#Under the gloves his hands are like the hands on his mc skin but gloves stay on so he can touch water and not die

[thedevilspearl]

keep that mouth full, baby — older brothers

a/n: time to finally satisfy my oral fixation and give you guys some more self–indulgent, smutty goodness. today’s edition is mc giving the older brother’s a blowjob while they are busy with other things.

tags: 0.9k words, blowjobs (obviously), oral fixation, no gender specified, reader x lucifer, mammon + leviathan.

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

the dim lighting in lucifer’s office certainly sets the mood. you wonder how he is capable of not straining his aged eyes while reading through his paperwork, but you assume he opted for quiet lighting so you wouldn’t notice how flustered his face is.

not that you have a good view of his face under his desk. but still, if anyone would go so far to hide their blushing face from the person they love, it would be lucifer.

it’s not something to complain about. the small compartment under his desk is more than cosy given that lucifer plopped a few cushions and a blanket under there before you surrendered your mouth to his aching cock.

for hours, you’ve sat between his legs with only a small gap to peak up at him while his cock sits on your tongue. every now and then, you’d stroke him, slowly dragging his length in and out of your mouth before resting your tired head against his thigh. you’d feel his muscles clench as you bring him right to the edge before maliciously decide to stop, feigning fatigue.

lucifer brings his gloved hand below, running fingers through your locks to comfort you while imagining yanking them and using your mouth like a toy to get off. but his fantasies stay well within his mind because there is no way he can wade his way through the mountain of paperwork without the warmth from your mouth on him.

teasing and edging aside, his burning skin and shallow pants motivate him to finish his work faster, so he can have you all to himself. he’s holding in his orgasm because when he does give in, he wants to give his all to you with undivided attention.

it’s torture — cruel, yet comforting. but lucifer can’t function without it, without you.

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

you’ve been through many an attempt to force mammon to finish his homework on time, or at all, for that matter. but nothing has worked quite as well as this.

it started as a promise — finish your homework and i’ll give you a blowjob. anyone could imagine how quickly he got it done, but no one would imagine him scoring full marks. and that’s how you discovered pleasing the greedy demon’s huge cock was the best way to improve his grades.

mammon begs you to help him with his homework, and you know he doesn’t need help, he needs your mouth.

it’s become such a common occurrence that your jaw begins to ache every time you hear the word homework. and yet, you don’t find a reason to stop because you are just as greedy as the avatar of greed. you’ve become addicted to the feeling of his cock filling your mouth.

he hisses as your tongue runs along his length.

“fuck….” he whimpers. “your mouth is so filthy, but so fucking good.”

he throws his head back and you take him whole into your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth until you can take as much of his length as possible, and use your fist to pump the rest of him. he is so overtaken by bliss that he thrusts his hips, but you don’t allow him the privilege of control.

“ngh, mammon,” you gasp, pulling away with a string of saliva connecting you to his cock. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re not allowed to cum until you finish your homework.”

he reluctantly picks up his pen while his cock twitches in your mouth. deep groans escape him and you continue salivating all over his cock, sucking even harder.

“hurry up,” you whine. “i want your cum all over my tongue.”

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

once again, leviathan has been locked in his room for hours. you expected it; he just bought the new video game he wanted for so long and now….well, right now, he cares more about the stupid game than you.

but you won’t have it.

levi is so engrossed in his game that he doesn’t notice you entering his room, or you stripping naked, or you crawling past his feet and into the little nook under his gaming desk.

you’re just about ready to slap him across the face just so he would notice you, but you turn the frustration into motivation. your fingers trace his ankles all the way up his calves, tickling his sensitive skin a shiver wakes him up from his intense gaming trance.

surprised from the sudden touch, he rolls his chair back, giving you enough room to pop out from underneath.

“mc, what are you do–” his eyes rake over your form, finally realising your naked form. “w–what are you doing there? like that ?”

his cheeks burn red and you smile at him teasingly, running your hands all over your body and watching his brain malfunction from the teasing.

“like this? levi….i wanted to see you for so long. but you’ve been playing yoir new game.” you pout. “but it’s okay. you can keep playing and i’ll stay under here.”

“is that—mmh!” he cuts himself off with a moan as you grab his cock, fondling it and pulling it out of his pants. the poor demon is so touch deprived that his cock grows hard in so little time, and you waste no more putting it in your mouth.

“keep playing,” your order is muffled by his cock, and his fingers spasm over his controller buttons, pressing all the wrong ones because the warmth and tightness from your mouth have him hooked immediately, and his game is long forgotten. “good boy.”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon smut #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi smut #obey me levi x reader

[koolades-world]

More Obey me! Headcannons

had so much fun last time I wanted to do it again

Satan is so smart, but has issues doing basic math and refuses to admit it, like he can’t figure out fifteen plus seven without his fingers or a calculator (is this me projecting? maybe)

Belphie bought himself and Mc matching house slippers. Mc thought Beel felt left out and made Belphie buy a pair for him too

Beel has a huge green thumb, and takes upon himself to save plants he thinks are sad or lonely. He buys the dying plants from the store to bring back to life (partially inspired by the chat where someone, forgot who, told beel that if he talked to plants they would grow faster my precious baby)

Lucifer is the best cook at the HoL, but rarely has time to cook. Beel is the second best but usually eats the ingredients before he can make anything with them. Mammon is probably the worst because Levi can make food from animes almost perfectly

Asmo once almost set a store he was collaborating with on fire with his rage alone because they spelt his name wrong

Beel probably needs a new toothbrush every couple weeks. Belphie probably gets toothbrushes mixed up and uses ones that aren’t his

Lucifer and Solomon like prune juice haha old men

The one thing Luke and Simeon have seriously disagreed on is if raisins belong in dessert. Michael likes them, so Luke does too. Simeon thinks they’re awful but never directly says it, so Lucifer usually says it for him

Despite always being online, Levi had not once checked his RAD email. He has 9,999+ emails, probably a lot more because 9,999 is where it stops counting

Mammon collects cool rocks and keeps them in a box under his bed

Satan’s hands are always freezing, so he sticks them under Mc (or a cat) when possible, or uses a charmed hot water bottle from Solomon that stays warm for days at a time

Solomon and Asmo have had matching bracelet sets for as long as they’ve known each other, and since they didn’t make them anymore, they got some custom done for Mc so they could also have them

For about 1,000 years, Thirteen though jelly beans were an actual kind of bean and Solomon never let her let it go

The first food Mc and Mammon ate on a date in the human world together was Taiyaki, so he made it a point to learn how to make them to surprise Mc (even though he’s a terrible cook) (I might make this a fic since I like this idea so much)

Diavolo has always wanted a Devildom version of a hamster but Barbatos refused to have any kind of rodent in the castle, rat or not

Luke probably downloads those stupid app games with the ads unironically

Satan’s favorite Disney Princess is Ariel because she ran off to do what she wanted without caring what her father thought, it’s giving daddy issues. He’s probably considered running off and marrying Mephisto to make Lucifer angry

Raphael unironically enjoys off brand chips and soda

Lucifer is a nail biter, and Asmo is helping him curve the habit by putting a nasty tasting top coat when he does his nails, and it’s also why he wears gloves all the time.

Belphie and Satan once went up to the humans world together to mess with people in Salem, Massachusetts with magic, which spawned several conspiracy theory books. They read them together and laugh as a past time

Diavolo once went to the human world in his demon form for,, reasons, and accidentally got written into ancient mythology because he got spotted by humans

Barbatos had a home garden for cooking and sometimes lets Asmo have leaves from some of the plants to make homemade skin care products

Mammon probably has lots of earwax. Don’t share your earbuds with him unless you make him clean them afterwards

Belphie has a really large water bottle that’s always on his side table. He wakes up randomly though the night, chugs an ungodly amount of water and then passed out again. In the mornings he has to piss really bad but is too lazy to get up and actually do it, so he just sits and complains. Even Beel isn’t sure how he’s able to drink that much water in a short amount of time

Satan likes waking up early to enjoy the morning air and read outside for a while since mornings can get hectic with his brothers

Thirteen’s favorite torture device is the Iron Maiden. She had her own that she bedazzled. Even Asmo is jealous and wants her to make him one too

Mammon introduced Diavolo to Gatorade, and instead of sneaking behind Lucifer and Barbatos’s backs to drink Demonus, they have secret Gatorade meetings

Diavolo and Lucifer definitely both had a hidden Dialuci stash of things and probably clash trying to collect limited edition things online

None of the Obey me cast took birthdays or passing of years seriously until Mc entered the picture and suddenly time was precious, and they actually kept track. Because of this, nobody is really sure how old the twins are

Mephisto thinks roosters want world domination

Asmo thinks cilantro tastes like soap and Levi thinks anything cola flavored tastes like cough medicine

Mammon's favorite party trick is one Mc taught him, which is rolling his tongue Everyone he meets, including his brothers, thinks it's so cool when really it's just a genetic thing

#obey me #obey me! #obey me belphie #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me thirteen #obey me solomon #obey me raphael #obey me michael #obey me mephistopheles #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me headcanons

[animeismyhappyplace]

Passion Blooms Under the Influence

Female MC x Barbatos Smut

Summary: After a quick study session with her tutor Solomon, MC finds herself feeling hot and bothered. Barbatos finds her and calms the heat scorching through her veins.

TLDR, MC gets dicked down by Barbatos 🥵

TW: Aphrodisiac use, mildly dubious consent due to aphrodisiac usage, they do cover consent but just to be safe, pet names, Barbs demon form makes an appearance, monster fucking I guess? (You'll see what I mean)

Word Count: 3,217

The last few weeks in the Devidom had been a bit of a blur for MC. Leviathan had summoned Lotan again after a fued with Mammon which left her room flooded and unusable luckily Diavolo offered her refuge in the Demon Lord Castle in one of the many spare bedrooms.

Today's lesson with Solomon had taken a weird turn, after practicing some simple spells they had gotten onto the topic of her little crush on the demon butler himself Barbatos. Her mentor had given her the usual pep talk about just being upfront about her feelings over a shared cup of tea, he had also given her a potion which he clamied would help boost her confidence in the matters of her heart before sending her on her way to her temporary home.

On her walk she noticed a prickling sensation starting to climb up her arms and down her legs. At first she brushed it off but the nearby demons began to start staring at her as her skin got hotter and hotter. In the end she had to teleport herself to the guest bedroom she'd been staying in to save herself, and the rest of her demon friends, too much public embarrassment.

Barbatos, being the immensely powerful demon he is, much have sensed the magical power entering the Demon Lord Castle and came to make sure the human exchange student was well after her trip out.

He knocks on her door a few times but when he doesn't get an answer he makes his presence known and enters the room, just to make sure she was unharmed, "MC, I assume your lesson went well?" He smiles as he opens the door before stopping in his tracks when he finally lays his eyes on the girl.

He sees her laid on the neatly made bed with her body streached out, sweat is streaked across her forehead and she's panting hard "B- Barbatos! Thank you for checking on me, I know you're probably busy..." She gulps down the saliva pooling under her tongue as he watches her curiously "It had been going well until Solomon gave me a potion to drink that he's currently working on and now I feel hot..." His green eyes flick from her body to her face as he watches her "Oh dear... Well... I'm here to take care of you, MC. You don't have to thank me, I am just doing what Lord Diavolo would expect me to do" He reaches his gloved hand down to push the hair back from her face causing her to shiver and push her body towards his retreating hand making him frown.

His finger curls under his chin as he thinks about your predicament "Did he tell you what the potion was for?" She shakes her head as she lifts her body to rest her weight on her elbows to look at him better "Just said... It would help me... Express feelings I've been hiding or something like that... I can't remember anymore". Barbatos can't help the hiss that falls from his lips as he looks away feeling irritation bubble in his chest "I have a... Suspicious of what that devious human has given you... Let's see" He hums as he returns his hand to her forehead, pushing his fingers through the strands of her hair and down to lightly caress her cheek watching to see her reaction to the soft and almost non existent stimulation.

MC can't help the whines that tumble past her lips as she tilts her head back to present her neck to the demon before she realises what she's done and gasps "I- I am SO sorry Barbatos... I don't know what's wrong with me" She looks down to the bedsheets with a slight pout before another wave of heat flows through her and she flops back down onto the bed, chest heaving.

Barbatos chuckles softly at her apology as he places one finger under her chin lifting her gaze to meet his own eyes. "Don't worry about it, MC." His voice is warm and soothing as he runs his gloved thumb over her lower lip, slowly trailing his way along her jawline as her tongue slips out of her mouth in an attempt to chase his clothed digits "I suspect Solomon has given you an aphrodisiac" Her eyes widen at his words before he continues "It would explain your temperature and your body's... Shall we say responsiveness..." His voice begins to trail off as he watches her intently.

She nods as she tries to take in his words "Is there any way to... Reverse it's effects?" Her fingers reach up slowly to hold his arm in place as she leans fully into his touch, Barbatos bites his bottom lip softly as he watches the human girl keen for his touch in ways he's dreamed of but never thought would become reality "We'd have to call the shady sorcerer himself to know for sure... But based on most aphrodisiacs the only way to rid you of the effects would be to-" He can't help but hesitate to finish the sentence but she nods to him to continue "You will need to satisfy your desires" He finishes with a slight blush dusted across his porcelain cheeks.

MC frowns for a moment confused before the realisation flashes across her face, a dark blush rising to her cheeks "Well with that I shall bid you farewell so you may... Rid yourself of your afflictions..." The demon clears his throat and bows with his hand across his chest before he turns to leave "NO!" She shouts across the room as she bolts upright grabbing his hand to stop him, she looks away from him embarrassed by her own neediness.

Barbatos stares down at her in surprise, his brow furrowing slightly as he waits for her next move. "No?" He can't help the grin that spreads across his face as he looks down to see the place on his uniform her hand has gripped to keep him from leaving the room. "I-" She can't quite find the words to ask him what she wants, she grips his arm tighter and tugs him towards her as she gets on her knees and comes to the end of the bed to face him.

Barbatos' smile grows as he sees her come to kneel before him, his hands come to gently caress her cheeks as he takes in her beauty. "Tell me what you want, MC" He mutters softly as he brings her face centimetres from his own. A shiver racks up her spine and settles in her chest as she feels his breath hit her lips "Will you help me Barbatos?" She reaches her hands up to hold the base of his neck enjoying their closeness.

Barbatos smiles softly as he hears her plea, leaning forward to bring his mouth to hers as he kisses her gently almost treating her like she's ready to break apart at his touch. As he does this, one of his hands slides around her waist and pulls her closer to him, bringing them both even closer together. "Of course, my dear. I'm always at your service" He whispers huskily as he pulls away just enough to speak and give her a moment to back away from him if she doesn't want to continue.

A loud whine escapes her at his words as she tugs his back to her kissing him with as much passion as she can "You can't say things like that Barb... It makes me feel so hot". His eyes widen slightly at her response but he quickly recovers and continues to kiss her passionately, running his tongue along her own and down to her jawline while his free hand goes to her hair, pulling it into a tight ponytail so he can run his fingers through it.

After a few moments he breaks off the kiss and looks deep into her eyes "Last chance to back out little lamb before I can no longer hold myself back". She shakes her head as she looks at him as seriously as she can given her almost delirious state of lust "Want this... Want you Barbatos" She runs her hands over his covered shoulders as she pushes his jacket off "Please". The last threads of his resolve break as he helps her remove his coat and tosses it aside, then wraps an arm around her waist and lifts her onto the bed beneath her, taking advantage of her smaller frame to get on top of her pinning her beneath him as he leans down to kiss her again. "My pleasure little lamb".

MC bites her lip as she looks up at him and whispers softly "You don't know how long I've wanted this" Her arms loop around his neck as she keeps him close to her, licking her tongue into his mouth as she starts to explores his body. He feels her lips press against his and gives in completely, wrapping his other arm around her back and pressing himself against her as he begins to explore her own body. "I can't guarantee I'll be gentle with you my dear" He says breathlessly, letting his tongue slip between her lips and dance with hers.

She nods quickly to show her understanding as she threads one of her hands into his hair tugging gently at his soft ombre locks while the other caresses her thumb against his cheek, continuing to kiss him while she pushes her hips up to grind against his covered length. He groans softly when she pulls his hair and presses their bodies together more firmly, enjoying every moment of her kisses as well as her grinding movements. His hands slide from her waist to her ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh he finds there as he moves his hips slowly against hers. "You're driving me crazy little lamb..." He confesses to her as he enjoys the slow rock of his hips against her own.

She gasps as she feels his length pushing against her already wet clothed pussy "N- Need you... Please~" She begs sweetly as she moves her head to kiss and bite gently at his bare neck. He smirks at her begging tone and moans quietly, using his free hand to push a lock of her hair behind her ear. As she nips at his skin marking him as her own he reaches for the clasp on her dress and undoes it, pulling the fabric away from her body and exposing her to his hungry eyes while he pulls his dress shirt over his head.

He bends his head down to softly kiss her neck before moving down to her collarbone and littering her skin with bites marking her in turn "Now everyone will know you're mine" He grins at her slightly possessively before returning to her heated body. He skillfully unclasps her bra exposing her breasts as he encases her pebbled nipple in his mouth.

She lets out an drawn out moan as he gently bites and suckles on her nipple teasing the sensitive bud before moving to her other breast giving it just as much attention until she's squirming against the bed desperately needing him further down her body. Sensing her frustration he gives each nipple one last lick before trailing more kisses down her body before finally sliding down further to lick and nibble her thighs. She shivers under his touch and arches her back pushing her body closer to his teasing mouth.

As Barbatos pulls himself upright he takes a moment to enjoy the sight of the young girl in front of him marked up and desperate, the view he has from above her is enough to make his hardened length throb with need let alone the thoughts that invade his mind of what he would like to do to her. MC spreads her legs for him and he can't help the chuckle that leaves his lips "So wet already. My my that aphrodisiac worked rather quickly" He pulls her soaked panties down her legs and throws them to the side watching as more slick leaves her pussy and trails down her thighs.

Barbatos lowers himself back down to the bed as he removes his gloves throwing them to the floor then places his bare hands onto her thighs pushing them further apart so he can place himself between them. He moans as he finally gets a taste of her essence, first licking up the lines of wetness that coated her inner thighs before giving her pussy a long lick from her hole to her clit "You taste, dare I say, heavenly my little lamb" The way he slurps up her wetness lights her body on fire, only contributing to the aphrodisiacs effects.

MC's thighs twitch as she grasps his hair with both hands tugging harshly and shaking her head with tears rolling down her rosy cheeks "S'too much! I need your cock" Her head tips back as she rocks pussy into his face moaning as she cants her hips forward despite her pleas for him to just fuck her already. Barbatos lets out another laugh at her impatience as he feels her pulling on his hair. Had it not been for the aphrodisiac he may had punished her for being in such a rush, maybe next time he thinks to himself with a sinister smile. His emerald eyes dart over to her breasts and he smiles softly at how she's trying to push herself towards him. With a firm grip on her thighs he holds her still and licks her again from bottom to top and back down once more before circling her clit with his tongue "Need to prep you MC" He slides two of his thick fingers into her waiting pussy rubbing them against her throbbing walls.

MC's hand reach backwards to grab the sheets and grip them in her hands as she moans loudly "Barb" She whimpers out as her body trembles underneath him. The feeling of her inner walls tightening around his fingers causes him to groan out as he looks up at her face. Her juices are flowing freely and coating his lips and chin. He gives her one last kiss on her abused clit before moving backwards he licks her juices off his fingers "I believe that's enough teasing now my dear".

