dontenchantme

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[dontenchantme]

Pics from the Collar X Malice Official Artbook (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

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Them

[dontenchantme]

country roads take me home - part one

Rated E, Solomon x MC

never trust a beautiful man. all they know how to do is to lie.

inspired by this fic, will make more sense if you read it first!

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She stared out of the window as the roads passed by, unfamiliar in the daytime. Now that she thought about it, wasn’t it strange how she ended up here, smack in the middle of nowhere?

The cab driver adjusted the rear-view mirror, and she managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes in the glass. They were an almost unsettling shade of blue, but she couldn’t figure out why it made her so uneasy. Then he pulled down his cap, hiding his eyes from view once more.

“How far away are we from the nearest town?” she asked, drumming her fingers against her knee. With her phone battery flat, there was nothing to distract her from her boredom, and the scenery had long lost its appeal. She desperately wanted to get to civilisation.

“It’s quite a ride. I don’t know how you managed to trek all the way here, but it’s going to take an hour at least.” He sounded as tired as he looked. But not the voice of an older man, like she initially assumed. “Do you want to change your destination?”

“It’s fine.” She didn’t know anywhere else she could go. And she had to get to her meeting point by the end of the day – the last thing she wanted was for people to think something had happened to her. She’d dealt with the police once, and she’d prefer not to do it again.

He fell silent, and for a while, she weighed the pros and cons of trying to start a conversation. Generally, she favoured quiet drivers who didn’t distract her with meaningless chatter, but it was just too quiet, and the mind-numbing boredom was getting to her head.

“Do you know Asmodeus?” she asked, finally deciding to break the ice. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t – part of her was already beginning to wonder if the previous night was nothing more than a dream. But he let out a laugh at the mention of Asmodeus, a harsh bark that grated on her ears, and glanced over his shoulder at her.

She still couldn’t quite see his face, but she could see a hint of a smile curving his lips, almost a smirk. Something about him made her uncomfortable, but she couldn’t place a finger on what. “Why? Do you have a sweet, lovesick message for him? He’s not going to respond.”

“Huh?” She couldn’t hide her confusion even if she wanted to. He turned back to the road ahead, vast and open, emptiness stretching on for miles.

“I’ve seen too many people lose themselves within him. Searching for a master who refuses to beckon them home.” He heaved a sigh. “But you. You’re not quite like them, are you?”

“I…don’t think so?” She was starting to think he might just be a little bit mad. Living out here in all this wilderness probably didn’t do him any favours. She contemplated her situation; if he was crazy, then maybe it’d be a good idea to get out of the cab now.

But then, she hadn’t seen any other cars drive down this road the entire time she was in the cab, and she didn’t want to risk being stranded once again. It was unlikely that she’d find yet another old castle to take refuge in. And even if she did, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

He hummed, sounding pleased for some reason. “Indeed, you’re most definitely not.”

She waited for him to continue, to elaborate on what he meant by those cryptic words, but of course, he clammed up entirely after that, refusing to add on to the topic. Silence reigned in the cab, and she looked out of the window again, watching the cloudless blue sky.

Time passed. She didn’t know how long, but she must have fallen asleep at some point; the first thing she realised as her eyelids fluttered open was that the cab was no longer moving. She tried to turn her head to view her surroundings, and immediately her neck protested, the stiff muscles sending sharp bolts of pain down her back.

The driver’s seat was empty. She forced herself to ignore the dull ache in her neck, looking around to get a sense of where she was – the first thing she saw was a gas station, and she figured that was where the cab driver had disappeared to.

Her stomach rumbled, and she winced – she hadn’t realised just how hungry she was. The air outside shimmered, heatwaves rising from black tar, and she guessed that it was probably around noon by now. How was it that she still had yet to reach her destination?

Or…was there a reason for the delay? Was her cab driver a kidnapper? A sex trafficker? Her stomach let out another growl, but she felt sick – the possibilities swirled around her mind, a never-ending parade of terrible outcomes. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep so readily.

She reached for the door, deciding that maybe she should take her chances with the great outdoors. She did it once, she could probably do it again – and if not, there was always the gas station. Maybe she could borrow a phone, try to get a friend to rescue her or something.

But the door refused to open. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to think. So, her cab driver had locked the door. There was no need to panic – he probably just wanted to prevent people from driving off with his cab. That was understandable.

She glanced out of the window and saw the gas station doors sliding open. Out came the cab driver, and she noticed that he wasn’t wearing his cap – instead, he was fanning himself with it, holding on to a bottle of water with his other hand. She squinted, trying to make out his features from afar, and she realised that her suspicions were right. He was young.

He approached the cab, and she quickly fell back against the seat, pretending that she was still asleep. He was whistling, and she listened for the sound of the door unlocking, deciding she would bolt once she was able to – but then she heard a loud click alarmingly close to her face and she opened her eyes to see a bottle of water thrust in front of her.

“Have some water. It’s stupidly hot right now.” She looked up, meeting the gaze of the driver – his yellow-blue eyes watched her, his expression unreadable. She hesitated, still suspicious of his intentions, but her gaze was drawn to the drops of condensation rolling slowly down the plastic and, seized by an overwhelming thirst, she reached for the drink.

“Thanks,” she muttered, twisting the cap and taking large, greedy gulps – the cool liquid ran down her throat, soothing the sudden fire that had sprung up from nowhere. He nodded, shutting the door and going back to the driver’s side. Neither of them said a word as he pulled out of the gas station, resuming the long drive through the centre of nothingness.

Time passed again, and even with the aircon on full blast it was starting to feel like an oven in the cab – she plucked listlessly at her shirt, attempting to cool herself to no avail. She idly considered dumping the water on her head but decided that she’d rather not have the driver shouting at her, so she leant against the seat and tried to find ways to distract herself.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked. It was weird to hear her voice after such a long period of silence. He didn’t respond at first, simply reaching up to adjust the rear-view mirror.

She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever get a response when he finally cleared his throat. “Solomon,” he said. He offered nothing more than that, and she frowned, trying to figure out what to ask next – he was her only conversation partner, and she was desperate.

If she went another minute in this empty, silent hellhole, she might go mad. “And how long have you been a cab driver?” It couldn’t have been that long, given how young he looked.

“Hm. I don’t know. I’m not a real cab driver,” he answered, sounding distracted. “It’s just something I do for extra cash. We're all about the gig economy, you know?”

Well, that didn’t sound reassuring. “Could you tell me more about where we’re headed?” The nearest town wasn't very near if they were still on the road after all this time.

“It’s just some town. I can’t remember the name.” Another offhand comment. She stared at the back of his head, wondering if he was serious. “Think we’ll be there in…an hour or so?”

“Another hour?” Unbelievable. She wondered how her car was doing, stuck on the side of the road. She liked that pile of junk, even if it broke down with alarming regularity. It was a car she had bought with her own money, but it was starting to seem like she might not see it again.

“Uh-huh.” He glanced back at her then, one eyebrow raised. “Is there a problem? I figured you’d want to know more about your current condition, so that’s the best place to go.”

Her irritation dissipated. “My current condition?” she echoed, wondering what he was talking about. She was sure she was fine. Better than fine, even – she recalled her reflection from this morning, how all the scars and marks and blemishes had disappeared from her skin.

Was that what he meant by a condition? Sure, it was weird, but it didn’t seem to be hurting her. “Yeah. Didn’t you notice anything unusual after you encountered Asmodeus?”

“Um. All the marks on my skin are gone. Bruises, blemishes, surgical scars, everything.” Which she didn’t think was a bad thing but was certainly strange. “And…” She hesitated, then took a deep breath and decided to continue. “I’m sure that when I first visited the castle, it was still in good condition. Pretty well-maintained. But in the morning…that was no longer the case.”

“Okay. And Asmodeus was gone, yes?” There was no surprise in his voice, and that made her feel slightly better. It sounded like he believed her. Like she wasn’t going crazy or anything.

“That’s right.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, twirling soft linen around her finger. She could still smell the warmth of cedar lingering on the fabric. “Do you know where he went?”

“Mm, not exactly. He only shows up when he wants to. I don’t keep track of his location, and I don’t intend to either.” Solomon sounded faintly annoyed. “I’m curious. Do you recall seeing any punctures on your body? Like your neck, your thighs, your shoulders? Anywhere at all?”

Abruptly she remembered the twin marks on both sides of her neck. Like two sets of double-pronged needles had stabbed her in her sleep. “Yes…” She was starting to get a bad feeling about this entire situation. “You’re not going to tell me he’s a vampire, are you?”

She laughed as she spoke, trying to pretend there wasn’t a growing pit of dread threatening to swallow her whole. Vampires couldn’t exist. There was no evidence, nothing to prove that such beings were more than myth and legend – but he was being strangely quiet, and some part of her withdrew into herself, desperately trying to avoid her newfound awareness.

“What if I said he was?” His answer was light, conversational. She swallowed, a hand reaching up to touch the markings – she could feel the indentations in her skin, tiny holes that certainly weren’t there the day before. Too big to be an insect bite. Too small to be anything else.

“If he…if he truly is a vampire,” she began, her voice shaky, “then what will happen to me?”

He met her gaze again, and she stared back at him, afraid. There was something almost like pity in his eyes. “That’s where I’m bringing you. Somewhere you’ll get your answers.”

She nodded, unable to find the words to speak, and they continued to drive in silence, her thoughts whirling around her head. A vampire. What did that make her?

She dozed off again during the trip and was roused by someone shaking her. They were not gentle. “Oi. Get out. I need to park the car.”

It was a vaguely familiar voice. Blearily, she forced her eyes open, trying to rub the drowsiness away – when she looked out of the window, she blinked, startled by the change in the landscape.

Previously, they had been driving through open roads, the surroundings alternating between grassy plains and desert sand. But now the light was soft, dappled, filtering through the thick canopy of trees to illuminate the lush grass below. It looked like they were somewhere in the woods, though how he’d managed to drive his cab through all these trees eluded her.

“Where are we?” she asked, trying to shake off the remnants of her tiredness. It was inhumane to make anyone sit in a car for this long. Solomon didn’t answer, simply taking a step back so she could clamber out of the cab. The surrounding air was cool, and it made a nice change.

“Don’t leave your trash behind,” he complained, diving into the cab and taking out her empty bottle. She took it from him with a guilty murmur of thanks, trying to look for a trashcan. Given how there was nothing but trees and greenery around her, she didn’t manage to find one.

Solomon locked his car, leaving it in the middle of the grassy clearing, and started to walk off. She scrambled after him, not wanting to be stranded alone in the middle of the woods. “You should let me know where we’re headed!” she yelled, trying to keep up with him as he picked his way through the undergrowth. He was surprisingly quick for someone so tall, and on quite a few occasions she almost walked right into some obstacle that he had managed to avoid.

Trekking through the woods was tiring, but at the same time, it was peaceful. She enjoyed the silence, though she also realised that it was too quiet – there was no birdsong, no movement in the undergrowth, not even any bugs coming to attack her.

“Where are we going?” she called, hoping to get a response this time. Solomon glanced over his shoulder at her, a shadow of a smile on his face, and beckoned to her. She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he had up his sleeve, but she approached him nevertheless.

“We’re almost there. Just a tiny bit further,” he said when she was closer, close enough to see the traces of gold that flecked his blue eyes. She frowned. Funny, she was sure that his eyes were a murky shade of yellow-blue, but before she could question any further, he ducked through a gap between two trees and she had to go after him, careful not to lose her guide.

They broke into another grassy clearing, and the first thing she noticed within it was a perfect circle of mushrooms. A fairy ring. She suddenly recalled the old stories about the fae, how they gathered in fairy circles and spirited away any mortals unfortunate enough to come across them, and a shiver ran down her spine. After what Solomon suggested about her bite marks, she wasn’t taking any chances. “What are we doing here?” she demanded.

“Hm? Visiting the town, of course. You want answers, don’t you?” He stepped forward, but she didn’t follow him, still suspicious. He chuckled. “You aren’t going to learn anything if you just stay outside the boundary. This gate leads to the town I mentioned.”

She blinked. “This…gate?” she echoed, squinting at the mushrooms. They looked like they might be poisonous, but there was nothing else special about them, and she wondered if Solomon was trying to pull a fast one.

He looked at her as though she had said something stupid. “What did you think it was?”

“A ring of mushrooms?” He drew a breath, looking like he wanted to say something, but then he paused and shook his head, seemingly disappointed. She frowned. Did he think this was common sense or something? It wasn’t like she was an expert on supernatural beings.

“Come here and close your eyes,” he instructed, and deciding to listen to the words of the strange man, she stepped over the mushrooms, joining him in the middle of the circle. He murmured something in a language she didn’t understand, but there was something very familiar about it, like the shadow of a dream fleeing from the morning sun – she felt a strong, compelling urge to shut her eyes, and she followed her instinct, her world turning dark.

The ground beneath her feet shifted and she almost stumbled, but then a hand gripped her shoulder – his touch sent a sudden tingle through her skin, like static without the pain – and she managed to find her footing. It felt like the ground was sinking, and moments later a cool, almost liquid sensation enveloped her. She was tempted to peek, but there was a mysterious force freezing her in place and she couldn’t move any part of her body.

She tried to say something, but her mouth refused to open and she couldn’t make a single sound. It was terrifying, but before she could really start to panic, he cleared his throat. “You can open your eyes now.” And open them she did – the first thing she noticed was the wavy lavender grass surrounding her, nothing like the silent woods they had stepped into.

It was beautiful. Now that she could see, it felt like her other senses were slowly returning to her, and when she inhaled she could smell something floral. She didn’t recognise what flower it was, but it was intoxicating all the same – she took another deep breath, allowing the scent to settle in her lungs. The air itself seemed to shimmer, almost like a mirage. She swore she could see traces of…something around her, some kind of mystic, unidentifiable power.

“Don’t get distracted. We still have some way to go.” She glanced at her companion when he spoke and she blinked, taking in the sight of him. Solomon frowned back at her. “What?”

“You look…different.” That was putting it mildly. He still had the same white hair, still had the same blue eyes, but within them she could see the flecks of gold she’d noticed earlier, shimmering as they caught the watery sunlight. He had always been attractive, but in an unassuming way, almost blending into the background – now, she couldn’t figure out what had changed, but he had become impossibly beautiful, all sharp eyes and pouty lips and alabaster skin.

Just like Asmodeus, there was something almost inhuman about him, and unease nestled in her gut. Her gaze landed on his ears – were they always that pointy? She didn’t recall; he had been wearing a cap for most of the trip, and it was hard to make out his features sometimes.

“Do I?” A smile tugged at his lips, knowing, almost seductive. Her heart thudded. “Maybe you were tired from the journey, so you didn’t notice. I’ve always looked this way.”

She scowled. He most certainly had not – she remembered her first glimpse of his face when he left the gas station, and while he was handsome, he still looked decidedly normal. Not the kind of person who could take her breath away with just a smile or a lingering look.

“Where are we headed?” She decided to change the subject; it didn’t seem like he would tell her the truth anytime soon, and she didn’t want to waste time pressing the issue.

“Mm, to my hometown. Follow me, and don’t wander.” He turned towards a narrow path she was quite sure hadn’t been there earlier, and she followed him, looking around to take in the scenery. It was so…different. Petals fell gently around them, caressing her skin – they were silky soft and came in all shapes and sizes. But she saw no flowers on the trees nearby.

The leaves came in a brilliant array of colours that reminded her of gemstones, sparkling and gorgeous and completely senseless – amethyst, topaz, sapphire, obsidian. They fluttered in a breeze she could not feel, leaves that shouldn’t exist in such beauty but did all the same.

She could hear murmurs in the undergrowth, mysterious sounds that didn’t seem to belong to any animal she recognised. She peered into the trees, hoping to spot something, but the woods were eerily still and she wondered if she was imagining the faint chirrups she’d heard. “We aren’t, um…” She thought about how to phrase her question. “We aren’t in the human world anymore, are we?” It sounded weird, but she didn’t know how else to say it.

“Nope.” He held aside a branch for her, and she gaped at the tree as she walked past – it was a soft, delicate shade of gold, and it shimmered hypnotically, drawing her gaze. She yearned to reach out and touch the bark, curious about how it would feel, but Solomon called for her and she jolted out of her trance, hurrying back to the path. She glanced over her shoulder as she trekked through the woods, wondering what kind of tree that was. Where were they?

Solomon was whistling, his hands shoved in his pockets as he went along. He made hiking through the woods look easy, and she swore that sometimes, his feet barely even skimmed the ground. She picked a few stray leaves out of her hair, envious of how graceful he was.

Almost as though he could read her mind, he looked around and grinned at her; his smile made her breath catch. “What would you do if I told you Asmodeus might be there?”

“Asmodeus?” A memory of the beautiful man flashed through her mind, and she shivered. “What do you mean, he might be there? He said…he said…” What did he say? Everything was kind of fuzzy. “He said he would be leaving today,” she mumbled.

“Mm. And he left, didn’t he?” Was he levitating, or were her eyes playing tricks on her? She swore his feet were floating just an inch or two above the ground, but she couldn’t be sure. “He left, and this morning you woke up alone in the castle. But where did he go?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed he was going to catch up with his colleagues or something.” She noticed his raised eyebrow. “His brothers-in-arms, that’s what he called them.”

“Oh.” Solomon’s smile widened. “Maybe you’ll bump into his colleagues someday. They’re quite the eccentric lot.” With that, he continued down the path, and she puzzled over the point of the conversation, wondering if he had been trying to hint at something.

He brushed through a gap between some bushes, disappearing into the foliage, and she had to pick her way through the greenery, careful not to catch her hair or clothes on any thorns. It took a while, but she finally emerged from the bushes and found herself standing outside a dreamlike town, the kind of place that looked like it sprung right out of some fantasy tale.

She gaped, startled by how pretty it was. There were doors leading into tall, sprawling trees, the branches spreading protectively over the town below. Other buildings were carved into giant red toadstools, their impressive stalks alone easily dwarfing her. She could see people flitting between the buildings, some tall and elegant like Solomon, others stout and swift on their feet. She rubbed her eyes. Surely her mind was playing tricks on her.

“What are you?” It was impossible not to ask at this point.

“You haven’t guessed by now?” He cocked his head, and she was reminded of a prowling cat moments before it pounced on its prey. “You can keep thinking about it, then. I don’t have to answer to someone who refuses to use their head.”

She was about to retort, not liking the implication behind his words, but he held out a hand, his palm upturned, and she stared at him, surprise making her forget what she wanted to say. He sighed. “Your bottle. I’m going to throw it away unless you want to carry it around.”

Oh. She’d forgotten she was still holding on to it. She gave it to him, and he crushed it like it was made of paper, flattening it between his palms. When he pulled his hands apart, the bottle was gone, and she blinked, wondering if she was going mad. “Where did it go?”

“Magicked away.” He said that like it was the most matter-of-fact thing in the world, and she slowly shook her head, unsure what to make of all this. Maybe this was all just a dream, and if she pinched herself hard enough she’d wake up and find that she hadn’t even left her house yet. Solomon must have noticed the disbelief on her face. “Why, is it that surprising?”

