Come on,” he said, taking your other hand and leading you to the car.

Harry stood behind you in the softly lit dressing room, carefully helping you zip up your dress. The fabric clung to you perfectly, and as you turned to admire yourself in the mirror, you felt a rush of excitement. He stepped closer, his presence both calming and electrifying. He gently brushed your hair back, a tender gesture that made your heart flutter. He fastened a delicate pearl necklace around your neck, the cool beads contrasting with the warmth of his kiss on your cheek. “You look absolutely stunning, darling,” he whispered, his lips brushing tantalizingly against your shoulder. His gaze locked onto your reflection, and he frowned slightly. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “This is our first formal event as a couple, and there will be many more to come, so you might as well get used to it." His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “Maybe someday you’ll be attending as Mrs. Castillo?” He grinned at your reflection.

You turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I would love that."

With a grin broadening across his face, he leaned in for a kiss that ignited a fire within you, passionate and consuming. His strong hands slid from your waist down to your hips, pulling you against him, trapping you between his body and the wardrobe door.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your heart racing. “Harry, we really should stop, or we won’t make it to the reception at all.”

He chuckled, his laughter rich. “Right,” he said, reluctantly releasing you and stepping back.

“It’s a good thing my lipstick is waterproof,” you joked, shooting him a playful smirk.

He licked his lips. “I loved the taste.”

“Strawberry,” you said, linking your arm through his.

“Mmm, that's nice,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But nothing beats your own taste; you’re ever so much more delicious.”

You covered his lips with your hand, giggling softly. “Shut… up,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You’re about to get me dangerously wet, ol' man.”

He kissed your palm before gently removing it from his mouth. “So, we’ll continue where we left off later?”

“Deal,” you giggled once more.

Before leaving the room together, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and whispered in your ear, “Can’t fuckin' wait, baby.”

“Everyone's staring at me,” you murmured, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you stepped into the hall where the event was taking place, with Harry right beside you.

“Of course they are; you’re the most beautiful woman here,” he whispered in your ear. It was sweet, but it didn’t do much to calm your nerves.

The room buzzed with chatter, the light baroque music playing softly in the background, glasses clinking, and the upper crust exchanging eye rolls. Harry was right—it was a scene you’d have to get used to being with him.

But it was a struggle...

As you and Harry made your way to the center of the hall, heads turned and eyes lingered on you. Some of Harry's friends approached, chatting you up. Harry beamed with pride as he introduced you, one hand gently tracing your back, warmed by the exposed skin of your dress. His touch calmed you, reminding you of his presence. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him as he spoke earnestly to the others; he looked so handsome and charming in his suit. You could feel the jealousy of the other women in the room directed at you.

“Where could Maria be?” Harry murmured, his eyes darting through the crowd.

She said she was coming, you thought, almost speaking out loud before recalling that you had to keep quiet about seeing her at the hotel earlier. Just then, a familiar face approached—his friend from the last wedding, the groom himself.

“How’s it going, man?” Harry greeted him with a hug.

“Hey Harry,” he replied with a smile, then turned to you. “Aren't you the waitress from my wedding?”

“Yes,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I owe you one. I heard from Lucas that you saved the wedding cake. Harry, you’re lucky to have such a diligent, versatil girlfriend,” he laughed heartily.

Harry turned to you, “I really am.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at his words.

“So, are you a chef or something since you're so talented?” he asked.

“Kind of. I'm doing an internship to become a pastry chef right now,” you said with a smile.

“That’s awesome. I bet you make some really tasty scones.”

“She totally does. They all taste amazing; you wouldn't even believe it,” Harry added with a proud smile. “My amazing girlfriend will have her certificate soon and plans to open her own shop.” He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and you smiled shyly.

Suddenly, a figure caught your eye—someone famous. Excitement surged through you as you recognized him. “It’s Sebastien Loeb, oh my God!” You turned to Harry, “Can I meet him, please?”

Harry squinted in that direction. “He’s a rally driver, right?”

“Yes! Nine-time WRC champion. His iconic car: The Citroën Xsara, but I can’t decide between the C4 and the DS3. I have to ask him how he aced that course in his last race.” You started moving toward him, leaving Harry momentarily behind.

His friend, clearly impressed, leaned in close to Harry. “She makes great desserts, watches rally racing, and knows about cars? Harry, you'd better marry her.”

Harry chuckled. “I absolutely will.” He winked at him before maneuvering through the crowd to catch up.

“Hello,” you greeted when you reached Sebastien.

“Hello there,” he replied, offering a friendly handshake. You gave it a squeeze. Just then, Harry showed up behind you, and he and Sebastien did the handshake thing too.