Keeping her legs spread for repositions himself and gives his leaking member a few sharp tugs before he runs his cock down to her sopping pussy to collect her juices lubing up his cock before pushing himself into her slowly letting her feel every inch as the burn of the aphrodisiac slowly starts to decrease. The dark haired demon smirks as he watches her reaction, seeing the relief spread across her face as he pushes himself into her. A low moan escapes her lips as he enters her fully. He waits for her to adjust before starting to thrust inside her gently but firmly, Barbatos reaches one hand up and intertwines his fingers with hers as he holds their hands above her head while the the trails down her side to grip her ass pulling her leg over his own keeping her close to his body. Each time he pulls out he leans down and kisses her neck before pushing himself back in, knocking the wind sinfully out of her chest.

As he starts to build up his pace rocking into her harder and faster her unoccupied hand finds purchase on his waist holding onto her demon lover as he pistons his hips into her own making the bed shake and buckle under his immense strength. Barbatos lets go of her hand as he feels her pussy throb and tighten around his cock and grabs onto her hips tightly. He begins to pound into her harder and faster each time slamming her further up the bed, her moans and whimpers increase in volume her hands reach up to grip onto her pillow tight.

His own moans are getting louder as he feels his cock head leaking precum into her pussy, he starts to feel himself losing control of his emotions when he suddenly shifts into his demon form due to the pleasure that racks through his body. She can't help the gasp that escapes her as she feels his body change under her fingers, seeing his demon form only makes her skin burn hotter. MC's hand grips his waist tighter her nails leaving crescent shaped marks as she reaches her other hand up to his hair to grip the base of his bone like horns.

The sensation of her touch sends waves of pleasure throughout his entire being. He lets out an animalistic moan and slams himself deep inside her "'M not going to be able to hold on much longer" He grunts while snaking his hand down between them to rub his fingers against her swollen clit. Her legs shake as he plays with her sensitive nub, she wraps her legs around his waist while her hands grip onto the base of his horns and his fork ended tail wraps around her waist to keep her steady. She matches his thrusts the best she can moaning loudly as pleasure shoots down her spine at all of the stimulation.

Barbatos kisses her deeply before moving his lips to her neck letting his fangs pierce her skin as he bites down in an attempt to control his moans, the painful pleasure from his bite sends her body over the edge into orgasm as he licks at the wound he's left behind "Cumming! 'M cumming!" MC moans loudly gripping onto her lovers body to steady herself as she cums hard, legs shaking violently.

Her pussy clenching hard on his cock and feeling her hands gripping his horns is the last drop of stimulation he needs to finally cum, Barbatos grunts loudly as he releases his load inside her as he continues to pound away at her releasing every bit of cum he has left. After several minutes of his own body shaking he pulls out and collapses beside her panting heavily.

As they both lay beside each other coming down from their highs the demon pulls her body to him as he gives her a soft kiss on her lips "Feeling better?" He asks chuckling softly as she simply nods her head clearly tired "Yes...I'm good now." She finally replies resting her head on his chest as her fingers draw delicate shapes on his sweat soaked body. His fingers slip under her chin to lift her head as he shifts out of his demon form "I'm sorry for shifting like that" He mutters as he caresses her face.

She leans into his touch enjoying the tender moment between them "No need to apologise, you're beautiful no matter what form you take" She smiles at him as she closes her eyes an ache seeping into her bones. "Thank you for taking care of me Barb.." She whispers quietly to him before drifting off to sleep. He gives her one last kiss placed against her forehead "Anything for you, my little lamb" He grins to himself softly as he allows sleep to take over his spent body.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me fluff #Barbatos #barbatos x f!reader #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos #barbatos #barbatos x mc #Barbatos smut #obey me barbatos smut #barbatos x you #barbatos x y/n #barbatos x mc smut #smut #demon smut #obey me barbatos smut x mc

[garbinge]

New Year in Jackson

Joel Miller x F!Reader Summary: New Years Eve in Jackson with a grumpy Joel. Warnings: Light angst, grumpy Joel but ends well. A/N: Just a little something for New Years! Happy New Year all <3 Hope to be posting more in 2024! Word Count: 1.5k

TLOU Taglist: @iraot​ @justreblogginfics @drabbles-mc

“It’s stupid.” Joel mumbled as he pulled out the items from the deep freezer. 

“It’s not stupid.” You disagreed with him as you moved behind him. 

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Ellie said under her breath as she sat on Tommy and Maria’s couch, guitar in hand. 

“See, Ellie doesn’t think it’s stupid.” You pointed toward her and smiled before your head quickly turned to Joel. His face looked less than pleased, his expression had hardened but that was just what he looked like. When he was genuinely angry you could tell the difference, this was more… annoyed. Which you knew your way around pretty well. 

“I was able to grab champagne from the bar.” Tommy’s voice called out, it echoed against the bare walls of the house. 

“Tommy was able to grab champagne!” Your voice was chipper, the complete opposite of Joel. 

“I like champagne.” Ellie’s curious voice was peaking over Tommy’s shoulder to see what exactly he brought in. 

“You’re too young for champagne.” Joel stared down the girl. 

“It’s New Years, Joel. Let the girl have a sip.” Tommy’s grin would have earned him a push if company wasn’t around. 

“I don’t know why we’re botherin’ with this. Days, weeks, years, what’s it matter?” 

You looked up at him, Joel wasn’t exactly happy go lucky everyday but he seemed exceptionally more irritable today. It reminded you of Boston QZ Joel, pre-Jackson Joel. Your eyebrows moved closer together for a minute as you tried to understand what was happening with him but Maria’s voice interrupted your thoughts. 

“It’s something fun. Keeps spirits high. Makes life feel semi-normal.” 

“I don’t know why we gotta keep track of the years.” His voice seemed to be different, softer in the way Joel’s voice could be softer. 

No one answered him, everyone knew it wasn’t really a conversation they could have or an argument they could win with Joel so they just continued talking amongst themselves. 

As they talked you made your way around the round kitchen table and wrapped your arm around Joel’s, your head instinctually fell on his shoulder and you let out a sigh. He took his free hand and brought it up to yours, the one that was wrapped around his. He looked down when he felt the roughness across your knuckles, as quickly as he scanned over the dry and red patches he was scanning your face looking for an explanation. 

“Traded Seth my good working gloves for the string lights at the bar, for the decorations.” Your head tilted to the inside of the living room that had the lights strung across the ceiling. “Didn’t get a chance to grab a better pair from the market before I went out on patrol last night. They got chapped from the ripped up pair I used.” 

You had been here in Jackson just about 3 days but rules were rules. To stay, you had to work. It was the agreement you had come up with Maria and Tommy when Joel and you decided you’d move about 10 miles north where the abandoned farmhouse was. That and you brought in supplies from the farm, sheeps wool, cow milk, chicken eggs and they supplied you with items as well. 

“Seth is a fucking asshole.” Joel was caressing your rough skin with his thumb as he cursed under his breath. “I’ll be sure to get ‘em back for you before we leave.”

Leave. You could tell Joel was eager to get back home, he only came this far to humor you, New Years lined up perfectly with your routine supply drop off, which meant you’d stay a little longer than your normal two days. He’d always be internally counting down until the trek back home but since day 2 came and went the countdown was beginning to become more vocal. 

“What’s up with you today?” You changed the subject. Sure, you knew what was up, but this seemed more than just wanting to go home, this seemed like something specific was bothering him, and while you knew better of Joel to just tell you what was wrong, you still had to ask.

But apparently it wasn’t just you that wanted to change topics. “Hey.” Joel’s voice was startling to the others in the room. 

Ellie froze and looked up, champagne bottle in her right hand and a half-poured glass in her left. “What?” 

“Ain’t you a little young?” 

The smirk on Ellie’s face was enough to tell you the sarcastic comeback was loading. “Didn’t you just say, I don’t know why we gotta keep track of the years.” The last part of her sentence was spoken in her version of Joel’s voice. 

“She’s got you there.” You whispered in hopes that between the smile and the squeeze against his arm he’d back off a little. 

The smallest nod was given from Joel and he broke your embrace to escape into the living room. 

“Save some for midnight.” You pointed at the girl who was grinning as she poured the glass full. 

Leaving Tommy and Maria to be with Ellie, you turned to see Joel sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands running through his hair. It was typical, he had been experiencing panic attacks for years now, it was all the emotion he buried from the last 20 years overflowing out. It wasn’t an awful thing, it meant he started to feel happy again sometimes, which was something you didn’t think you’d ever witness from Joel since meeting him at the Boston QZ. But that also meant the good came with the bad. 

The creaking of the floor in the house that belonged to Tommy and Maria normally would have alerted Joel but he was so deep in his head that he didn’t flinch a muscle. Picking up on his lack of awareness, you slowly approached him, not reaching out to touch him or even let your knee brush against his, you figured the sink of the couch to his left would startle him enough. And it did. 

His hands released from his head and he looked down at the seat and then up at your face before returning to a similar position to what he was in but this time a bit more relaxed. You could tell the motion pulled him out of his thoughts. 

It was silent between you both for a while, the only sounds being in the background of where you were. The sound of Maria walking out the back door, which meant the whining of their guard dog could be heard through the open kitchen window. The sounds of Tommy clinking and clattering as he made a small lunch for Ellie and himself. The murmurs of their chatter filled the silence between Joel and you nicely. Tommy asking Ellie how she likes living on the sheep farm, being away from Jackson. You hoped Joel was listening in, that the confirmation that Ellie loved the farm, loved how empty the sky was, how she had her own room, her own space. 

Listening in to their conversation must’ve taken your attention fully away because the sound of Joel’s voice startled you to jump a little.

“This shit reminds me of her.” 

A deep breath left your mouth, part of it was to let out the startle you felt when the words left his mouth but the other half was understanding the heaviness of his words. You knew it was the only thing he was going to say on the matter, the only explanation he was going to give as to his attitude and behavior. There was never really any conversation about Sarah, let alone mention of her name. It was always one off comments of her. So you just nodded and placed your hand on his knee. 

“You don’t have to do all of this if you can’t. I’ll stay with Tommy and Maria until we get our supplies from them while you and Ellie go back to the house.” 

This made Joel frown and look over to you. “Why wouldn’t Ellie stay with you? She seems excited about all this New Year’s nonsense.” 

“You haven’t heard her these last few minutes.” Your right hand rested on his knee. It was a statement more than a question, you figured he hadn’t heard her. “She’s been raving about the house, the sheep and how she can see the stars, sometimes even planets.” 

Joel’s face had the hint of a smile on it at your words. It made you wish he could have heard them come directly from Ellie because that hint of a smile would have been a full one. 

“I think she came because she knew how much I’d enjoy it. You two have that in common.” Your fingers squeezed around his thigh. 

It got silent between the both of you again, a comfortable one. Just enjoying the calmness of life around you, something that was hard to come by in this new world you lived in. 

“Someone said something about champagne?” Joel was trying his best to be open to the situation, this was his version of going so far as to try and enjoy it. 

The smile on your face was one that grew from the warm feeling filling your heart. 

“Yea, if Ellie didn’t drink it all.”

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller Fanfiction #Joel Miller Fanfic #The Last of Us HBO #TLOU #TLOU HBO #Joel Miller x Reader #TLOU fanfiction #The last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo fanfiction #The Last of us

[nyxrryl]

————— A Date with Death —————

!! Spoilers for Ending 2/3 !!

Gender neutral MC/Grim Reaper

Grim lays flush against your bedsheets, a deep blush covering his pale cheeks as he looks up at you, suddenly feeling shy with how you've got him positioned under you. you leaned in to kiss him and he blissfully accepts the kiss- he doesn't remember just how he got in this place, in this predicament, underneath you, having decided to completely run away from his job as a Reaper just to be with you. Your skin feels warm, lips soft and sweet tasting as he tries to savour the feeling of your lips against his, wishing this warmth could completely envelop him in its comforting embrace...

But just as the kiss ends and he tries to hold your face in his cold, gloved hands, he feels your warmth fade rapidly, as you collapse onto him as your breathing stops.

Grim wakes up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his face as he pants softly, trying to regain his composure after that dream. It felt so real, so... comforting. It's times like these when he wonders exactly where he would go if he died- if he allowed the corruption to overtake his soul. Would he be able to return to you, perhaps? Maybe in another life, in another world.

He sits up in his bed and hugs Azrael tightly as the pet you left to him joins him at his side, as if trying to comfort the lone, crying reaper as he sobs wishing, just wishing things could've turned out better. That you could still be here with him- hugging him, teasing him.

But alike with life itself, even death can be unfair to those it favors.

#casper a date with death #a date with death

[misc-obeyme]

Hi cc i love your blog, for the 1k event can i do afab mc with barb nsfw promt 10 “i may not be able to hold back” I believe it is thank you

🪱 anon :)

Hi there, 🪱 anon!! I'm so glad you're enjoying my blog!

Ahhh I love Barbatos so much lol and this prompt is perfect imo! He's always so restrained, but I love when he loses his composure because of MC! I think this turned out okay... but I am my own worst critic for sure. I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

AFAB!MC x Barbatos with prompt "I may not be able to hold back."

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: oral and penetration (reader receiving), mild restraining of MC's wrists

You had been looking forward to spending time with Barbatos all day, so when you finally found yourself sitting beside him at your favorite cafe, you found it difficult to keep your hands to yourself.

The two of you sat together at a table in a back corner where you had been enjoying your coffee and sharing a couple of pastries. You had just finished and now that your food and drinks were gone, you had scooted closer to Barbatos, reaching a hand under the table to squeeze his thigh.

As expected, he only smiled at you calmly in reaction. You were trying to tease him, to rile him up, but he seemed completely unfazed.

You had inched ever closer to him, your chair so close to his, you were almost in his lap. Your legs were pressed together and you leaned your head on his shoulder, reaching your other hand over to trace your fingertips down his chest.

Barbatos suddenly caught your wandering hand by the wrist. He turned his head to say quietly in your ear, "MC, if you continue this way, I may not be able to hold back."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, the way his voice was quiet but clearly strained.

"What if I don't want you to?" you asked.

Barbatos laughed softly. "We are in public, MC."

You let the hand that was still free inch farther up his thigh, twisting in your seat a little to look at him directly. You touched his cheek with the fingertips of your other hand, his own hand still wrapped gently around your wrist. You leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

"MC," Barbatos said when you had pulled away. There was almost a warning in his voice now, a subtle indication that you were really pushing it.

But you knew what you wanted. You didn't pull back. Instead you leaned in to brush your lips against his jaw.

The hand around your wrist tightened significantly and you found yourself being pulled up from your seat. You held onto Barbatos unsteadily as he opened a portal and pulled you through it, leaving the cafe behind.

And then you were falling backward, your back landing on something soft, but you barely had time to register where you were because Barbatos was already leaning over you, his lips on your neck, his hands running down your body and pulling at your shirt.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of him on top of you, the way his kisses burned with heat as they trailed down your skin. The softness of his glove as his hand found its way up your shirt, a gentle touch along your belly.

You realized you were on your back on his bed, his knees on either side of your hips, his other hand above your head, propping him up. Your body arched into him without consulting you, but you didn't mind when it caused him to moan against you.

"Do you think it appropriate to tease me in public like that, MC?" he asked, his voice husky, as he looked down at you.

The look of absolute need in his eyes made your body throb. You reached up and started to unbutton his jacket.

"You chose not to heed my warnings," he went on, actually managing to look aggrieved, but he didn't stop you as you reached the last button then went to pull his tie loose.

You paused for a moment, tie in hand. "Did you actually want me to?"

Barbatos closed his eyes. You watched in surprise and wonder as a blush spread across his face. "I'm afraid I am somewhat embarrassed by my conduct. It is unlike me to lose control so easily."

"Barbatos," you said and he opened his eyes again to look at you. "I want you to lose control."

Barbatos's eyes widened in surprise and he watched your face for a moment. Then he smiled and leaned down to kiss you, the ends of his hair brushing against your cheeks.

Barbatos moved away, pulling you up off his bed with him. He quickly made short work of your clothes, leaving them in a tidy heap on the floor. You managed to remove everything but his pants before he completely distracted you.

Barbatos was meticulous about kissing every part of you as he removed each item until you found him on his knees before you, slowly sliding off your underwear. You stepped out of it, holding onto his bare shoulders as you did so.

You barely had time to balance yourself before you were wobbly again as he trailed kisses up your thigh. Your hands found their way into his hair as he went directly for your clit with his tongue. The pleasure that shot through your stomach made you gasp.

Barbatos knew exactly what he was doing, bringing out the most amazing sensations in you. Soon enough, your legs were shaking and you thought you might not be able to stay standing. You tugged on his hair to make him look up at you, his face flushed, eyes dark.

"Barbatos," you gasped out through heavy breaths.

Barbatos stood up and put his thumb on your chin, his other hand going to your waist and pulling you into him. "Tell me what you want, MC."

You tugged down on the waistband of his pants as you groaned and leaned into him, your patience gone. "I want you inside me."

Barbatos laughed gently at your tone as he helped you remove his pants.

You put your hand around his cock the moment it was free, making his breath hitch.

And then his arms were around you, practically lifting you as he moved you backward onto the bed, laying you down as he kissed you. You arched your back, pressing yourself against his hard cock, making him moan into your lips.

Barbatos kissed down your torso, lingering on each of your nipples.

You gripped his arms. "Barbatos, please…"

Barbatos lifted your hips before carefully sinking his cock into your heat. You were already dripping from the attention you'd received from his tongue earlier. You felt yourself tighten around him, the feeling of him inside you too good for you to stay still.

Barbatos let go of your hips, his hands running up your arms briefly before gripping both of your hands. He pulled them up over your head, holding both of your wrists in one hand. He pressed himself further into you as he kissed you. It was much sloppier than any of his earlier kisses and you could tell he was really starting to lose himself in you.

Your body arched as he began to thrust into you slowly and sweetly. It felt so good and you moved your body beneath him, straining ever so slightly against the hand that still held your wrists.

Barbatos sped up and you made little gasping cries at the way his cock moved inside you. Every time, he hit that spot that sent sparks running through your veins. Your body squeezed around him and you could feel the way he became desperate from it, how his movements became messier as he completely lost control of his composure at the way you made him feel.

It was a rare sight. Barbatos was always so composed, always so careful, always so reserved. But now that he was inside you, he let all that go. He let himself feel you fully and you watched in wonder at the beauty of him coming undone.

As his thrusts became harder and faster, you were overwhelmed by how good his cock felt. The pleasure built, the tension filling you, that sweet feeling reaching and reaching. You were so close.

And then Barbatos moaned into your ear and you felt your entire body clench hard as you finally came, crying out his name as you did. Your hands strained hard against him, but he didn't let you go. Instead his grip on your wrists tightened as he came inside you.

After you both spent a few moments catching your breath, Barbatos let go of your wrists. You put your hands on his cheeks, pulling him down so you could kiss him.

You pulled away for a moment to say, "I'm really going to need you to lose control more often."

Barbatos laughed softly against your lips as you went back to kissing him.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me smut #obey me barbatos smut #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #om! barbatos #barbatos obey me #omswd x reader #misc 1k event #misc writes #misc naughty times

[matenrou-fan]

Oh nothing I just thinking a request for our beloved sadist lucifer, Spanking MC for being Naughty ( and accidentally make him jealous) 😔 sorry for my Horny mind

Sadistic!Lucifer spanking MC for making him jealous

I think I already wrote kinda similar idea here, but I wanted to describe it in more details and in a little bit another situation, so here we are..!

femreader, teasing, spanking (hand; whip), possessive! Lucifer;; 1477 words;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

;MINORS DNI;

You gulp, face in pillows, as you try to calm down yourself. The room was painfully silent and you can't even say what exactly he was doing.