“Magic doesn’t exist. Not real magic. It’s all just tricks, illusions.” She’d seen enough exposé videos to know she shouldn’t trust everything she saw. The human brain was easily duped.

“Then explain where the bottle went?” he asked, and she looked around them – maybe he had, through some sleight of hand, tossed the remnants of the bottle into the woods. “No, don’t even think about suggesting what’s on your mind. I would never pollute our home with your man-made plastic. Haven’t you seen the news about trash and global warming?”

Could he truly read her mind? She was flabbergasted. “How did you know…?”

“People are so predictable. It’s almost sad.” He turned back to face the town, his expression unreadable. “If you had discarded that bottle anywhere while we were walking in the woods, you wouldn’t have been allowed past the gate. We have strict rules about littering here.”

“You didn’t warn me!” He was so unreasonable. It was sheer luck that she didn’t drop the bottle sometime during the trek – there were a few moments where she could have let go, and now she knew that doing so would have rendered her entire journey useless.

“Why would I say anything when it was a test?” He glanced at her, and she fell silent, her gaze transfixed by the hints of gold in his eyes – they shimmered, mesmerisingly soft, just like the tree they had walked by earlier. “You passed it, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Now follow me.”

He took off, gliding across the ground, and the moment he turned away she remembered how to breathe, her lungs drawing in greedy gulps of air. It felt like she had just surfaced from a deep pool of water, and she had to take a moment to recover before she could follow him.

As they approached the town, she began to hear faint strains of music, lovely and beautiful, and she saw Solomon pause, tilting his head as though he was listening to the melody. He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled before he continued on his way, and she had to wonder what she had gotten herself into this time.

#solomon obey me #solomon x mc #obey me #obey me shall we date

[dontenchantme]

garden of eden - part three

Rated E, Satan x MC.

[no rad au] he was the serpent who had lured her out of paradise. she ought to hate him, but she didn’t.

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It was dark outside. She glanced at the time and exhaled, reaching up to knead her shoulder. Just a few more minutes and she should be able to head home.

God, when did she become this stiff? She should look for a good massage parlour this week. A reward for finally getting rid of that leech, maybe. Oh, and she ought to put up an ad for a new flatmate too. The rent was due soon, and some extra cash would come in handy.

Taking one last look at the report, she was satisfied there was nothing more she could add so she saved the file, finally able to switch off her laptop. It was already past eight, and she was one of the few people still in the office. She rose from her chair, her bones aching, and looked down the hallway. The lights were dim, and it threw the whole passage into shadow.

It wasn’t the first time she had stayed this late, but she never liked how the office looked after-hours. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, not exactly, but the silhouettes of the desks and printers and empty chairs just seemed so much more…eerie when there was no one around.

Deciding to pack her things, she paused when she opened the cabinet and saw the dagger gleaming back at her, the jewels twinkling under the office lights. Just looking at it made her chest tighten. She still didn’t know what to do with the weapon, and simply staring at it wouldn’t help her make up her mind. She had to talk to Satan.

Talk to Satan. She snorted. As though it would be that easy to even contact him. She still had no idea why he showed up in the washroom this morning, but he seemed like the type to do things as and when he wanted, and it wasn’t like she knew how to summon him either.

Well, he did tell her to get angry if she wanted to see him. But rage was a complex emotion – it wasn’t like hunger or boredom or exhaustion. She couldn’t get mad without a trigger, and she didn’t intend to search for one either. Upsetting herself would be nothing but counterproductive.

She grabbed the dagger, hiding it within her coat, and picked up her bag. It was time to go.

The trip home was fairly uneventful, at least until she got off the bus.

She was pretty sure there was someone following her, and she quickened her pace, hoping that she was just being paranoid. The back of her neck prickled, and she tightened her grip on her bag. She knew some basic self-defence, so if it came down to that…

Her apartment wasn’t too far away. Once she went into the building, she should be safe. The streetlights were still on, but the illumination they provided was of scarce comfort when she could sense her stalker following her still, likely waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

What did they want? If it was money, she didn’t have much. But if it was something else they wanted…a shiver ran down her back, and she swallowed, her throat dry. All of a sudden, the darkness seemed so much more foreboding. Her nails were stabbing her palm and it stung, but the pain grounded her; without it, she might end up having a panic attack.

She thought she could hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and she resisted the urge to peek over her shoulder, trying to convince herself that she was imagining things. She was fine. She would be fine. There was nothing to worry about.

Why did this week have to be so crappy? Work was terrible, her good-for-nothing ex cheated on her, and now this. Maybe it was time for her to go back to church or something.

As she hurried down the street, trying not to look behind her – she was curious, but she didn’t want to frighten herself – she walked past an alley. Without warning, a hand snaked forth and grabbed her, dragging her into the darkness. An instinctive scream rose within her throat, but before she could make a sound, she felt another hand cover her mouth, muffling her.

“Shh.” She inhaled – it was a familiar voice, smooth and seductive, a lover’s caress against her skin. “He’s searching for you now, and if you scream you’ll just give yourself away.”

She nodded, and he released her, his fingers lingering on her cheek – she glanced back and saw Satan smiling at her, green eyes almost glowing in the darkness. “Why did you save me?” she whispered, puzzled by his sudden magnanimity.

“I thought it might be interesting to see how you’d react.” His smile widened. “You sensed it, didn’t you? That someone was following you. But there’s no need to be afraid.” He gestured towards her coat, and her hand instinctively reached up, resting over her hidden dagger.

“You want me to use this on him?” she asked, her voice trembling. He shrugged, looking her square in the eyes, his gaze unflinching.

“I don’t intend to help you, you know. If you know another way back to your apartment from here, then I’m all ears.” She heard a hint of challenge in his voice, but she lifted her chin and stared back at him, unwilling to back down. If he thought she was going to beg him to save her, then he didn’t know her in the slightest. She wasn’t one to admit defeat so easily.

Maybe there was another way back to her apartment from here. Deciding to follow the passageway, she went deeper into the darkness, Satan trailing casually behind her. It was a winding path, and the further she walked the less she could see – part of her mind began to wonder if this place even existed before today. She didn’t remember seeing this alley before.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Satan’s voice floated out from behind her, and he sounded amused. She gritted her teeth, tempted to retort, but she held her tongue – it was probably better to focus on finding her way out. The alley was just barely illuminated by the faint light of the moon, and she walked slowly, carefully, hoping she wouldn’t trip.

Perhaps going out of the alley to confront her stalker would have been a better idea.

Doubt strangled her heart, her breaths coming out quick, nervous. Was this a trap? Did Satan trick her into doing what he wanted? Maybe something worse than a random mugger waited for her at the end of this path. Maybe he wanted to force her hand, make her use the dagger so that her soul was his for the taking. She wouldn’t put it past him to try such a thing.

“You think too loud,” Satan said, his tone conversational. She jumped, startled out of her thoughts, and whipped around to glare at him, her heart thudding in her chest.

She could barely make out his face, his features shrouded in shadow – though his green eyes continued to gleam, bright and feline. “Can you read my mind or something?”

“I can’t. I’m a demon, not a fortune-teller.” She couldn’t be sure if he was mocking her or not – his tone remained light, almost gentle. “But I can sense fear, and it radiates off you in waves. You’re scared, aren’t you?” His voice was a murmur. “Scared of what awaits you in the dark.”

“I don’t like what I can’t see,” she answered. He laughed, and she flinched when something brushed against her cheek. Then she realised it was his hand, cupping her face, his thumb stroking slow circles over her skin, and she exhaled, his proximity calming her somewhat.

Funny, how she’d run from a stranger but fall gladly into the arms of one of the seven princes of Hell. “Such a straightforward response. I’d find it charming if you weren’t so vulnerable.”

She frowned. “Vulnerable?”

“Mm. Like a lamb to the slaughter.” His hand on her cheek dropped to her shoulder, and she let out a cry when his nails dug into her skin, on the verge of drawing blood. “People believe that we demons only devour souls. That we never eat anything else. But that’s not quite true.” His breath fluttered against her jaw. “Once in a while, we do enjoy the taste of human flesh.”

Her heart seemed to stop in her chest. She could almost see the smile on his face. Before he could say anything else, she swung her bag forward and felt it knock against him – his grip on her loosened and she took off down the passage, determined to get away. Her shoulder still felt sore, her flesh throbbing as she fled, but she refused to be distracted by the pain.

She’d tend to her wounds later when she got out of here. If she managed to get out.

Her hands were outstretched, reaching before her so that she wouldn’t crash into anything while escaping. There were no footsteps behind her, and she wondered if he’d really let her go just like that or if he had something else up his sleeve. Did he seriously intend to eat her?

Something rough hit her palm. The brick wall. She flailed about, trying to figure out where to turn next, and felt a sudden breeze picking up towards her left. Relieved, she spun and went down the passage, hoping she’d find the exit soon.

Time passed. She wasn’t sure how long, and she didn’t want to pause and look at her phone either, but her pace had slowed now that she was confident Satan wasn’t following her. It was almost…comfortable, walking through this place. Here, her mind was free to wander, and she didn’t have to think about things like her career or her finances or her broken relationship.

Eventually, she saw a pinprick of light at the end of the path and her spirits lifted, the promise of freedom beckoning to her. She hurried towards the light and finally burst out of the alley, into the open night air – then she blinked when she realised she was back where she started.

She looked up and down the street. Yes, this was exactly where Satan had pulled her in at the beginning, though right now there was no one else around. Her mysterious stalker must have given up on looking for her. Reaching for her phone, she glanced at the screen and her eyes widened when she noticed that the time had barely changed since she got off the bus.

How could this be? She felt like she had been stumbling around in that alley for ages. Yet her phone’s clock beamed up at her, showing that barely even five minutes had passed since she first noticed someone following her down the street.

Confused, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and glanced over her shoulder. The wall faced her, weathered and worn. The alley she had just left was nowhere to be found.

She lay in bed, the dagger under her pillow, just waiting. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a distinct feeling that Satan might visit her room tonight, and she wanted to be prepared.

Something creaked outside, but she couldn’t tell if it came from the street or the hallway. Her hand, tucked beneath the pillow, tightened around the dagger’s hilt. The air felt thick, almost viscous – her heart was pounding in her chest, her body trembling with anticipation.

The worst part was how she couldn’t tell if she was nervous or excited. Frightened or eager. It shouldn’t be a question – she ought to be terrified. Satan had outright said that he wanted to eat her. Yet here she was, so much tension in her body that she was practically vibrating.

Her gaze flicked towards her clock. The luminous numbers glowed back at her. Almost three. Some little corner of her mind remembered that three in the morning was witching hour; the time when witches, demons and ghosts were supposed to be at their most powerful.

Another creak. She stiffened, her head turning – that was a lot closer than the first time she heard it. The sound was followed by the slow drag of a bedroom door yawning open, the whisper of footsteps against the carpet. She stared in the direction of the entrance, trying her best to remain still.

“Did you miss me?” His voice came from the other side of her bed, and she whipped around, her heart almost leaping out of her chest. There he was, grinning at her, and her first thought was that if she was killed tonight, no one would know – no one cared enough to look for her, now that she was alone. “It was fun watching you run around in that maze.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Enjoyed teasing the human, didn’t you?”

“Kind of. It’s been a while since I last met someone as fearless as you.” He paused. “Though I can’t be sure if you’re truly brave or if you’re just an idiot. It’s hard to differentiate sometimes.”

“You know, for the Avatar of Wrath, you’re pretty cocky. You sure you’re not Pride?”

For a moment, she thought his eyes flashed red. “Don’t compare me to Lucifer.” His words were calm and measured, but she felt the overpowering rage that suddenly swept through the room, hiding behind that empty smile, and she shuddered, her chest tightening.

But just as quickly, the moment passed and he was back to his usual self once more, polite and genteel. “You know, I wasn’t joking when I talked about wanting to eat you.”

“Why don’t you, then?” she challenged, forcing herself to smile at him, forcing herself to stay in bed even if every instinct screamed at her to run. “Why didn’t you do that from the start?”

He cocked his head, seeming to consider. “Well, I always thought that human flesh tastes so much sweeter when it’s tinged with fear.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Unlike my brother, Beelzebub, I have a little more respect for the food I consume.”

“You could show me even more respect by not eating me,” she countered.

Satan leant in, reaching for her face. She allowed him to touch her, his slender fingers cool against her skin. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered. “You can always change my mind, you know. I’m not so ravenous that I can’t appreciate a good discussion.”

“I wouldn’t taste good at all. I eat so much junk. Potato chips and ice cream and everything.” Why were they talking so normally? As though he hadn’t just threatened to eat her. “And I wouldn’t have a good meat-to-bone ratio. You probably want someone a little fleshier.”

Satan’s laugh was like warm, sweet honey. “You put up a fair argument. But bones are pretty good for stew, you know. And I find myself craving some delicious meat stew tonight.”

It was unfair how seductive his voice was. God, what she wouldn’t give to just sink into him – but she reminded herself that if she didn’t play her cards right, she could quite literally end up a part of him. “You could consider going vegan. It’s good for your health.”

“Us demons don’t need to think so much about our health,” he answered, his fingers stilling on her chin. “There’s not much that can kill us. You, on the other hand…”

She sensed the shift in mood, saw his face come closer and instinctively, she swung the blade hidden beneath her pillow, encountering resistance as it bit into flesh and bone. Black blood, hot and sticky, splattered against her face, running in rivulets down his arm. She could hear a faint hiss as the blood dripped onto the carpet, and slowly she turned back to face him.

Satan looked surprised. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, but he stared down at the wound with something akin to wonder in his eyes. She tugged on the dagger, trying to work it free, but the blade was stuck firmly in his arm, and it refused to budge. “How interesting,” he said, and he didn’t sound anything like how she’d expect a grievously injured man to sound. “So this dagger can hurt me. I didn’t know that. Well, we’re always learning, aren’t we?”

“How are you not in pain?” she asked, wriggling the dagger. The blade scraped against what seemed to be bone and she winced, but Satan still seemed entirely unbothered.

“As if I’d be hurt by something of my creation,” he said, sounding more entertained than she thought he would be. “You have some spunk, don’t you? Maybe it was right to pick you to come to, out of all the mortals constantly calling my name. You’re rather lively.”

Lively was not the word she’d use to describe someone who just tried to kill her. “You’re sick in the head, Satan.” She pulled again, and the blade finally came free, more blood spurting out of the gash. It made her feel a little ill. “You’re bleeding. Look at you.”

“Why are you worried about someone who wants to eat you?” he asked. As he spoke, he passed a hand over the wound, and she saw faint green light emanating from his fingertips – before her very eyes, the wound knitted itself up, leaving behind no trace of a scar. She stared, taken aback by what she just saw. Proof of magic? Or his demonic powers, perhaps?

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted. “But the more I think about it, the more I feel like you were just – that you weren’t serious.” She met his gaze, and he cocked his head, studying her. “If you wanted to eat me, you could have done so already. There must be something else.”

“Clever girl.” He chuckled, sitting on the bed beside her. She scrambled back to give him space, unable to look away from the dark splatters she could see on his shirt. “It was a test, and nothing more. I said I’d give you what you wanted if you impressed me, remember?”

Her mind went back to the conversation they had in the morning, at the office washroom. “Wait. What?” She didn’t know what else to say. Frightening her, threatening her, getting injured by her – so all this was nothing but a test?

She didn’t know whether she ought to get angry or not. “Why do you sound so surprised?” Satan asked, his smile dimming. “There’s no fun without a little fear, don’t you think? And I wasn’t about to force you to use the dagger. That’d defeat the purpose of temptation.”

“I still used it though. On you, I mean.” She swallowed, looking down at the sharp blade in her hand. It felt cooler now, no longer as warm to the touch as it once was. The jewels decorating the hilt seemed less beautiful as well. Almost cheap, like costume jewellery.

“Doesn’t count.” He shrugged. “No weapon will hurt its maker. At least not in the way it was intended to.” He reached for the hilt and she let go, her chest feeling almost hollow as it was taken from her. “Why, do you miss it already? It’s quite pretty. Even if I do say so myself.”

“Why did you come to me?” She shook her head, running a hand through her bangs. They fell in front of her eyes, hiding her line of sight so that she didn’t have to look at him. “Now that I’ve met you, now that I’ve used that weapon – I don’t know how to feel, Satan.”

“Why?” She felt his fingers slide underneath her chin, tugging her face up. His touch was strangely gentle, almost loving. But what demon could love? “I was bored, I suppose. And I must say that this is the first time I’ve seen someone so capable of restraining their anger.” His other hand reached up, brushing her hair away from her forehead. His face was impassive. “I just wanted to see how far I could push you. There’s no other reason, I’m afraid.”

How far he could push her? Like she was some sort of toy. She felt a flicker of rage bloom in her belly, a malicious heat that reached to her toes. “I’m not a game to be played, Satan,” she breathed before she reached out and curled her fingers in his shirt, yanking him down. Their lips met, and she swore that she found home in his arms.

He countered her, fierce and powerful, two souls playing a twisted game of dominance, and when he bit her bottom lip she gasped, hot blood welling up to meet him. He feasted on the salt of her pain, and her fingers ripped at his buttons, seeking out more – more than what he was offering, more than what was good for her. Satan withdrew, an unspoken question in his eyes, and she nodded, impatiently scrabbling beneath his shirt, nails raking down his back.

“You’re going to regret this,” he murmured, though it was hard to believe him when he was holding her this way, his teeth at her throat, at her pulse, leaving purple-blue marks that would be impossible to hide once the sun rose.

“Convince me,” she rasped, and he laughed, the vibrations sending tingles across her skin.

“If that’s what you want, human. If that’s what you want.” And part of her wondered what she had gotten herself into – the rest of her just wanted him, and she wanted him now.

Maybe she would regret this when she woke up. If she woke up. But for now, she couldn’t care less.

#satan x mc #satan obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me

[dontenchantme]

mourning

Rated T, belphegor x mc

each and every individual has their own way of coping with loss.

fics masterlist

Your ghost clings to him, the shadow of a presence once full of life, full of warmth.

It’s in the years that pass, a whisper fading in and out of twilight; the decades that blend into centuries and millennia. Time and time again he searches for you, high and low, in every nook and cranny of the dark world that stretches before him. Time and time again, he finds nothing.

Love is a curse. It lingers in the recesses of a heart once thought to be numb. It brings colour to your cheeks, gives life to your form. It shapes his dreams. At night he gasps awake to the promise of your voice, laughter floating in through the hazy window of longing. He swears he sees the glimmer of your eyes, smiling at him before he blinks and you disappear, mist curling away from his fingertips.

He wonders if it’s selfish to hope that you sinned. Sinned enough to fall into the embrace of the world so familiar to you – sinned enough that if he could simply bring himself to search for you, he might, just might, see you again. It’s not unlike a demon to condemn one to hell for the sake of their pleasure, but he thinks to himself that this isn’t pleasure, it’s penance.

Of course, he keeps his thoughts to himself, lingering on the remnants of a past long gone. He remembers everything with the vivid clarity of sunshine, how you first turned to him with doubt in your eyes, the shimmer of suspicion twisting your mouth; how one day unease gave way to familiarity and comfort and you looked at him with the sheer gossamer of happiness painting your smile, wariness long forgotten as you picked beneath his skin, drawing out who he truly was.