“I’m a huge fan, Mr. Loeb. It’s too bad you’re no longer racing. We need more talent like yours,” you said admiringly.

Sebastien laughed shyly. “I was surprised to see a lady watching the races; I’ve been surrounded by men all night,” he said, glancing at Harry, who smiled but seemed a bit uneasy. “May I ask what your favorite race is, ma’am?”

“Rally de France, bitche 2—your 60th victory and 7th championship, of course. What an incredible finish, passing Dani Sordo at the last moment. Racing in all that mud must’ve been challenging.”

“It certainly was; it was a memorable yet tough rally—I’ll never forget it,” he leaned in closer. “Between you and me, that race is my favorite too,” he said with a wink.

"What was your setup at that race btw?"

He rasied his eyebrows in surprise but continued. "Well for the alignment (Rear) Camber Angle -1.00 °. And brakes, force was 3030 Nm. And gear..."

"6th I presume?"

"Exactly."

"Perfect."

"Wow, I've never encountered a woman so enthusiastic to learn about car setup," he laughed.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

Harry forced a smile, but inside, he was drowning in jealousy.

Was Sebastien flirting with you?

“Darling,” he said, pulling you closer. “How about we grab a drink over there? I’m sure Mr. Loeb has plenty of people to chat with, right?”

Sebastien nodded. "Meeting a woman who knows so much about cars and is genuinely excited about them is a rare treat. You’re quite fortunate, Mr. Castillo."

Harry's grip on you tightened. “Absolutely—it’s fantastic to have such a unique woman. You can’t imagine how special she is to me."

You sensed the rising tension and extended your hand to Sebastien. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Loeb. You’re a legend and always will be,” you said, shaking his hand again, but Harry was pulling you back toward him.

“The honor is all mine. Just call me Sebastien next time we meet, and I really hope it’s soon.” He gave your hand a friendly shake.

“All right, Sebastien,” you replied, waving goodbye.

As some guys walked up to him, you turned to Harry while Sebastien was still chatting with them. “What's up with you, ol' man?” you asked.

“Are you seriously just going to talk to him all night?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous.”

He shrugged and grabbed a couple of champagne glasses from a tray held by a waiter. “I'm not.”

You took the glass he handed you. “Harry, he’s a 52-year-old married guy with a kid.”

“Good,” he replied, looking away while taking a sip.

You laughed, took a sip yourself, "I can't believe it." Then leaned in a bit closer, your fingers lightly brushing his collar. “You know... That’s actually kind of hot,” you said playfully, giving him a flirty look.

Harry met your gaze. “If you keep looking at me like that, baby, I might just scoop you up and dash out of here without caring who’s watching.”

You chuckled playfully and leaned in closer to him, bringing your lips near his ear. "And if you keep talking like that, mister, I'll get so wet I'll might have to take my panties off."

He swallowed, and you grinned at his look. "Fuck," he said quietly, realizing he was becoming hard. When you noticed what was going on, you put your hand to your lips and giggled. "Oops I didn't mean that."

"Naughty kitty," he said, laughing. "I have to punish you when we get home."

You playfully brushed against him with your thigh, a teasing smile on your lips. "Hmm, I can’t help but wonder what kind of punishment you have in store ol' man."

He reached back and squeezed the part of you that was touching him, his voice low and sultry. "I’ll be thinking about that all night long, baby." He followed up with a lingering kiss on your cheek, sending your heart racing.

Fortunately, people began to approach, chatting and mingling, which helped ease the sexual tension between you and him a bit.

Melanie and her mom made their way over, and even though you tried to tune them out, they invited you to join them. You decided to go along while Harry caught up with some friends for business. Still, even from a distance, you and Harry exchanged smiles and playful winks, the sparks between you never quite fading.

Melanie's mother, as usual, didn’t hold back in her uncouth and disrespectful manner, leaving your pride wounded as she continuously pointed out that, among other women, you worked as a housekeeper in her home. After excusing yourself, you stepped into the women's restroom, glanced at your reflection in the mirror, sighed deeply, and muttered to yourself that you had seen this coming, reminding yourself to stay calm. This was simply how the world worked, and it always would be; nothing truly mattered as long as Harry was by your side. Yet, your pride still stung—after all, there was no shame in earning a living through hard work.

Did they truly build their fortunes through their own hard work and determination?

Nope.

Some got lucky by being born into rich families, while others just married someone wealthy.

Those ruthless bitches.

Just then, the last person you'd hoped to see approached the sink next to you—Lucy. She turned on the faucet and caught your eye in the mirror, her expression a mix of complexity and calm. “You must be having a tough time,” she said while washing her hands.