"Well? Maybe you have some excuses for your behavior, before we started..?" - voice so deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You never hear Lucifer being so angry. Actually, no, you hear, but back then his voice was absolutely different than right now. He was angry at Mammon because he almost applied for a loan from a suspicious bank in Lucifer's name. And today.. Oh, today he has another reason to be angry. Maybe the level of his madness was the same but the angle was different - annoyance to his brother and pure possessive jealousy to you and your little games.

"I.. I didn't mean to sit on his lap like that, I swear..!" - you mumble, trying to stop smirking in the soft fabric under you. Oh, or maybe you mean it?

Diavolo is just always so cheerful and easygoing, it's easy to forget that he's actually a Lord, not just your funny fella from the Academy. And not only Lord, but Lucifer's boss. So maybe when you two were fooling around like that and you "accidentally" sat too close to him, mumbling how tired you're now, you made a little mistake. As Diavolo was also feeling something for you, how can he miss this opportunity to touch you a little bit more? So of course he, as the most generous demon here, offers you to sit in his lap and relax a little.

You two were too carried away and didn't see Lucifer clearly standing not that far away from you two. His face is calm, if not cold, as always, but if someone would look him in the eyes at that moment this person would probably die right in place from a burning red gaze, full of jealousy.

And then Diavolo just easily went home, without even realizing what kind of consequences you are facing now, here, in Lucifer's bedroom, legs tied up and your ass in the air, only thin fabric of your panties covering your soft skin.

"Oh, so you didn't mean it..?" - he slowly repeats after you with a mocking tone. Well, Lucifer clearly can remember your gaze back then, when Lord Diavolo left and you looked up at him, eyes full of faking innocence and pureness. It was so oblivious that you're just acting, and it was so oblivious that you know that he knows that.. You didn't even try to hide your amusement from this situation, so now you will receive what you deserve. Even if you don't want it.

You tried to mumble some more apologizes and foolish explanations, but immediately shut your mouth as soon as you felt the coldness of leather on your ass. Of course he will not take his gloves, teasing your already a little heated up skin. He knows how you love touches of his arms, rough grip of his bare warm hands on your hips or tight grasp on your waist.. Well, today you will not receive that.

"I always thought that you should get a proper lesson from me.. So today I will finally get rid of your bratty behavior.." - Despite you actually feeling some wild jealousy and madness in these words, your cunt can't help but clench around nothing, as Lucifer's deep voice always sends shivers down your spine. And now, when he's like that.. You bite your lips, waiting for what kind of punishment he prepared for you.

Of course he shows his sadistic nature before that occasion too, always being more dominating and controlling in bed, so you were kinda prepared. Even a little impatient, as slow storks of cold fabric makes you tingle, but it wasn't enough. But when Lucifer suddenly takes away his hand you whine, waiting for something more.

But without any words, without any reaction to your small whispers, he then starts spanking you, a few easy slaps in the beginning but the pace quickly turns into fast and aggressive one. You gasp, feeling as blood rushed to your ass, as Lucifer just continued, not giving you a moment for a little break. He just does what you did before - as much as you didn't pay attention to his feelings and enjoys demon's jealous gaze, he now doesn't pay attention to your whines, getting more and more amused from your reaction. The way you arch your back, little gasps and chokes escaping from your lips as you try to hold back. Oh, honey, Lucifer can clearly see how hard you grasp his pillow, knuckles get all white from tight grip.

But as suddenly as he starts, then as suddenly he stops, rubbing pulsing places of his slaps really slowly again. Beautiful red bruises start to form on your cheeks, and oh just how much he enjoys that bright color, it was very suited to the same red on your ears and neck.. He then pulls away for a second and you whine, the cold air of the room freshens your hot skin.

"Mm? Already get so whiny? It just proves how needy and greedy you are.." - soft chuckle escaped his lips as he took something in his arms, you heard a little noise but still didn't understand what it was. Just a small guess was tickling in your minds, making you breath tremble a little as you squirm in anticipation. Well, maybe it was quite painful, but at the same time you can feel how wet your panties get, and wished for him to finally take it off.

"Oh, you're gonna love this.." - Lucifer smirks, enjoying your arouse. How cute you can be, destroying your own panties with such wetness after a few slaps from him..

You heard a whistling sound before a heavy whip slapped your ass several times, making you freeze for a moment, choked. Goosebumps wash over you as previous bruises start pulsing again, toes curled from tingling sensation. Before you thought that rough leather of gloves was kinda harsh, but that thing was harder and you already can feel how your cheeks swell a little.

"Mn.. Luci.." - you mumble under your breath, voice so weak as you try to collect your mind. Well, you didn't even know why you called him, as you just wanted something more and all you can think about it's just calling his name.

"Mm? Don't tell me you don't like it.." - Lucifer smirks, eyes fixed on the precious redness of your cheeks. Pride in his chest rose up again as he felt with every slap how he marks you as his own property.. He bites his cheeks, squeezing your ass and enjoying the way you shake and gasp under his touches.

His other hand gets underside of your cheeks, stroking soft skin a little before slap roughly here too, and you moan, almost whining as these spanking from the bottom sends little vibrations into your core. Your pussy already was so wet, and these underside slaps just bring even more stimulation to you.

You give up and whine again, more loudly, feeling his fingers so close to your heated crotch, you can't help but try to spread your legs and lift hips, moving forward to his touches.

"Ooh? I was planning to punish you, but it seems like someone is actually having fun here, huh?" - Lucifer smirks, admiring your trembling red ass cheeks. Embarrassment of his teases rush over your already blushed face, as you do understand how humiliating your behavior was right now. But you can't think straight, as arousal overshadows all your common sense and logic, making you arch your back a little bit more, so his hand moves closer to your trembling cunt and finally touches wet folds, even through fabric.

But Lucifer quickly noticed that and chuckled, removing his hands and placing them on top, almost on your upper butt. You can feel that he's still holding his whip, a silicone tassel tickling your heated up skin.

"So you still decided to be more bratty and try to get something more, instead of being obedient and just taking your punishment?" - voice disappointed but with playful undertones. Maybe you can't see his face, but you can clearly tell that Lucifer is shaking his head right now with a huge smirk on his face, deep gaze of his eyes, full of lust, piercing at your trembling shoulders.

"Oh darling, just how much work we have today.. I really need to teach you some proper manners, am I?" - sharp deep chuckle makes you squeak, and he pulls away his hands, getting ready for another spanking round. - "But don't you worry, we have all night only for us.. Who knows, maybe you will earn a little reward from me in the end? It all depends on you, doll.."

#lucifer obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me luci x reader #lucifer obey me smut #obey me smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer smut #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer smut

[riddles-fiddles]

hello asdfgsjdldkl this is a half fluffy half spicy request, how would you feel about writing a fem/gn mc who is autistic, but here’s the twist (lol)—their special interest is kink/bdsm? maybe they’re a bit shy about it at first since it’s not exactly something you just TALK about but one day they somehow end up infodumping? with Lilia, Idia, Vil, and Malleus, if that’s okay? (bonus points for mc being a sub ghjkslahsksl) (also if you’re not sure about how to write an autistic mc that’s totally fine, thank you for your service /gen ajshsjskdkl)

I tried to write this based on how my ADHD brain works with my special interests, so I hope this isn't as terrible lol also since you didn't say which kinks you'd like to see, I kept them a little bit more on the generalized side. If you'd like something more specific you can request again. Anyways thank you kindly for this lovely request, I had lots of fun writing it /gen <3

Synopsis: the boys are very intriguided to know about your secret special interest~ Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge Tags: NSFW, smut with context, bondage play, master/servant, power play, spanking/impact play Notes: gender neutral reader (unspecified body parts), everyone is 18+, excuse any grammatical errors,,,

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Vil looks down on you with an amused expression as you moan and buck your hips up, searching for the friction you so desesperately need from his hands. You were pressed against the couch with your wrists firmly tied up on your back and your legs held apart by the leather belts, your dripping arousal entirely exposed and unable to wiggle too much, keeping you on the edge of your climax as you relied on Vil's painfully slow and light touches. It all started from one of Vil's fashion jobs. Being one of Twisted Wonderland's most beloved supermodels, he was offered to take a catwalk under the name of a high-end brand trying to test a new niche of clothing and creative display: a mix of kinky props and everyday clothing, with emphasis on office attire.

Vil looks absolutely dazzling on his violet blue formal shirt, sleeves rolled up his elbows to expose the shoulder-lenght latex gloves. A black leather chest harness hugs his figure perfectly, highlighting his curves and accentuating his proportions, his clothing, paired with the sensual makeup, gave him a rather imposing, bossy feel - the perfect face of a dangerous temptation, especially for you.

So much you can't help but unload all the little details about harness fashion you know about, about how they can be used to better pick on certain body parts, how they can be used for bondage and how you would love to try some on-

"Hush now, my precious nightingale. I love it when you sing for me like that, but…" He coos softly, his breath tickling against the hot skin of your cheek as his fingers came to press against your lips, gently nudging them open; a taunt and a promise of something more to come. "…I would hate it if the agency's staff came into my dressing room to find you like this."

Your eyes widen, suddenly remebering that anybody could walk in on any second, curious about the amount of noise coming out of Vil's room. As you slowly part your lips to welcome his gloved fingers, you hear a low chuckle of satisfaction coming. "Good puppy," Vil's whisper melts on your ears like dripping honey as his fingers make their way between uour teeth, playing with your tongue. "You deserve a reward for being so well behaved."

"Y-you feel so g-good, darling…" Idia groans in contentment before slamming his cock deep inside you once more. A shaky, devilish laugh rolls off his tongue as he watches the way you struggle to keep you hand steady, trying your best to pour some tea without allowing even the tiniest drop to stain the sheets.

Idia was the one trying to suggest new things for you two to try out - on his own nerdy, embarrassed ways. He was too scared to openly admit his kinks, thinking that maybe you could find him a weirdo, so he would casually comment about something like he was just talking about the news, or even pointing out something unusual on a character from some anime.

However, Idia soon discovered about the hype of cat maid cafés, and as he 'innocently' showed you some of the recipes and how you could pick your maid's personality, he was surprised to see how it had sparked your interest, his face going alight as you passionately unravel about your love for cute maid outfits and how you do own one. Idia wasn't one to make bold moves, but that was just too good of an opportunity to let it slip away from his fingers, so he lightly suggests to see you with it…

And now you found yourself full-on roleplaying. Taking in the role of a humble, diligent maid to your master, you faced multiple challenges as Idia reveled on your misery, trying to keep yourself composed while serving him.

Idia's fingernails dig on your hips, pulling down on the black skirt as he bucks up against you, low gasps leaving his lips. You need to bite down on your lips to contain a curse, holding onto the teacup between your hands for dear life. "So cute and obedient…" You shiver at his praise, his voice laced with dark desire, pushing you down on his lap.

You are surprised by his hand possessively wrapping around your chin, forcing your face to turn to him. Before you can mouth any sound, he captures your lips, making your grip finally falter, droplets of tea splasing over Idia's legs.

"Oh no, seems like you've made a mess… better clean it up quick if you don't wanna be punished, huh?" He smirks with mischief, his pointy teeth grazing over your shoulder threateningly.

You shudder in antecipation under Malleus' firm grip around the back of your neck, pushing your face down into the sheets. His throaty growl lingers over your body, leaving goosebumps under your skin. "Mine," Malleus rasps, his teeth sinking down on your back, leaving behind a perfect mark. "And I'll make sure everyone knows who you belong to." Malleus is very curious regarding everything that involves human nature, entertained by even the simplest of things. It wasn't uncommon to find him nose deep inside books, drinking in the particularities of the ones so exquisite for his fae standards.

While spending the afternoon with you in Ramshackle Dorm, quietly fidgeting through your phones and simply enjoying each other's company, he accidentally looked over your smartphone right in time to catch you scrolling down on a Magicam post about 'power play'. His interest is immediately piqued, intrigued by whatever it meant; Malleus points it out, interested to know more about it, and as you eagerly explains what it means, Malleus nods and hums in understanding, his mind working out on this new discovery.

"That's a very exquisite concept. Tell me, Child of Man, would you be willing to give me a practical demonstration on the matter? I'm certain I could understand it better this way."

You tried to keep Malleus pinned down on the bed, your hands firmly wrapping around his wrists to keep him still. Your attempt in dominance only the Fae Prince, who effortlessly turned you to lay on your belly, restraining you by the arms. "Looks like I am the winner of this little dispute. Shall I indulge in my prize now?"

"Easy now, sugar bat. If you tense up too much, it will hurt even more." A low chuckle rolls off Lilia's tongue, mischief mixed with tenderness etched on his cherry-coloured eyes. The paddle on his hand slowly runs over your warmed thighs, the sensitive skin shivering and squirming under the rough leather feel, teasing and threatening to strike once more.

"Back in my day, those devices were used as torture tools to coax prisoners into talking about their secrets. Now, they are used in intimate rendezvous to give pleasure induced by pain." Lilia giggles, an innocent smile gracing his lips - a very fake one. The glint on his eyes suggesting some sly, hidden interest, like he wasn't just silently reading the fanfiction you were writing on your phone.

"So, you're interested on the complexities of pain and pleasure, huh? Would you like to indulge in a demonstration? I'll be more than happy to lead you into this forbidden experience, my dear." How could you deny such a confident, tantalizing suggestion? You knew a lot about the theoretical thing, having read a lot about fiction or even health-related articles about BDSM and impact play. Despite being shy about it, you knew you could trust Lilia.

"You're doing very well, sweetheart," Lilia's whisper is sweet and reassuring as his fingers gently thread between your locks, a soothing gesture in contrast to the dry impact of the paddle against your buttcheeks, marking the skin with a pinkish colour. The leather leaves a stinging sensation, making you gasp and squirm over Lilia's lap. He leans in to press a soft kiss on your forehead, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Only ten more to go."

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst x reader #twisted wonderland disney #twst disney #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twst vil #twst idia #twst lilia #twst malleus #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #lilia x reader #twst fic #vil smut

[thelonelyme]

♧𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐱♧

.

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞: ディズニー ツイステッドワンダーランド[Twisted Wonderland]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐨/𝐢: Malleus Draconia, mc.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: An unexpected ending. [mc x Malleus Draconia]

𝐀𝐕𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐄: FEM READER. This is just a drabble I imagined as i was listening to "Once upon a dream". this song does weird things to me ig. I wanted it to be a fluffyy-ish drabble, but it ended up being a little bit yandere, guess It's just me and my habits. By reading this there will be hints of yandere behaviours, slightly suggestive themes and fluff.

I walked with you once upon a dream..

The sweet music continued to resonate in the lightly lit ballroom as the muffled sounds of the shoes dragging in a slow and harmonious were ignored by the two.

The gloved hands of the fae were so gracefully resting on the precious material of your dress, as if to fear that a wrong movement might have snatched away that so graceful and fragile dream and made it fade into shades of black and pain, slightly rippling his fingers so you could not escape him in any way, and while the nostalgic melody seemed to project both in a new and intimate space.

That look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..

His adam’s apple moved in sync with the voices that rocked the melody, humming as his pure emerald eyes melted into yours for those that looked like minutes, just watching you and wandering what did he do for deserving someone like you. You truly were something from another world.

He continued before resting his hand that had fallen down your hips back on you upper back as he hooked and led you to wedge your head in his slightly chilly neck.

You could feel the vibrations on the scalp cleverly woven previously by experienced fae, humming melodies that you catched in your childhood, you could hear the invisible noise of the tissues rubbing against each other as the long skirt curled around the ankles of the fae while he made you move against him.

The night breeze along with the distinct smell of pine trees snuck inside the room, thus bringing your hair and his to move in tandem.

One of his hands tightly wrapped to yours as you glided along the polished tiles of the hall, so bright and resplendent that you can admire the ceiling painted with its suffused candles and dream of dancing on all those, as if to separate you two and that other world was just a sheet of thin but invisible glass that you both erased with the flutter of capes.

The glow of his irises seemed to shine even more when he twirled you one last time before taking off a glove and grabbing your warmest.

The black enamel, that seemed to be perpetually applied to his nails, shimmered under the subtle and cold moonshine made the pale skin even more ethereal as the muscles and bones of his hand moved simultaneously with the movement of his thumb that tenderly caressed your soft hand and laid in your lap.

His feline eyes were only and only directed at you as he flew his other hand across your abdomen, gently tracing elegant spirals before moving to your cleavage and slowly trace with his fingers both collarbones, causing a series of chills that did nothing but fuel the glow of his irises and his mischievous smile that he put in so you could see his dimples and sharp fangs.

A view dedicated and destined only to his beloved, the only one that had been able to melt the metal armor and intrude with arrogance in his mind, body and soul.

He slid his cold nails down the softness of your neck, making sure to map every single part of it before cuddling one hand in the recess while the other continued to travel the lines of your face, the jaw, tracing and leaving touches ghosts everywhere his hand passed, your skin that tried to mark in focus every sensation and every tingling that his touch carried away every time he moved.

He drew the bridge of the lips, the sagging of the nasal septum, slightly cold cheeks, eyelids and eyelashes, as well as eyebrows and forehead.

Your moonlight reflection was ethereal to him, so unnaturally perfect even for a fae like him. He had seen other similar beauties that for humans were merely unattainable, a different elegance and simply alien even to the most beautiful among both men and women, levels of perfection that even he did not think he could imagine as a kid.

But you made him think otherwise.

You could have your infinite imperfections, but to him, the outer shell was a simple appearance, and he knew that often the most beautiful people were actually the most rotten and poisonous.

To him it was your attitude that drew him to you like a moth, coveting and devouring those acts of benevolence and kindness that were taken from him by his seemingly unapproachable character and his status that could not be ignored to the point of simply chaining him to you.

The burning desire was not something that could simply extinguish with a snap of the fingers and a simple spell, the flames that burned it from the inside did not do high that claw at the chest whenever he thought of you, to your projects you chose to share with him.

The only way was to be with you.

His brows were softened by the memory of your marriage, the same dance you had now performed with the same passion and love, which always had something new: a movement more violent or sweeter, the music stronger and promiscuous or more sweet and lulling, inducing both to a hypnotism from which neither wanted to wake up.

Clearing his throat, he walked to one of the many stained glass windows from the various places with your hand in his.

Shades of green, purple and white dominated the stained glass windows that portrayed stories of ancient times full of magic and graceful figures sculpted elegantly in glass plates so refined that you ask if people like that could really exist and if places like those depicted could even be minimally described by those who had never been able to admire them.

They told stories and the ancient history of the Briar Valley along it's rulers and kingdom.

The clothes so different and so unique from everything I could see, jewels so beautiful to make shine even from a simple representation. And a recurring horned woman like the ones that your husband proudly had.

As the clouds moved in front of the moon, it seemed that those still images turned into a waltz of actions, coronations, struggles and victories, of people living their lives in colored mirrors ,indifferent to people who could observe them.

Images so intricate that you wonder how many people it took to complete even one and how long it took.

The glass was slightly wrinkled, which distorted the moonlight like crystal clear water reflecting sunlight on the golden sand, and framed by skilfully worked iron in such a way as to look majestic while remaining simple at the same time.

He continued to walk along the corridor illuminated by flaming torches that gave perpetual light to paintings of imposing women and men, young people and children who exhibited their figure in immortal paintings. It stopped when suddenly a wave of wonder and dislocation did not overwhelm both your bodies, leaving behind nothing but shining lights as if to witness your passage.

A warm breath on the neck, fangs dragging gracefully over the flesh near your ear, as if they weren’t there at all.

"Just as the way you did once upon a dream, my dearest"

#fanfic #x reader #twised wonderland #malleus x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #my fic #malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #fluff #yandere x reader #anime #yandere malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia x mc

[jayden-writes]

ab irato

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

word count: ~3.5k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

cw: mental breakdown, self-deprecation, self-harm (not graphic)

summary: When you break under the pressure of keeping up with Devildom curriculum, an unlikely demon comes to your aid.