It had been so long since he last hated a human. Since he last hated you.

Every year he visits your grave. Sometimes it’s on the day you first met; when your curiosity led you up to the attic. Sometimes it’s on the day you first whispered that you forgave him, and his heart thrummed in his chest, struggling in the clutches of some emotion he couldn’t identify.

Once in a while, he visits on the anniversary of your death. On those days, he brings lilies.

You liked white lilies. They were your favourite flower. Why, frankly, he never knew. But what he did know was that they made you happy, and as he left the bouquets next to a tombstone that grew increasingly weathered with age, he wondered if you knew how cherished you were, buried six feet beneath the ground.

Someday, your tombstone would be gone. Your bones had long withered into dust, your mortal remains feeding the plants and the trees, returning to the cycle of life. Time was a finite and precious thing to those who feared the unchanging tempo of death, and he couldn't understand.

You did not fear death. Towards the end of your life, you reached forward and welcomed death like an old friend, and he wondered whether it was foolish to be angry at something he couldn’t control. He held dominion over apathy and lethargy, over the bitter taste of unfulfillment, but no matter how similar his sin was to the crawl of life’s end, he could not stave off the inevitable.

The only thing he had left of you was his memory, and even that would someday be gone. He wondered if you would slip away like water running through his fingers, leaving him desperate, trying to reach for things he could not own – he wondered whether you would just leave, quiet and unassuming, and he’d simply wake up with an unexplainable void in his mind, the outline of a phantom that had long overstayed its welcome.

He didn’t mind keeping you alive. A study in irony perhaps, when once upon a time he would have done anything to be able to wrap his fingers around your throat, choke the life out of you in front of Lucifer and Diavolo, show them how little their pet was worth in the eyes of hell.

But instead, you lived on within him, in his dreams, in his shadow. Ridiculous, he thinks, how the fleeting touch of a mortal life had imprinted itself upon his eternity. How he still reached towards your cup when he poured a drink in the kitchen. How Mammon would tell a joke and pause, expecting a laugh that never came. How he and his brothers still acted like your room was yours, private and untouchable. A shrine to commemorate a moment of weakness.

If he thinks too much about you, warmth stings his eyes and he blinks, warning off the tears with a scowl and a muttered curse – an oath that carries no heat.

Satan once told him that some human cultures believed in the idea of reincarnation. That souls could and would come back, though not always in the form one might expect. Like ghosts?

No, not ghosts, his brother answered. Something else. Something other.

He never quite understood what Satan meant by that, and even now he didn’t know. Though it was tempting to consider the possibility that you might not be fully gone, he knew better than to hope – cases like his sister were rare. Lilith only reincarnated due to Diavolo’s interference; without magic, death was absolute and final. An endpoint from which there was no return.

Today, he visited your grave. It had been centuries since your death, and your tombstone was long gone, your final earthly monument having crumbled into nothingness. The cemetery had been knocked down, replaced by a park. A tree towered over him, and he wondered if part of your consciousness could be found within it, lingering in the roots, in the rough wooden bark.

A memory flitted through his mind, not as crisp as it once was, but he remembered enough to make out the features of your face, eyes crinkled in mirth, lips parted in a sigh. Your hand and his intertwined as you danced through the cemetery, surprisingly at ease among the dead.

My parents are buried here, you told him, matter-of-fact; you could have been talking about the weather. I think when I die, I’d want to be placed in this cemetery too. It’s nice, isn’t it?

Nice? What do you mean?

Well, there are flowers everywhere. And plants. Maybe some would find it overgrown, but, you shrugged, I think there’s beauty to the wilderness. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

On the day you passed, he saw to it that your wish was fulfilled, and he stood over your open grave, watching as your coffin was lowered into the ground. He looked at the silent statues all around him, the angels of death guarding the tombs of the deceased. He looked at the plants and flowers that swayed gently in the breeze; he looked at the sky, grey with mourning.

There was nowhere better for you than here, he decided. Where the solemnity of farewell was interspersed with promises of a better beginning. Here, it didn’t feel so...final. As though you might just burst out of the ground, bell-like laugh chiming, your feet carrying you light and swift back into his arms.

Part of him waited. Part of him hoped. It never happened, but still, he continued to come to you. There was something comforting about being in your presence, even if you weren’t truly there anymore.

He placed the lilies at the foot of the tree and stood back, staring up at its graceful branches. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun against his skin. The sun of the human world was undeniably different from what they experienced in the Devildom, though he wondered how much of that difference could be attributed to memories of his time spent with you.

Something brushed against him, and his eyes flicked open, searching. It was a gentle, delicate touch, and when he glanced down he noticed a pale butterfly on his shoulder, its wings trembling. He watched it curiously, and its wings flapped once, twice before it took off, soaring into the cloudless blue sky.

His heart seemed to rise along with the butterfly, some mysterious weight finally falling from his shoulders. He smiled. Perhaps today would be a good day.

#belphegor obey me #belphegor x mc #belphie obey me #belphie x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me

[dontenchantme]

déjà vu

Rated T, solomon x mc.

there was something disturbingly familiar about solomon. she just wished she knew what it was.

fics masterlist

Solomon was rarely gentle.

Placing them together usually resulted in some kind of explosion – they didn’t talk to each other, preferring to let their actions speak for them. Scratching and spitting, pushing and pulling – he was neither soft nor kind, but to be fair, she wasn’t the most loving person either.

She didn’t even know how they had fallen into each other this way. It seemed like one day she had been minding her own business, trying, as usual, to sort out the mess that was the House of Lamentation – then Solomon sent her a text, asking if they could meet at Purgatory Hall.

Out of curiosity and no small amount of spite, she agreed.

He wasn’t someone she got along very well with. Something within her recoiled the very first time she saw the white-haired sorcerer – some part of her had pulled away, hissing when he approached her and introduced himself. The feeling of hatred was almost overwhelming, and even though she tried not to let it show on her face, she guessed that he could somehow sense the hostility she tried to bury deep within her chest.

From then on, he held her at a distance. He was cordial but their interactions were fleeting, practically non-existent. It made things rather awkward whenever Luke or Simeon asked her to visit and try some pastries or talk about her life in the human realm.

When she came over at his behest, the first thing she asked was what he wanted from her. She had no doubt he invited her over for a purpose – Solomon was not the type to make casual chit-chat, and she wondered how she knew that despite how little they spoke.

It was then that he caught her hand between his and she stiffened, immediately wary of his next move. Part of her wondered if he was about to confess his feelings for her, perhaps – there was an intensity in his yellow-blue eyes that she’d never seen before.

But all he asked was whether or not she hated him. And for a moment, she wasn’t too sure how to respond – with the truth? She knew that the truth was unreasonable. It didn’t make sense that she held such strong emotions for a man she barely knew.

Tell me honestly. It was this straightforward, almost demanding prompt that broke the hold on her tongue – immediately she pulled her hand away from him, hissing words filled with spite, an unconscious stream of thought that she could barely recall now, even if the rest of her memory was clear as day. She had no idea what she told him then, but she did have a vague recollection of her repeatedly saying how much she hated him.

When she was done, her chest heaving from exertion, still reeling from shock at her sudden outburst, Solomon pulled her towards him and kissed her, and at that moment she forgot about everything else – she could only think about his soft lips and how hungry he felt, how his hands roamed across her body in a way that was almost familiar, how that same rage-filled part of her welcomed his touch, desire flooding her body at his nearness.

That was the first time they fucked. She couldn’t describe their engagements in any other way – Solomon never kissed gently, never whispered words of love and affection, never held her face between his hands so he could look deep into her eyes. Never did any of the things she secretly hoped he would during sex. It wasn’t that she wanted him to be tender with her, at least not outside of the bedroom. But she craved some sort of intimacy – being with him like this felt almost hollow. Nothing like what she had been expecting when she first said yes.

There was an almost clinical precision in the way they fucked, a rigidity that contradicted the chaos and the violence – if they kissed, they bit, and they bled. They left bruises that purpled and marred the skin; his back was covered in scratches, and more than once he had yanked out a fistful of hair that he’d have to magic back into place after they were done.

She lost track of the number of injuries they inflicted upon each other, accidentally or not, in the pursuit of their pleasure – but she wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world. Not when it was the only thing that quietened the seething fury within her; not when being with him felt like both the most amazing and terrible thing, all at the same time.

He was rarely gentle. But once in a while, she’d catch him running his hands through her hair, lifting locks of it to his lips, his eyes closing. In thought? In remembrance? She wasn’t sure. There was something almost sweet about these gestures, and she might have been moved if she ever thought there was anything more between them. But she knew there wasn’t.

As things were, they were simply scratching a mutual itch. She gave as good as she received, and she doubted there was anything else Solomon might want from her.

But sometimes, she caught him staring at her with a thoughtful look on his face, and once, she swore he almost said something – that for just one moment, recognition had flickered through his eyes and she hesitated, wondering if he had an explanation for the mysterious anger that never failed to bubble up within her at the sight of him.

Then he averted his gaze, and he was back to his usual, infuriatingly placid self. She couldn’t stand how calm he always was. How he felt like the tranquil blue sky, serene without a care in the world, while she was always suffering, ripping herself apart the moment she came close to him. If she was more rational, she would have avoided him. But she wasn’t rational.

Whenever Solomon touched her, he was demanding, sometimes cruel. He’d wrap his fingers around her throat, and they hissed and spat at each other, a cacophony of pain languishing in their voices. It almost felt like he wanted to claw into her. Like he wanted to dig something out from underneath her skin and expose the raw, hot flesh that lay beneath the surface.

And she always returned his intensity, words sharp as knives falling from her lips. She’d rake her nails across his back and he never once flinched, never tried to stop her – he’d watch her with something almost like betrayal in his gaze, and she wondered who had hurt him.

She wondered what nightmares ran through his mind when he tried to sleep at night, why he didn’t like to be left alone in his room, why he’d rather put up with her insults and her jibes than to lie on an empty bed. He always came back no matter how viciously she treated him, even if tried her best to push him away in the hopes that he’d never return.

She never thought of him as a masochist, but then again, she wasn’t usually a sadist either.

One day, when they were together, her cries of pain and pleasure echoing through his room, he wound his fingers through her hair and pulled, forcing her to meet his gaze. I love you, he said, but she realised that he wasn’t looking at her. That he was looking deeper, peering into her eyes in the hopes of pulling something, perhaps even someone, out of her.

She snapped at him. There was no love lost between the two of them, or so she claimed even as her mouth searched for his, even despite the way he kissed her with the desperation of a drowning man clutching at straws. As their bodies melded, his eyes widened, and she heard his voice choke in his throat. Then his mouth opened, and a name fell from his lips.

It wasn’t hers. It was that of another woman. But something within her reacted all the same – her heart throbbed, and unexplainable emotions welled up within her. Hatred, longing, misery, desire. It was all so overwhelming, and she reached for him, clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline.

There was relief in his gaze when her fingers dug into his skin and she screamed about how much she despised him, how she wished he would just die so that he would suffer in all the ways he deserved. It was so instinctive that for a moment, she felt like she had lost control of her body – she knew it was her hands on him, her voice ripping its way out of her throat, but the memories that flooded her mind weren’t familiar to her.

But when she started sobbing, it was as though a dam had broken – Solomon held her face between his hands, and there was something unspeakably tender about his touch.

He whispered again about how much he loved her, and she wondered why she was still so angry – why she recognised the name that had spilt from his lips, why her rage continued to churn despite his soft, gentle words. She ought to be happy that he did the exact thing she had long wanted him to do, but the thought of his hands upon her skin just made her – no, she wasn’t unhappy about it. But she was conflicted. Everything was so confusing.

When he told her that he’d been searching for centuries, that he’d spent all this time simply hoping for a chance to apologise, she stared back at him, unable to comprehend his words. There was genuine regret in his eyes. But what on earth was he talking about?

#solomon #solomon obey me #solomon x mc #obey me #obey me shall we date

[dontenchantme]

decorum

Rated M, simeon x mc.

Ephesians 5:3 - But sexual immorality and all impurity or covetousness must not even be named among you, as is proper among saints.

fics masterlist

Simeon exhaled and opened his eyes. His entire body was tense, and he wondered if he’d be able to get any sleep tonight.

Glancing across his shoulder, he looked at her, curled up around a bolster beside him. Why was she sharing his bed again? Oh, right. Because Mammon had auctioned off Leviathan’s prized figurines on dBay, and Leviathan destroyed half the House of Lamentation when he found out. Simeon wondered how Lucifer intended to punish them, and he shuddered.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget just how powerful the seven demons were. Mammon and Leviathan didn’t act like it, but they could easily wipe out the human race several times over if they wanted to, and she was lucky she wasn’t in the House of Lamentation when those two were fighting.

It still flustered Simeon a little though, to see her sleeping so peacefully next to him. To begin with, his bed wasn’t particularly big, and he was huddled up at the very edge just to give her sufficient space. She did say she was comfortable sleeping in one of the empty guest rooms, but to be frank, none of the other rooms was prepared to accommodate a living being.

Purgatory Hall was occasionally used as a storage space for some of the Devildom’s nastiest artefacts and weapons; a snippet of information he hadn’t known until he first arrived.

Solomon was quite adamant about not wanting to share his room, and Luke was already asleep by the time she came to Purgatory Hall. That left Simeon, and he couldn’t in good conscience turn away someone in need, so here he was in this unfortunate predicament, wondering if he should just get up and go to sleep on the common room sofa.

It was difficult enough seeing her in RAD every day. Her smile always made his heart flutter, and while he had long ago decided that he shouldn’t say anything about his feelings – she was a human, he was an angel, their love would be forbidden and he wasn’t even sure if she returned his affections – it didn’t mean he was immune to her proximity.

She turned over and mumbled something in her sleep, and his breath caught. Glancing over his shoulder once more, he noticed that she was still asleep, and he relaxed a little. He didn’t want to imagine how he might react if she wasn’t. Why did this bed have to be so small?

Then he heard her speak again, and this time he was able to catch what she said. “Simeon…” It was little more than a whisper, but a jolt went through him at the sound of his name. Was she truly sleeping? He turned around, placing just a tiny distance between their faces – her chest rose and fell gently as she breathed, and suddenly she let out a little moan.

Heat rushed to his face at the sound, filled with longing – now he couldn’t help but wonder what she was dreaming about. She had spoken his name, right?

Simeon swallowed as she moaned again, shifting a little beside him, and he noticed her hand moving down her stomach, towards the shorts she had worn to bed – shorts that he suddenly found to be far too revealing, far too indecent. Her fingers slipped beneath the hem and he bit back a groan, abruptly realising what kind of dream she must be having.

And also realising that she was dreaming about him. That it was his name that had fallen from her lips – that in her dreams, he was probably the one touching her, making those soft little sighs and whimpers fall from her mouth…his throat felt painfully dry.

He could see her hand moving underneath her shorts, her fingers stroking slowly, languidly, and another wanton call of his name slipped out – he shut his eyes, trying to hold back from touching her, from kissing her and watching her eyes flutter open to meet his, filled with delight – he reminded himself that he was an angel and she was human and there was some level of propriety to be expected, even if he thought none of their rules made any sense, even if –

At that moment she arched her back and spread her legs. Her hand sped up, and Simeon knew there and then that he was lost. He burned to touch, to coax her awake with his lips and his hands, hear the murmurs of pleasure she would keen as he kissed her.

But he couldn’t and he didn’t. They weren’t lovers, and he didn’t want to do anything without her explicit permission. Yet those principles didn’t help when she started gasping, begging for him to let her climax – he lay there in bed, miserable, wondering whether he ought to get up and stay outside until she was done. But would he wake her up if he left the bed?

He didn’t want to risk that. It would be mortifying. Not so much for him, but probably for her. There was a growing ache between his legs that demanded his attention, and the longer he lay there, listening to the sounds of her pleasure, the more painful it became. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to just tough things out, but if he touched himself with her right beside him…

Something about that idea was both horrifying and appealing. He rarely felt this conflicted about anything.

He really, really shouldn’t – in fact, he shouldn't even be entertaining this thought right now. But he was so tense, and when she gripped the bedsheet, pressing her thighs together with a quiet whimper, he gave in and slid his hand underneath his pants, his fingers wrapping around himself.

Part of him wondered how he’d even gotten into this situation, but the rest of him could only focus on the sight of her pleasure – he imagined himself between her legs, her arms looped around his neck, her body welcoming him into her. He heard her moans and imagined what she might look like underneath him, looking at him with eyes dazed from pleasure – he could almost feel her hands roaming down his back, and the thought of her delicate fingers sliding over his shoulders, her nails raking gently across his skin, made him bite back a groan.

She suddenly cried his name, and he felt her tense up for a moment before she relaxed, a languid moan escaping her as she trembled. He bit his lip, increasing the speed and the intensity of his strokes, and it didn’t take long before he spilt himself into his hand, hissing her name into the darkness. He glanced at her, hoping he didn’t wake her, but she had removed her hand from her shorts and she was now slumbering peacefully, a faint smile on her lips.

With a quiet sigh, he carefully got up from the bed, and to his relief she didn’t react, simply turning around to face the other wall. He winced; the front of his pants was uncomfortably damp. Never again, he promised himself, his heart still racing in his chest. Angels were not meant to have such impure thoughts.

Though, as he shuffled over to the door, he glanced over his shoulder one final time and he wondered why he bothered making promises that would simply be broken.

#simeon #simeon obey me #simeon x mc #obey me #obey me shall we date

[dontenchantme]

finally cleaned up my master list sigh it was such a mess there were so many broken links and i didn’t even REALISE. tumblr why are you like this???

anyway if you want an easier reading experience without having to read in parts/rely on my clearly unreliable master list, you can read my work on Archive of Our Own as well!

If not, here’s my master list, hopefully all the links should work now

#not fic

[dontenchantme]

lover

Rated E, asmo x mc - contains smut.

he'd crawl through hell and heaven for her so long as she gave the word.

fics masterlist

He was used to having numerous lovers.

Sometimes, they blurred together into a faceless mass and he found himself going through the same motions over and over again – leave the house, meet someone, bring them to bed, wake up in the morning, wonder what their name was, leave without saying goodbye.

Rinse and repeat.

He was the Avatar of Lust, and people flocked to him, desperate to touch, desperate to be touched. He watched indulgently as his little lambs fell over themselves in their attempts to please him, to be singled out for their unwavering affections. But as time passed, he found himself wondering if there was anything more to his impulses. Anything more to him.

At night, the reverence reminded him far too much of his past, and he’d shoot awake with his fingers curled in his bedsheet, his heart roaring in his ears.

The first time he ran into someone who didn’t immediately fall prey to his natural charms, he was shaken. He didn’t know what to do, how to respond – all he understood was that there was someone out there who didn’t want him. Words that once rang impossible.

Fate was a cruel mistress, and she enjoyed her games – he, once used to the adoration of hedonists, fell for the first woman to ever tell him no. The first to show a preference for his brothers over him; the first to spare him little more than a glance, her gaze cold and aloof.