“Excuse me?” You refused to meet her gaze as you dried your hands off.

“Those women—they're all about high society, luxury cars, opulent homes, and designer clothes. Their conversations make it feel like you come from a different world, right? It must be hard for you. Even though you dress like them, you don’t quite fit in,” she remarked, glancing at your dress and necklace while opting to dry her hands with a paper towel.

“Nothing changes with what you wear or where you live; it all comes down to who you are. If your heart is in the wrong place, you can drape yourself in the most beautiful outfits and still be ugly inside.”

She let out a laugh, one filled with disbelief. “You can preach all you like, but that doesn’t change reality.”

“I’d rather hold onto the truth I believe in,” you replied.

“There you are!”

You both turned to Melanie’s voice. She was glaring at Lucy, fury radiating from her. “You little snake! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Melanie, what are you doing?” you interjected.

Ignoring you, she zeroed in on Lucy. “This bitch is trying to set Nate up on a date. What is it? ‘Perfect match’? Now I'm going to make your face perfect match with my palm!” she shouted as she lunged at her.

You quickly grabbed her arm.

“Are you out of your mind? Your parents are right here! You need to snap out of it. Whatever issues you have with her, just try to talk it out.” You attempted to calm her, but she remained agitated.

Lucy quickly shook off her shock. “I’m just doing my job, helping my client, Miss Johnson,” she explained.

“Really? He’s my boyfriend, you bitch! Do you honestly believe he wants to marry? He’s just looking for a hookup!”

Well she had a point, it was Nate after all.

Lucy tucked her purse under her arm and glanced back at her before stepping out of the restroom. “I don’t know; he seemed sincere to me. Besides, he’ll definitely want to get married when he meets the right match I’ve found for him. I’m confident in my skills,” she said with a smug smile.

"You bitch!" she barked.

You grabbed her again but she was hard to restrain.

"Don’t yell! People will hear you. Do you really want to make a scene?"

She looked at you and asked, "Why are you covering for her?"

"I’m just looking out for you and your family. I don’t want you to embarrass your dad."

"Right. That girl you're defending was just talking to your boyfriend."

You stopped and pulled your hands away as she laughed, adjusting her dress. "Oops, huh? I heard they used to date. You’re mad at her, aren’t you?"

"There has to be a reasonable explanation," you insisted, though your frustration was hard to hide. "Keep on being reasonable, polyanna, but I'm gonna kick her ass," she said it and took off after her.

“Melanie! You really…” you called out, chasing after her.

Despite all your efforts, Melanie, as immature as ever, lunged at Lucy from behind, grabbed her hair, and yelled, acting like a cheap prostitute. At that moment, everyone turned to look at Jack and his wife. Anger, annoyance, and frustration were etched on his face, matched by the condemnation in the gazes of those around them. He didn’t deserve this.

Just as you were about to intervene with Melanie, a hand grasped your arm and pulled you back.

“Stay out of this; let her parents handle her,” Harry said, his voice as firm as his gaze. But it softened when he turned to you. "I think the night is over. How about we head out now?"

You looked at him and nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed. He wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked together toward the exit, but your eyes were still on Jack, Melanie, and her mother.

The people who had been focused on them were now absorbed in their drama, and you couldn't help but feel a little sad for them.

As the driver took you to Harry's house, a comfortable silence filled the car, even though your hands were intertwined. You were about to break the quiet and ask him about his conversation with Lucy when he turned to you at the same moment, both of you beginning to speak simultaneously.

"Lucy—"

"Why—"

You both chuckled at your coincidental timing.

"You go first."

"No, you tell me first," he replied, flashing a smile.

"Alright, I was curious about what you and Lucy talked about," you said, pressing your lips together, pressing your lips together, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

"Actually, that’s what I was gonna say."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so?"

‘Look, I generally brush her off in situations like this, but this time, it was about you, and I let her speak.’

"What did Lucy say about me?"

"She said there was something going on between you and Alan, and that it was messing with their relationship." He looked at you, his face serious.

"Harry, I—" You tried to argue, but he interrupted you with a gentle touch to your hair. "I know you wouldn’t do anything like that, and I get that he’s got this weird interest in you, but I really wish you would’ve said something."

"Harry, there’s nothing to say. He’s my boss, and I’m just putting up with it until I leave his hotel—nothing more."

"What do you mean, 'putting up with it'?"

Oops, wrong choice of words.

Damn it.

"So until my internship is over—"

"Did he say something inappropriate to you?" His tone turned angry.

You took his hands in both of yours, "No, don't worry, it’s nothing like that."

He seemed to search your eyes for the truth, remained unconvinced.