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!

Too much. Too much. You couldn't breathe. The steady slamming of your fists against your thighs as you were sitting on the edge of your bed did nothing to help you feel grounded. You needed to rip yourself apart, break your body open or the anger would tear through the seams of your being, engulfing you in an inferno and burning you into cinder. Flames were raging in your body, licking at your soul, your heart, your lungs. You wanted to scream until your throat was raw, but you couldn’t make a sound other than ragged attempts at breathing and angry whimpers.

This was going to kill you, you knew it, you could feel yourself decaying in real-time, your head swimming, rushing in your ears and your lungs constricted as your body was slowly being consumed by the fire. Until, out of nowhere, the movement of your fists stilled. It took you a few seconds to realize that there were strong hands clad in black gloves keeping them in place despite your resistance against them. Gradually, the image of Lucifer kneeling in front of you registered in your dazed mind and you met his gaze.

His lips were moving, though you were unable to make out what he was saying amidst the utter chaos in your head, even the expression he was wearing on his face was entirely lost on you. However, you could feel his hands squeezing yours rhythmically in an unsuccessful attempt to ground you. He kept up the effort for a few moments, but eventually he carefully loosened the hold he had on you, only fully letting go once he was sure you wouldn’t continue hitting yourself. Then he left.

As soon as the door had closed behind him a sob tore through your throat and hot tears of shame started running down your cheeks, scorching your skin. You hid your face in your hands and cried, feeling yourself getting more upset than you already were. Of course he wouldn’t want to be around when you were acting like this, what were you expecting? In the five months you had known him he hadn’t been particularly caring or kind towards you - mostly keeping his interactions with you to a bare minimum, only making sure you wouldn’t die during your stay in the Devildom - so obviously he couldn’t be bothered to take care of a human having a pathetic mental breakdown.

You felt the blaze burning even stronger, your fingers quickly moving to your hair, yanking at it desperately, although that brought you no reprieve either. Suddenly the mattress dipped down right next to you and something cold was pressed on the nape of your neck. It was such an abrupt and stark contrast to the conflagration that was raging inside of you that you instinctively tried moving away from it, but an unyielding arm promptly held you in place, forcing you to let the cold seep through your skin and your body. Within a few seconds you became completely still, your hands dropping into your lap. Your lungs ached when they fully expanded again for the first time in what felt like an eternity as you took deep, shuddering breaths while the shock of the icy feeling worked its way through your insides, smothering the flames that had been consuming you. The rushing in your ears ceased and your vision became less blurry. Finally, you could hear yourself crying and the tension in your muscles slowly dissipated. The restraining arm that had been keeping you in place disappeared, but the cold thing on your nape remained.

There were no words spoken as your tears slowly came to a stop and your breathing slowed down, a feeling of exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Why?” you whispered, shifting slightly to face Lucifer without looking him in the eye.

“What exactly do you mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he put his arm down, removing an ice pack from your neck.

“Why are you here? I don’t… I don’t understand. It’s not like I was in physical danger, you could have just… left me alone.”

“Because,” he replied after a few beats of silence, “Lord Diavolo has tasked me with taking care of your well-being, mental and physical alike.”

Your shoulders sagged at that and you turned away from him. Of course he was only doing this because of Lord Diavolo and not because he genuinely cared. How foolish of you, to think otherwise.

“Right…” you muttered, feeling your throat closing up, “you can go then. I’ll be fine, I can handle myself for now.”

Lucifer exhaled heavily as he contemplated his next words.

“I would rather not leave you alone at this time,” his voice was firm, making you scoff.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything that would put your oh-so-important exchange program in jeopardy. There’s no need for you to stick around any longer,” you spoke, hurt clearly audible in your voice despite your efforts to mask it with an indifferent tone. His eyes were fixed on you, studying your form for a few seconds before speaking once more.

“That’s not the only reason,” he replied with a sigh. You frowned and turned to him with an incredulous look in your eyes.

“Oh, so now you care?” you asked, voice brimming with bitterness. He let out a short chuckle, mouth twisting into a small, wry smile.

“Whether you believe it or not, watching you suffer brings me no pleasure,” he examined your bewildered expression with amusement for a bit, then his face grew serious again.

“I wish to help you through this, if you would let me. I want you to rely on me, to trust me with your pain,” he reached out an ungloved hand, thumb brushing gently across your cheek as you gaped at him in astonishment. “I will not leave your side, not unless you send me away.”

Lucifer’s gaze carried a small hint of concern and fondness, and you couldn’t remember ever seeing such emotions on his usually well-guarded face. You kept staring at him, not knowing what to say, but the touch of his hand felt nice and soothing and you couldn’t help wanting to accept his offer. With a stifled yawn you leaned into the contact and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy this moment of tenderness.

“You must be exhausted,” he said in a soft voice, “perhaps it would be best if you rested for some time. I will stay with you - if you are amenable.”

“That would be nice,” you muttered, fatigue taking hold of you. His hand disappeared from your cheek and you opened your eyes again, watching him take off his shoes and coat and lie down on the bed. You followed suit and let your weary body sink into the mattress, keeping a respectful distance from him. Some time later you felt him gently stroking your hair, the touch a steady reminder of his presence.

While you tried to relax and fall asleep, remnants of your emotions caught up with you and your body began shaking, a lump forming in your throat. You didn’t want to cry again, you were so tired of it. But Lucifer, perceptive as ever, paused his movements and you could hear him coming closer to you. His arm moved underneath your neck, holding your shoulder and pulling you towards him. Soon enough your head was lying on his chest and his other arm was resting on your waist. The carefulness of his hold only served to make you feel more raw on the inside, a whimper escaping your mouth against your will as tears started cascading down your cheeks, soaking through the fabric of his clothes. Lucifer remained quiet, tracing patterns on your skin with his fingers as your body shook with sobs and you clung to him, seeking comfort in his steadfast embrace until you calmed down.

It was completely silent aside from his steady breathing and your occasional sniffles and hiccups. He kept caressing your body and eventually you drifted off to sleep.

When you began waking up the following morning you were still too groggy to comprehend your surroundings, though you felt safe and warm and you would have stayed that way forever, but then a deep voice cut through the serenity.

“Did you sleep well?”

Startled, your eyes shot open and the first thing you saw was Lucifer’s face a few inches away from yours as the memories of last night came flooding back.

“You really stayed,” you muttered, genuine surprise in your voice.

“Of course I did, I always stay true to my word,” he easily replied, running a hand through his disheveled hair. You were still wrapped up in his arms, marvelling at the unguarded look on his face. Before you knew it you moved a hand to cup his cheek, fully expecting him to withdraw or get annoyed, but to your amazement he didn't. Instead, he stayed still and gazed at you with a look in his eyes you couldn't identify. It almost mesmerized you; however, you shook yourself out of your reverie and sat up with a heavy sigh. Lucifer kept looking at you, but you stared at your hands that were laying in your lap.

It was silent for a bit as you thought about last night, a grave feeling washing over you the more you ruminated.

“You can go now,” you mumbled, eyes flicking up to look Lucifer in the face.

“Excuse me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to hang around any longer; you did your duty,” you said, a tinge of sadness in your tone.

”Why would I not?”

“Why would you want to stay? Just because you don't enjoy seeing me suffer? Please. I appreciate what you did last night, I really do, but you can now stop pretending that you give a shit.”

“I’m not pre-” he started saying while he sat up, only to be cut off by you.

“Yes, of course you are. I mean- what even am I compared to you? I'm… I’m nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm weak, there's nothing special about me. I'm just a human,” you kept ranting.

“Don't-”

“And compared to most other humans I'm still pathetic and weak. I freaked out like this over stupid homework. Over homework! And it wasn't even the first time and it won't be the last time either,” you didn't know what you were saying anymore, the words kept coming as you worked yourself into a frenzy, your shoulders heaving as you were breathing heavily.

“Stop-” he tried again to no avail, sounding exasperated.

“I am nothing but a burden and a risk to the program. I shouldn't- I shouldn’t be here! You picked the worst fucking human in existence for this- this important project and now you have to worry about me ruining everything! Why else would you even bother with-”

Out of nowhere your face was grabbed by Lucifer's hands and his lips met yours. He soon pulled away again, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“I will not have you talking about yourself in such a degrading manner”, he warned you, an angry edge to his voice, “none of what you said is even remotely true and I refuse to stand by idly and let you say such things.”

The kiss and his words stunned you into silence. Your mind was racing, and you didn’t know what to say or what to think.

“Listen to me very closely”, he spoke in a low and commanding tone, his hands still framing your face tightly, “do you truly think I would spend my valuable time with you like this if I only cared about the program?”

“I- I don't know? Probably not…?” you questioned. The weight of his words and actions was slowly beginning to sink in and the doubts in your mind began to dim.

“Precisely. There are no ulterior motives; I have nothing to gain from such actions. I did what I did because I wanted to, that’s all there is to it. Do you understand?”

“I- I think so, yes,” you muttered, the hands holding your face loosening their grasp ever so slowly.

“From now on, I want you to reach out to me any time you begin to feel overwhelmed in this manner. I will not allow you to deal with this by yourself again, am I making myself clear?”

“Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want, then I guess I can do that,” came your not entirely truthful reply as you turned your head away from him to avoid his piercing stare. He sighed and shifted your face back towards him.

“I mean it”, Lucifer emphasized, his voice and expression softer now, “let me be there for you.”

More and more of your doubts were disappearing by the minute, the way he was looking at you made you believe in his sincerity.

“Okay, I will contact you when this happens again, I promise. But… I need to know what changed. Why are you suddenly being so nice to me? And why did you… kiss me?”

For a few seconds, his eyes flickered away, avoiding yours, but he quickly recovered.

“Why? Because I wanted to. I wanted to ease your pain, and I wanted to kiss you,” he answered casually, moving his hand to your chin and brushing a thumb over your lips.

“You can’t kiss someone simply because you want to,” you stated indignantly, face blushing furiously.

“Why not? Are you telling me you did not like it?” Lucifer asked, a smug smile on his face.

“I-It’s not about that!” you exclaimed.

“Ah, but I don’t hear you denying it either.”

“I don’t- I don’t want to be kissed on just a whim,” you huffed.

“I never do anything on ‘just a whim’. You are worth more than that,” his teasing smile became tender as he said that and he moved closer. You felt your pulse beginning to race, pounding in your chest as if it was trying to break out of your ribcage. The emotions that were swirling inside you were overwhelming; there was confusion and irritation, but you also had butterflies in your stomach that were fluttering around wildly, making you feel incredibly flushed.

“W-what are you doing?” you whispered nervously, feeling his breath on your skin.

“Merely showing you how much I meant it, if I may?”

Everything around you felt fuzzy and almost unreal, but you managed to nod. He closed the gap between the two of you, his lips pressing lightly against yours. Compared to the earlier kiss, this one felt much more deliberate and gentle, less of a demand and closer to a request instead. His hand was on the back of your head, fingers stroking through your hair. As you were starting to get entirely lost in the sensation, Lucifer pulled away, leaving you dazed and breathless. He removed his hands from your face and gave you a little bit of space while you tried to regain your composure.

There was a genuine, pleased smile on his face when he was looking at you and it only made you blush harder. Your heart was still beating way too fast, and the whirlwind of emotions inside of you wasn’t letting up either. All you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

“Do you see my point now?” Lucifer asked with a soft chuckle, watching your baffled expression with a mix of amusement and affection. You nodded. Maybe you were imagining it, but you could swear there was the tiniest amount of pink tinting his cheeks.

“Good,” he said, his demeanor growing serious again, “then I believe it would be best if we talked about last night.”

“Ah… is that really necessary?” you muttered in disappointment.

“I understand that this might be uncomfortable for you, but in order for me to be able to help you, to be there for you, I need to know more.”

Sighing deeply you took a few measured breaths, trying to suppress the anxiety that was now taking hold of you once more. You leaned against the headboard, looking away and gathering yourself for a few moments.

“My grades have been falling short of my expectations and I’m having a hard time understanding the topics in class. I- the homework has gotten increasingly harder and I just- I understand less and less with each class I attend,” you explained, your voice quivering slightly, “I thought it would get easier with time, that I’d be able to comprehend everything, o-or at least more, but no. It’s only getting worse and I- I feel so frustrated and angry. And when I was doing homework last night, I guess I just- I just snapped. I’ve been struggling with other homework and assignments since I got here, but it hasn’t been this bad in- in a while.”

Closing your eyes you took more deliberate breaths to try and calm the emotions bubbling in your chest. You heard Lucifer move, his body settling next to you as he put a comforting hand over yours.

“I-it’s always been like that, I guess. I get overwhelmed with something and I-I freak out, I don’t even know why. It’s stupid and embarrassing,” you finished off your explanation quietly, trying to resist the urge to deprecate yourself further because you knew it would only make him upset again.

“How often does this happen?” he questioned, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand.

“Oh… uhm, not that often, I guess?” You gave back anxiously.

“How often?” he pressed again.

“Ever since I got here maybe… ten times?”

“So, twice a month?”

You opened your eyes and carefully looked at him, taking in his frown before shaking your head, causing him to narrow his eyes.

“No… in the first four months it only happened three times overall, but this month has been… difficult,” you explained with an uneasy laugh.

“Seven times? This month alone?” he concluded, clearly taken aback.

“Well… maybe? I don’t know for sure, I haven’t exactly kept count.”

“So you’re saying it could have been more than ten times?”

“It could have also been less!” you protested weakly, knowing very well that Lucifer was right in his assumption. One incredulous look from him was enough for you to deflate and sigh heavily.

“Did you have any intentions of ever telling anyone? Or would you have kept on suffering alone had I not found you by pure chance?” he finally asked after a while, his voice stern with a hint of concern.

The way you remained silent, avoiding his gaze, told him all he needed to know. He cursed under his breath, a hand ruffling through his hair. Just when you were about to apologize, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest and holding you in a firm embrace. You let your head rest against him and lazily draped your arm across his waist before you spoke again.

“Being a human here is… difficult, Lucifer. I already feel so vulnerable and the thought of telling this to someone, to a being that is so much more powerful, so much older than I am, is mortifying. I was- I still am scared that something like this will only make you see how weak I actually am.”

He raised a hand to your face, caressing your cheek in a soothing manner.

“I don't consider you weak - quite the opposite, in fact. Bearing the burden of being an exchange student in a foreign place, surrounded by demons, would be a difficult matter for any human. However, it is foolish to carry this weight alone, and if I have a say in it, you never will again,” he assured you, tightening his hold around you, “we can come together however often it is necessary and go over your assignments; I will make sure you understand everything. In turn, I expect you to come to me whenever there is something troubling you.”

“I will, I promise,” you said earnestly. Lucifer hummed appreciatively and you sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, until the alarm of your phone nearly made you jump out of your skin.

“Fuck, I have to get ready,” you mumbled as you untangled yourself from his hold and stood up.

“No need.”

“Huh?” You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at him in confusion.

“I will excuse you from today’s classes,” he explained casually while getting up himself, “and I will tell my brothers to leave you alone, so that you may focus on resting instead. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call me.”

“Thank you for letting me skip RAD, but… I can’t just call you. I know how busy you are, and I don’t want to bother you when you have so little time already.”

“Don’t argue with me on this, I will make time for you. And now, rest. We will talk more in depth later.”

“Okay,” you conceded, watching him leave, “and Lucifer?” He stopped in front of the door and turned around, examining you expectantly.

“Thank you. Really.”

“You are welcome,” he gave you a soft smile and a nod, then he left.

With a content sigh you laid back down and closed your eyes, quickly falling asleep again.

#jayden-writes #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me angst #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x you #mental breakdown #self-harm #self harm #i swear taggings things on tumblr is so much more fun than it is on ao3 #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #gender neutral reader #no y/n #no gendered pronouns #obey me x reader #obey me hurt comfort #gender neutral mc

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Honey Lemon Crescendo

Pairings: Trey Clover/Vampire MC

Summary: The gods should have made you better, so that they could love you. 

The days you pray for the abolishment of your abhorrent form are rare in the centuries you have lived since your family's death, and your turning. Sharpened claws and teeth, the hellfire of your gaze are concealed for your own convenience, you tell yourself, especially as you enroll into NRC. The tonic of human affairs rarely interested you, yet when you find the truly curious case of Trey Clover, someone who is made only of that plain sort, you cannot help but to promise yourself one conversation, some several hours of the thousand thousand you have lived to taste what it is like to be treated, and be human again. But you're a fool, and a hypocrite‒ you find yourself breaking that promise over, and over, and over. Your fragile resolve frays at every sunbeam smile, every ringing laughter of his. 

MC is a vampire, unique magic is telepathy, being able to unconsciously hear everyone's thoughts 

Notes: Once again I am alive lol. Barely. Just finished my first semester in my Master’s program so I’ve been experiencing a bit a burn out, so I apologize if this isn’t my best work. Also, every time I'm like "hm is this too much trauma?" But then I remember the child murder, kidnapping, and child endangerment that's canon in twst and I'm like ooh wait right nvm I’m good. Fits within the canon. Anyways, I would have liked to explore the concept of BPD and its allegorical connections to Vampirism more in depth, especially due to the social sigma associated with it‒ but I feel that it would be waaaay too long for a one-shot if I did so. 

Also, all stand alone quotes that are in italics represent inner thoughts (with some exceptions depending on your personal interpretations)

TW: References to depression, references to religious trauma, exorcism, and cults; references to child abuse; survivors guilt; referenced to verbal abuse; anxiety; panic attacks; slight mentions of eating disorders/disordered eating (suppressing appetite); BPD 

GN Terms for MC

AO3 Link Here

Masterlist

------------------------------

“There is no sin within this child. Only the devil which lives within them.” 

Those were the words that had prevented your burning during the trial, among other things. 

Perhaps it was also the way you would keep your claws obscured under thickset leather gloves, conceal your crimson gaze under obsidian shades, or the terror that seized you every night that left you so evidently unraveled in all of your unforgiving guilt and abhorrence for your new form. The pity that could be provoked by the wetness and flush of a child’s face was something many adults in the future instructed was a bias you should have been more grateful for‒ as it triumphed over whatever horrors people held when you spoke a decibel too loudly to show your sharpening fangs, moved too swiftly to confirm the power that swelled within you like simmering, spoiled blood‒ pungent, and nauseating.

It reminds you of the smell at the state of decomposition you found your family in when you returned home from a several day trip with your cello instructor‒ and the smell of its mouth when its sharpened teeth lurched towards your neck, before you felt the metallic taste drip cold into your gasping mouth. 

It was first the elongated fangs. Then came the claws, the lack of reflection, the original color of your eyes draining, replaced with a bright vermillion. The enhanced senses and physical power were less noticeable‒ but the subtle power that swelled in your hands when you broke skin and meat with your own grip upon your arm did not go unnoticed by the Supreme Leader who examined your body and soul during your trial. 

“This thing should be useful to me, I hope. I was right to send that “Cello Instructor” with them to take care of business here. I’ll continue my divine plan as usual.”

The words themselves terrified you. Should you run? Hide? Die? Where would you go‒ with your small feet and hands? What could you do? The more oppressive horror lay in the confirmation of the whorling suspicion inside of your small, ten-year old mind that your new form allowed for telepathy‒ the exact “usefulness” the Supreme Leader had suspected lapped inside of you. You were absolutely sure of it, days later, when you read the color of the townspeople faces‒ their leering eyes and curled lips, squeezing their children close behind them‒ back towards your home, set ablaze by their torches and oil. The scramble of noise wasn't needed to confirm their disgust of you, but it came anyway. 

“Hideous.”

“Demon. Probably killed that poor family.”

“That disguising appearance‒ must be the child of the devil.”