She toyed with him and he played along with her, their dazzling smiles brighter than the sun. He came to her room in the middle of the night, whispering sweet nothings, and her name fell from his lips in a voice that sounded almost like love – she returned his embrace but never once did she linger, and he wondered if this was what heartbreak felt like.

He wasn’t sure why among all seven of them, she chose to come to him.

Of course, it could be that his reputation preceded him. Maybe she just wanted to know what Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, was able to offer her. Rumours of his prowess in bed didn’t last this long without basis. And for her? As long as she wanted him, his door would stay open.

That night she visited again, her footsteps light and hesitant. When she slipped into his room, shutting the door carefully behind her, he stepped closer and breathed her name, drawing a quiet gasp of surprise from her pretty lips. He didn’t wait for her to speak up – instead, he threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, and she sighed against his mouth.

For someone who didn’t care for him, she was certainly responsive to his touch. The passion in her kisses made something flutter in his chest, and it was a feeling he didn’t want to name – he threw himself into her embrace, desperate to forget that this intimacy was little more than an illusion. A mirage that would fade away with the sounds of the morning.

He didn’t believe in love. It wasn’t something that meshed well with his sin. He was pure lust, pure desire, unfettered by chains and vows – he wasn’t the kind to wake up with someone in his bed, wasn’t the kind to reach out and rain kisses all over their slumbering face, wasn’t the kind to look into their eyes and admit that he had feelings for them. He wasn’t.

These emotions were not love. They didn’t mean a thing. Yet when she whispered his name, something within him broke – he led her to his bed, pushed her down as gently as he could even as everything within him screamed at him to take her, to never let her leave again. She didn’t resist him, her pupils dilated as she stared wordlessly up at him, and he pressed kisses against her neck, down to her shoulder as his fingers deftly undid the buttons of her blouse.

“Asmo,” she whispered, and his hands stilled for a second – her fingers grasped his wrists and it was only then that he realised he was trembling. “Is there something wrong?”

He laughed. It was a shaky sound. “Of course not, darling. Why would you think that?” Part of him wondered if her skin had always been this soft, this delicate. He was always careful not to bruise her, not to mark her unless she said he could, and she so rarely gave him permission.

“You’re not usually this…” She paused, her gaze flitting across his face, searching for something. He didn’t know what she was looking for. “This impatient,” she finally said.

True. He wasn’t. He didn’t quite know what had come over him tonight. But he did know that he was tired. Tired of letting her have her way with him before she left as quickly as she came. Tired of pretending that he was fine with being the one left behind. Tired of going about his day-to-day business, smiling at her with the rest of his brothers, ignoring the ache in his chest when he saw her laughing at some inside joke, too close to someone else for his comfort –

The past month, every single time he fucked someone he couldn’t help but imagine her face. He heard her cries of pleasure, felt her fingers digging into his shoulders, thought about her hips bucking against his hand, her body clenching exquisitely around him.

Part of him felt betrayed. Even an activity that he was renowned for had been invaded entirely by her. If she didn’t love him, then why couldn’t she at least afford him this meagre escape?

“Oh, am I?” He nipped at her throat, hoping to distract her – she whimpered, and her fingers wrapped around his arms. “It’s been a long day, sweetheart. I was just eager to see you.”

“How did you know I would come tonight?” she breathed, not trying to stop him as he undid the rest of the buttons, tugging her blouse away from her.

“I hoped.” And there was truly no other answer. Love made him pathetic. He could have been out there, partying the night away, choosing to grace the bed of anyone he wanted – instead, here he was, hoping the human exchange student would want to scratch an itch. Would want to seek him out for one night of pleasure before she left him again, no strings attached.

How far he had fallen, even after he already fell.

To his relief, she didn’t try to push any further – instead, she pressed herself closer, her lips grazing the hollow of his throat. She was soft and tender, and he reminded himself that this was just her nature when she was in bed, that she didn’t love him, and she never would.

He might not know love well, but he knew enough to recognise the look of someone in love, and he could find no trace of it when he looked into her eyes.

“What do you want from me tonight?” Sometimes they liked to play a game. It was fun to take the lead and guess, to make her plead and whimper and fall apart with his hands – but tonight was not one of those nights.

“Everything.” Her whisper was so faint it was barely audible. Warmth coloured her cheeks, and he could sense the desire that rippled through her, an emotion he was all too familiar with.

“You're being greedy, darling.” It wasn't a complaint. Her eyelids fluttered at the mention of greed, her gaze slanting away from him, and Asmo wondered if he had struck a nerve by mentioning his elder brother. “Let me guess. Mammon did something stupid again.”

“No, no he didn't,” she sighed. He didn't like the fact that they were discussing another man in his bed, but he held his tongue. The bitter sting of jealousy coiled in his chest, and he ignored it. “He just – he wants so much, you know? All the time. And it's exhausting.”

“You don’t always have to give in to him.” He slid a finger down her jaw, lingering on her chin. “The rest of us can offer you so much more, as long as you’re willing to take it.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

Did that mean his feelings didn’t matter? He swallowed the retort, forcing yet another smile upon his face. “You’re so lovely. It makes me want to eat you up.” He tapped her on the nose, and she laughed, her eyes wide – he took advantage of the lull in the conversation, swooping in to claim her mouth. She allowed him to plunder, to take with fierce abandon, and for that one moment, he was little better than his brother.

Sometimes Asmo thought that he wasn’t much more than a subset of Mammon anyway, his sin so closely entwined with greed that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. Maybe that was why she came to him. Because Asmo was Mammon but without the clinginess, without the commitment, without the selfish demands.

He didn’t want to admit that lust could go both ways, too. That lust could easily be as obsessive as greed, that once he set his sights on someone he wanted this badly it was difficult to just let go, the way she clearly expected him to – that it took everything he had to pretend there was nothing wrong with their arrangement. She was afraid of making promises, and that stung.

Though who could blame her? He had a track record that didn’t lend itself well to the idea of exclusivity. In truth, Asmo himself didn’t know if he could devote himself to just one person.

But for her, he was willing to try. She simply had to nod, and he’d offer himself to her without any regret or shame – his heart was hers for the taking, so long as she said the word.

He pulled away from her, studying her flushed cheeks, the bright sparkle in her eyes. Only in his bed was she any different from her usual, becoming open and needy in a way that made his chest tighten. Sometimes he wondered if he pushed hard enough, would he be able to hear those terrifying three words fall from her lips – sometimes, when they were together like this it felt like he could get her to say anything he wanted. And it was…tempting.

Even if it was a lie, he longed to hear her sweet voice singing her love for him. But he had yet to push her that far. He wasn’t sure if he should try. Wasn’t sure what he’d do afterwards.

“Do you want me to fulfil all your secret little desires, darling?” he asked. “You know what will happen if you say yes. Are you sure about this?”

She bit her lip and nodded, and he could see the trepidation in her gaze – he exhaled, then leant down to brush his lips against her forehead, one final act of tenderness before they fell into the roles she craved. When he pulled back, he had lost his smile. “Strip for me.”

It was enjoyable to give in to her darkest impulses, to goad her into going down the path she chose for herself. She shook her head, frowning back at him, and gently he stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Did you forget your place? I’m not going to ask a second time.”

She hesitated, her gaze flitting between him and the door, then finally she began to take off the rest of her clothes, shimmying out of her skirt and underwear with practised ease. He let out an appreciative hum at the sight of her – he’d never grow tired of her body, all gorgeous curves and flawless skin. “Do you want to come tonight?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” she whispered, still sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands reaching up to cover her naked chest. He took a step closer, and her head fell back to meet his gaze, her pupils dilated with lust – for one moment, he almost forgot about their game, almost sank to his knees so he could worship her in all her glory, but he caught himself just in time.

“Who said you’re allowed to hide?” He seized her wrists, throwing them back so that she fell onto his bed, pressed beneath him. She let out a whimper, and he allowed a smile to flit across his lips for just a second before he steeled his expression once more. “Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, withdrawing so that she had some space. “Let me see you.”

She paused, her gaze meeting his pleadingly, and he cocked his head with a disarming grin before he leant forward and pinched her right nipple between his fingers – she yelped, her entire body arching into him, and he flicked the sensitive nub in warning before he let go.

So many people enjoyed being dominated by him, but she was the only one who truly made him feel anything – who made him want to stop playing his role and simply wrap himself around her, murmuring her name in between kisses and gentle, delicate touches. But he was determined to give her what she wanted tonight, even if he burned to just pound into her right now, to feel her body spasming around him as his name left her beautiful mouth.

“Like this?” she breathed, propping herself up on her elbows and spreading her thighs – her sex was revealed, bare and glistening, and he swallowed.

“Yes. Just like that,” he murmured. “Aren’t you lovely?” He meant every word he said. She bit her lip, embarrassed about splaying herself so openly to him – he chuckled at the sight of her shame, the way her pretty pink blush painted itself across her cheeks. “Now, I want you to touch yourself. Show me how you please yourself on the nights I’m not there.”

“I-I can’t!” Her voice was filled with panic. It was amusing, how she had already come to him several times over the past month and yet she remained shy about exploring her sexuality.

Then again, that was precisely what made this so enjoyable for him. Asmo was nothing if not a patient teacher. “If you’re scared, we can stop things right here and you can go back to your room.” He smiled. It was not an empty threat, that much she was aware.

Her eyes were wide with fear and a hint of something other. Slowly, she dropped her fingers between her thighs, sliding them across her folds, and he watched intently as she began to stroke herself. It didn’t take long before she seemed to forget he was even in the room – she threw her head back against the pillows as her legs trembled, her fingers working a furious, familiar rhythm. He could feel the tension in the air, sense how close she was to her climax –

“Stop.” His voice was soft but commanding, and her fingers froze right over her clit. “You put on a wonderful show, darling. But you’re not allowed to come unless I say you can.”

“Please!” The word sounded like it was ripped out from her lungs. “I’m so – I’m so close,” she cried, and he wavered for just a second before snapping out of his indecisiveness – he was a perfectionist in bed, and he would continue to be one no matter how hard she begged.

She was so beautiful, though. So lovely. She had managed to work herself up into a sopping mess – he’d always known she was an exhibitionist, even if she tried to be shy about touching herself in front of him. She always got so wet when he was watching her like this.

“Do you think you deserve to come yet, hm? Do you think you’ve been a good girl?” He leant closer and stroked her bangs away from her eyes – she looked up at him, her gaze open and vulnerable. He studied her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes. “On your knees.”

She scrambled to obey, her lips parted in anticipation – Asmo slowly undid his pants, pulling them down to reveal the bulge in his boxers. “What would you like me to do tonight?”

“Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Please.” The words fell messy, impatient from her mouth, and he chuckled. Her gaze was fixed on his cock, and he reached for her hand, allowing her to palm the bulge before her – she bit her lip, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes.

“You truly can’t wait, can you? What did I say the previous time about being patient, hm?”

“Patience is a virtue,” she babbled. “Patience gets you nice things like your cock in my mouth. Patience leads to pleasure and pleasure leads to pain and pain leads to –”

“Yes, darling. Patience is a virtue.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles over her skin. “You still haven’t learnt your lesson. I see I have no choice but to punish you.”

“No! No, please, please, I’ll be good!” But he ignored her pleas, grabbing the silk ties he left on his bedside table for these special occasions – quickly, he bound her wrists and ankles to the bedframe, rendering her immobile, then he stepped back to survey his handiwork.

She strained against the ties, her eyes glistening. “Asmo, Asmo, please,” she begged. He was unmoved this time, knowing this was what she wanted even if she didn’t know how to put her desires into words. “I don’t want to wait anymore, just give me what I want –”

“You’re not in a position to make any demands right now, are you?” he asked. She quietened, though her gaze continued to bore holes into him. “Seeing you touch yourself…it makes me want to taste you.” He ran one finger against her dripping sex, gently circling her swollen clit, and she whimpered, her body jerking at his touch. “So sensitive. So wet and ready for me.”

He knew all her quirks, understood all her unspoken desires. He edged her with his tongue, continuously bringing her to the very precipice of pleasure before pulling back to calm her down, an endless cycle of giving and taking that left her weak and trembling, her gaze fixed helplessly on the ceiling. He exhaled over her pussy and she cried out, spasming at the warmth of his breath – when he looked at her, she was panting, frustration and need blatant on her face. “How close are you?” he asked, smiling. He already knew the answer.

“Asmo…” Her voice was faint. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “I can’t do this, I really can’t. Please.” As she pleaded, he ran his fingers across her inner thigh, and she jerked against him, a weak cry escaping her lips. The look in her eyes bordered on betrayal.

“Don’t underestimate yourself, love. You can take so much more,” he whispered. By now he had removed his boxers, and he crawled over her, settling himself comfortably between her thighs – she tried to arch up to welcome him into her body, but the restraints held her back and she groaned, her head lolling against the pillows. “How many times has it been?”

“Eight.” He had told her to keep track, and now she obediently answered his question. Eight times he had brought her to the very brink of orgasm before he withdrew, denying her what she wanted. He used his tongue, his fingers, slid his cock against her dripping folds, always making sure to touch her in a way that was slightly off so that she couldn’t fall over the edge.

“And you think that’s enough?” he asked. She nodded frantically; her eyes were dark with lust, and he thought there was never anything more beautiful than her at this very moment. “Hm. I don’t think so though. I know you can do more. You can take it, can’t you? Such a good girl.”

“I can’t!” She closed her eyes as he pushed his cock against her pussy, a quiet moan escaping her mouth. He bit back a groan – he’d love to just sink himself inside her now, feel the welcoming warmth of her enveloping him in perfect, silken bliss. But he couldn’t, not if he wanted her to experience pleasure the likes of which she could never imagine – instead, he kissed her, and she whimpered into his mouth, quiet and needy. He adored hearing her like this.

It was at times like these that he believed, for just one fleeting moment, that someday she might love him back. That maybe if he was good and he pleased her exactly the way she wanted, she would fall for him too and he’d stop longing for something he couldn’t have.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured into her mouth, and she arched against him, her body soft and pliant, full of need. Her eyelids fluttered, and he trailed kisses across her jaw, one hand slipping down to gently squeeze her breasts, to flick her sensitive nipples.

She moaned, barely able to speak, and he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Play nice, sweetheart. I’m asking you a question.”

“You…you. Inside me.” Her voice was strained. “Now. Please.”

“Really?” Without warning, he slid three fingers inside her, and she was so wet and ready that she sucked him right in, her lips parting soundlessly – she was warm and tight, and he felt her body clenching greedily around him. He hooked his fingers – come hither – and she moaned again, her entire body spasming. He gazed upon her, this lovely, beautiful creature who only bared herself when they were in bed together; when the scent of her desire permeated every nook and cranny of his room and left him wanting more even as he took her over and over.

His thumb pressed gently against her sensitive clit and an incoherent string of words left her mouth. He smiled, sliding his thumb up and down, spreading her glistening wetness across her sex, and there were tears forming at the corners of her eyes – she turned her face into his pillows, biting down on silk, and he imagined himself sinking his teeth into the gentle curve of her neck. “Should I stop teasing you?” he asked, withdrawing his hand, his skin glistening with her arousal – he wiped his fingers across her naked torso, and she shuddered.

“Yes.” He could barely hear the word. Her voice was soft, broken. He wondered, for a quick second, whether he was being too cruel – but no. True pleasure could only be found in the most exquisite pain – they were two sides of the same coin, and if she yearned for the highest peaks of what he could offer her, then this was something she’d just have to put up with. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want,” she panted. “Just please…no more.”

He twisted her nipple, a hard and cruel gesture – she yelped, pressing into his hand, and he could almost feel the jolt of pain and desire that shot through her at his action. “You’re a demanding pet.” He ran his tongue over that same nipple, an apology. “But I’m in a good mood tonight, so I’ll give you what you want.”

He knelt between her thighs, lining himself up with her sex, and she inhaled, a sharp, sudden sound – he slid the head of his cock along her folds and she keened, shifting her legs as best as she could, trying to coax him inside her. He paused – she was looking straight at him, eyes dark, lips parted, cheeks flushed. So needy. Lust looked good on her, and for a moment his chest swelled with pride. Here she was, the human they all desired, drenched in his sin.

“Say please one more time, love. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please, please, Asmo. Please. I want you inside me.” She tilted her hips as she spoke, and he wondered if she was even in control of herself. “I want you to fuck me. Take me. I want to feel your cock inside my pussy. I want you to come inside me –”

He growled and thrust inside her, feeling her warmth wrapped hot and velvet around him, and her words were cut off with a sharp cry, her breathless voice echoing off the walls. He was relentless, pent-up with frustration after waiting for this long, and incoherent words of praise fell from her lips in between quiet moans and whimpers.

She wasn’t the loudest in bed, and he enjoyed that – he liked watching her bite her lip, liked watching her gaze flit between the ceiling and his face, liked watching the way she strained against the bindings that trapped her wrists, her hands longing to reach out and touch him. She called his name and he fell forward to kiss her, pushing forcefully into her so that he was deep inside – her entire body stiffened, and he stilled, shifting his mouth down her throat so that he could suck on a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

“No, don’t –” And she whispered a curse, the quietest expletive escaping that pretty mouth of hers as he bit down, already knowing it’d leave a bruise. Something to prove that she belonged to him in body, if nothing else. He raised his head and smiled at her, and in the next moment, he began moving again, faster than he had before. Her eyes closed, her breaths quick and short as she tried to keep up with him, but he had been playing with her for far too long and she could barely put up any kind of resistance.

Moments later, he felt her body trembling and she fell apart around him, his name tearing itself out of her throat, filled with breathless reverence – she arched into him and he hissed against her neck, where her pulse thrummed. Chasing his climax, he forced his eyes shut and followed her over the edge into oblivion, his world turning white for just one quick second as he spilt himself inside her.

Her body continued to clench around him as he rode out his orgasm, milking every drop from him, and he sighed, leaning his head against her shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, not moving, not speaking, just basking in the aftermath. Her eyelids fluttered, her chest heaving, and he studied her, committing every single delicate feature to his memory.

Just more material to torture himself with, but he was a sucker for punishment, wasn’t he? She liked it when he held her down in bed, but in truth, he was the one who always bent to her will, and he didn’t know how he felt about that. She didn’t even have to invoke the pact that bound their souls together. He’d cross all nine levels of Hell and back if she wanted him to.

“Thank you,” she suddenly murmured, startling him out of his thoughts. He stroked her cheek, back to being gentle, back to being loving and tender – everything she didn’t want from him.

“Anytime for you.” And for one moment, he thought he could see within her eyes a shimmer of affection, something fragile and genuine that made his breath hitch and his lips tremble. Then she blinked and it was gone, and he was left wondering if he had just imagined it.

“Will you stay tonight?” he asked, the question slipping unbidden out of his mouth. He instantly regretted allowing himself to sound so weak. As though she didn't already have a strong enough hold over him – but her lips curved up and she looked straight at him, her eyes filled with thought.

“Sure. If you want me to.” She shrugged, and it was only then that he realised she was still tied to the bed – he briefly considered allowing her to stay that way, especially since she hadn't requested to be released, but he shot down his base desires, undoing the ties so she could get up and move around.