“But it’s not fair.”

"What’s not fair?"

"You want me to spill my secrets while you keep yours hidden. You said you're gonna tell me everything between you and Alan."

He let out a deep sigh. "You’re right. Alright, then I’ll share. Our families have known each other for a long time—our fathers were good friends until some tension grew between them." His expression shifted, as if he dreaded what he was about to reveal. "His father had feelings for... my mother, or at least that’s what my mother has said. She doesn't want to talk about it much. My father passed away when I was ten, so I never learned the whole story from him and I'm not sure about the details."

"Alan’s father had feelings for your mother? Was he married at that time?"

"Yeah, I was six—I have only faint memories of his father, and Alan was around my age."

"Well, that certainly clears things up."

"Every time we crossed paths at family gatherings, events... whatever they were, there was this fragile veneer of civility, yet beneath it, the tension simmered, thick and palpable. The gossip—my mother weathered so much of it. That’s why she hasn't stepped outside since my father passed. And since..." His voice quivered, breaking as shadows of the past lingered in his eyes.

In that moment, your heart ached for him. "Since what, Harry?"

He released a long, shaky sigh as if trying to exhale his sorrow. "Since my sister's death."

Your eyes widened in disbelief, a chill running through you. "Harry, I... I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry."

He looked fragile, a storm of emotions battling just beneath the surface, and without thinking, you slid closer, wrapping your arms around him, offering solace. He bowed his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your hair, grounding you both in that moment. "It’s alright, baby. I was young; it’s been a long time." His fingers grazed through your hair, a comforting gesture, before he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. A faint smile broke through the sorrow. "I should take you to meet my mother. She can’t leave the house, but we can go see her."

You froze, feeling a rush of tension. "Don’t you think it’s too soon?"

He caressed your cheek with his knuckles. "Too soon for you, perhaps, but late for me. I’m an old man remember? I don’t want to miss a single moment with you, darling. We should embrace everything life has to offer, fast and fully as a couple.” His voice lowered to a whisper in your ear, filled with sincerity, before he leaned down, capturing your lips with a soft kiss. "You’re my everything.”

The week flew by, and at last, Chef Bruno announced that you would be able to wrap up your internship the following week. A wave of relief washed over you—not only would you finally be free from the daily trek to the hotel for work, but you also hadn’t seen Alan in days.

Now, the focus shifted to working hard until the fair, where you planned to build your brand by creating original desserts and baked goods to showcase. Thankfully, your billionaire boyfriend Harry had a spacious kitchen that you could use. Since you were planning to move in with him anyway—especially after Zoe and John's relationship sped up your decision—the transition felt exciting.

The day you left home with your suitcase to move into Harry's penthouse could easily have been the happiest day of your life. Both of you seemed thrilled that your relationship had reached this milestone, and everything was going smoothly.

Throughout the week, while Harry was at work, you were busy at home, baking as many desserts and pastries as possible. When he returned, he devoured them all and offered his critiques.

On the weekend, you realized you were low on supplies and had to hit up the supermarket for a big grocery run. Harry stepped in to help, and you both went to the mall together, like a married couple.

He also mentioned that he wanted to try baking cupcakes for the first time, which you found cute and encouraged him to do. While you were busy whipping up the cream, the oven timer chimed. Harry slipped on his oven mitts and carefully pulled a tray of cupcakes out of the oven. “Here’s my first solo batch,” he said with a proud smile.

As you looked at the cupcakes, you noticed they were a bit too light in color. “Hmm, babe, don’t you think they look a little undercooked? They probably need more time in the oven,” you suggested.

Dipping your finger into one of the cupcakes, you lifted it up to find the batter still runny. Licking your fingertip, you joked, “Here’s a little advice: if it’s still runny, it’s not a cupcake; it’s a beverage.” With a chuckle, you returned to whipping the cream on the counter.

“Alright, I’ll pop these ‘runny’ amigos back in the oven,” Harry said, putting the tray back.

“And please increase the time,” you said without looking at him.

But he couldn't help but gaze at you from behind, admiring how you looked while cooking. Out of the blue, he wrapped his arms around you and showered your cheek and neck with quick, playful kisses.

“Harry, stop! You’re going to make me spill the cream. What are you doing?”

He gently swept your hair to one side, revealing your shoulder, and you felt his lips caress your skin. “I can’t resist; you look stunning, whipping up delicious treats in my kitchen, like you're already my wife,” he murmured softly, making you giggle.

His hand slid up your thighs beneath your skirt, lingering just above your hem. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself when you’re wearing that dress?"

Your heart began to race. "Harry..." you murmured.