“Murderer. Things like you deserved to be burned. Supreme leader is truly a blessing to take care of such vile things.”

You cowered at their stares‒ but you remember considering it distantly for a moment, even in the midst of your situation. That night you had been found by shaking candlelight, your mouth drenched with blood and fear, palming numbly at your family's cold bodies. You couldn't blame them, you supposed. The townspeople feared you. You feared you. Stay with me . The Supreme Leader told you. And you did. 

He defended you during your trial with a kind smile, tying the rope around your wrists loosely with gentle hands, spoke softly of good deeds, good gods, all forgiving and loving. When he convinced the council to graciously join his family , you didn’t run. 

“Don’t you want to be loved by god?”

You shakily rolled the breath that seized in your lungs, your small hands clutched in a prayer against the heartbeat that thundered against your bones. 

“How pitiful child, that you choke on your sorrow. You, abhorrent creature, abomination of god‒ let me love you .” 

“Let me be your god.”

He held a copy of Dissertations Upon the Apparitions of Angels, Daemons, and Vampires of Wonderland in his hands‒ he pressed a finger onto each part of your body, comparing it with his‒ what made him human, and what made you not. He gifted you your own room‒ different from all the other children, deep at the belly of the earth. The cobblestone walls reached high into the heavens where you could not see, even with your enhanced vision‒ the light falling just where your vision could reach. One of his attendants presented him with a pair of cuffs, made specially for your size. The ones they had did not yet fit you. However, he placed them on the ground‒ crescent smile and blackened eyes. You would not escape. 

You kept your secrets for a while‒ despite the unquenchable jealousy, festering sin, and violence that sprouted abundantly in the minds of his chosen advisors, who pinched your skin and snaked their cold hands under your shirt. In your ever dwindling, coastal town‒ you'd seen denial was the first reaction to loss. You'd felt a modicum of humanity in your ruthless rejection, letting the inner noise of others curdle in your mind. 

Their words on the surface stuck of cheap, saccharine perfume, ones you recognized in the town's alleys and such. Yet you swallowed your nausea down, digesting their words one by one. You still had faith then, capable of religion . So easy to fool back then‒ you think now‒ children rarely doubt the material world. Why would people hurt you on purpose?

You were still a child then‒ an infant in vampiric years.

“ Don’t you want to be loved by god?” 

“To be useful to god?” 

"Useful to me?"

“They’ve done so much for you.” 

“I’ve done so much for you.” 

“Don’t you want to repay that?”

You revealed it all, in your childish trust, and his soft hands. You thought perhaps, that adults, despite their true intentions, would help you somehow. Belief in good will. Faith. It grips you with force. 

It wasn’t all violence at first. But you began to fear the day where their actions would finally twist into something reflective of their actual intentions. That day came rather quickly, or so you think. Time did not matter in the small confines of your chambers below ground. The bloodletting, lashings, the vivisections were then all to vanquish the spirits that germinated inside your sinking flesh, possessing you to reveal such “impure things” in front of the people. Purification , he called it, no matter how many times you dried your throat from apologies, or promised you would do better next time. Next time I will speak your truth. God’s truth . You say the way their desires for a monster began to shape every laceration, every break of the bone. 

Still, you couldn’t be their monster, nor a human. It seemed that the seeds of sacrilege had been sown firmly into you, and flourished each passing decade in its grotesque power. 

The gods should have made you better, so that they could love you. 

You’d beg through a dried throat and spinning vision for forgiveness and to appeal your usefulness‒ you knew the moment the priest resumed his kind smile, gentle hands, and his flowery voice‒ that he had found a use for you. Work for me , he said‒  and you obliged. He held your hand again, with a firm grip, and brought you to trials, his grand meetings with thousands of his followers‒ and you’d do his bidding, pointing a shaking finger at “non-believers” and spies‒ watching closely, where the supreme leader’s eyes leered and narrowed in order to anticipate your next move of survival . By then, you had learned to tune out a significant portion of the noise of people, to live in ignorant bliss for the few hours he would spend mending your gashing wounds, let you fiddle around with your cello that had survived the angry mob that burned down your family’s bakery, and home. Soft touches, sweet voice, he spoke. 

"Good child, one of god, of forgiveness, of love. "

And you could tell he had meant it‒ knowing that when he lied to you‒ he always clasped his hands unconsciously in prayer. If there were opposing intentions twisting below his perfumed words that you had somehow failed to pick up with your trained senses‒ you couldn’t be bothered to unravel them. It was just nice. To be held again‒ forgiven . By someone at least, if not yourself. You were good. You were good again. 

Decades pass‒ the people and the landscape move and breathe. It was only a matter of time your hometown would dwindle into a ghost city, being built on scrappy mines and poor fishermen, controlled by a con-man and his desperate believers. Even with nothing to lose, the remaining residents exiled you. Perhaps it was their humanity that they grasped onto with that final action. 

You stand against the passing aches after aches‒ drinking it all from your chalice‒ vessels gilded with gold and hammered with human desire, sitting high to the heavens on altars to hold the blood and wine offered to the gods. You’d been hollowed much like that grail, gouged from the sharpened image of your still, immutable face against the shifting harmony of the world you could not enter. You have no reflection, no face, no name people would call out to take shape as your own, no proof of your corporeal form but your own, cold touch. And the hunger. The hunger seized you at every moment‒ aching through the gums of your fangs, and pounding your heart with the lifeblood that chased it. You were at least alive in your 

You'd fashion something from the use you'd have to other people. A frankenstein skin stretched over your bones. You still feel the Supreme Leader’s gaze hollowing your senses. 

"It's like they're reading my thoughts."

"Those sunglasses and gloves, what are you trying to stand out? So annoying."

"Why don't you read the atmosphere for once?"

"Arrogant asshole."

"What are you, pretending to be all high and mighty."

"Liar."

The noise never stops completely. But you've learned to shut the world out, better now with the advancements on potions and ear plugs‒ courtesy of the Night Raven College’s curriculum‒ hands free to grasp at every opportunity to prove you had existed in some way‒ a being that was real enough to feel the light of gods' love and forgiveness. Useful. Good. 

“How did you know I used browned butter?”

Light‒ feather soft, honey sweet music that streams into your mind. 

You always sat alone in the end. There was a composition to everything, as you saw it. And you had perfected the score of distance‒ being able to orchestrate a friendly, carefree facade, an absolutely stupid and undoubtedly shallow passion, pruning the space between you and the world. A gothic mirror to parody themselves, so they could not truly look at your monstrous, yet absent form‒ something you were sure would absolutely rupture the thick skin you've fashioned together out of pieces of the real people unlike yourself. You'd break apart into nothing but dust. 

It was like the volume, moods, and rhythms created in the scores you played‒ you charged the room with boisterous laughter and directed the eyes at that, instead of your fervent efforts in composing the most fantastic detachment. In the end, you were almost giddy to see that no one saved you a seat, or spared you a glance when you slipped outside for a cigarette wedged hungrily between your fingers. The nicotine was enough to starve off the ache beginning to turn swiftly to nausea between your wobbling footsteps, and you were glad, you think, to have served your use in the social spiral to be afforded a moment of peace. 

Or, you thought. 

“Huh?”

“You forgot your prize.” The boy in front of you thrusts a frosted cupcake towards you, prompting you to switch the cigarette to your other hand to receive it. In the subtle moonlight, you see the sugar melted into the cream glitter a bit when you inspect the pastry. 

He adjusts the hat on top of his green head of hair as he continues. “The competition to see who could guess all the ingredients in the cake correctly‒ you won, it was perfect, actually.” 

You stare at him dumbly and you find yourself scooting over to make space for him. His eyebrows are tilted in a way that made his face a little sorry, a little roguish‒ a combination you found curious raised above those soft honey lemon eyes that hung like that summer fruit above the lush curve of his lashes. 

“So‒ how did you know? I’m curious.” 

You exhale the rest of the smoke resting in your lungs. “I…used to know people who were bakers. Their secret ingredient in their famous brownies was browned butter. I’ve eaten so many trays I’ve come to know the taste. The rest is just luck.”

He laughs. Not like you had seen out of the corner of your eye when he had been talking to all those people, but a loose, genuine chuckle. “I’d hardly call it luck‒ you got the measurements down pretty close. Impressive, if you ask me. May I ask‒ are you a baker?” 

“I…” You find yourself smiling through the cigarette pushed to your lips, careful not to show your teeth. “I used to be. I used to spend a lot of time there, they must have rubbed off me.”

How long has it been since you’ve thought about them? You could remember the distinct nutty smell from the pounds of brown butter your sister was in charge of making‒ the click click click of your mother’s footsteps as she worked from the counter to the rack of trays, preparing the bread dough for proofing. Your father in the background, fiddling with the radio, beaming when he heard a recording of your cello performance on the morning radio. Warmth, sunlight. The beat of your heart, and the heat of your blood. 

“You’ll have to give me the recipe then. I’ve been looking for a good brownie recipe.” 

A moment to contemplate if you should end this conversation here. Something switches inside of you, perhaps a remnant of that warmth you remembered. 

“You have something to write with?” 

His face flowers gently into a brightened expression before he pulls out a small notebook from his breast pocket. 

“...Thank you.”

You hum apathetically to work through the dreadful loom of warmth you feel when you hand the paper back to him with the recipes you’ve committed to memory from your laborious days at your family’s seaside bakery. The smoke still hanging in the air shifts sharply when you stand, and you flick the cindering cigarette to the pavement to stomp it out. You can tell there is more he wants to say that sits bubbly on his tongue, but you turn towards the door leading back to the Heartslabyul dorm before the words can take form through his smile. 

There’s a moment that you stand by the door where you reflect on what you saw of him while he was inside, mingling with other humans. 

“You should loosen your shoulders more when you smile, like that." Under his hat, you see his eyebrows raise up in slight surprise. Surprise isn't enough, you decide, and add, "If you want to convince people." 

You hope those words leave him a bit cold, a bit cruel that he doesn’t come seeking after you anytime soon, feeling the scramble of thoughts threatening to pool into your ears through the plugs. It’s all noise to you. You step inside once more‒ feeling a little less sick, a little less raw to be able to orchestrate again. 

Trey finds your handwriting as pretty as you were in the noise of the room, inspecting all the curls and loops of each word. It takes him a moment before he notices what you left behind. 

“They forgot their prize…” 

------------------------------

The next time you meet him is during band practice. Or, more precisely, hear him would be a better descriptor. 

"Have you seen (Name)?"

The thick walls of the storage room muffles his voice, but you still hear it loud and clear as you lean against the door, cello in hand. 

"I just saw them a minute ago. I think they went to run a few errands or something since the school festival is soon." Carter replies. 

"Ah it seems like I'm on a wild goose chase. I'm starting to wonder if such a person even exists…" 

“They’re everywhere and nowhere all the time.” Carter chuckles. "I didn't even know you two were like that."

"Hm. I guess. We only really talked once." He hums. 

"But I'd like to get to know them better ."

The sharp inhale you suck in makes an audible sound when you hear those words brush the back of your neck. You press the palm of your hands flat against your ears in panic to prevent any sound‒ voices, noise, the world‒ all of it, from entering your mind. 

Quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet‒ 

You time his steps, the pleasantries he's likely throwing at the rest of the members, the time it takes for him to get far from your radius of power. Slowly, you release your hands from your head, and take a few moments to gather yourself before exiting the room. 

Carter is the first to notice you. "Eh? (Name)? Since when were you there?" 

"Since 10 minutes ago, dear. I told you we were going to take a break from group practice today and do individual practice today didn't I? We've been rehearsing so much for the festival I figured we could take a break for today."

"Really?? How did I miss this? I totally just sent Trey to the wrong place." 

Lilia continues to tune his bass. "You were on your phone when (Name) briefed us on the schedule 3 weeks ago, Carter." 

"I wanted to do a group rehearsal today! I feel like I finally got the hang of the last couple measures this time!" Kalim interjects. 

"Don't pout, my dear president." The hand you place on his head is as gentle as ever. "You can practice without a vocalist for today, can't you? I have a lot to catch up on the Monstero Lounge gig I have coming up." 

You bid your fellow members goodbye, dragging the instrument all the way to one of the empty classrooms. 

Finally, a moment of peace. 

You shuffle through your folder, fishing out the piece you had picked to play for a talent night that Azul had insisted you come and play at, excitedly chattering about how it was going to be brilliant for business. 

Chopin's Cello Sonata in G Minor, Largo . 

The cello sonata was one of the composer's last pieces. It was spectacular to you. A final, dazzling eruption before dwindling to the mere echoes of what had once been there‒ a fantastical piece with a pressure combed through every measure that would well an incomprehensible rawness that began at your chest, and would weave through the fibers of your throat that clenched in its emptiness. 

But perhaps it was not so incomprehensible‒ humans in your life had been much the same. The ones you held dearly would rupture from this world, leaving you empty, aching with the sharpened, receding fragments. 

When you slip off your gloves to press your bare fingers against the strings, you try not to let this thought consume you. 

"But I'd like to get to know them better."

Bitterly, it seeps. 

You know it's wrong‒ the piece is supposed to be for a simple, ten minute performance‒ a monotonous activity of human affairs that you would be pleased to check hastily off the list with a presentable smile and lightness. However, the decades you have lived until this day weigh upon you at once, spinning your hands in such a way that threads your grief heavily into the mellow air. The murky rust of the setting sun swells with the florid volume of your own misery, and the silence of the world that ripostes it. 

The song falls softly, a slow stroke that gradually quiets until there is nothing. A diminuendo‒ to shatter, to finish. There's a small comfort, that unlike living things, the scores that stood on the iron music stand could be revived time after time, on trembling strings and resin scented maple. But, not much. 

The flesh at the back of your eyelids are sparked with purple and blue stars as you squeeze your eyes shut, head leaning against the body of the cello to steady your breaths. It may have been the dizziness steadily climbing from the ache of your empty stomach to your head, but you felt like you were swaying in that concoction of color and bursting light. 

"Don’t you want to be loved by god?”

You're afraid that if you open your eyes, the world may still be there. The noise, it will still exist, and reel you in‒ tangling you among its grotesque allure until the moment you reach towards it. Then, it will furl inwards, somewhere far from where you could detect it. The air feels sharp in your lungs‒ you feel like if you take too much in, you’d burst. The bow splinters in your hand, drawing blood. 

"Pretty ."

A voice strikes through your bleakness, a gentle, but clear sound. 

Trey stands at the center of your view. His face holds a glossy look for a moment, before he shakes his head and apologizes. 

"Sorry‒ I just‒ I just heard you in the hallway, I thought you sounded really…" He laughs, shifting his gaze to the side. " Pretty ." 

You look down at your instrument, and notice your bare hands, you remember you don't have your sunglasses on either. The cello echoes when you lean it against the desk, turn away from him to slip on your gloves and glasses. 

You clear your throat, feeling each word stumble in staccato breaths.  "Ah. Well. Um. Thank you. It's all, rather, very wrong though."

"Wrong? But it was incredible." 

"Pretty."

"Pretty."

"Pretty."

The thoughts that enter his mind that churn into yours are ignored best you can before you swivel, veiling yourself in your disguise once more. "Perhaps wrong is not the best term. It's not tasteful for the audience, I suppose. There was no control."

"Control?" He parrots. 

"Yes, you know." You wave your hand in flutter movements. "If someone like me performed like I just did‒ ha! I’d become the laughing stock of the entire school. " You clasp your hands together. "Now, darling. I must get going. Did you want to marvel at my music some more, or is there anything else you needed?"

You work quickly to gather your things, expecting Trey to leave after you've dismissed him. But when you drag your cello case around to leave, you see him still standing in the doorway, leaping towards your hand that rests on the cello case. 

"Can I help you? It seems heavy."

"I'm alright. I've dragged this thing around this school, I am perfectly capable‒" When you go to lift the full weight of the instrument however, a dizziness digs into your temples, nausea quickly following suit. 

"Oh‒ are you alright? Are you not feeling well? Let me at least help you with your instrument back to your dorm."

You stare at him, feeling your power rise within you, waiting for his thoughts to flood through your system‒ a confirmation to your suspicions you filter every person through, to pick them apart. 

“You’re hurt.” He goes to examine your hand, you pull back. 

"They don't look so well. Maybe they need something to eat? I should whip them up something after I help them carry this back to their dorm. Hm. Yeah. That sounds good. Something hearty."

Those words are inspected with great skepticism in your mind before the dizziness takes over, muddling your brain to a jumbled mess. Whatever, you think. He seems harmless enough. 

“Fine” As soon as that curt response slips from your lips, you cringe internally. You clear your throat, attempting to redeem yourself. “I’ll take up your offer if that's alright with you. Pretty boy .”

He seems to hold the air in his throat when you give him that name, before he releases it in a puff of laughter. "Pft. Alright, yeah. Let's get you back to your room before you spout any more nonsense."

"Me?"

You're a bit taken back from his internal response. But you trail behind him, the weight of the nausea lifting slightly off your steps. 

------------------------------

"What kind of cocoa powder did you use?"

"I think…just the regular brand stuff."

"Use Dutch processed next time. If you activate it correctly, the alkalizing process gives the batter a richer color and flavor."

He had somehow used his devilish charm to string you into this, you tell yourself, sipping on the tea you brewed for the both of you. But it would be rude to kick him out of your quarters without a proper thanks. You're no longer human, but you'd at least act civilized. 

The tea has run a bit cold from the two whole hours he's managed to rope you into a conversation on baking techniques‒ slipping out the same notepad and pen he pulled out that night you met, and a box of various pastries and baked goods that he seemingly prepared out of nowhere. Truthfully, you weren't supposed to eat human food without proper sustenance from blood‒ however the look he gave you had absolutely pleaded that you do. So, how could you refuse? 

You clear your throat to break through your endless flood of doubts and excuses. "I heard you were looking for me during band practice. Now that you've wormed your way into my life by bribing me with sweets‒ what did you want from me?"

"Oh!" He pulls another, smaller box from the bag you saw him rummaging through for the sweets laid out before the two of you. "Ah‒ I forgot about this. It might be a bit melted since there's ermine cream on the top."

The simple white box is opened, revealing a similar cupcake that you (purposefully) forgot the night you met him. 

"It's not the same thing‒ it might be better actually‒ I used buttercream last time but it's pretty heavy so I substituted with ermine cream this time." He remains composed but you can tell something is bubbling below it. "Tell me what you think." 

" I'm so excited to see what they think…I worked hard on this recipe since it seems it wasn't up to their tastes last time."

You make a face when you hear his thoughts, wondering how absolutely normal someone can be. “You mean to say you came all the way here to deliver me…this cup cake?” 

"Yes I mean‒ I don't mean to pressure you into eating it, obviously." His eyebrows bunch upwards in his usual sorry expression. "I just. Wanted to hear your thoughts. Since I haven't met someone this knowledgeable on baking techniques at this school."

People usually had ulterior motives when approaching others with gifts, kindness, words slathered in polite niceties and compliments. You eye him suspiciously as he calmly sips his tea, scribbling away in his little notepad.

Drawing a little closer to him, you lean against the table, feeling the heat of your crimson eyes when you concentrate your magic to wade through the noise‒ pulling the thread of his thoughts from it all. It requires a bit of power through your ear plugs and rising nausea, but you manage to unravel it. 

" I'd really like to get to know them better. Friends, maybe . Cater says I should get out there more, this is what he meant, right? "

It was impossible to ignore the truth of the matter‒ that the person sitting in front of you is so absolutely unbearably bare, plain. You'd thought you'd seen clarity before, in how salient the cruelty of people was, but you had been wrong. No doubt this was true clarity‒ the candor of normal, mundane life that you normally blocked out with the rest of the noise of the world. The tonic of human lives rarely interested you, but it seemed like all this person was, and it seeped deeply into his treatment of you. Normal, bare, plain. 