Once her wrists were freed, she reached out to cup his cheek, her index finger lingering against his jaw. “Don't you have other people to toy with, Asmo?”

“No. Not tonight.” He laid beside her, looping his arms around her waist. It was rare that she didn't immediately leave after they were done, and he fully intended to take advantage of this sudden change.

She curled up next to him, her breath brushing gently against his shoulder, and he wished that every single night with her could end this way – but he was the Avatar of Lust, he who fulfilled the desires of sinners and hedonists, and he knew best that wishes were never granted without some kind of terrible price.

#asmodeus #asmodeus obey me #asmo obey me #asmodeus x mc #asmo x MC #obey me #obey me shall we date

[dontenchantme]

garden of eden - part two

Rated E, Satan x MC.

[no rad au] he was the serpent who had lured her out of paradise. she ought to hate him, but she didn’t.

fics masterlist

She woke up gasping, still able to feel phantom fingers wrapped around her throat.

Cold sweat trickled down her forehead, and she found that her hands were halfway reaching towards her neck – with a sigh, she turned onto her side and closed her eyes, burying her face in her pillow. She wasn’t used to sleeping alone. She didn’t think it would be so…strange.

It had been a long time since she last had to wind down by herself. It wasn’t something that she particularly enjoyed doing. Sure, being single and independent was great, but – she was used to having a warm body lying beside her. And without that, she felt…empty. Incomplete.

She got off the bed and jammed her feet into her bedroom slippers, deciding to go and get a drink from the kitchen. It didn’t feel like she’d be able to sleep again anytime soon.

Shuffling out of her room, she switched on all the lights in the apartment as she walked down the hallway, the sudden illaumination making her feel a bit less lonely. But when she got to the entrance of the kitchen, she hesitated, suddenly thinking about the demon who had come to her earlier in the evening. Satan. Just the thought of his name made her shudder.

It wasn’t quite fear that she felt. She knew it wasn’t. Fear had an acrid stench to it. There was no way she could associate something so bitter with a man that beautiful.

Call my name and perhaps I’ll come to you. She was tempted, honestly. If he was a demon and demons were willing to do anything in exchange for a human soul, then could she ask him to spend the night with her? She peered past the doorway, part of her hoping that he might be standing at the counter waiting for her again, but the kitchen was empty.

Grabbing a glass, she poured herself some water, stifling a yawn as she raised the drink to her lips. She still had work tomorrow and she ought to get more rest, but as the cool liquid slid down her throat it seemed to clear the fog of exhaustion from her mind and suddenly, she was wide awake. Placing the empty glass in the sink, she wondered about what to do next – the thought of returning to bed just to stare at the ceiling was rather unappealing.

Her neck throbbed, and she winced, her hand shooting up to touch the tender flesh – she couldn’t help but dream about him strangling her, dream about how his hands made her nerves sing, how the ruthlessness in his eyes stoked something in her belly and forced sensation into something she long thought numb. Her toes curled at the memory of his smile.

Why was she so obsessed with him? Her eyebrow twitched as she turned on the tap, a flood of water gushing out into the sink – she wasn’t the type to fall head-over-heels for a man she barely knew, least of all when the other party was a literal demon from Hell. But when he kissed her all her normal good sense seemed to merrily throw itself out of the window.

She wanted him with an intensity she’d never experienced before, and that scared her more than Satan himself did. This made no sense. She had to get her priorities fixed.

Annoyed at him, at herself and her overall situation, she washed the glass and placed it on the drying rack, her eyebrows knitted as she tried to think of various ways to pass the time. It was three in the morning. She had a good few hours until she had to get ready for work.

.

She felt self-conscious, walking down the street with the dagger in her coat. It wasn’t so bulky that she couldn’t carry it around, but knowing it was there made everything feel…exciting.

Not that she had decided whether or not she wanted to use it yet. They were talking about her soul here. And everything she’d heard about sinners and the afterlife made Hell sound like an awful place to be. She’d prefer not to be eaten. Or tortured for the rest of eternity.

The dagger was still warm. She could feel it radiating heat through her sweater – not that she was complaining, the extra warmth was welcome in today’s crap weather. The past few weeks the chill had been relatively mild, but today it was finally cold enough to snow, and God, how she hated the snow. She trudged through the street, desperate to get to her office building.

When she finally stepped into the lobby, shaking the snow off her coat and beanie, she made her way to the lift, pleased that she didn’t have to share it with someone. She purposely came in early today so that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone on the way to her cubicle.

At her desk, she surreptitiously removed the dagger from her coat and hid it in her cabinet. In truth, she didn’t know why she took it with her this morning. But when she was about to leave her room, some eerie impulse seized her and the next thing she knew, she had retrieved the dagger and tucked it inside her outer coat. She still hadn’t figured out what to do with it.

Once she locked her cabinet, she got up from her seat and headed to the washroom – her final moment of privacy before she had to check her emails. There was hardly anyone else around on her floor and no one stopped her to chat, which she was thankful for.

The washroom was empty, and she went to the sink, studying her reflection. Carefully, she unrolled her turtleneck sweater – the bruises were still there, dark and painful. She tilted her head. Underneath the stark lighting, the marks almost seemed to move.

“Pretty bruises, aren’t they?” A vaguely familiar voice suddenly rang off the walls – she whipped around and saw Satan leaning against the door, his hands tucked in his pockets. Amusement danced in his green eyes. “It makes me wonder what you’d look like when you bleed.”

She ought to be afraid of him, afraid of the dark threat that lingered behind his words, but all she could focus on was the curve of his lips and how soft they looked, entirely at odds with the violence that seemed to swirl around him. Satan was smiling, his posture calm and relaxed, but even so she’d never seen someone look so dangerous.

Why wasn’t she more afraid of him? Any rational human being would be. Maybe she had lost her sanity after catching her ex with that woman. “What are you doing in my office?”

“I noticed that you carried the dagger out with you today, so I was wondering if you intended to stab someone.” He shrugged, pushing himself away from the door as he spoke. “It’d be a shame to own something so powerful and not try to use it, right?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Thought you said you were giving me time to consider.”

“Am I not? After all, I’m not ordering you to use it.” His laughter was almost tangible, tendrils winding around her wrists and ankles, coaxing her closer. Rich, inviting, his voice was sin personified. “I just repeated the thoughts that were already on your mind. You know that much yourself.”

He wasn’t wrong, but she’d rather he didn’t say it aloud like that. It made her sound like the kind of person she didn’t want to be. “That’s beside the point. How are you in my office? I didn’t summon you or anything. I’m not even angry right now.”

Satan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not? Really?” He took a step towards her and she froze, her breath trapped in her throat. Was this what it felt like to be cornered by a predator? He walked with the languid grace of someone who had all the time in the world, and every step he took made her more nervous. More excited. More…everything. “You’ve been seething with rage ever since last night, even if you shove your anger below more boring emotions like comfort and satisfaction and glee. Anger isn’t something that can be contained so easily.”

His smile was wry, almost taunting. She wanted to find a way to wipe it off his face. “Right. You seem to do an awfully good job of containing it though, for a demon that represents wrath.”

“You truly think so?” He chuckled, his smile widening into a brilliant grin. He was dazzling. She almost wanted to cover her eyes. “Well, it’d be rather embarrassing if I lacked control over my sin, don’t you agree?” He reached her, and she felt his fingertips brush against her cheek – his skin was cold, so cold. Colder than the winter air outside. Colder than death.

“What do you want from me?” she asked. She had no idea what demons liked to do in their free time but given that Satan was supposedly one of the seven princes of Hell, she doubted he would just pop in to say hello. He must have better things to do.

“You’re a mortal who caught my eye. Nothing more, nothing less.” Satan shrugged again. “It’s been a while since anyone has been bold enough to approach me. To keep thinking about me. To even dream about me.” He leant closer, and her breath caught – she couldn’t move, helplessly transfixed by the tiny distance between their lips. “It’s foolish to be entranced by a demon, you know. After all, the only thing I’m interested in is your fragile mortal soul.”

His hand shifted from her face down to her neck, lingering over the fabric of her sweater. She could feel the iciness of his skin even through the thick material. “But I’ve always enjoyed this. Watching women get their revenge on their worthless lovers. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Melodramatic indeed, but no word rings false.” His fingers tugged at her turtleneck, exposing her blotchy, purpled skin to him. She felt strangely naked.

“Does that make me your newest plaything, then?” she whispered. She still wasn’t afraid. She should be, but she wasn’t. His dark eyes met hers, almost questioning, and then she dragged him closer and they were kissing again, the kind of kiss that devoured the air between them and set fire to her lungs. Her fingers pulled at his blond hair, greedy and uncaring – if he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gripped her hips and effortlessly lifted her so that she was propped on the sink. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist – at this height, she didn’t need to tiptoe to reach him, and something about his nearness made her dizzy.

His kiss was punishing. His tongue forced its way past her lips, and she whimpered, unable to help herself. His hands roamed over her body, untucking her sweater and sliding up her bare torso – she flinched at his touch. It was almost like being thrown into ice water. She wanted to push him away and tell him to go warm himself up first, but then his hands found the edge of her bra and suddenly all she could see was nothingness. Everything was white, pure white.

She could hear herself panting, her body trembling with anticipation – a wire drawn taut, almost ready to snap. She was only vaguely aware of him pushing her sweater up. Satan yanked her bra down, exposing one hardened nipple. He met her gaze and there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes that looked almost feline – that was the last thing she thought about before he took her breast into his mouth and began to suck.

She bit her lip, trying her hardest not to let out a sound – the last thing she needed was for a concerned colleague to barge into the washroom and catch her entwined with a demon. But Satan was so good. Where his fingers were frigid, his tongue was warm and wet and he knew how to use his mouth in a way that drew pleas and whimpers out of her, unconscious prayers for salvation falling from her lips. She tightened her grip on him, hooking her ankles together behind his back, and was pleased to feel his hardness grind against her aching core.

It would be so nice to just strip her pants off and let him take her right there. She wanted this. She wanted him. It’d been so damn long since she last felt pleasure from sex. In her previous relationship, sex was comforting but lazy, something neither of them put particular effort into anymore. Sometimes she didn’t even remember what sex was like. But this was different. She felt almost electric. Like she was being reborn somehow, pushed into a world filled with pain and violence, the erotic whispers of pleasure underneath it all – Satan sank his teeth into her flesh, and she jolted into his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair. It hurt. It hurt so well.

“Satan, Satan.” She realised that was her voice, her breathy whisper calling his name with the kind of reverence normally reserved for the church. He growled in response, the vibrations of his voice shooting into her nipple throughout her entire body, and she shuddered, longing to whip off her damp panties. She wanted to take his cock into her mouth, graze the delicate skin with her teeth before allowing him to fuck her, the tip of him sinking into her throat. God, how badly she wanted this. She was burning with desire and want, and he was looking at her with that triumphant glint in his eyes, his pretty lips still wrapped around her –

Then someone banged on the washroom door, and she stilled, holding her breath. “Oi! I don’t know who’s taking such a damn long time in the washroom but get out already!”

That voice sounded an awful lot like her boss. She let out a groan, and Satan slowly released her nipple with a quiet pop, still looking amused. “This is all your fault,” she said, hopping off the sink and trying to arrange her clothes as best as she could – her lipstick was smeared and the feverish sheen of lust was still present in her eyes, but everything should be fine once she touched up her makeup and splashed some cold water on her cheeks.

“My fault? You seemed very into it,” Satan answered, and his coy smile made her want to slap him. “Maybe if you do something to get my approval, I’ll show you a better time tonight.”

She froze, wondering if she should clarify what he meant, but when she turned around Satan was gone and she was left alone in the washroom, heat pulsing through her veins.

.

Do something to get Satan’s approval. She twirled her pen between her fingers, considering her options – she had a few ideas, none of which would be good for her soul.

Was this what it felt like to be tempted by the devil? Satan made a very compelling argument. Some tiny, rational part of her mind told her she was stupid for even considering his proposal – to become a sinner just so he would spend the night with her? She wasn’t like that.

She wasn’t supposed to be impulsive or hot-headed. All her life she’d forced herself to study hard, to work hard, to do everything with the utmost effort she could muster because this was the only way she could succeed. But she was so tired. So sick of putting up this façade all the time. Sometimes she could feel tiny cracks forming in her carefully maintained exterior.

He found those cracks, his voice slithering into the fault lines which bypassed all logic, which gave him a direct path straight to her heart. He coaxed her, persuading her to close her eyes and just give in to the resentment that bubbled away in her chest, festering and malignant.

There was something undeniably powerful and dangerous about him, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t bring herself to run away even when he approached her, filled with dangerous intent. She suppressed all instinct to flee, desperate to hear his voice. If Satan was one of the rulers of Hell, then surely Hell couldn’t be such a bad place. Could it?

She pressed her fingers against her temple. Ever since that episode in the washroom, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being split apart – one half of her reminded her that Satan was a demon; that all he wanted was to devour her soul and tempt her to sin. But the other half of her was drunk off him. She wanted his hands wrapped around her neck and his lips on hers, rough and unforgiving. And struggling between these two halves was exhausting.

It would be nice if she could just stop thinking, but probably the only way she could do that was if she went home now and drank until she fell asleep. Did she even still have wine?

Just then, two thick folders were dropped onto her desk and she jumped – when she looked up, she saw her colleague staring at her, chewing on some gum. It was the same guy they all suspected of sleeping his way to a promotion, and immediately she frowned, glancing at the folders he’d so unceremoniously deposited. “What’s all this?”

“Boss wants to start migrating all our data to the new system. We still have data from our old archives, so we need someone to transfer all this over.” He blew a bubble and popped it.

“Isn’t that your job?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. At least that was what she knew based on his job title. She’d never actually seen him doing anything related to data architecture.

“I work with bigger things. This is intern-level work.” He grinned at her – he probably thought he looked cute. She just thought he looked smarmy. “Don’t you have an intern? Just throw it to them. It’ll be a nice change from making coffee all the time.”

She bristled. “My intern left last month, just in case you didn’t notice. And don’t you have staff with capacity? You have an entire team working under you. You don’t need my help.”

Normally she wouldn’t be this confrontational, but something compelled her to stand up for herself today. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It was lunchtime, yet she was still at her desk, trying to rush out a report her boss wanted before the end of the day. She did not need an entitled prick trying to flaunt his newfound authority in front of her.

“You’re the fastest at data entry, though! That’s why everyone goes to you, isn’t it?” said prick replied, though she thought his smile dimmed at her response. She bet he had been expecting her to just suck it up and say yes, as always. “C’mon, I need your help. This has to be finished by next week and I’m already struggling with that other portfolio. Please?”

She rose from her chair, picking up the folders and pushing them back into his arms. “Not in the mood to help you today. I’m swamped. Try asking your temp staff – I saw one of them flirting with the receptionist in the pantry.” There was nothing more satisfying than watching his jaw drop, and she hid a smile by ducking her head and turning her attention back to her computer.

He tried to change her mind a few more times, but she was stubborn, and eventually, he left. Though he made a few veiled threats about reporting her to the higher-ups, she didn’t care much – at most she’d look for another job somewhere. Hell, she’d even take up babysitting again if that meant she could escape from corporate slavery.

Her gaze drifted to her cabinet and abruptly, she remembered the dagger she had locked away earlier in the day. She was giddy with triumph and maybe that made her more reckless than usual, but all of a sudden she found herself thinking about using the weapon on all the men who had let her down before, one way or another – starting with her stupid ex, then her asshole colleague, then the boy who had bullied her back in grade school, then the jerk who simply couldn’t stop playing his bass guitar in the middle of the night…

So many possibilities. So many ways to make herself happy. Why did she have to crawl up the corporate ladder just to obtain some illusion of contentment? Things would be much easier if she could just…get rid of the obstacles in her life. And she had the perfect means to do so right there, in her cabinet. She chewed on her lip. It was a frighteningly attractive possibility.

What did it mean to give up her soul? What would happen to her? What punishment should she expect? Perhaps Satan could tell her. She was aware he had no incentive to reveal all this to her, but…if she asked nicely, maybe he would let something slip. Reaching for the cabinet, she let her fingers linger on the lock, her skin brushing over cold metal.

Tonight. Tonight, she’d consider. She wasn’t going to make an impulsive decision, not even if every nerve in her body sang at the thought of getting her way.

#satan obey me #satan x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me

[dontenchantme]

insomnia

Rated T, belphegor x mc.

it was time to make a choice between facing her nightmares and facing her demons.

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She opened her eyes with a sigh, turning towards the clock placed on her bedside table. The fluorescent numbers glowed in the darkness. Hardly anything had changed since her last check.

It was four in the morning and she couldn’t sleep. The House of Lamentation was quiet; even Lucifer, the insomniac workaholic, had turned in for the night. She should know. This wouldn’t be the first time she whiled the night away, waiting for the brothers to rise for breakfast.

Sleep rarely came easily to her, even when she was in the human world. There was too much going on inside her head. Too much noise. Her thoughts and worries clamoured nonstop, and while she had grown used to tuning them out, they always grew louder when night fell.

She knew that at this timing, there was only one brother who could still be awake. The only one who might understand what she meant when she said that she couldn’t sleep.

Belphegor. The seventh-born, the Avatar of Sloth. Belphie, who so often wandered the house in the middle of the night, staring out of the window at the moon, studying the starless sky.

Her phone was right next to her clock. She reached for it, then hesitated. Would Belphie mind if she disturbed him? She didn’t know him well. Would she be intruding on his personal space?

But her searching fingers found the edge of her phone anyway, and the screen flickered to life. In the darkness, it was almost blinding. She squinted through the glare, opening the message tab and scanning through her chats – Belphie’s was the third on her screen.

For a moment, she thought about whether or not she ought to be texting him. She could just put her phone down now and try to go back to sleep. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone, and she was sure she’d be able to fall asleep eventually.

But then some unexplainable feeling seized her and her fingers began to move across the screen. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was plain, simple desperation. Maybe it was just that she hadn’t slept properly in weeks and she should have asked for help long before she hit this point.

Either way, a mysterious force compelled her to reach out to him, a force strong enough that it overrode the fear that always gripped her at the thought of the seventh-born.

He had been trying to make it up to her, she knew that. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his effort. She truly did. But even if he kept giving her those charming smiles, even if he spent the whole day doting on her every whim and fancy, she couldn’t help but remember the feeling of his claws sinking deep into her flesh, the murderous intent that gleamed in his eyes.

The pain never went away, not really. It tainted the skin, a memory that sank and nestled within her very bones. If she had her way, if she was able to seek help from anyone else, she would – but there was no one. And she was desperate. She yearned to close her eyes and sink into the escape that was unconsciousness; by now, her dreams were becoming little more than a distant memory.

She sent the text, wondering how long it would take before she received a reply. But she didn’t have to wonder – he replied almost instantly, saying she could come to his room if she wanted to, or he could come to hers.

She made up her mind within seconds. Belphie should come to her room. If she went over, they might wake Beel, and then he’d probably head down to the kitchen and empty the fridge again. It was exhausting enough trying to deal with her insomnia.