He lifted the hem of your dress and pressed himself against you. You gasped as you felt how hard he was. You almost dropped the cream container.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, spun you around, and lifted you onto the counter. Before you could even process what was happening, he pressed his lips against yours. What started as a sweet kiss quickly turned into something much more passionate, and without thinking, you instinctively draped your arms around his neck, spreading your legs for him. He leaned in closer, drawing you to the edge of the counter. One hand rested on your hips while the other gently traced its way along your thighs. He let out a soft moan as you wrapped your legs around his waist, his clothed cock teasing you in a delightful way.

Now you were as eager as he was, consumed with a sudden desire.

What a beautiful persuasion, what a beautiful surrender.

"All right," you said, breaking the kiss with difficulty. "But let's hurry, there are lots of cupcakes and desserts to make." you said as you tried to take off your kitchen apron, but his fingers had already reached behind you and untied the apron string.

"We've got 15 minutes."

His hands reached under the skirt cupping your ass, picked you up, then turned you around, reset the timer, and turned the heat down a bit. "Make it 30," he said with a smirk

You raised one eyebrow, "Slow cooking... Hmm, that could totally be a new way to get a better crust. I can’t wait to try these."

"Me too but first, I want to relish on that sweet pussy of yours," he said kissing you again, sending delightful shivers through your spine.

His words were enough to turn you on.

It was hot... so damn hot..

With that, he carried you in his arms to the bedroom, taking your panties off and throwing them only-god-knows-where on his way.

Your moans and giggles echoing around the hall.

“Now, get ready guys… here comes the red velvet cake—the angel on the outside, the devil on the inside.” You proudly presented your dessert to everyone gathered around Harry's large table in the dining room, where Maria, Mia, Oliver, Zoe, John, and Harry were all eagerly tasting and voting on the treats you had whipped up throughout the evening.

Maria was the first to raise her hand. “I’m giving this dessert an 8, darling, I’m not a fan of the sweetness from the white chocolate.”

“I’ll try adding agave next time; I’d love for you to give it a shot,” you replied with a smile. “How about you all?”

Oliver chimed in, “I’d give it a 9.”

Zoe followed, saying, “I also give it a 9.”

"I think it’s a 9 for me too," John added, sharing a smile with Zoe.

You turned to Mia. “What about you sweetheart?”

“I think it’s a 9 as well,” Mia said.

All eyes shifted to Harry, waiting for his verdict. “I’m giving it a 10, it’s fantastic. Can we even go higher than that and give it an 11?” He grinned at you, and you laughed, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

Maria rolled her eyes. “You’ve been giving everything a 10 that your girlfriend has made tonight. I’m not sure how objective you’re being.”

Shrugging, “But she did make everything amazing,” Harry said, lifting your hand and kissing it softly. “You’re going to shine at that fair, baby.”

"Yeah, I know you’ll do great," Zoe added supportively.

“Did you find the brand name?” Maria asked. “Mia and I put together a list for you, didn’t we bunnie?”

“Yeah, here it is,” Mia said, pulling out her tablet and setting it on the table. You quickly glanced at it.

“Wow, this is all fantastic, ladies. Good job, It's tough to choose, though.”

“Honey, we should probably get going,” Zoe said as she stood up.

You looked at her, “Okay, thanks for coming, guys,” as you hugged both her and John.

“Good luck at the fair,” John smiled at you.

“Thank you John."

“Good night, everyone! See ya,” Zoe called as the others waved goodbye.

“See you later,” Harry said as you followed them towards the door.

“Thanks for being cool about John coming along,” you said to Harry as they stepped into the lift.

“When I say ‘let me into your world,’ I mean that John is part of it since he’s your cousin’s boyfriend. It’s all good. Besides, everything between us is just a minor blip from the past,” he said.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and sighed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mi amor,” he said softly, pulling you close and kissing you.

Just then, a throat clearing interrupted the moment. You both pulled back and turned to see Maria standing there, her phone in hand.

“Harry, you need to see this,” she said, handing him her mobile.

The smile faded from Harry’s face as he glanced at the screen before returning it to her.

“What happened?” you asked, feeling a knot of worry forming.

“Alan…” he mumbled.

“His mother has passed away,” Maria added.

Silence hung in the air as you studied Harry. “Are you going to the funeral?”

“No, it wouldn’t feel right for me to go,” he replied.

You gently touched his arm. “But you’re not responsible for what happened in the past, Harry. Besides, it’s a funeral.”

“Still, I don’t think I’d want to see him if I were him,” he said.

“Harry is right, I’ll go,” Maria suggested.