Human . 

It was so baffling you could not suppress the smile that spread on your lips. 

Ah, maybe just for today, you think. Just this one conversation. Just one moment, and I'll forget the taste of human life again. 

"Hm, alright. Just this once, pretty boy ."

The sugary cream melts instantly in your tongue, and the airy sponge is sweet when you swallow your determination to forget this honey sweetness he brings. A hint of vanilla, cinnamon, sugar, spice, and everything nice. You let it settle deep in the dark of your belly, feeling the warmth still lacing through your blood from the tea you've sipped with him slowly cool under your flesh. You devour it all, with his words and smile, hiding it deep inside so you can’t remember its sweetness. 

But the honey you've added at his request still runs golden sweet on your tongue. You roll it through your mouth, trying to extinguish the taste, but it spreads further, coating your throat as you swallow it. Unlike the contents of the cupcake, it runs raw against your flesh, and you must wait until it seeps deeply into the fibers of your throat before it dissolves. 

The hours pass as you talk with him, but the sweetness does not fade. 

------------------------------

"You alright?" 

The silvery tone of your voice breaks through Trey's thoughts. He had been lagging behind the Heartstlabyul group to take a break from all of the frenzy of today. The responsibility, the pressure. You'd been with them a moment ago, mingling as you always did, but now you've slowed your footsteps to match the slight drag of his own‒ something he's sure you've noticed. Heat tingles at his cheeks‒ he doesn't know whether it's from the way you've broken his image so swiftly with your keen eyes, or if it's from, simply, your thoughtfulness. For him, of all people. For him. 

"Yeah, fine. Just tired. Today has been such a long day with these underclassmen." 

His laughter rings clearly, even though the obstruction of your ear. With each note emanated from his lips, you feel it slipping through the cracks of the foundation of your feeble resolve, crumbling so endearingly that you smile sincerely when he speaks. It had been disgust, revolt at first, feeling the distance between your world and his inching closer and closer‒ but before you could notice the absence of nausea stinging through your chest and stomach, you felt the feather-lightness of your own smile chiming with his own, completely eclipsing the discomfort you had felt previously in the proximity to other lives. To him. 

"You need to relax more. Stop fussing over these no good children." You massage his shoulders in a playful manner. 

He feigns pain then quirks that smile on his face‒ you know the one, the one where he bunches his eyebrows and laughs with the back of his throat. In that moment, you're as confident as ever, charging him with laughter‒ letting your inhibitions lose. Control didn’t matter, for a moment. The world doesn’t seem so sharp at that moment, like you were going to tip over the edge. 

When the pads of his fingers brush against your fingers, all that sense you had withers so easily in your chest. Through his shoulders, you can feel the vibration of the hum he emits in agreement, a musical accompaniment to the warmth that radiates from his hands. 

"Maybe. They're good kids. You're right‒ maybe I do need to relax." You retract your hands from him, allowing him to toss his head over his shoulder. "Any tips?"

The seconds you weigh out whether to lie or not seem to shorten with every moment you spend with him. "I guess…music. I like to sing some of the warm-up pieces I used to know.” 

"Warm up for what?"

"Ah for the…church choir." 

Liar . 

He makes a face, an airy laugh escapes your nose. "What?" You ask. 

"...you just don’t look like a religious person.”

You look down at your feet, a slight smile as a comfort to him. “I haven’t been in a while. I don’t think I’ve had faith in anything in a long time.” A quiet lull in your words. 

Your stomach turns. It's always a look of pity, or some casted look that drags you as some pathetic creature, cold and inhuman. The words die in your throat, you quiet your breaths, feeling then stick to the prickly flesh of your lungs and throat. 

“I get it.” 

But the look Trey gives you as he digests your words is a sadness as sincere and clear as water. It was not such a clawing, dried look that transformed you into something you didn't want to be. Instead, he swallows your words whole, as they were, his gaze reaching far beyond the pain. His sound‒ clear as a summer's day, dotted prettily with the honey lemon droplets of his gaze‒ finds you. 

“I got you.” 

A tranquil, silvery symphony‒ each sweetened thread weaving itself magnificent, deep within your nerves. It takes everything to pull yourself from it.

"Now, I have the perfect blend of tea for you then, darling. It goes wonderfully with those lemon shortbread cookies you made yesterday‒ absolutely divine."

Quick to shake the feeling off, you mask the dread of warmth with your usual stupid passion and fire that carves an expression of slight surprise into Trey's face, just for a moment. But it surprised you, instead, to see that it dissolved completely, and replaced with an elated burst of laughter. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and many more for you to do the same with the words he says. 

"You're actually a really good person, (Name)." 

The feeling returns, swiftly. 

You don’t want to breach into the borders of his mind, but you found yourself reaching for the silvery thread of his sound from the noise, picking apart the gray mess of things to find that glimmering thing. Your mind had learned the scent, the exact hue and melody of his inner voice to be able to pluck it so naturally from everything else, and you were growing fearful that you had committed yet another thing to memory that would eventually be lost to time. But the words that you hear from him‒ you think it will consume you for the rest of your eternity. 

"God. You're wonderful."

It nearly chokes you to hear such clarity in that declaration. Foolish . You think. Only a fool would say such a thing. You fix the shades slipping down your face, turning your energy to block out any sound and voice.

"You flatter me, my dearest." 

Lucid, pure. His voice. His laughter. It wasn't just noise to you anymore. You think of what chord his voice would be, how it would sing against your fingers on your cello. Or perhaps a heavenly instrument would be more befitting. 

"But you've got me all wrong."

You smile. Perhaps you were the fool. 

A few weeks later, he admits: "Truthfully, I tried to avoid you best I could before we officially met. Because of your blase attitude and the rumors about you‒ I thought I wouldn't mesh well with people like you."

"Is that so?" A wolfish smile curves onto your lips, eyes turning crescent. You fiddle with the flier for the monstero lounge show coming up, debating whether or not you should have really accepted Azul’s request. "It seems most people think I'm that way." 

"Yeah. But I'd like to think you opened up to me a bit, and I discovered something about you that made me want to talk to you. You're real strange, you know that?"

"Oh, I'm the weirdo? I'm not the one whose hobby is brushing their teeth."

"Dental health is important." He states matter-of-factly, before his hardened look is broken with a breathy laughter. "But really. I would have liked to be friends earlier in my life if I had just known you were the way you actually are."

You remember his words, turning your eyes downwards. "I'd really like to get to know them better."

Hesitation curdles in your mind, but the words come instantaneous, eager to his statement. "Which is?" Perhaps too eager, you shrink. 

He hums, thinks for a minute. "Just‒ kind ." He says. "I never noticed before, but you're always making sure people are included, checking on people. It's like a sixth sense‒ you can easily pick up what people are thinking, but also feeling. Like a guardian angel or sorts."

You stare at him with a blank look, a breath in your lungs that doesn't make it past your parted lips. Then, gaze downwards, again. 

"I wish more people would know how much good you have."

It takes great effort not letting his words sink deeply into your heart, constricting it. Sometimes, when you replay the scene in your head at night‒ an inevitable occurrence when he's on your mind‒ you try your hardest not to let it well something inside you so floridly that it bleeds heavily in your chest, and sprouts the salt in your eyes. But, it does. Idiot , you think, if only you knew what I really was.

You make a noise, unclear yourself as to your response to his statement, crushing the flier in your hand. Attempting to redeem yourself, you casually begin rolling the balled up paper in your hands, giving Trey an exasperated expression. 

“What’s that?” He points to the paper. 

“Oh‒ nothing. An Azul thing. Or a Monstero Lounge thing. Whatever, I’m probably going to bail on it anyways.”

“An Azul thing?” The hint of disappointment in his tone confuses you. “Oh! the Monstero Lounge show that’s coming up? I’ve been looking forward to it‒ you’re bailing? Don’t let Carter hear you say that‒ he’s been talking about wanting to be in it for weeks.”

A smile quirks on your face. “Has he now?” 

Trey nods. “Why are you bailing? I thought you had a real passion for playing?”

“Performance is another matter. You know, the difference between baking for yourself, and baking for other people.” Trey nods in understanding. “Besides, what makes you say that?” You make a face which fails to fully contain the disgust towards yourself. Passion. It curdles on your tongue. 

“How do I put it…You…” He pauses, thinking. In a moment, his words flood forth. “Your expression seems heavier when you’re playing. But, maybe a good kind of heavy. You always seem light and bubbly, but now that I think about it, you never talk about yourself.” 

“I don’t.” You confirm, a sweet smile. 

“You don’t.” An averted gaze. “I never asked.”

“How unusual of you‒ mother of Heartslabyul.” 

“So,” His gaze pulls you in. “What’s your favorite color?” 

You take a moment to reply, a bit surprised that he would actually follow through with his words. You’re reminded of the reason why you were so taken with him in the beginning‒ despite his sheepish deflection of compliments, despite the playful smirk that curved on his face‒ his words always matched his actions, his gaze, his expression. 

“Yellow. A lemony, summery yellow. Reminds me of the flowers my sister used to grow.”

“You just have one sister?”

“One and only. My older sister.”

“I’m envious. I’ve always wondered what it was like being the younger sibling.” 

You chuckle, searching the vast landscape of memories stored inside you. “You know‒ teasing, fighting, hand-me-down clothes, the like. But I love her, especially when she makes her brioche bread.” 

“You’re close with her?”

Time, space‒ the difference between you and the world, him. It comes in waves as always, flooding you, and your hands which search for distant memories. You’re not sure if it was his ignorance towards your nature, or plainly his presence that seemed to pull your discorporated humanity closer to you once more. 

“Very. She’s my rock. She was the first to encourage me to pursue music.” 

“Do you play other instruments?”

“Of course. Cello, piano, guitar, accordion, harp, violin, flute…” You trail on. 

The conversation goes on, until the two of you notice you’ve been walking around the campus, completely separated from the others. You laugh about it. 

When you separate, you watch him walk across the hills, his form roaring against the sunset. There’s a twinge in your stomach, which you swallow with great effort. The distance between you and him seemed like it didn’t matter for the vivid moments you spent conversing with him‒ but now with his back towards you, as he headed towards the light‒ the feeling wades back. You search through the flood as you always do, but you cloud your own vision when you look back to the things you said, the faces you made, the memories you shared. Blackened, like yourself. The sun hisses against your skin. At times like this, you’re reminded of your stunted development‒ you had forgotten what the sun does to creatures of the night. 

It scorches your retinas as you look at the heart of the sun, but you let it‒ reminded of the sweetness of his honey lemon eyes. 

Bitterly, it seeps.

------------------------------

Every time Trey stands by your door, for some reason, his nerves rise to the surface, tingling at his feet and the hand that raps at wood. He doesn't understand why his body gets this fussy every time‒ he's seen you a dozen times before. That crooked, fanged smile; the delightful way your hands move in conversation, the charming little way you hum when pouring him tea (2 sugars, a touch of cinnamon, just the way he likes it)‒  these are all things he's almost gotten used to that he doesn't feel near faint when you grace him with such pleasures. 

" Pretty boy ."

He remembers the nickname you call him, along the standard " darling "s and " my dear "s you seem to call everyone else. Just for him, you've fashioned something that can instantly unravel him, much like now, as he waits in front of your door with fresh pastries. He feels special when you call him that‒ but it feels good, unlike the times he tries to undermine himself under a barrage of flattening statements that stomp out every potential for expectations . Like he could make a difference, a change in anyone or anything. He’s just a normal guy. Nothing more. Riddle was a vivid reminder of that.

Except when he’s with you‒ it feels extraordinary. 

The millions of things that seem to arise out of conversation‒ the sheer possibility of what wonderful things he can share with you beats like thunder in his chest, reaching the tips of his ears where they flush. That fullness he felt before returns‒ the only way to alleviate it it seems is to converse and spend time with you. He hopes the redness at least dies down when he's around you, all his senses seem to fly out the window when you're by his side. 

We're just studying together. That's all. He tells himself. 

He secretly holds his breath when you open the door with the creak‒ but he releases it when his lips part in surprise at your state.

"O-oh. Hello, Trey." Rather than your usual, slurry, elegant demeanor, your voice scrapes against your throat‒ the sound coming small and frail, something Trey had never associated with you before. Elegant, honey-like, and sure of yourself‒ it was never like this. Diminuendo , he remembers from you, and his favorite piece that you play. Like you'd depart from him, where he could not follow.

You fix your glasses, feeling them slipping on your nose, before you run your hand through your knotted hair. The cigarette wedged between your fingers weaves smoke between the two of you, mixing with the smell of alcohol on your breath. "I'm afraid something came up, darling. I have to cancel today, I'm sorry I didn't ring you in advance." You go to close the very small gap you've allowed yourself to open‒ Trey stops you before you can. The bold move surprises even himself. 

"...You're sick? In that case I could‒"

" D-don't touch me." A crackle in your voice, fear striking your expression. "A-apologies. No. It's fine. You musnt do anything for me." 

"But I want to?" 

The prickly air that had been kindling on the inside of your lungs flares all at once at that moment, puncturing something inside.

"You don't know what you want." You spit.

" Oh‒ what?" 

"I said you don't know what you want. But allow me to make it easier for you. You don't want this. So go away‒ get out of my sight ."

Hellfire. It stains you. 

"I‒" He swallows the lump in his throat. "I-I don't understand?" 

"I said . Get away from me, Trey ." His name comes cold on your tongue. He feels it coil around his spine. 

What are you saying? 

"But‒"

You launch the door open, almost breaking it off the hinges. The crimson of your eyes glow in your power as you bare your fangs, clawing the wood of the door with your sheer grip. A lurching feeling wells inside you, as you grow in size, in power, in sharpness. All the qualities that separate you, from him. 

"I SAID GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME."

You don't recognize your voice. Trey's feet crumble from underneath him as you tower over his form. With the fear that seeps into his eyes, you decide it's enough, and shut the door with a slam. 

You swallow the breaths that come faster than you can handle, looking down at the chips of wood that embed into your nails and fingers, beginning to bleed. You lean on your table, raising one hand to grasp at the root of your hair, catching a glimpse of the crimson glow that emanates off your eyes. The hair that falls in front of your face cages you in that bloody vision‒ red, and violent. 

This is what you are, it's what you've always been and always will be. A monster . Fanged, clawed, hideous‒ thick, violent strokes of inky black on one of those books the priest used to carry around with him. Swirling into a void so corroded of color‒ the truest black‒ immortalizing your revolting form, permanently baring your fangs, carrying hellfire in your eyes and throat that you’d swing senseless with an animal violence. Fixed in that abstracted abyss, forever‒ eternal as you are. How pitiful that you choke on your own sorrow. 

You fall into a rage, your body dragging itself by the spine‒ swinging your hands and legs throughout the room. A sound tears from your throat, far from a human cry. Music scores from missed practices fly, used plates and cups tumble to the ground, chipping. Your ashtray falls heavy on the grand piano that sits at the center of your room, slamming down the heavy lid, reverberating the strings, hammering into the air a chaotic symphony of ash and disorder. 

For a moment you think to pick everything up, tidy yourself up and make amends with Trey‒ but you know the drill by now. In a week, you'd come to terms with yourself again‒ all the things you make and destroy‒ and sever yourself from this place, and its people. In just seven days you'd swallow the bitterness of your own self as you always had, clean your mess, throw the pieces you'd broken away. It ends all the same. 

Before you know it, you have a half empty bottle in hand, the days old wine weighing heavily in your palm. You twist your body furiously in attempt to rupture the surfaces of rage you have rising like fire inside of you, to at least reach to the gnawing feeling inside your chest. But it grows even restless, even hungrier‒ eating away at the breath in your lungs and the beat of your heart when you come face to face with your reflection. Nothing. 

What sort of monster doesn't have a face? 

You couldn't have even be given that, to be remembered and touched‒ even if it was fear and abhorrence‒ to exist as a creature who is seen, and heard on their own. You were merely an image created by others. 

Control‒ you never had any of it, ever since your mouth was held open by its hinges and forced to down that creature's blood. It was laughable to even call yourself a musician, a conductor, a person. There was not a moment in your life where you had genuinely orchestrated the fullness of musicality, or anything. When you plucked on the strings of your cello‒ it was always just that. Noise. There was nothing inside of you that could transfigure that dead noise from the strings into something meaningful, something that could exist in the realm of adoration. Loved . 

Don't you want to be loved?

How could you be? You're just‒ this . 

Crumbling to the ground, you sob, remembering the fear laid plain on Trey's face. 

Surely‒ he’s gone. If you had ever held him in that way, at least. Arm’s length, prickled air‒ you had been weaving this inevitable goodbye yourself. Regret curdles heavily in your stomach as you bring your knees to your face on the floor.

I was doing so good. I was good again‒ I am good. You clench your jaw, imagining those portraits of violence from the Supreme Leader’s book. A realization‒ fuck . Nausea rises to your throat. 

You want to sleep. Or drink. Or smoke. Something to sedate you out of this emptiness clawing itself all over your insides. 

A knock startles you out of your daze. You assume the door is broken by the sound of the rusty hinges creaking open, the light of the hallway pouring behind you. A silhouette‒ but you don’t want to be found, or seen. You stay quiet, hoping he just leaves. Forever, maybe. 

“(Name)?” 

His footsteps creak against the floorboards, inching closer and closer. You wish you had the energy to tell him to leave again. Instead, you bury your face in your hands. 

You hear him shuffle a bit, close to you on the floor. 

His breath tickles the hairs on your arm, his voice reaching far into your head, the vibration from his throat rippling to your empty chest. “I’m not leaving.” 

With some kind of divine courage, you speak. “Why won’t you?” 

He shuffles closer, lacing his fingers through your tangled hair. “Because it seems I like you too much.” 

“You’re a fool.”

You were the fool. 

“Birds of a feather flock together.” He says, matter of factly. “Because you’re an idiot if you think I’m just going to leave you here. You…” 

You feel him swallow, pausing his hands to hold your head at the crook of your neck. “You’re special to me.” 

“I’ve got you.” 

It feels like you're being enveloped completely by him‒ his smell, his sound. It smells faintly of candied violet, vanilla, and your honey lemon blend of tea. Trey thinks it complements well with your smell. Old books, and well-read letters tucked preciously into cookie tins. Faintly, iron. 

In a shaky voice, you apologize. Over and over. "I-im so sorry.There's something wrong with me." He rubs your shoulder, measuring his movements carefully so as not to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry I'm this way. I-I didn't mean to yell. I didn't mean to send you away. I want you here. I-I'm sorry. I lied. I’m a liar.” 

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay. We all have our things‒ we’re human, right?” 

You cry harder. "No, you don't understand."

"Are you fae?" He asks, looking at your pointed ears and teeth he'd seen in the students in Diasmonia. "There's nothing wrong with that. You're still‒"

Wonderful . 

He chooses his words with care in your state. “- my friend.” 

You swallow the bitter taste in your mouth. "N-no. I'm nothing of the sort. I-I…" Everything is so unbearable‒ you're unbearable . Your fangs pierce into your lips when you bite down, suppressing the wailing pressure that threatens to leak from deep inside your throat. It burns all the way down when you swallow it, only leaving you with a portion of your dwindling volume. 

" I'm a monster ." You spit, looking directly into Trey's eyes‒ like you did moments before‒ hellfire stirring within them. The palms of your hands face him, framed with the sharpened claws of your hands that spot with blood from the splitters still embedded within them. Slowly, you furl them onto yourself, drawing red upon your palms when they ball into fists. "A vampire‒ like the ones you know from books and stories. That's me ."

That is all I am. 

Your vision blurs, and you tuck your limbs into yourself as if you brace for impact. 