Minutes later, she heard a knock on the door. She clambered off the bed, her heart jumping to her throat – when she opened the door, there he stood, holding onto his favourite pillow, his eyes half-lidded with sleep. He had the same violet-pink eyes as Beel. Such lovely eyes.

Before she came to the Devildom, she’d never have believed that someone like Belphie would be able to commit murder. He was so beautiful, with his delicate features and his gentle smile, his silky hair that was so dark it looked almost blue. How could someone like Belphie ever hurt another being? But she knew better now. Her chest ached with unwanted memories.

“Well, you asked for me, so here I am,” he mumbled, yawning as he spoke. “Be grateful for this – I don’t help just anyone with their insomnia, you know.” His smile was half-hearted; she could barely force a smile in return. Her fingers trembled as she stared at him, and she clutched onto the door, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She didn’t want to be scared. She shouldn’t have to be.

But her body remembered. The aftermath of their terrible, violent intimacy echoed through her, and her heart thudded in her chest. The heart was such a weak, fragile thing. An unwanted reminder of how she had collapsed at his touch, how his demonic strength could so easily rend her apart. In his arms, she was nothing more than a paper doll. Weak, useless, completely defenceless.

He didn’t say a word. He just waited for her, patient, unflinching. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He was different now. She glanced down at her chest, covered by the thin fabric of her pyjamas. Belphie’s pact mark was placed right over her heart, a cruel reminder of where he had once maimed her – how ironic, that the proof of their bond was located there now.

Finally, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter her room. Wordlessly, she went over to her bed, shifting some cushions so that there was space for him before she laid down, giving him an expectant look. Belphie didn’t need a second invitation – he curled up beside her, and his touch was gentle, his soft voice murmuring lullabies, his fingers twirling through her hair.

He had the delicate hands of an artist, and they were beautiful.

It occurred to her that it was strange to think of her would-be killer as anything but terrifying. Yet he was undeniably beautiful, and his smile was tender. It was a far cry from what things were like all those months ago when he had spoken to her through the door of the attic.

Sometimes, she thought about how gullible and trusting she had been, and she’d wonder if things would have been any different if she had just heeded Lucifer’s warnings. Then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up bleeding her heart out. But it was too late for regrets – and anyway, her death and revival had helped the brothers to patch up their relationship. That was good, right? If she hadn’t come along, who knew how long Belphie would be stuck in the attic.

And things were different now. She didn’t have to be afraid anymore, not with the pacts she had collected, not with the way Belphie treated her. Still, fear was an irrational, unconscious thing and it lingered in the back of her mind, never quite releasing its grip on her.

She found her eyelids steadily lowering as Belphie continued to hum. He had such a soothing voice, one that reminded her of her mother rocking her to sleep as a child. Her mind and body were heavy, and she felt the gentle waves of sleep calling to her, washing up against the shore of her consciousness. It would be nice if she could just let go and sink into the melody he wove for her. She turned towards Belphie, instinctively seeking his warmth, and his fingers paused for a moment before he resumed running his hand through her hair, still humming gently.

He allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder as he waited for her to fall asleep, and he finally stopped humming when he sensed her breathing change, becoming slow and steady. He cast his gaze towards the ceiling, his fingers stilling in her hair. Sometimes, he forgot how fragile she was – in the moments when their fingertips brushed, or when they bumped into each other in the hallway, he could hear the blood flowing in her veins, hear the unsteady beat of her heart and he’d realise just how mortal she was. How easily she could live, how easily she could die.

He forgot that for humans, death was an irrevocable sentence. She was not like his brothers, who could all withstand pain, who brushed away life-threatening injuries as though they were little more than scratches. When humans got stabbed through the heart with claws sharper than knives, they wouldn’t bounce back, taunting their enemies with their fangs bared.

She would simply…die. She’d crumple to the floor like a butterfly with its wings torn off, blood spreading across her chest, dripping in puddles onto the ground. She’d smell like death and her body would cool so rapidly that he wondered if she was ever really real, or if this entire time she was nothing but a mannequin, easily fooled, easily manipulated into doing everything he wanted.

He thought that he’d find deliverance in her death, that he would finally be able to avenge Lilith, but when he killed the human, he just felt…hollow.

Even now, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the truth. How he felt about the situation they found themselves in. He knew it was his fault that she was afraid of him now; she showed no sign of fear towards his brothers, only him. It was almost funny. He was the seventh-born, the weakest of the seven princes of hell, and yet he was the one she feared the most.

But he was willing to wait. He wanted to make amends. It was due to his prejudice that things had ended up this way, and until she was willing to forgive him, he’d simply continue trying.

She was Lilith’s descendant, after all. Some part of his precious little sister lived on in this girl, this mortal who was the most fragile thing he’d ever seen – and even if she wasn’t related to Lilith, she still fascinated him. Anyone Beel liked enough to share his food with had to be decent. Perhaps he was mistaken about humans. Or maybe it was just her. He couldn’t be sure.

When he looked at her slumbering face, something about it helped him to find some measure of peace. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. For once he wanted to sleep; he wanted to lay his head down and close his eyes, not because he was the Avatar of Sloth but simply because she was beside him, and there was something unspeakably soothing about her presence.

He would continue to try and continue to wait. One day she might let down her guard around him, the same way she did for his brothers. He had never been particularly patient, but he was willing to wait for her. It was the least he could do to make up for what he had done.

#belphegor obey me #belphie obey me #belphegor x mc #belphie x mc #obey me #obey me shall we date

[dontenchantme]

overindulgence - part one

Rated M, solomon x mc, satan x mc

[a/b/o dynamics, university AU] alphas were aggressive, possessive and jealous. he was none of these - he was calm and rational, he was more than his base desires. he'd never give in to something as primal as instinct.

at least, not until it came to her.

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If there was one thing Solomon didn’t like, it was change.

Not that change was necessarily a bad thing. And at times, he did welcome it. Life would be boring if everything stayed constant, and a lack of change often led to regression.

But that didn’t mean he liked it when he walked into the room and smelled an unfamiliar, unplaceable scent – he paused, allowing it to wash over him. His first instinct was to recoil.

It didn’t smell bad. Not exactly. But there was something almost artificial about it, and that made his hackles rise. He glanced around the room, looking for the source of that smell, and noticed a new girl sitting on his usual seat, staring straight ahead, her smile placid.

She was rather pretty. He’d acknowledge that. But not pretty enough that he didn’t mind her taking his seat. It was one of the best seats in this lecture theatre – it offered a clear, unobstructed view of the screen and didn’t force him to crane his neck just to see. It also had the advantage of being near the exit, and far enough from the front that he wouldn’t be caught snacking by their professor. But most importantly, it was his seat.

Solomon hated to share.

With a sigh, he approached the girl, trying not to wrinkle his nose as the smell of her grew stronger. He couldn’t quite place a finger on what was it that repulsed him so. Usually, he wouldn’t care, but some deep-seated instinct was ordering him to get the hell away from her, and that grated on his nerves. Ignoring that primal part of his brain, he took another deep breath and her scent assaulted him, making his lip curl.

He could detect in it traces of flowers. Honeysuckle and jasmine. Of something sweet, like candy almost. But at the same time, there was a bitter, clinical undertone to it, something that reminded him of chemicals and chlorine. He fixed a smile on his face and closed the distance between them, telling himself that once she was out of his chair, he’d be free.

Free of that terrifying smell. Free of whatever it was that made him want to whimper and crawl away. It was the first time he felt like this, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Hey, are you new here?” The girl turned her head and looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly. He very much wanted to grab her by the throat and fling her far, far away from him, but he clenched his fingers together and hid his fist behind his back. “I normally sit here. It’s a place I’m pretty used to, so I’d be grateful if you could give that seat back to me.”

He lowered his voice, making sure not to blink – granted, it was a little stupid to do all this for a chair, but her scent tickled his nose, fraying his nerves. He wanted to get her away from him as quickly as possible. Otherwise, otherwise – he didn’t know what he might do, otherwise.

The girl frowned. He couldn’t help but notice how delicate her features were – dreamy eyes, soft lips, skin that glowed with some kind of inner luminescence. She looked like the moon. He might have found her more attractive if it weren’t for that infernal smell.

“I like this spot, though,” she answered. “It has a good view of the screen. There are so many empty seats…I’m sorry, but can’t you find somewhere else to sit?” She lowered her gaze, but that didn’t stop the annoyance he already felt from steadily growing into something else. He didn’t want to give in to those impulses, especially not in front of other people.

“I know this probably sounds like an unreasonable request, and yes, you have all right to sit here –” no, no, she doesn’t, a voice in his head interrupted, but he ignored it – “but you see, I have poor hearing and eyesight and after much calculation, I’ve determined that this would be the best seat for me to follow the lecture. So actually, I do need to sit here.”

She hesitated. “If you can’t see well, then why aren’t you wearing glasses?”

His eyebrow twitched. Her strange scent was beginning to piss him off, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could tolerate standing around her. He wanted to explode.

“Do I need to explain my disabilities to you?” A hint of irritation seeped into his voice, but he cleared his throat and tried to rein the emotions back in. Placid. Determined. Rational. That was who he was, and he wasn’t going to give it up just because of some weird new student. “I didn’t know you were so prejudiced. Guess that’s what I deserve for trying to fit in.”

He turned to leave, intending to skip this lecture and find some way to work off his anger – the discomfort she induced made him want to tear his skin off. But before he could go, he felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked around to see her picking up her bag, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You can have your seat back.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected her to give in so easily, not when she failed to respond to him earlier. But then he pulled himself together – now was not the time to wonder about why she suddenly changed her mind. “Ah, thank you. And I apologise as well. For snapping at you,” he clarified, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes.

She shook her head. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” Another pause, and then she settled into the seat beside his, much to his alarm. “Um, since you said you have difficulties seeing the screen, why don’t I sit with you? Then you’ll be able to look at my notes.”

“No, you don’t have to!” He could hear the panic in his voice, and he exhaled, trying to bring his emotions back under control. “There’s no need to trouble yourself. Plus, that chair is no good…the table is shaky.” Which was why he usually got this little corner all to himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s the least I can do to make up for being rude.” She shook her head, resting her hand on the surface of the table – she let out a yelp as it gave way, flipping back down, her phone dropping to the floor with a clatter. “Oh, that’s annoying,” she mumbled.

She leant down to pick up her phone, sweeping all her hair across one shoulder as she did so – his gaze alighted on her slender neck and the ring of black that encircled it. A choker. He’d always thought that chokers looked stupid. Why would anyone willingly wear a collar?

“See? That’s why you shouldn’t sit here,” he said, trying to suppress the glee in his voice.

“No, it’s fine! And I’d feel awful if I just walked away now,” she insisted, and his lips twitched. How persistent. But he had to do something to stop this. If not her scent would linger on him all day and he’d have to scrub his skin raw later just to get the smell off him.

“I was an ass to you. You don’t have to –” His words were abruptly cut off when she reached up to pick at her choker, adjusting it around her neck. For a second he swore that her scent changed and he couldn’t help but inhale. Candy and flowers, a sweet fragrance that wound itself around his brain, coaxing to life the instincts he kept obstinately buried within him.

At the same time, he sensed around him the sudden attention her scent attracted – he felt upon him the gazes of the few other students who were in the lecture theatre, and part of him wanted to jump out of his seat and snap at them, warn them away from what was his.

She looked at him with wide, soft, pleading eyes and he felt his lips moving, then she smiled and the choker snapped back into place. The chemical smell hit him like a brick wall, and he blinked, shaking his head, nostrils flaring as he reflexively leant away from her.

“Thank you! I feel a lot less guilty now,” she giggled, and he wondered if in that one second of thoughtlessness he had agreed to let her sit with him. He did vaguely recall saying something along the lines of yes…he glanced at the choker around her neck.

He must have been imagining things. Maybe he was tired from staying up so late. Just to be sure, he sniffed and struggled to keep his face straight as that horrible, awful smell flooded his senses once more. His eyebrow twitched. Yes, definitely imagining things.

“You’re not an omega, are you?” he asked. Just to ease his concerns. There shouldn’t be any of them here. Omegas were rare, especially after the pandemic that wiped out so many of their kind – and besides, their university had a strict policy against accepting omega students.

Which made sense, given the number of alphas who attended classes here. It was difficult for anyone who wasn’t an alpha to get into this place. One would say almost impossible.

She shook her head. “I’m a beta,” she admitted. “What about you?”

He felt his heartbeat slow a little. A beta. Maybe she was just one of those betas who had a really strange smell…or maybe he just needed to sleep more. “Oh, I’m a beta too,” he said. “I guess that makes us one of the rare few here, doesn’t it?”

She smiled. “Yes, I suppose so. What’s your name?”

“Solomon.” No harm in sharing that much with her. She gave him her name in return, and he nodded absentmindedly, not quite listening. It wasn’t like he’d ever run into her again. Or at least, he wouldn’t if he had any say in this matter.

“Why did you think I was an omega?” she asked, and that final word caught his attention again, drawing him to her like a moth to a lamp – she was the softest, loveliest thing, and he would gladly run his hands through her hair and sink his teeth into her neck if not for that foul stench – wait. No. What was he thinking? This was nothing like him.

“Oh, I just thought I smelled something strange,” he answered, keeping his gaze away from her face. “I have a really good sense of smell for a beta,” he added before she could ask.

“I see…” She didn’t say anything more, and he could practically sense her thinking.

“You’re new, right? I’ve never seen you around before.” The less she thought about him, the better. Not that he had given her any reason to be suspicious. Right?

“Yeah. I just transferred here a week ago. Today is my first day.” Her smile was dazzling. “I’m so excited! I mean, RAD is supposed to be one of the best schools in the country. All my life I’ve dreamt about coming here and walking across these grounds…” She sighed.

It was the first time he ever saw someone so enthusiastic about school. “Did you not enjoy your previous university?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She faltered at that, her gaze flitting away from him. “I was mostly home-schooled. So I don’t know much about…well, schools in general. My parents are kind of overprotective.”

“Home-schooled? That’s pretty impressive. This is the first time I’ve seen someone get in here without going through the usual route,” he said. Said usual route consisted of excellent results from an elite high school, glowing references and at least two extracurricular activities.

Which made him wonder what kind of strings she had pulled to enrol here. Knowing that this girl wasn’t any ordinary student fascinated him. It had been a good while since he was last interested in anything besides his studies. Maybe, if he was able to tolerate that smell –

No. In hindsight, he didn’t want to get involved. She would only be a distraction, and anyway, he didn’t have time to be dallying about with some new student, no matter how pretty or mysterious she was. He had a goal to reach, and he didn’t intend to get sidetracked in his pursuits.

“I guess,” she laughed. He thought he could hear discomfort in her voice, but then she gave him another smile and shook her hair out, brushing her bangs away from her eyes – he choked as she let off another wave of her scent, hastily covering his mouth so he could avoid inhaling.

“S-Sorry, swallowed…swallowed wrong,” he mumbled, still trying to bring his coughing under control. She frowned at him, concern in her eyes, and he saw her hand reaching towards his back, about to pat him – he tensed up, unsure of whether or not he should let her touch him.

But then the door of the lecture theatre swung open and the professor strode in, and she quickly dropped her hand, much to his relief. He drew a deep breath and it made his eyes sting, but this time he was better prepared and thankfully, he managed to avoid another coughing fit.

The professor loaded up the slides for today’s lecture, and he glanced at the girl, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Do you stay on campus?” he asked. Not that he cared about her social life or anything. But if she did stay in one of the dorms, then he’d know where to avoid in the future.

“Yeah. In Purgatory Hall,” she answered, and he froze, a sense of dread creeping around his heart. “It was the only dorm that had any vacancies left by the time I transferred.”

“Oh. Right.” He was barely paying attention to the words that came out of his mouth. “Uh, did anyone show you around?” The professor had finally managed to load up the slides and was currently sitting in a chair, eating a sandwich. There were five minutes left until class started.

“Simeon did. He’s the resident advisor on my floor.” She smiled, and he wondered who he had offended in his past life to be cursed with such bad luck. “Do you stay in Purgatory Hall too?”

He gave her a jerky nod, and her smile widened into a grin. “Great! Then I’ve already made a friend,” she giggled. He was tempted to tell her that they were in no way friends, but when he opened his mouth he found that he was unable to vocalise his thoughts. There was something almost wholesome about the excitement on her face, and he didn’t want to dash her hopes.

“I guess.” It was the most grudging, noncommittal agreement he could come up with, but she seemed happy enough with it anyway. He wanted to sigh. The only things he had planned for his schedule today were to attend his classes, finish his work, then hole up in his room for the rest of the night. Talking to some new kid was not part of his agenda.

And this disturbance of his plans unsettled him somewhat, especially when she was so unlike anyone he had ever seen before. Her strangely off-putting scent, her unorthodox background, and that one moment where she had smelled the most delectable thing in the world…

He ought to stop thinking so much about that. Thankfully, the professor finished her sandwich and decided to start the lecture, sparing him from further conversation. He turned towards the screen, trying to focus on the presentation. The girl’s scent lingered in his nose, a reminder of her foreignness; a reminder of how little control he truly had over his base instincts.

The last thing he wanted was for everything to fall apart when he had already come this far in his studies. Just another year more, and he’d be free – free to do whatever he wanted, free to conduct research in any of the top institutions in the world. Graduating from RAD granted him access to any workplace he wanted. And he wasn’t going to let some stranger mess it up.

Focus. He could do that. His grip on his pen tightened, his knuckles turning almost white. Don’t get distracted by her. She was just a beta. And in their world, betas didn’t mean a damn thing.

.

She sighed, stepping under the warm water of the shower, her fingers gently tracing the black choker around her neck. It was almost a part of her now, and sometimes she forgot about this extra layer she had, encircling her throat.

It would be nice to be able to remove it one day. But she couldn’t, not if she wanted to stay at RAD. Reaching for the shampoo, she lathered it onto her scalp, hoping its fragrance would mask hers. After what happened in the afternoon, she could do with that extra layer of protection.

Her father had told her that alphas were extremely sensitive to smells. She never thought too much about it – after all, she’d never met an alpha before. Not exactly. So, when earlier in the day she released her pheromones in an attempt to get her way, she hadn’t expected so many heads to turn in her direction, confusion and desire in their eyes.

Even Solomon, who had one of the coldest smiles she’d ever seen, stared at her with hunger in his gaze. And he was only a beta. She didn’t want to imagine how an alpha would react.

Maybe it had been a mistake to come here. She shuddered, closing her eyes and rinsing off the foam – but she wanted to come here. She wanted to prove to her father that she wasn’t a child anymore, that she could survive without his mollycoddling, that she didn’t need to make use of his reputation just to get somewhere in life. She was more than her father’s offspring.

She touched the choker again. It was cool to the skin, and when she closed her eyes she could almost feel it humming. This was the only protection she had against the other students in RAD, and her father’s warnings echoed in her mind – never remove your choker. Remember to take your pills. And don’t admit to anyone who you truly are. They wouldn’t let you go if they knew.