Sensing an undertone in Maria’s voice that left you uneasy. She was somehow keeping something from Harry about her conversation with Alan earlier that day, and it made you feel uneasy.

Finally, the day you had eagerly anticipated arrived. It was the end of your internship, and Chef Bruno was set to hand you the letter for your certification. Harry had been called away from the company early that day, so you decided to go on your own.

The walk wasn’t far anyway.

Upon entering the hotel lobby, you were taken aback by the sight of a crowd gathered there. You recognized the doorman and approached him. “What’s going on? Why is everyone gathered here?”

“Mr. Finnegan,” he replied, his voice laced with distress. “He’s declared that no one can enter the bar or dining room, and the customers are absolutely furious.”

“Is he okay?” you asked, remembering he had just lost his mother. You understood the pain of loss all too well.

“Honestly, I've worked here for 20 years, and I’ve never seen him like this before,” the doorman replied.

“Is Bruno around?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the kitchen, thanks.”

As you made your way toward the kitchen, murmurs of anxiety rippled through the air, the tension palpable. You pulled out your mobile phone, scrolled through your contacts for Bruno’s name, and pressed call. As it rang, you took off your coat, draping it casually over a chair, while casting glances at the other waiters, whose faces mirrored the stark worry that filled the room. They were nervous about Alan, how he had secluded himself in the dining room for hours, demanding solitude. When Bruno called to say he would be late, your anxiety heightened.

What a last day at the hotel!

It was supposed to be a celebration in the air, but instead, there was worry, sadness, and frustration.

You started to feel bored waiting in the kitchen with the other waiters. You decided to glance through the door to the dining room, and it shocked you. Alan sat at a table, his clothes disheveled, hair in disarray, and clearly upset. Despite your previous feelings toward him—you clearly didn't like him—a wave of pity washed over you.

Marvelous.

After a while, he called out to the waiters, who exchanged worried glances. No one seemed brave enough to approach him in his current state.

You made a decision that you suspected you might regret later. “I’ll go,” you said, trying to reassure them while putting yourself in a highly tense situation.

As you stepped into the dining room and walked toward his table, he didn’t look up initially, but once you stood beside him, his gaze met yours, surprise evident on his face.

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” you said softly, barely above a whisper but sincerely.

You felt uncomfortable under his intense stare and quickly looked away.

“Please, sit down,” he urged, almost pleadingly.

Usually, you wouldn’t have done so—after all, he wasn’t your boss anymore. But given his distress, you took a seat.

“Alan, you really need to gather yourself,” you said coolly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be alright soon. Don’t worry.”

“Not that I’m worried, but your actions are really causing a stir among the customers, and the staff are starting to feel uneasy. And let's not even get started on the reporters hanging around."

“Do you really think I care about them? I’m done caring about anyone or anything,” he said, his tone stern as he focused on you. “Except you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, don’t start that again.”

“Oh, honey, I haven’t even begun yet, trust me.”

Your arms crossed defensively. “What in the world are you talking about?”

He leaned in closer, his face getting serious. “Just end things with Harry.”

What the fuck?

What on earth was he saying?

“Alan, I think you should—”

“You won’t? Fine. Then I’ll ruin him.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you tried to comprehend his words. “What are you even talking about?”

“My mother died because of his mother.”

“Harry isn’t to blame. This is something that happened ages ago.”

“My mother fought cancer for years; she couldn’t cope with my father’s betrayal. She meant everything to me. Now I’ve lost my mother, my all, and he will lose everything too.”

You stood up abruptly. “Look, you’re clearly too upset and possibly drunk to understand what you’re saying.”

“No, I’m completely clear-headed. I’ve waited years, held back by my mother’s presence, but that’s over now.” He rose, taking a step toward you. “I’m going to make the Castillo family pay for what they did to mine.”

Anger bubbled within you; this was too much. “Alan, snap out of it. You aren’t solving anything this way. I get your pain, but this is excessive.”

He laughed hysterically. “Excessive? Is that what you think?” Then he grabbed your shoulders. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like to watch my mother suffer in the hospital for all those years?” he shouted, startling you.

Just then, Bruno entered the dining room. "Mr. Finnegan."

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you said nervously.

Bruno took in the situation with a disapproving look but nodded and returned to the kitchen.

But Alan wouldn’t let you go, gripping your wrist tightly. “Let go of my arm, now,” you said through gritted teeth.

Instead of releasing you, he tightened his hold and leaned in close to your ear. “Don’t forget, every moment you choose to stay with him only brings more trouble for him. I’ll make sure of that.”

You jerked your arm free from his grasp. “Your eyes are clouded with anger. You’re not thinking clearly. I love Harry, and nothing will come between us. I'm not leaving him, no matter what you do, understand?”