Instead, softness‒ honey lemon eyes, sweetness, golden. 

"You're hurt."

You make a sound through your sobs when he takes your hands. Impossibly soft, feathery under your own, he picks the sharpness out of them. The blood is wiped away with his handkerchief, staining the light clover green fabric with blots of red. Now it's dirty , you think. I’ve poisoned it.

"You're not a monster." He says, unfurling your hand further, prying apart your sharpened fingers from your palm. They twitch at his words.

"I tried to hurt you‒ send you away.” You feel like your throat is going to collapse. 

He’s quiet for a moment, you can see him roll his saliva through his mouth, and the doubt and anxiety which passes across the movements of his downwards eyes. A barbed look‒ you feel it prickle familiarly against yourself‒ so you ever so slightly inch your pinky towards his hand that rests near your own, making a small gesture with your pinky to intertwine it with his‒ I’ve got you .

A heavy breath pushes past his lips. “People do that all the time. I get it‒ I mean‒ I know how it feels to be anticipating the color and tone of people’s faces. I grew up doing the same. From a certain point‒ you can kind of sense when people begin to tear themselves away from you‒ like you thought they would do eventually‒ it’s kind of a relief, isn’t it? To confirm that the distance you were placing between people at least did something .” 

You nod, giving him a small quirk on the lips to agree. He continues. “I’m really just a normal guy‒ you know? I don’t really have the power to change things, or have an effect on people. Like you do.” 

“Me?” 

He hums, rounding his expression with a small curve on his lips. “You light up the room. You charge everyone with a certain energy. A je ne sais quoi .” He jokes‒ you laugh. “It’s probably a lot of pressure, a lot of fear. But you face it. I like that about you.” 

“ I’m not like you .” You hear from him. You want to remind him‒ you're a fool. 

“You-” You gulp. “You do that for me too. You light up my day. But‒ I don’t know. I feel bad feeling these things. It’s like I can’t wait, you know?” 

Trey scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Can’t wait for what?”

“I can’t wait. For the moment you‒ or people‒ leave, like you said. I’m always anticipating it. I digest people inside of me‒ pick them apart. I’m really not a good person. Sometimes there’s just something inside of me that switches when I’m faced with anything pointing to people confirming my suspicions‒ like I’m always tipping off the edge. I don’t know‒ people are…” A baited breath. “Bad. And I’m something a lot worse.” 

Trey takes your hand again, drawing circles with his thumb. 

“I don’t know who I am. I have no reflection, no substance, no form‒ nothing . All I know is that I’ve been emptied to carry this filth that terrorizes me‒ and whenever I lash out at it, I end up hurting other people.” The afternoon light that weaves in between the curtains illuminates a streak of dust and smoke in the room. “My story ends all the same. Like any good fabled monster.” 

“What if this time it ends differently?” 

A weary smile wobbles onto your lips. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” You stand, dust yourself off, and offer a hand to him. He accepts. 

“It will.” His assertiveness almost surprises himself, but he reminds himself why‒ it’s you . 

“Why‒ aren’t you certain?” Bitterness seeps your tongue.

“You’re the reason for it. You’re all that.” 

There’s a feeling that wells inside you that replaces the tension that slips from your shoulders‒ something a tinge sour, sweet, and warm. You don’t search for the underlying tones and clandestine beats of his words. Clear as day‒ you accept this feeling. Hesitantly, you lean against him, soaking with the feeling that seems to also radiate from him. 

“You’ll stay today?” 

Trey feels you relax against him.

“For as long as you'll have me.”

He doesn’t let you go.

------------------------------

"I've never seen snow before I came here." You watch the soft speckles of white float gently down from the skies. "I'll never get tired of this scene."

Trey slows his pace a bit, so you can linger on the white landscape. "Really? Not even in the Queendom of Roses?" 

You nod. "The island I lived on before I was exiled was exceptionally warm. I wasn’t allowed‒ ” 

Quickly, you shift your words. Control.

“-I wasn’t much of an outside kid, on account of the whole sun thing before potions could handle it. And after I had left I hopped from one island to another‒ most of them were too warm to have snowy weather. And when I visited the main island it was always during the warmer seasons.”

You remember the supreme suggesting warm climates‒ quiet, sunny peaks in the outlands, away from people. Those suggestions grew on you with time. You liked warmer climates anyways, . The room you had at the temple had always been cold and damp, the only light that would peek through snuck in through the stone that had eroded over years of negligence. You shiver. 

"I don't like the cold, too much. But the snow is beautiful." 

You suddenly feel wool, warmth on your neck. Trey fixes his scarf on you, you almost jump away, but after the initial moment of surprise, you relax into his scent that has melted into the wool. Lavender . He always smells like sweet floral, you note. It reminds you of the patches of grass and wildflower that would sprout sparingly in the parts of your room where the sun would kiss‒ the dew that would form on them like opals would be sweet like the fragments of light that wove in soft petals on the hard stone flooring. When you touched that light refracting in honeyed rays in those small drops of water the morning chill brought, you could remember a fraction of your humanity. Summer like a warm blanket and the crickets that chirped outside while you and your sister sat beside the window sill, giggling at the lantern light. The verdant coolness that swept the bakery while you helped your papa prepare the bread rolls for proofing. Silly, small things. It could make you cry, even now, as Trey diligently wraps the scarf around your neck. 

“...You were exiled?” He chooses his tone, his words very carefully, softness like velvet honey. 

You smile, a shape meant to comfort him. “I was. My hometown was very poor. People needed something to believe in, and they already had their hero.” Supreme leader, in his gilded cloak. "You're going to catch a cold‒ and this scarf‒ it's from your siblings, is it not? I feel bad, you shouldn't give stuff so easily to people." Despite your words, dive your nose deeper into the yarn, threading your claws carefully within the chunky pattern. 

"I’m warm enough‒ besides, you wear things like this well.” He finishes fussing with the scarf. The warmth that had welled into the wool from his skin melts into you like cotton candy‒ sweet and soft. “And you’re cold, aren’t you? If I catch a cold I’ll just have you take care of me.”

You press your cold fingers onto his bare neck to hide the rosy heat coloring your cheeks. With a shiver and a smile, he yells "Hey!" while laughing. 

"Well I guess I have no choice then.” 

A moment of silence after your laughter dies down‒ Trey hardens his expression. “You’re still shivering. The blood supplements haven’t helped?” 

A sigh pushes through your nose. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t feel too keen on asking hospitals for donations either. I’ll be fine, pretty boy.” A curt smile curves onto your lips to reassure him. 

Trey makes a face. “What if you get sick again?”

The smile you wear tightens. “I’ll be fine .” 

“It’s worrying.” 

“I don’t need it.” 

The silence of the snowfall roars against your ears when he says‒ “What if you fed off of me?” 

The dense crunch of your footsteps packing the snow stops as your chest rises and falls with a thickened rhythm.  

“Don’t joke about such things.” 

“I wasn’t.”

"Then don’t say stuff like that. I said I don’t need it." 

"But you do! Look at you! You're emaciated‒ a few days ago you were barely standing!"

"That's‒"

"It’s not healthy, you know. You need blood to survive."

“It’s scary to see you like that.” 

You’re genuinely taken back from his internal voice, a slight treble which rings against your ears. “I don’t understand. Why would you be scared?” 

His answer is instantaneous, exasperated. “Because you’re my friend.” 

You bite the words climbing your throat. As much as it pained you to see Trey like this, you could not swallow that thought threatening to simmer through your lips, a burning notion that had engraved itself into every piece of yourself. 

I don't need you I don't need you I don't need you I don't need you I don't need I don't need‒ 

"Why won't you accept this offer? Accept me?" It chokes you to hear him like this‒ but the familiar nausea that seizes your throat overpowers it. 

Because I could never make up for it. Make up for it being me that you choose. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.”

“ Fuck‒ yes I will!” You hiss. Quieter, you muster. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I will. I’m made that way.” 

His silence drives a hot coal down your throat‒ prompting you to push down that blackness that gnaws at you. 

“Sorry‒ I‒” A release in the tension of your shoulders. “I apologize. I was just…overwhelmed. It’s a serious proposition‒ you really shouldn’t take it so lightly. I haven’t interacted so much with my own kind but from what I heard, it would be almost a lifelong commitment. At least for you that is. When you die, I will..." You attempt to swallow the tightness in your throat- a hunger. "I will not forgive myself." 

“I’m sorry‒ I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. We should talk about it more‒ alright?” He rubs circles with his thumb across your skin, and you feel the ridges of his fingers drawing shapes. “But if it’s regret you worry about‒ know that I would never regret spending my life with you. At any capacity.” 

There were stories you heard of centuries after you were reborn as a vampire about beautiful things spun by poets and artists. To reach to the monster‒ approaching it with gentle softness rather than stakes and silver. Risking sharpened teeth with lethal maws, defying the hardwired fear and repulsion against something that has tremendous capacity for violence. Saintly, divine touch. You had deemed it one of the most beautiful things‒ sublime, and completely unfathomable to you. 

But when Trey reaches to you in that moment‒ in your moments‒ you think‒ this is what it is. This is what it must feel like to be touched by something beautiful. This is what it must feel like to be touched by god. You almost understand the Supreme Leader, in a way. You understand faith ‒ it’s a terrible thing. 

He cools the tindering hellfire in yourself with his touch. It burns as a searing stake through your chest. 

He doesn’t let go as you walk through the ashen landscape.

------------------------------

He makes you promise you’ll talk about it. And you do‒ hesitantly accepting his proposition with a box in hand. 

“I think it’s a good time to give you this.” 

The smell of oak flushes his nose when Trey draws closer to inspect the intricate honeysuckles that weave through the wood. 

It’s an old, tattered thing‒ something given to you when you were young by your parents. The flowers were meant to be a gesture of nostalgia and deep affection‒ and you manage to remember the fragments of your mother’s many sayings‒ something about always been meant to be with you, how she felt a strange sense of reunification when she had bore you and your sister. 

A bitter taste spreads on your tongue when you move the box towards Trey, and the contents inside clack against the wood. How furious she would be if she knew what you had done.

"What is it?"

“ Insurance .” you answer, quickly. 

He gives you a confused look before taking the box into his hands, opening the rusted latch on it. You only hear the eroded hinges creak as he cracks open the chest, the speckles of rust falling onto the table. 

You made sure there would be enough to pack the box‒ but it seems that there is still some air when they rattle against the walls of the box. Sharpened to perfection‒ you hope they won’t wear down too much from this motion. 

After a minute, there’s the same sound again, then the closing of the box before it’s shoved towards you‒ back fully in your vision once more. 

“I don’t need this.” Strained, his voice comes thickly between his constricting throat ‒ a similar feeling proceeding to his chest, flaring at the ends of his fingers which tuck tightly into his palms. 

The face he makes worries you. 

For him, of course, but for yourself as well. You're afraid you're going to break right then and there, throat etched in silent shame‒ but you pull yourself together with a sharp, willow breath sucked into your lungs. You feel the air settle cold on your tongue, and it almost shakes. 

"It's just insurance ." You say, opening the box. A wooden stake is rolled across the table to him. He averts his eyes as if it burns him. "If the time ever comes‒"

"If it comes?" The voice pounding heavily at the back of his throat raised with his breaths. He parrots your words angrily. " If the time comes? Then what‒ I have to kill you? I have to be the one?"

"I would like it to be you, yes."

He gathered his eyebrows further into the center of his forehead. "Me?"

"Only you. It could only be."

You hear his shaky breath. No‒ you feel it press deeply into your bones, a vibration that makes its way from the tremble of his fingers, through the table, into your own flesh, far inside you that its precise throb stretches the growing cracks he's made in your resolve. 

"I can't."

"You must ." You feel your claws scratching against the leather of your gloves. "To protect yourself."

He feels terribly selfish, childlike for the quiet volume of his voice. "From who?” 

You feel the hungry thing inside of you flourish at your own words. “From me.” 

He calls out to your name. “I don’t think I could ever be afraid of someone who is so afraid of themselves.” 

You have no response to that. 

An inhale‒ before he continues. “You’re the reason to the certainty in my words‒ that’s not really something I had before. Nothing feels normal with you‒ but it’s the good kind. You‒” despite the situation, he laughs, cracking the expression you love. “-you really don’t know what you do to me, do you?” 

A sharp finger presses against your palm to confirm this is truly‒ really‒ actually real. You doubt yourself, telling yourself that you somehow tricked him into thinking you were this good. It must have been all those pet names‒ the saccharine composition that had somehow trapped him into your siren spell. 

He faces you with all his sincerity‒ revealing the sharpened claws of your hands when he slips the leather off of them. He holds them softly, hoping if his words don’t reach you‒ at least this language that you had both curated against each other, might. You feel that it does, unable to find a trace of deceit, doubt, or anything besides the honey lemon hue that basks you in all its sweetness.

For the first time in centuries‒ you feel the blood inside you churn warmly in your cheeks, your eyes avoiding his gaze.

“I suppose I didn’t.” 

So of course, when he first allows you access to his blood‒ the first action you do is to cover his eyes above all else. He makes a small noise when your cold fingers fall softly on his eyelids. 

Without even thinking, he reaches towards your hand‒ he sees the crimson light that weaves through your hands that eclipse into pitch darkness when he lays his hand on top of yours. In the darkness, his voice seems louder when he calls out to you. 

"Can you move your hand?" 

The fibers of his neck tickle against your stiffened breath. 

"Not yet."

He feels your teeth open his flesh, his skin parting like a ripened fruit. The curve of your soft lips that cup warmly around the wound, leaning deep into his scent‒ to dive further into the sweetness of his blood. He groans as a moment of pain passes, but his sound relaxes‒ slurry‒ in his throat when he feels sweet pleasure, thick as honey, feathering from where he feels you feeding. His breath quickens, and you feel the warmth of his exhales. As close as a lover’s breath. 

He lets out a shameless sound of pleasure‒ a whisper you drink in with his sweet ambrosia. 

"Ah, this isn't so bad."

He feels the fingers you keep firmly on top of his eyes twitch. 

"Sorry. 'M sorry." You mumble against his skin. His senses feel so jumbled, flooding as thick and raw syrupy mountains. He blindly accepts them‒ unlike your words, which he makes sure to affirm should not be so. I am not sorry, he thinks. You do not have to be either . There’s a tremble in your lips when he slips those words into the air, humming sweetly against his skin. 

He doesn't trust his voice, but the heaviness that clouds his mind barely filters his thoughts. 

"A-are you done already?" 

"Mhm. Sorry, are you alright?" 

"I'm fine. I just need a minute." His chest slowly rises and falls. He notices he's gripping your hand. "Can you move your hand now?"

"Let me see you. I want to see you."

"Just a moment." Even in the sensory deprivation, your voice feels particularly far off. "Not yet."

Trey closes his eyes, waiting for the tight pleasure that still prickles under his skin to pass. When he opens his eyes again, he finds your hand gone, the sun seeping through his fingers. You're facing away from him, sitting at the edge of the bed, bloody handkerchief in hand, unnervingly quiet. 

"I'm sorry if I caused you any pain. I'll go get bandages and some pain killers for you."

You turn a bit towards him, but he doesn't see your face. He grabs your hand before you could walk away‒ calling your name.

A beat of silence. "Yes?"

"..."

It seems his senses have returned to him when he confirms the weight of your trembling hand‒ how it feels a fraction of a degree warmer than before. 

"Why can't you look at me?"

" Why won’t you show me your face? 

Your expression? 

You? 

Are you smiling? Are you mad? 

Why can't you show me? 

Am I‒ "

"No ." Your back gives out as you press all your force into that word, making the bed creak when you fall into it. "No. It's not you. It's not you. I just‒" A breath. "I don't want you to look at me. While I’m like this. It is a mercy. ”

Waves of scrambled noise crash through you. You want to squeeze your hands over your ears, shut your eyes until all you can feel is the vast darkness, and your fading form within it. You’d congeal with that void, rot until there is truly nothing left of anything you had‒ to to the dust as dead and far as the remains of your home. 

"I don't want to just look at you. I want to see you."

You don't trust your voice, so you shake your head. When you swallow the lump lodged in your throat, it tangles in your shaky breath when you feel his hands wrap around yours. 

"I want to see you." He repeats. 

The noise parts with the lightness of his voice. Slowly, you turn towards him. Instantly, his hands are molded to the curve of your shape, as if they were forged by the decaying whispers of your labyrinth heart. In secret, they were cast by your hearth, and now they are cooled, and formed around the salt and tears that etch florid down your face. These hands are made for you, you think. Only the starlight has come this close to your monstrous form. Only the starlight. 

"I'm sorry‒ I shouldn't be so‒ this right now. But I just can't‒ I'm so sorry." The apologies bubble from your trembling lips, as you try to form a coherent thought. But the softness of which he touches the cruel sharpness of your form‒ it wells a crescendo symphony of desire that you withheld, lurching upon you all at once. 

He pulls you in, tighter. 

This was home. You had always stood at the edge of it, drawing a line before the entrance to remind yourself‒ you had not been welcomed yet. But he had always welcomed you. It felt as if some speck of his soul had always done so, with the relief you feel when you step within it. The room inside your heart when you merge your warmth with his does not feel so full‒ nor so empty. It is filled with potential. Future. Something that had risen from him, infinitely. 

"Don't‒" you place your fingers over your mouth. "Not while I taste like this." 

He breaks your lips with his words. “Trust me?”

The warmth that folds over you feels like a prayer. Have faith . When you open your mouth, flesh is at your mercy, but you do not bite down as you expected the thirst inside you would have. Stars, the world stripped of its layers until it was only you, and him. For once infinity does not seem so much of a curse. 

You must be intoxicated by the sweetness of his blood. Bittersweet‒ it seeps.

"I'm not…" You gulp down the swaying warmth. "I'm not supposed to like you." 

"But…?" His smile curves so high the whites of his eyes are almost completely eclipsed by his honey lemon hue. 

You intwine your hand with his. Another prayer. "Foolishly, I do."

“It isn’t foolish at the slightest.” 

“It’s alright.” You smile. “I’d like to be the fool for once.” 

------------------------------

You fidget with your suit steps away from the spotlight, holding your cello with your other hand. 

“Stop fidgeting.” Trey instructs you, flattening the creases you’ve made to your suit jacket. He smiles. “It’s just nerves, they’ll pass when you get up there‒ you’ve told me so before..” 

“I don’t‒ I don’t know if I’ll be able to play it right. I haven’t been this nervous in ages.” You still straighten the tie around your neck. “Maybe I should tell Azul‒”

The cloth is straightened again, before he glides his hands to your shoulders, bringing you an inch closer to feel the warmth that radiates off his skin. “You’re going to be amazing.” 

Your eyebrows crease. “How can you be so certain?”

“You’re all that.” 

His hand guides you towards the curtains, lingering when his fingers reach yours before you step into the spotlight. Azul finishes your introduction as you look towards the audience, searching for a familiar face. You find his eyes, and there is no need for any magic, any power‒ for you to find the faith in his eyes. You let it guide your bow, and the strings vibrate like golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, marrying sweetly‒ your internal harmony guided by his sweetness. 

The music swells, breaks, heaves‒ before it dies out once more. The lounge fills with the sound of applause, and you sheepishly smile again the few whistles and whoops your club-mates send your way. Each and every thread of sound resonates within your body, vibrating with color. 

Once you get off the stage into the crowd, you see Trey march towards you, before almost knocking you down with the force of his embrace. You allow a bit of your power to spin him off his feet, before you separate‒ wanting to see the look on his face. 

"Will you come with me?" You pull his hand away from the crowd, breathless in your excitement. 

"Where?" He asks, similar in his bursting fruition. 

"Out there. Here. Over there. Wherever."