At that point, she had believed it was nothing but an exaggeration. A father’s concern for his child, and nothing more than that. But now that she had seen firsthand what alphas were capable of, she wasn’t so sure. All her life she had been sheltered from society; now that she finally gained the independence she had long craved, she didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Her nose wrinkled as she inhaled her scent. She didn’t like the cloying chemical undertone, but she knew this was the only thing that masked her identity and allowed her into RAD. It had taken a while before she finally got used to it, but once in a while, her scent still struck her with the force of a sledgehammer. Especially when she was getting close to that time of the month.

Which reminded her. She’d need to find a safe space soon. Was her room safe? Would the pills suppress it enough that she wouldn’t have to skip classes? If not she’d have to get a doctor’s note to answer for her absence. But those were questions she could think about later.

Finishing her shower, she towelled her hair dry and carefully wrapped the soft terry cloth around her body. It was starting to get chilly, and once she shoved her feet into her bathroom slippers she hurried back to her room, not wanting to freeze in the middle of the hallway. Plus, Purgatory Hall was a mixed-gender dorm, and she didn’t want any guys to see her in this state.

Especially not Simeon. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of the angelic senior who had shown her around last night. He was so pretty. Prettier than her, even. He introduced himself as a beta, which made her instantly comfortable around him. Betas were fine. Betas were safe.

Speaking of betas. Solomon lived in Purgatory Hall too, right? He never told her which floor, but she figured she might bump into him eventually. He was a strange person, she mused – despite his apparent physical disabilities, he didn’t seem to have any problems writing down what their professor was talking about, and in the end, his notes had been more comprehensive than hers.

He didn’t seem to be interested in anything beyond his studies. But she respected his dedication – she was here mostly for academics too. Though it might be nice to finally have a boyfriend.

She clapped her hands to her cheeks at the thought. This was kind of why she wanted to break free and go to university without her father’s influence. She was no longer a minor and she had the right to make personal choices. Besides, she wasn’t an idiot – she wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of her nature. No, she just wanted to try dating and see where that might take her.

And if anything more came out of it…well, that would be a good thing, right? She turned down the hallway towards her room, her face still warm, then halted when she saw Simeon standing outside her door, talking to someone she didn’t recognise. The stranger had hair the colour of spun gold and eyes that reminded her of a dark forest – then abruptly, his scent slammed into her and her knees almost gave way. He smelled so good. Almost heavenly. Warmth coiled in her belly, and something in her mind purred. Alpha. Alpha, alpha.

Simeon noticed her standing at the end of the hallway and beckoned her over. “Hi! I was hoping you’d be in today – thought it might be good to introduce you to some friends of mine.” He gave her a gorgeous smile, and she could barely force herself to nod back. The stranger watched her, a curious look in his eyes. She didn’t miss how his nose wrinkled when her scent finally reached him; that same unfamiliar, instinctive part of her whined, unhappy that she caused him displeasure.

“That’s so nice of you, Simeon,” she answered, taking slow steps so that no one would notice just how unsteady she was on her feet. “I really appreciate that. Um, who is this?”

“Satan. He lives in the House of Lamentation, one of the other dorms.” Simeon nodded. “And Satan, this is the new student I was telling you about.” He carried on with the introduction, sharing her name, her age and her major, which she was grateful for because she sensed that looking Satan in the eye would render her completely speechless. He was so…she didn’t even know what words she could use to describe him. Alpha. Alpha. She could barely think.

“Nice to meet you,” Satan said, and she wanted to just drown in his voice –  it was pure honey. A voice that was so sinfully indulgent that she could melt into it and let it dissolve her into mush. “There hasn't been a transfer student in ages. It’s great to see a new face.”

If he ever told her to come to him, she would. She pressed her thighs together, clutching the soft towel, hoping it would help to ground her. Why did she have such a strong reaction to him? There had been other alphas in her classes too. Was it just because he was this close to her? She did her best to sit alone during her lectures, with Solomon being the only exception. Betas were safe.

Alphas, she now knew, were not safe. Not in the slightest. “Thank you,” she squeaked, ignoring the strange look Simeon shot her. “And how do you two know each other?”

She wasn't even sure whether she wanted the conversation to continue. The longer she stood in front of Satan, the more muddle-headed she became. “Oh, Simeon’s friends with my brother. They go way back,” Satan explained. She wanted to swoon at the rich timbre of his voice. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? “Since you’re new here, let me know if you’d ever like to visit the House of Lamentation. It’s where all the tourists come to take photos, after all.”

“That sounds great!” Her voice sounded higher-pitched than normal. “Um, maybe next time? I wanted to look through my notes from today, but next time would be good!”

“Okay.” Simeon nodded. “You do sound like you’re in a hurry, so let’s not hold you up. Satan, you were looking for Solomon, right?”

She blinked at the sound of Solomon’s name, the familiarity of it dragging her out of the haze Satan’s scent put her in. “Solomon?” she echoed, not realising she had spoken aloud until the two men glanced at her.

“Yeah, we talk sometimes. You know him?” Satan asked.

“Kind of. We attend the same lecture.” The more she thought about Solomon, the calmer she felt, and now she was beginning to feel a bit more like herself. She didn’t understand why but she wasn’t about to question it. “He told me that he has difficulties seeing and hearing…”

“What?” Satan blinked. “No, he doesn’t. I don’t know why he said that, but he’s lying to you.”

“Oh.” Somehow she wasn’t surprised. So her initial hunch had been right. “He said he needed my seat because it offered the best view. But now I think he just didn’t want to give it up.”

Simeon laughed. “Solomon does have some strangely alpha-like tendencies, despite being a beta. I’ve seen more than one student mistaking him for an alpha. It can be quite amusing.”

Well, she thought the same thing. She had suspected he was an alpha until he denied it. But who could blame him for behaving a little like one? Alphas were placed at the top of the social hierarchy. Just being designated as one could get you anything you wanted.

“I should really be getting to my work now, so maybe we can talk some other day?” she said, shivering a little as the wind blew in through an open window nearby, raising goosebumps on her bare arms. Simeon and Satan finally seemed to notice her state of undress and promptly stepped aside, apologising as she walked past them. She waved it off, glad to finally be back inside her toasty room – she dropped the towel and stretched with a moan, feeling the tension flood out of her shoulders. Glancing in the mirror, she took note of how pink her cheeks were.

Seeing Satan had flustered her so terribly, she was amazed she didn’t come across sounding like a complete idiot. Luckily she was able to snap out of that. Was this the effect of being near an alpha? She should avoid them all in that case – she had thought the choker was sufficient protection, but evidently not. It seemed like all it did was make her smell strange to others.

Or maybe she just needed a higher dose of pills. In the past, she only took them to regulate her hormones, but now that she would be around alphas more often, she should probably take their suppressant effect seriously. She’d swallow two pills in the morning and see whether that made any difference in the way she reacted to Satan. His effect on her…she shuddered. Never again.

Putting on her pyjamas, she threw herself onto her bed, closing her eyes in bliss as her face sank into the pillow. It had been a long day, and she was still struggling to get used to things. Once she blew her hair dry, she’d go to sleep and hopefully wake up refreshed tomorrow.

#solomon x mc #satan x mc #solomon obey me #satan obey me #obey me #obey me shall we date

[dontenchantme]

I just really wanted to draw Lucifer in a floaticorn 😂🦄

[dontenchantme]

restraint

Rated E, solomon x mc - contains smut.

the only thing honest about solomon was the way his body reacted to her touch.

fics masterlist

This wasn’t the first time she was in his room. It wasn’t even the second or the third time – Purgatory Hall was almost another home to her by this point.

But as she struggled with the buttons on her shirt, her fingers stiff with tension, she thought that she’d never felt more nervous, more afraid than she did now. She yanked at the cotton of her blouse, part of her fed up with her emotions, but then his hand reached for hers and she stilled, her breath catching. Solomon watched her, and his expression was unreadable.

Slowly, he pulled her hands away from her collar, letting them drop to her sides. “Why are you so impatient?” he whispered, leaning close, his head dipping so that his lips were right next to her ear. His breath washed over her skin. “I didn’t think you’d have a reason to be.”

“I’m not –” The retort was instinctive, but she bit her lip, stopping herself from saying more. There was a knowing gleam in his yellow-blue eyes, and both of them were aware of what the other wanted; was there even a point in her trying to hide the truth? “You’ve made me wait for too long,” she finally answered, and he smiled, sliding his fingers through her hair.

“I apologise, ahuvati. I’ve been tied up in my personal affairs – perhaps it was selfish of me to neglect you,” he teased, his hand dropping from her head to trail across her shoulder. “How would you like me to make it up to you?” His elegant fingers stopped right at her collar, and he flicked one of the stubborn buttons with a playful grin, one that made her knees weak.

On the surface, it was as though their earlier conversation had never happened. But there was a look in his eyes that reminded her of vulnerability, something he had never displayed around her before. “You know perfectly well how to make me feel better,” she whispered, her fingers splayed across his chest. She could feel his heart beating underneath her palm.

His eyes narrowed. “And that’s all you want?” he asked, tilting her head up with a finger, his other hand leaving her shirt buttons to grip her waist, tugging her towards him. “You questioned, you pushed, you did your best to chip away at my very person, and yet this is all you want?”

“Yes. This is the only thing I want.” She wasn’t even sure if she was lying – he had been gone from her life for a mere two weeks but seeing him now made something burn within her. It wasn’t a feeling that she understood entirely, but she knew better than to try and suppress her emotions. If she let this impulse simmer for too long, she would eventually explode.

He paused, studying her, and she stared straight back into his piercing eyes, trying to figure out what he saw when he looked at her. “You never cease to intrigue me,” he finally said.

“I can intrigue you in other ways,” she answered, cupping his face and drawing him down for a kiss – he tasted like magic, like sin, something forbidden that hovered just out of reach, so close and yet so far. He didn’t withdraw – instead, his hand slid to the back of her head, holding her still as she sighed into his kiss, his lips parting slightly for her.

This felt different from her dreams, somehow. Weightier. Solomon was real and solid, and she wanted to sink her fingers into him, reassure herself that he wouldn’t disappear. Her heart hurt. “Don’t leave me again,” she said, pulling back so she could gauge his reaction – he let out a long, shuddering sigh and shook his head, closing his eyes.

“If that’s what you want.” His lips brushed against the corner of her mouth, trailing down to her jaw, to the curve of her neck, and she shivered at the soft, fleeting sensation of his mouth against her skin. “I’ll follow you to Hell and back if that’s what you wish for,” he added, his voice a husky murmur, and she stepped towards him, almost collapsing into his arms.

“I want you, Solomon.” This wait had been too long, too painful. His eyes flicked open and he wasted no time in fulfilling her request – the gentle warmth of magic flickered around her and she gasped as her clothes undid themselves, dropping in a pool at her feet. She didn’t even have time to respond before he grabbed her and then they were on his bed, her arms wrapped around his neck as he leant over her, their lips meeting in a burst of heat that had her scrabbling at his uniform, trying to press herself closer to him.

Normally she might feel a tinge of embarrassment, shamed by how desperate she was for him, but right now it was impossible to care. Her fingers pulled at his silver locks while she wrapped her bare legs around his hips, keeping him against her. “I didn’t know you missed me this much,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he was teasing her – when she looked into his eyes she saw that his pupils were dilated, inky black devouring the yellow-blue she was so used to, and a shiver ran down her back. Had he ever looked at her this openly before?

“I hate how you make me feel,” she told him in return, her hands reaching down to undo the buttons on his shirt – she didn’t struggle as much with his clothes, and before long she had his uniform unbuttoned, her fingers roaming across his bare skin. The heat of his body almost seared her, and she trembled when he pressed himself against her, the desire she saw in his eyes manifesting itself between her thighs. “Get rid of your clothes,” she said.

“Is that an order?” But he didn’t protest, shrugging off his shirt and undoing the buckle of his belt – the moment he kicked his clothes away he came back to her, his nimble hands searching her, finding their home in the planes and curves of her body. “Sing for me,” he murmured, and sing she did, broken gasps and murmurs falling from her lips as he bent her readily to his touch, luring an ancient, primal desire out from the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t know if he was that good or if he had simply memorised the shape and the feel of her skin. What she did know was that he had completely ruined her for any other man – when his hand slid between her legs, his fingers delicately teasing her trembling flesh, her mind blanked out and all she could think about were the stars that danced in his eyes, beautiful flashes of light and colour that robbed her of the air nestling in her lungs.

When he let go of her, she felt the cold air kiss her thighs and she flinched, pressing them together – she didn’t realise she was holding her breath, and when she exhaled, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes. There was a throbbing, aching need rising within her, and if she didn’t get something to fill that void, she might begin to cry. “Solomon…please.”

He ran his tongue over his fingers, glistening with her wetness. “Did you think you’d get what you wanted just because you begged me?” he asked, a faint smile curving his lips; her gaze dropped from his beautiful, cruel mouth to the rest of his body, lean and lithe. He was a sculpture carved to perfection, all hard lines and angles, marble that breathed.

She repeated his name and it broke on her tongue, almost a sob. When his lips met hers, they were surprisingly tender. “Shush.” His fingers intertwined with hers, and she watched as he brought her hand up to his chest. She felt his heartbeat, faster than she would have imagined. “It’s taking everything I have not to just devour you right now,” he whispered.

The thought of being taken by him so relentlessly made her moan, the quiet sound slipping unbidden through her lips, and his eyes narrowed. He dipped his head and his mouth, hot and searching, lingered against her neck. His teeth sank lightly into the flesh of her throat, and his tongue ran over her pulse, making her shudder. “Is this your idea of a tease?”

Her voice was breathless, but he still understood what she said if that raised eyebrow was any indication – she yelped as he bit down, not too hard but enough to hurt. He hummed against her skin and a thrill shot through her, going straight to her groin.

“I thought after so long you’d want me to be gentle,” he said, “but that doesn’t seem to be the case. You’re still as demanding as ever. How insatiable.” But the satisfied gleam in his eyes contradicted his reprimanding tone. “What do you want from me?”

She grabbed his hands, pulling them to her chest, and he laughed. It was a soft sound full of humour and something else; that something reminded her of Solomon with his bangs falling over his eyes, his teeth gritted as he held himself over her, his forearms tense – she cried out when he pinched her nipples, having noticed her sudden distraction. “What are you thinking about? Pay attention to me,” he said, and his voice was filled with malice.

“Only you,” she answered, instinctively drawn to the taunt in his gaze. He rarely behaved like this with her, even when he was caught up in the throes of passion, but she enjoyed it most when he was this way – when he tried to lord himself over her and ended up falling apart at the feel of her wrapped around him, her voice calling his name.

It didn’t matter that she knew no magic, that she was far less powerful than he was. Even if she was weak compared to him, Solomon would do anything she wanted in bed, and this time was no different. Her fingers fisted his hair as he lowered his head to her nipples, his tongue flicking out to tease her – his name left her lips, spat out like a curse, and his teeth sank into her flesh, leaving imprints on her skin.

He was nestled between her thighs and for a brief, wondrous moment she felt him grind against her – she spread her legs, hoping to tempt him, hoping that he would give in and take her right there and then, but instead one of his hands reached down to linger on the sensitive skin right above her groin, tracing delicate patterns all over her body. She jerked when his hand slid under her, cupping her ass. “I hate your stupid games,” she breathed.

“Really? I thought you quite enjoyed them.” He left a burning kiss on the faint bruises that now purpled her skin. Before she could think of some kind of comeback, he started to trail more butterfly kisses down her torso, towards her navel, and she forgot what she had been trying to say, watching him with tense anticipation as he approached her sex.

His breath washed over her and she exhaled, her fingers tightening in the material of his bedsheet. If she kept gripping it so tightly, she might just rip it, but neither of them was in the headspace to care about that. “You don’t want me to do this, do you?” he asked, and she narrowed her eyes at the smile that danced on his lips, mocking her.

Two weeks without him and she thought she would have gotten used to his absence, but when one slender finger traced a delicate circle around her clit, her legs quivered, shifting slightly so that he had better access to her core – he didn’t miss the way her body moved, trying to accommodate him the best it could. “I hate you,” she whimpered. At least she was lucid enough to grab his pillow and jam it over her face, hiding his smirk from view.

But her respite didn’t last long. Moments later, the pillow was ripped out of her hands and she watched as Solomon tossed it onto his desk, far out of her reach. She glared at him, or at least she tried her best given that he had finally sunk his fingers inside her, and she was now writhing, struggling against him as his free arm forced her down. He knew exactly what she liked; he was so familiar with her body, so attuned to her responses that she doubted any other man would be able to make her cry out the same way.

The pleasure was blinding. Her mind could barely form a coherent thought, and her breath fell in quick pants, her lungs aching. She could sense Solomon’s gaze upon her and in the back of her mind, she was almost begging him to stop. He manipulated her body with all the skill of an expert puppeteer, and she danced for him, a limp marionette dangling from its strings.

Then abruptly he slowed, and she ached so badly that it hurt, her cunt throbbing with need around him. He slowly pumped his fingers once, twice inside her and she shuddered, a sigh escaping her lips – his eyes brimmed with satisfaction, but there was an unsated hunger in that yellow-blue gaze that sent another wave of heat down to her sex. “Do you want more?”

How was he able to sound so normal? She could barely string a sentence together. “Tease me some more and I’ll seriously consider putting on my clothes and leaving.” A threat that rang hollow, and they both knew it. There was no way she would leave, not at this stage.

Solomon’s thumb gently pressed her clit and she spasmed, the rush of pleasure so sudden that for a moment she forgot her own name – when she recovered, he was hovering over her again, their noses almost touching. “You were saying?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“I’m not a toy for you to play with.” But she wanted him to play with her. She wanted him to take her apart, have his hands linger on every inch on her as he put her back together. She wanted him to leave his mark on her, dark petals unfurling across her skin wherever his lips touched. This desire to be marked by him was not foreign, but it was the first time she had felt it so strongly, and she had no idea how to sift through the thoughts flooding her mind.

Absence made the heart grow fonder, or so they said. Maybe that was why she yearned so badly for him now. Or maybe it was because of that one moment of fear, of vulnerability he had shown when he lashed out at her. Either way, she wanted him. She wanted him inside her, his voice calling out her name, desperation rolling off his tongue. She wanted another hint of the real Solomon, the man she knew hid behind his carefully crafted façade, behind the half-truths and placid smiles and gentle diversions.

And when they were in bed together, when he was nestled in her arms, the heat in his gaze searing the depths of her soul – that was the one moment when he was truest to himself. All of a sudden, she thought about the time he said that he loved her, the words he uttered simply because she had wanted him to, and she found herself wishing he would say that again.

She reached down, wrapping her hand around his length, and he hissed at the sensation of her fingers running along his shaft – surprise flitted through his gaze, but it quickly gave way to longing. “Kiss me,” she said, and he wordlessly obeyed; their lips met in a needy kiss that only got messier when she began to stroke him. He bucked into her hand, and she ran her thumb over the tip, a familiar, sticky moisture gathering on her skin. “Do you want me?”

Her voice was sultry, almost seductive. She barely recognised it. Solomon nuzzled her neck, his chest pressed against hers, and she bit her lip at the friction, at all these sensations that threatened to send her over the edge. “Yes. I want you,” he whispered, so different from his earlier control. Knowing how much he desired her made her feel a little light-headed.