A wicked smile crept onto his face. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so confident, honey. You have no clue what I’m capable of.”

“Do your worst,” you shot back.

“I will,” he replied ominously.

You couldn’t despise him more at that moment.

Throwing him a disgusted look, you turned away and strode out of the room with quick, determined steps.

Yet, deep down, an unsettling worry clung to you like a shadow, gnawing incessantly at your thoughts about Harry and his family.

After you left, Alan took his cell phone out of his pocket and called someone. “Start foreclosure proceedings.” After hanging up, he let out a soft, almost sinister chuckle to himself.

“You’ll have no choice but to come to me, sweetheart.”

Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, likes, and reblogs. I'd love to hear what you think about the chapter!

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cultkinkcoven · 7 months ago

Text

Things for beginners to know before starting demonolatry or demonology practices

1. The classifications of demons were written by humans, not demons.

Different occult schools of thought will have different understandings of the Hierarchies of Hell, whether Hell even exists, and what attributes are associated with each demon. In some sects Lucifer reigns supreme Emperor of Hell, in others it is Sammael, Moloch, or Baal. It all depends on the perspective of the practitioner. All of these models are equally correct and incorrect. Documentation of de(a)mons were often written by right hand practitioners who saw them as evil, therefore their negative attitudes are emphasized. Other times devotees have documented the same entity as being very kind and affectionate. It is incredibly important to take into account who is speaking whenever you read about demons. No single book or author can deliver to you the most **objective** facts about these demons or the model of reality, if they claim to, they’re lying to you. You as the practitioner must discover and decide what reins true in your reality. Teachers and gurus may influence you but ultimately you must make the decision for yourself.

2. Assume all spirits are multi dimensional

Lucifer, the light bringer, is also the spirit of darkness. He is the sweet prince and the adversary, he is a devil and an angel. It is extremely rare that you will encounter a spirit that is only one thing. There is a little bit of truth to everyone’s interactions. To a Luciferian, Lucifer is a guide, a companion, and a positive presence. To a Christian he is an adversary, a tempter, liar and bringer of evil ; and there is an entire rainbow of other experiences that contribute to the understanding of “Lucifer”. Demons are not all good nor are they all bad, trying to paint them in only one light will only lead to disappointment and confusion. It is just as foolish to assume that a so called angel will always be pleasant and nice, as it is to assume a so called demon will be terrible and mean. Every energy interacts with every person uniquely.

3. Scary and intimidating doesn’t automatically mean “evil”

Nice and pleasing doesn’t automatically mean “good”

If you’re interacting with demons or spirits associated with death, it shouldn’t be very surprising that they’re dark, mysterious, or have a frightening appearance. If you’re dealing with demons or spirits of sex and lust, it shouldn’t be very surprising that they’re alluring, attractive, or beautiful. This doesn’t mean that the scary demon is going to kill you, and this doesn’t mean that the sexy demon is going to fuck you. There are very likely going to be times when your demons will scare you. This doesn’t mean that they’re going to hurt you or possess you (they shouldn’t be frightening you to the point of constant paranoia, but seeing some “disturbing” or strange imagery isn’t out of the norm when you’re contacting a de(a)mon).

If you enter a deep dark cave looking for a bear, don’t be surprised when you see sharp teeth. Demons of violence may summon gory imagery. Demons of death my feel cold and distant. A large part of demonolatry is understanding your fear and overcoming it.

4. Yeah, it’s intense.

Okay. This is hard for me to explain. Infernal spirits and angels alike are entities that force you to confront your innermost self and change. It’s not always spooky and scary and whimsical. Sometimes it’s losing your dead end job, having a serious breakup, losing toxic friends, or having a personal epiphany. When I say it’s intense, I don’t mean that I’m levitating and seeing gnarly gory shit and summoning demons while covered in blood all the time. I have dreams and experiences of course, but seeing a demon work is not about the theatrics. Are you ready to confront the things you rrrrreeaaaaalllly don’t want to think about? Your trauma, the lies you tell yourself to get through the day, and the toxic cycles you comfort yourself with?

Lord Lucifer has made me cry many MANY times. But it was never because he hurt or scared me. I’ve seen many demonolaters refer to Lucifer as a therapist and I couldn’t agree more. He not only changes your understanding of yourself, but others and the world. Through this understanding you can change yourself, and others, and the world.