“How do you want to take me?” she asked, offering him a chance to choose – he didn’t even stop to think, grabbing her hips and flipping her so that she knelt on all fours before him. The space between her thighs felt cold, uncomfortable, but she didn’t have to focus on that because in the next instant, Solomon slid himself inside her in one smooth, fluid motion; his hands were still gripping her hips, and she cried out as he pounded her in earnest, the wet sounds that filled the room both embarrassing and delighting her in equal measure.

She could feel some of her moisture dripping down her thighs – she didn’t even know she had been that wet. The two-week break must have affected her more than she thought. It was hard to hold back her moans, but she wanted to retain what little control she had, and so she gritted her teeth and shook her head, tears springing to her eyes as Solomon took her – with each desperate thrust she got closer to becoming undone, but she continued to hold her tongue and grip the sheets, determined not to succumb and scream his name.

If anything, he would give in first. He would call for her in that beautiful, tremulous voice of his and then he’d – she gasped, startled when Solomon reached forward and grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms back as he fucked her. She was forced to arch her back, but every move he made, every slam of his hips, went in so much deeper and she had to force her eyes shut, biting down so hard on her lip that she was afraid she drew blood.

He rarely took her from behind, generally preferring to see her face when they had sex, but she couldn’t deny there was a primal, almost animalistic allure to feeling him pounding into her this way – Solomon let out a sound that was almost a growl, shifting his grip so that he held both her wrists in one hand. He wound her long hair around his other fist and then he pulled, eliciting a sharp gasp from her – the pain lasted only a second before it blurred into pleasure, and she was unable to prevent herself from letting out a low moan.

Solomon slowed when he heard her, and she wondered if he intended to tease her or punish her for making a sound – but abruptly he let go of her and she felt his arms slide around her waist, his lips trailing across her back. “How…how do you feel?” he asked.

His voice was quiet, breathless. Something about it made her heart flutter. “I want…I want more,” she answered, keeping her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. She felt him smile against her and then he placed his hands on her lower back, one finger running down the length of her spine. His touch made her shiver. It was so gentle. So delicate. So unlike him.

“I’ll give you everything you want,” he whispered. When he moved again, he took his time, slowly pushing inside her – she could feel every inch of him as he spread her. She let out a sigh, her trembling arms barely able to hold her up. “But in exchange I want to see you fall apart, calling my name in that sweet voice of yours. Can you do that for me, ahuvati?”

“Yes, yes, I can,” she almost sobbed, and she was rewarded with another languid thrust, his hands reaching for her breasts – he teased her, toying with her nipples as he continued to move, his pace nothing like the frenzied need he showed earlier. His sudden slowness should have cleared her head, but his hand played with her breasts and the other teased her clit, and she could barely breathe through the haze of sensation fogging up her mind.

She was so wet. So embarrassingly wet. And he seemed to enjoy it, capturing glistening strands of her desire and holding his hand in front of her mouth – understanding his silent command, she reached out to suck on his fingers and he sighed, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder blade. She tasted herself, her tongue swiping up every last bit of moisture, and when she swallowed and looked back at him with a plea in her eyes, he slammed his hips into her, a jerky movement that caused her to whimper and collapse on his bed.

“Faster. Please.” She was tired of being teased, but she knew it was unlikely Solomon would give in so easily, not unless she begged to the point of humiliation. The sorcerer withdrew at the sound of her voice and she was ready to burst into tears, but then he pushed her over so that her back was pressed into the mattress and she was staring up at him, her eyes wide.

Solomon ran a finger against her jaw, and there was a look in his eyes that she hardly ever saw, something almost like affection. “I spoil you, don’t I?” he mused, sliding back into her as he spoke – her lips parted soundlessly at the sensation of him inside her once more, and he kissed her then, a deep, needy kiss that made her eyelids flutter. She looped her arms around his neck, trying to dissolve into him, trying to meld their bodies together so that she never had to leave his warmth – his scent was magic and longing and she wanted him so badly.

Yes. She wanted him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, unconsciously trying to keep him with her – two weeks, two weeks. Her thoughts whispered insecurity. If Solomon could leave once he could leave again. She tried to shut them away; he wasn’t her lover. But deep down she knew that she craved more from him. She wanted something he might never be able to give her. The hint of who he was, who he could one day become, haunted her.

If only she could peel back the many layers surrounding this man – if only she could chip away at his frozen exterior to reveal the raw truth that he hid so well from everyone else.

Solomon closed his eyes, his hands gripping her wrists, his thrusts picking up speed – she was incredibly sensitive after all the time he spent teasing her, and when he leant down to suck on the curve of her neck she threw her head back, crying out his name. In that instant nothing else in the world existed, nothing but him and her and the sensation of being one with this knowing, beautiful, cruel man who played her like a game of chess, his every move calculated to make her sink to her knees in bliss and misery and every emotion in between.

He was supposed to be a human, the most powerful sorcerer in the world. But if that was the case, then how did he bring her to heights that defied all mortal expectation?

“Do you…do you love me?” she managed to gasp out, holding back her orgasm just so she could speak her mind, ask the question that tormented her right before she lost herself in the pleasure he granted. Solomon’s eyes flicked open and he looked directly at her, his yellow-blue gaze filled with some unspoken emotion, and his lips moved in the quietest of whispers – but then she could suppress the sensations no more and she came around him, her sharp cry echoing off the walls.

She hadn’t heard what he said and she could barely think about it because moments later Solomon was chasing his own climax, pounding into her with a frantic clumsiness that was entirely at odds with his usual grace – he shuddered and groaned, curses spilling from his mouth as he filled her. Moments later he was pressing open-mouthed kisses against her throat. She wanted to wrap herself around him and stay like this forever, content to have him buried inside her for a while longer. “Solomon…” Her voice sounded weak to her ears.

“Yes,” he murmured, bumping his nose against hers, a rare gesture of tenderness that left her speechless. “Stay with me.” She knew he wasn’t asking, but there was cautiousness in his eyes, a hopeful question that she couldn’t bear to decline, so she nodded. He smiled at her, and she didn’t miss the relief that flitted across his face, so foreign, so…trusting. So very unlike Solomon. “Will your demons scold you if you don’t go home tonight?”

“I can come up with an excuse,” she whispered, holding a hand against his cheek. Another soft, tender gesture, nothing like their usual after-sex routine. But it was a nice change.

Solomon buried his face against her neck, his arms tightening around her. She thought about how nice it would be if things could stay this way forever. But she knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking, and everything would have to go back to normal by sunrise.

#solomon #solomon obey me #solomon x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me

[dontenchantme]

Comte: I don’t make mistakes.

Theo: That’s a lie. You made William.

[dontenchantme]

(Ikesen and Ikevamp) Sorry if this has been asked before. But how about an MC who went back to her own time only to find out she was pregnant. How would the boys reaxt if she comes back somehow a few years later but with a young child she says is theirs.

im sorry for keeping u waiting this long anon huhu,, i only did the vamps but, if my askbox allows, i’ll come back to do the sen boys too ! i didn’t have a specific gender for their children so jus imagine the lil rascal any way u want

Napoleon Bonaparte

When you come back through that door with a fascinated child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

He literally has no words when you smile gently, saying it’s his. Napoleon swallows the bump in his throat before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“I.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, nununche,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

As a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either. But he tries — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you catch them in a compromising position, usually when you see your child holding a foil with a goofy smile.

“Nunuche.. I can explain,” Napoleon says calmly when you first find the two of them — well, three; it seems Jean was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you — parading around the training room with the foils.

“Mamma, papa said he was the King! He teached me how to be King!” Your child exclaims, flailing the weapon around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“Well, you see, I meant emperor, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with the murderous intent he’s so used to fighting against on the battle field

Slowly kneeling down to meet your child’s eyes, you see him whispering something incoherent before the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the foil.

Then, as if counting down ‘3, 2, 1′, Napoleon immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“Napoleone di Buonaparte, get your ass back here right now!” You scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — Vive L’Empereur!” The two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. They’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“That child is.. mine?” He asks, slightly jaw-slacked, pointing at the child that undeniably looks like him, if the identical beauty mark or violet eyes are anything to go by.

“Do you.. not want—”

“I never said that,” he instantly cuts you off, going over to kneel at the confused child. With a slight smile, in an attempt to hold his tears back, he manages, “So.. how was spending time with that clumsy mother of yours?”

Mozart doesn’t really know how to spend time with his child, though he’s clearly not opposed to carrying the little rascal around on his shoulders, or dragging the child clinging onto his leg around when stubbornness bites.

You often don’t know what he’s thinking whenever he spends time with your child, or the whole situation, but rest assured, he wouldn’t change it for the world, despite how he may look.

A clear example of this is when you once walked into the piano room only to see your little darling on top of the grand white piano itself, snoozing on top of a small comforter whilst your lover plays the soft tunes you’ve grown to love.

Shock holds you captive as you stare at the lovely sight, before finally trailing off, “Mozart..”

Without so much as glancing at you, he replies, voice hushed in a soft tone you don’t hear so often. The blissful smile on his face speaks thousands of words.

“I thought you were the only one foolish enough to let your guard down in front of me… It seems I was wrong.”

Leonardo da Vinci

He had an inkling the moment he saw the child sporting caramel eyes so similar to his own, tawny gaze regarding the large mansion with wonder.

And when you did reveal that the child is actually his, he only pulled you close to his chest, hoisting the little one up with his other arm.

“Papa has a lot of time to make up to you, doesn’t he?”

Leonardo is good with children, if it isn’t obvious. Not in your conventional dad way wherein he brings the child to school — in fact, he probably fell asleep in the hallway just when the two were about to leave — but he's awfully good at keeping his child entertained.

Running around the mansions, creating new inventions, learning a new language — sometimes, you have to remind yourself that this child’s father is literally Leonardo da Vinci.

A position you often see them in, however, is snoozing on the floor, probably near the library, your child a small ball curled into Leonardo’s arms and head in the crook of his neck.

“Again? Really?” You can only huff, though that doesn’t stop the small smile from spreading on your face as you brush the locks of hair out of your lover’s face.

“Cara mia,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping your wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

He starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his, and he’ll have to be comforted by yours and your child’s tiny arms before he even plans to stop.

“Ah, crying like that on our first meeting… Don’t you think your fath — I’m a bit embarrassing?” He asks, sniffling as he musters a smile.

Your child giggles, blue eyes crinkling. “No! Mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

He has to stop himself from sobbing again.

Arthur wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, and every single day is one you’d find the two of them either in town or messing about at home.

If not, then they’re probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what. The day you peek in to see what exactly they were up to was a blessed day.

Maneuvering yourself in a way that lets you see through the tiny crack of the open door, your jaw drops at the adorable sight of your child in a tiny deerstalker and trench coat far too big for his form, Arthur nodding with a serious look on his face.

“So, Watson, do you think crepes make mummy happier?” Your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up — one you’re sure is from Leonardo — like a mic in front of Arthur’s face.

He strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “Seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, I deduce they do, Sherlock.”

“Good dedoo – deduck – deduction, Watson! I thought so too.”

Your heart literally melts. The two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. Dorks. 

Vincent van Gogh

When you meet those familiar, cerulean eyes from your place in front of the door, they’re already glossy in seconds, a flurry of emotions clear on Vincent’s face, though his smile says it all.

“Is it too much to say I’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

Vincent would be practically wallowing in regret that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, leading him to do any and everything that will cause his child to smile. In simpler terms, he’s basically wrapped around the little one’s finger.

He’s so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, and there’s an immediate smile on his face when he so much as thinks about the little blondie.

He literally makes the other residents question whether or not they want a child too.

Their bonding time is painting and, more often than not, it ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“I’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” Vincent’s soft voice only makes you sigh in relaxation as he massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some blue paint off your child.

“It’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and looking up into his bright eyes.

Your lips were just about to meet, when —

“Mam, I’m not clean yet!”

You groan, Vincent only laughing as you meet the crossed arms of your child pouting child.

“Don’t give your mammie too much of a hard time, okay?” He never forgets to take care of you above all, of course.

Theodorus van Gogh

When he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, Theo has to literally disappear to cool his head off because he’s angry.

Not at you, no, never, but at himself. That he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Hon — Schatje,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy hair and staring at you with eyes that practically bleed insecurity, his voice breaking. “How am I supposed to take care of a child when I couldn’t even take care of you?”

After many reassuring words and gentle touches, Theo’s finally okay, holding up and scrutinising your child much like how he does a painting. He’s, well, awkward.

Theo is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He’s also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks that much either, so out of the residents, he’d be one of the better fathers.

“Nee.” “Papje, pleaaase?” “No. Non. Nee.”

Your lover’s fixed refusal causes you to peek your head into a lovely picture. Theo was holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child with his puppy dog eyes in full view.

“Je mama said no chocolate, right?” Your heart warms when you realise he remembered your scoldings, though you can’t help but to feel bad for your whining baby.

“Theo,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “How about you give the little baby some chocolate and we all enjoy some pancakes, yeah?”

The way both their eyes shine almost identically is adorable.

Dazai Osamu

When you showed up again with the child in hand, one he knows is his, his first thought, first wish, is that for that tiny thing to not be his. Because no one knows how harsh this world is more than the man who wished to end it all, so much more than once.

But Dazai makes up his mind when he sees you and your — his child staring up at him with those eyes that look so much like your own. He makes up his mind, despite his own continuous suffering, that he’ll never let this child go through what he had to.

“Was I staring too much?” He smiles, slightly sad and, well, empty. “I suppose it’s because the little one looks far too much like you.” Bright. Too bright for me.

As a father, he’s surprisingly really good with children? He quite enjoys seeing your child smile more than anything, and one way he knows how to do so is by perching the little one on his shoulders, running around the mansion as his hands intertwine with small, tiny fingers.

You don’t know whether to yell at him and his close-eyed grin, or simply laugh at the resonating giggles of your child. Probably both as you chase the two down the halls.

Dazai often zones out whenever he’s playing with your child, a look you can only describe as pure bliss on those handsome features of his. As you stare up at him, confusion clear on your features, you ask, “Hey, Dazai, why do you.. Zone out so much? Whenever you’re with, you know,” you motion to the snoozing one in between the both of you.

“Why do I zone out, you ask?” He gives you a smile, a real one this time, and gently pokes at the little ones cheeks. “I think.. I’ve found a wonderful reason to live, is all.”

Isaac Newton

“That’s… mine??” “That?” “... It?” “It?” “The.. child?”

Isaac is very flustered, for lack of better terms. He can barely manage the children he and Napoleon go see intermittently, but his own child? Lord, help him.

He gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the mansion because even then, he isn’t spared by Arthur and Dazai’s teasing remarks — in fact, it only seems to have gotten worse.

Isaac is surprisingly good at getting your rascal child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his unsaid rambles.

“And did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing Uncle Dazai and Uncle Arthur?”

Your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and toothy grin showing. “Daddy also said, ‘Get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

Your accusatory gaze turns towards Isaac, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead.

“I-In my defense, they were—”

“One more time, Isaac, and I’m changing this baby’s legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love so much.”

Gaping, his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He is now a grumbling mess when the two are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around with a stick in hand can be counted as an upgrade.

Jean d’Arc

When you walk through that door once more, nervously telling your lover that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction — after all, Jean is, despite his vampiric aging, barely an adult himself.

His jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child with his inky locks, and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“Papa?” Your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked Jean as you hold your breath.

He stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “Yes, little one?”

He’s extremely unaccustomed to this whole parent thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

Although he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well, you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is.

Jean, well, looks ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

He utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin.

“Is this.. how it’s like to be happy?”

William Shakespeare

When Shakespeare wakes up to the news that you are, in fact, back at the mansion with a little surprise, he’s already there in no time.

He didn’t expect the little surprise to be a little child that’s practically an identical copy of him. But he’s always been more of a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy, so he immediately whisks you off to his manor, much to the exasperation of the residents who were surprisingly enjoying their time with the little Shakespeare lookalike.

Except he doesn’t really need to ask questions, because he’s already figured everything out through your soft, slightly nervous gaze, and your lovely little mannerisms.

“Alas, it seems the Heavens were kind enough to grant my wish,” he says as he stares at your child, only smiling to meet your confused gaze. “For I only wished you weren’t too lonely without my presence.”

William is always with his child, whatever the circumstances. Though he quite enjoys showing off his child, he’s also keen on spending his every waking second with the little tyke because he knows how it feels like to grow up lonely, and he wouldn't bestow that upon his own little one.

“Darling, it appears I has’t gotten myself into a slight predicament.”

If you could, you would have snapped a picture of your smiling lover practically itching to get up, yet unable to do so due to the sleeping child in his lap.

“And how did you get yourself into this predicament, my love?” You tease, your own smile on your face. He has a habit of reading his writings aloud, and it seems the little one fell asleep to William’s gentle voice.

“My works seem to be but a mere bedtime story to this little one,” he motions to the child, his smile softening. “I wonder why it does not dishearten me.”

Comte de Saint-Germain

“I was hoping you’d be back, ma chérie.” His perfunctory smile betrays the inner flurry of emotions inside him as he glances towards the child. “With a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, and the surprise outlining his normally composed face is something you’d forever save in your mind.

Comte is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

Many times have you asked Sebastian the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

Then, to finally put a stop to it all, you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

Placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. After explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

Unsurprisingly for you, your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“And what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” He asks, honest-to-god confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s form.

You smile softly, “Isn’t it obvious, silly? The little rascal loves you more than anything.”

His eyes are suspiciously glossy before he laughs it off, preparing for yet another shopping spree — you regret everything.

Sebastian

He only gives you a knowing smile when you pass through the door with a young child gripping your hand.

“So.. this is the little one, is it?” He asks, tone soft as he walks towards you, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and meeting eyes with his child. “I’m a strict father, mind you.”

“Sebastian!” “I was joking. Slightly.”

Despite being a father, Sebastian is as strict and precise as ever around the mansion, rarely having to leave either his work or his family unattended due to his impeccable time management skills.

And if he struggles with both, well, he just has to merge them into one task, doesn’t he? Many are the times wherein the residents catch Sebastian working, his little runt on his tail or on his hip.

“They’re at it again, you know,” Mozart says in passing, only causing you to groan.

“Sebastian! How many times have I told you not in the kitchen?” You exclaim, walking into the kitchen to find your lover and your child tackling yet another chore together.

It seemed to be baking this time, if the flour on both of their faces says anything.

“Mama!” Your child exclaims with powdered hands as Sebastian says blankly, “We’re doing chores.”

You merely roll your eyes, sighing as you walk out the room. Your apology comes later when a sloppy cupcake makes its way into your view.

Your eyes move up to your proud looking child, hair obviously patted down in an attempt to look presentable while your lover sports a tiny grin on his own face.

“We made this for you, mom! Papa said he wanted to make you reaaaally happy.”

Sebastian’s head instantly snaps down, eyes narrowing, “Hey.”

You can only laugh at your two babies, taking a bite of the surprisingly good and sweeter than an average cupcake.