5. You as the practitioner need to be able to withstand the symptoms of your demonic relationships

Being in a relationship with Lilith or Asmoday is not an excuse to develop a porn addiction. Being in a relationship with Lucifer does not give you the right to psychoanalyze all of your friends, being in a relationship with Eligos is not an excuse to destroy all of your relationships or be cruel towards others. Demons represent energies and concepts that are unfavourable to the masses. When working with Astaroth I will feel more lustful, just by being in her proximity. That is not justification to cheat on my partner or force myself onto him. As much as demons like Lucifer for example can inspire us to be wise and sharp, he can also influence us to be vein and narcissistic. We must always be aware of these effects and resist them, working with demons and shadows does not mean becoming the worst version of ourselves, quite the contrary. Interacting with these negative aspects is meant to show you how to overcome them.

6. Demons cannot and will not replace your relationships with humans

I am very pro godspousing and having friendly and affectionate relationships with demons and spirits. Having said that, as much as our spirits may love us and care for us, they will not be the ones to text you good morning. They will not make you soup when you’re sick, or buy you flowers after a hard day. Demons are guides and companions, but they are not people. Trying to use demons to solve your loneliness will only lead to heart ache. You very much can have a sincere relationship with a demon or other spirit, but be aware that that relationship will not mimic your relationships with humans, and it shouldn’t. Gods and demons are not humans, therefore your relationships with them will not feel human.

7. There’s always more to learn

Devotion to any spirit is an endeavour that can take years or even a lifetime. Your work is not done because you read 3 books and browsed the Occult Wiki for an hour and a half. Become very dedicated to learning about your demons of interest and the culture that surrounds them. Yes, this means boring, tedious research.

8. No, ______ is not mad at you. Please talk to them

You will at some point inevitably do something wrong, especially if you are freshly initiated. Demons understand that we are human, we make mistakes. Instead of becoming paranoid and avoiding your demon out of fear of consequences, put on your big boy pants and confront them directly. Understand what you did wrong and learn from your mistake. There may or may not be consequences, every demon is different. But making yourself sick thinking they’re going to smite you down doesn’t make anything better. I guarantee you that talking to them about it will serve you a million times better than running away.

9. You need to know your boundaries BEFORE you reach out

As important as it is to research your demons, it is equally important to research yourself. You need to have strict boundaries that you will not negotiate. These boundaries should be outlined in your contract if you have one. If blood magic is uncomfortable for you, don’t allow any demon or spirit to coerce you into giving it until you are ready. If you’re a minor you’re more than allowed to not do sex magic. This relationship belongs to you as much as it does your demon(s). If it doesn’t serve you, simply refuse it.

10. On that note, demons can and will reject you. You can and will reject them as well.

On many occasions I have approached spirits who did not want to work with me at the moment. Sometimes they end up showing up later in my life, other times they never do. Oftentimes this is because of an incongruency on an alchemical level, we just aren’t meant for each other. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re doing anything wrong. Sometimes you are, but your demon or deity will usually make that clear to you in some way. Don’t force it. If I’m already terribly preoccupied with life or other spiritual relationships, I’m within my right to reject another demon trying to enter my circle. That isn’t a rude thing to do. I’m within my right to deny a ritual I don’t have the energy or resources for. We can put it on the back burner for now.

Likewise, if a demon or spirit is repeatedly overstepping my boundaries or harming me in any way, I can (and should) leave that demon. If I’m not doing enough or causing insult, that demon can leave me. As binding as devotional contracts can be, we are not trapped with each other if we choose not to be.

11. Protection shouldn’t only be against spirits. Be very aware of your surroundings and the people around you

Learn the power of secrecy. As a Luciferian living in an extremely conservative area, I have to be extremely careful about when my pendants are visible. I have to be careful when entering certain places because I don’t want to be hate crimed or harassed. Yes, being out and proud of my demonic relationships is very important to me, but it is not worth risking real danger from bigots, or risking my employment. When I go to work, I have to leave my Lucifer ring at home, not because my work is discriminatory, but because I don’t know when I’m speaking to a christofascist grandma who would make a complaint to my boss because she saw my devotional ring. I don’t know which of my coworkers would make my life more difficult if they knew about my practice. If you are visible, people will approach you and make comments. Now, there are those of us who don’t give a fuck, and on most days I don’t. But for those of us who are vulnerable to that kind of discrimination, please be aware.

12. Self mutilation is not demonolatry

If you choose to offer blood it should be no more than a few drops. You should be using safe tools like a lancet, and disinfecting the area you extract from. This should be done in the least harmful manner possible. Devotional markings or tattoos should be done by a professional.

13. This stuff takes time. Relax

These relationships don’t develop in 24 hours. It takes a tremendous amount of repeated effort to gain the favour of a demon or spirit. If you’re not getting the results you want, take a break, reevaluate your methods, and try again later.

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