He smiles, the warmth moves the beat of your heart to the tip of your fingers, back into his palm when you lace your other hand with his. You think‒ I'd be a follower, a devotee, a dog for this. Have faith. I've got you. It’s terrifying, and it shakes you with excitement. 

"I can't wait."

------------------------------

Notes:

The book I mentioned the priest had is based on the real Dissertations Upon the Apparitions of Angels, Daemons, and Ghosts, and Concerning the Vampires of Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia that 18th-century Benedictine monk and distinguished biblical scholar Antoine Augustin Calmet wrote. It was actually a large source of inspiration to Bram Stoker's dracula. Basically a collection of reports and examinations of vampire/monster attacks emerging in eastern Europe during the late 17th to early 18th century. The accounts of the undead rising and infecting whole villages, reaping of their health and blood that were recorded in this compendium of monster attacks formed a lot of the imagery and characterizations associated with vampires. 

Historically, bloodletting was a popular method during the 19th century to cure medical conditions, especially psychological‒ as it was based on the concept of humors. Fun fact, this is why there is a distinction between surgeons (“barbers”) and physicians, and is why the striped barber sign is red and white‒ red symbolizing blood and white the bandages. This method was used from everything from hysteria, insanity, and heartbreak, to things like scurvy and epilepsy. 

Bloodletting, transfusions, and vivisections (experimental surgery) both appear in Dracula because they were the hot new science of the Victorian era. Stoker's father was actually a physician so a lot the medical cures and information in the narrative frame the work very closely to the social, religious, and medical attitudes during the period. 

Though Victorians still believed the world of humors (ie blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm, or more commonly known by their four counterparts: sanguine, choleric, melancholic, and phlegmatic)- the era began to see a rise of Heroic medicine which sought to shock the body of its ills (ie bloodletting, drinking blood, etc etc)

During the New England vampire panic of the 19th century Victorian era, it was believed that consumption (Tuberculosis) had a strong connection with vampires and the “rise of the dead”, because of the seemingly unexplained rapid spread of this disease that would “consume” its victim and its family at an alarming rate (this was mostly just due to general hygiene issues and the cures for TB being syrups and elixirs of like literally just morphine and cocaine). TB victims usually had pale, emaciating skin, and in combination with how to identify a suspected vampiric corpse (ie grown fingernails = sharp claws; plump skin = immortality/fast healing); the common cures to TB other than those concoctions during the period such as bloodletting, blood drinking, and the “climate cure” (spending a lot of time outside in sunny, warm climates = aversion to the sun); as well as the spread of TB (highly infection, if one person got it in the home, it would spread rapidly to other members of the family = seems like that originally infected person was “consuming” the rest of the family members) kind of makeup the symptoms, physical aesthetic, and indicators of vampires we know today. Pre-Christian notions believed that a body could be “infected” by evil spirits, the concept of evil, etc.. if not buried properly, which translated into the Christian context as demonic or satanic influences entering the body. And because Churches were often the ones dealing with burials, and setting the precedent for burial rituals‒ they had a lot of influences in setting the precedent for burial rituals, how dead bodies should be handled, etc

Because of the strong religious influences during this Victorian romantic period, and the seeming “failings” of empirical science and thought‒ a lot of people turned to the church 

Historically, during the New England vampire panic in the 19th century Victorian era, it was believed that consumption (Tuberculosis) had a strong connection with vampires and the “rise of the dead” because it would “consume” the entire family, beginning with one of the family members, then spreading to everyone else because it was highly infectious. This is why things like pale skin, and vampires needing to feed off of blood is a thing because it is connected to the symptoms and infection of TB (blood drinking was also a cure at some point??)

Everytime I'm like "should I add this ultra specific detail with an irl artist's name??? Does it make sense with the twst universe?? Ah whatever‒"

Anyway I choose Chopin for a lot of reasons. The primary reason was that his music moves me deeply (please listen to the piece if you haven't heard it before). He also suffered from TB (aka consumption), and most likely suffered through a chronic version of it his whole life, which caused a lot of suffering and medical complications through his youth, and into adulthood when rising to fame as a composer. This cello piece was the only sonata that wasn't on the piano, and was played at his very last public concert in Paris. He also had kind of a miserable love life because of his weak health (a condition he could not fix), I thought it would be an interesting connection with MC along with the emotional value the song has on its own. 

BPD is very misrepresented and incredibly stigmatized in media especially but also the mental health and treatment spheres in general so I did a lot of not only personal introspection but also research on it as well. I thought vampirism would be a good metaphor for BPD because I imagine the concept of eternity and also having to physically drain someone of their life source would cause a lot of attachment and abandonment issues in addition to the feelings of shame and guilt that often come with having BPD (“why am I this way?”). The monstrous appearance described and often visualized in Dracula/vampire related films and media, as well as the myth that vampires don’t have a reflection also not only conceptualizes BPD and its affect on self image, but also visually narrates the aspects of mentioned shame, guilt, and self hatred that come with BPD and the emotional regulation issues that affect relationships. Anyways I not only wanted to do BPD justice because I feel like its very rarely represented in media accurately and with a happy ending, but I also wanted to explore 

I didn’t want to go too in-depth with the cult stuff because I feel that could veer off track. I drew from my own experiences (I have a close family member in a cult), as well as some research + some inspiration from a game series called Faith: The Unholy Trinity. But of course the central ideas of isolation, salvation (under a specific pretense), and dependency are there.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland angst #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland oc #twst x reader #twisted series #trey clover #trey clover x reader #trey clover x yuu #trey clover twst #trey clover x male reader #trey clover x gn reader #cater diamond #kalim al asim #lilia vanrouge #disney twisted wonderland #Hurt/Comfort #angst #fanfic #Twisted Wonderland fan fiction #Twisted Wonderland imagines #night raven college #vampirism #Twisted Wonderland Hurt/Comfort #Trey Clover Twisted Wonderland #SFW #BPD

[anikasheep]

YOUR CATLIKE SHEEP wants your attention The Almighty Three (Lucifer/Diavolo/Solomon)

warnings: mc as your name, fluffy and kissing, don't like don't read

REBLOG AND LEAVE COMMENTS ARE WELCOME!!

COMMON

Today you decide to be alone with him! With your homework, the book you want to read, headphones, charging cable, and DDD, you ask for his permission and enter his room.

Time passes slowly as you write, finish your homework, and read the books you want to read, today’s Devildom is a bit boring, then you look at him on the other desk with a frown on your face.

He doesn’t realize you're looking at him, or even if he does, he doesn't care. He continues to be immersed in the paper in front of him and in his own inner world.

However, you are too bored, so you pick up your headphones and DDD, and come to his seat…

Lucifer

“Lucifer.” You whisper his name.

He gives you a confused glance. The moment he saw you, those irritations and unpleasing seemed to melt. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and his eyebrows didn’t knit together anymore.

“Hmh? What’s wrong, MC? Do you need something?”

You shake your head, and point at his lap.

“Could I lay on your lap, please? I want to be close to you.”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows, and then he slowly nods his head.

“I didn’t expect that you’re that bold, but I don’t have any intention or reason to say no, am I?”

He pats his left thigh, his voice is low and full of seducing and musing.

“Now come here, if my sheep want some attention, who am I to say no to them?”

Be careful, MC. You would get his hand without gloves to keep stroking your hair from time to time.

Lucifer might ask about your opinions so you’re actually the one who needs to pay attention.

He would hum some melody only you two could hear, and those melodies might lull you to sleep.

If you fall asleep, his coat will shelter you, this would make him feel like you’re under his wings, and there’s nothing that would make him feel more satisfied.

Maybe his other brothers would try to sneak into his room, but he’s set a whole spell already so that wouldn’t be that easy. He won’t let his brothers interrupt his time with his sweet little lamb.

Diavolo

He raised his head up before you called his name. The tired smile almost paused you to ask the request you’ve had for a while.

“Aaahh, MC. Can I do anything for you?”

You nod and point at his lap, while you ask him the favor.

“Can I… accompany you like this? I’m too bored and kind of miss you.”

You are both shocked by your blurry, you swear that you saw Diavolo’s pupils turn thinner for a moment but return to normal after you blink your eyes.

He shows you his hearty laugh once again, and then he leans his back onto the back of the chair.

You shift your feet to the other one when he just smiles.

But you feel yourself pulled to a warm and firm chest in the next moment.

The vibrations of his chuckles send to your heart and spread to the whole body.

“My my, look who I’ve found myself. A pure and totally innocent sheep who doesn’t know what they just said to A DEMON.”

Diavolo rests his cheek on the crown of your hair, his left arm engulfs your waist, and his thumb starts stroking the delicate skin through your clothes.

“…Lord Diavolo?” You nibble your lips to attract the urge to wiggle out of his grasp and giggle cause of the tickle feelings.

“I won’t let you feel bored, MC. However, I still have some papers that need me right now.”

Diavolo nuzzles his cheek on your head again, he grins when you move to a comfortable position on his lap, your arms around his neck, your plump lips brushing over his jaw making him shrink and growl lowly.

“Tempt me more, MC. The dance would continue until tomorrow… I assure you.”

Solomon

This sorcerer is too focused on his study to notice you, so you sit beside him simply, find the perfect timing, and lay your head on his lap.

His surprised eyes glanced down at your pouty face and chuckled.

“Are you a cat, MC? Need your teacher’s attention that badly?” His teases didn’t stop the blushing on his face.

“I’m not a cat, but I still want your attention. But don’t mind me, just give me a kiss and keep working.”

He mumbles something before he shares a soft kiss with you.

“So bossy, my apprentice is a boss cat is not what I could expect, but I love them anyway.” ”Heard that and I love you too, my not-a-sheep-but-more-like-a-demon teacher.”

“Heehee, oops. But I’m hurt that you call me not a sheep, now let me attack you by kissing you more.”

“Solomon, aren’t you should finish your report.. umph…”

#anika dream #obey me mc #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me imagines

[louroth]

I post stories like this regularly on Patreon, but enjoy this one without having to toss me a coin, as a thank you, because your support comes in many forms and I appreciate them all! :>

Chasing tail - a F!MC x Idren NSFW short

It started a few weeks ago with a breathless kiss in a hidden nook withing the library, both of you tearing at each others clothes before you were interrupted by a hushing librarian. And then the time where his cock had just slipped past your lips and someone had yanked at the door to the storage closet he had shoved you in. There was also the day he caught you on the stairs on your way down the turret, and with no one else around, he had stuck his nimble fingers down your pants and fingered you so thoroughly you could see stars. Right up until a group of guards had stomped down the stairs and Idrens fingers left you trembling for more, begging for it. He had stuck them in his mouth and licked them off like a cat tasting cream. And today, he caught you once more, shoved you into another nook and hooked one of your legs around his waist, pressing in close. Dressed for a mercenary mission, you were trapped beneath the bulk of his metal armor.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

“Hiding?" You splutter, “I have not been hiding.” Your thighs clench from just how much you have been open to the idea of having Idren shove you against a wall and rut you like a wild thing, or bend you over a barrel, or...

Idren’s palm kneads the yielding skin of your thigh, in such a way that he must be thinking the same.

“So you have,” he says, and his lips drift so close to yours that you breathe the same breath. He pinches a lock of your hair between thumb and pointer with his free hand and follows it down, all the way until the sharp edge of his glove just barely grazes over your hardened nipple. “Every time I have a moment to spare, not drenched in gore or up to my head about the new mission, you are nowhere to be found.”

His hand trails down your waist and then up your thigh, the heat heavy through your skin. When he slips under the hem of your tunic and skirts his fingers along the edges of your cotton underwear, your lips part on a moan. Idren captures them with his mouth, rumbling as his hard gloves keep dancing over the thin cloth covering your slit, featherlight but cold, unyielding with steel. When he finally cups your sex, he makes the pained sound of a wounded man.

His teammate shouts from down the hall. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

Idren turns to hiss at the closed door. He turns back to you with a lazy smile, and kisses you with tongue.

“Nileas calls me puppy, you know? After the way I follow at your heel.” Another kiss. “I’ll do anything you ask of me, he says.”

You laugh against his mouth. “Puppy.”

“I don’t think a puppy acts like this.” A curled, armored finger slips beneath the band of your underwear and the sharpened point of it traces the seam of your cunt. The cold metal resting against the heat of your cleft makes your head spin, your hands grasping the lapels of Idren’s coat with a white-knuckled grip. Seeking your mouth, he kisses you softly.

With a growl, he kneads the flesh of your cunt, reminding you of his other side. The metal of his armor rasps against the fabric, and you swallow the enormous need to grind against his palm.

Idren, the bastard that he is, slows his pace even further, trailing his breath from below your ear down to the edge of your jaw, his cupped hand working in a lazy circle over the slowly soaking fabric of your panties. The pressure is divine, but not nearly enough. He chuckles against your throat as you fail to stem a whimper.

“Hurry the fuck up, Idren!” Now the voice is at the door. “What are you doing in there?”

Idren growls low in his throat, the curled finger tugging away; he rips the thin seams of your underwear, tearing the cloth straight off your body. The shock of his acting has you forgetting to mourn the loss of his hand, and instead you watch him, wide eyed, as he wads up the fabric and stuffs it into his pocket. He gives you a final, chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“Three days.”

“Three days,” you confirm, rubbing your thighs together as cool air washes over your naked flesh. It barely stems the raging need you have to pounce on Idren before he leaves, to make him make due on the promise he whispered just a few nights ago, just in passing; he was getting drinks at the bar and leaned in to tell you that he will fuck you boneless before departing with a wink. Bastard. Now you are standing here again, quivering with need like aspen leaves in a light breezee.

Idren rips the door open and shoves his colleague away, protecting your flushed features from being discovered. As they walk away, your hand lifts to your lips, as if to savor the taste of him. Your head thuds into the wall behind you. Three days.

By the second day, your head and body can’t agree on anything. You sit to work through a stack of forms, but your gaze drifts out the window and you think of nothing else but Idrens breath washing over your naked skin. Your sweater rasps against your curves just like his calloused hands would. You jump at every opening of your door, hoping it will be him, wild-eyed and determined.

By the third day, when Idren is supposed to return from his mission, you are barely paying attention, living solely within the haze of desire that has fully occupied your mind. So much so that when your door rips open mid-day, and Idren stands there still covered in muck and blood, wild-eyed and determined, you don’t even take note of it until he has stomped over to you and thrown you over the shoulder.

Clapping a wide palm over your arse, he starts walking towards the bath. “Oh no,” he sighs, “I got my dirt all over you.”

“How terrible.”

“A tragedy. I’m afraid you’re going to have to shower with me.”

You laugh breathlessly as he carries you into the tiled room, an electric current radiating from the imprint of his hand, still on your ass. Placing you down on the cold floor and leaving you there to sway on your feet, he leans into the shower to turn on the heated water. It spills out from a large showerhead, already fogging the glass doors. After sluicing off his bare hands in the downpour of water, Idren turns to you, grasps your cheeks, and kisses you fiercely.

His tongue swipes silken soft against yours and all the tension you felt leading up to now just slides off your shoulders. You wind your arms around his neck and swallow his breath as he presses closer, tugging you forward with a firm press of his splayed palm to your lower back. You feel something wet and sticky seep through the thin fabric of your shirt, and part from the kiss.

“Idren!” You gasp in reprimand, stepping back to reveal your tunic, mottled with the aftermath of his messy mission.

Idren snickers. “Only one way to solve that.”

You suck on your teeth, but by the way he’s already working on the fastenings of his armor; looking at you with those hooded eyes that still sparkle with mischief, you have already forgiven and forgotten. And, your cunt clenches, you have waited so long for this that another batch of laundry won’t stand in the way. 

Idren’s musky scent trails to you as his pauldrons fall with a clank to the floor, and he shucks his shirt with a single-handed pull, leaving his inky hair to fall over the hard panes of his pale chest. Your eyes trail the grooves of his sculpted abdomen, along the duny strip of hair from his bellybutton down to the edge of his breeches, where you watch him adjust his erection, and unclasp his belt.

“Continue?”

You nod absentmindedly, swallowed whole by the fact that he’s here now, ready to finally claim you as his. Your nipples stiffen through the fabric of your tunic, and you swallow thickly. You nod again.

He kicks of his pants and steps up to you, his cock heavy and hard- the shaft presses into your stomach as he grabs the hem of your tunic, drawing it up and over your head. Naked flesh meets naked flesh, and you shiver as his cock twitches against your abdomen.

Next, in quiet contemplation, he weaves his fingers through your hair, presses his lips to your mouth and whispers, so passionately it might be a poem. 

“Say pretty please.”

A snort huffs past your lips and into his. “You’re insufferable.”

His hands slide down your naked waist and shoves your panties down to your ankles. He kneels with the motion, now face to face with your aching cunt. He does nothing but breathe, and it drives you up the wall, the heat of it. Finally, his mouth inches closer to kiss, but stops just as his lower lip touches the skin of your labias, and he looks up to you with hard eyes and furrowed brows. 

“Say it.”

You give him a hard stare even though you yearn for nothing more than to muffle his words with a slight step, even just a light lean, forward. Your whole body pulses with need. There is still a streak of blood on his cheek and you don’t know where that’s been- and with that you find your out. Still, the words are breathless as you utter them. 

“Get in the shower, you oaf. You have blood all over you.”

With a lightning quick swipe of his tongue, an electric pulse straight from your clit to your heart, he comes to a stand, grabs your hand and leads you to the shower. 

“Fine." He growls. "But I will have it sooner or later.”

You titter into his back, following him willingly into the hot shower. Idren tilts his face toward the spray of water, and your hands wander to his cheeks, wiping the offensive stain with a tender swipe of your thumb. His hair plasters against his skin like swirls of black ink, even his lashes paint long streaks of darkness. Water clings to them in heavy droplets as he opens his eyes. His gaze is hardened with lust, his jaw clenching and unclenching. 

His hand reaches for your breast- but he just grazes past with a teasing touch, grabbing for the soap on the shelf beside you. 

“Insufferable,” you mutter, water trailing over your neglected nipples. His answering grin is a wicked, evil thing. He lathers up soap and begins washing himself, hands trailing slowly over smooth skin, a brow raised in smugness.

“Give me that,” you lean into him to grab the soap but he snatches it away from you, tugging you into his embrace instead. The movement has you stumbling and you cling to him for stability. Of course he takes the opportunity to trail his soapy hands all over your body, washing carefully; paying extra attention to your breast and thighs, never touching quite where you want him but for a stray pinch of your nipple here, another palming of your sex there. By the time he considers it a job well done, you are panting through your nostrils, your restraint teetering on the edge of completely crumbling. The slick between your thighs runs down your legs, and every drop from the shower ignites your skin.

Idren shuts the water off and your gut summersaults. Surely, he will give in now. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of his straining cock, veins pulsing, the shaft twitching as your eyes take it in. Long, heavy, with a slight upwards curve. You lick your lips, and Idren surges forward to capture them. 

Devouring, feverish, the wet heat of his mouth consumes you entirely. He opens the door from behind your back, having you stumble backwards as he steps out, his arm steady at your back. Once stable, you don’t keep your footing for long; Idren lifts you and growls, “Put your legs around my waist.”

You oblige, wedging the hardness of him between your open cleft and his stomach. You tense your thighs and leverage his shoulders to slide your slick over his cock, and relish in the broken moan he utters. 

“Nymph.” He grunts, and takes the few steps towards the sturdy windowsill by the sink. Leaning back to catch your eyes with his, he bares his teeth; done with pleasantries. “Say it.”

Locked within his now pitch-black pupils, you defiantly go through the process again, grinding your hips in waves against his pelvis. He thrusts forward slowly, meeting you halfway, but just when his cock shifts in position and the flaring head of it kisses your entrance, he stops, his straining arms keeping you hovering there. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he presses in just an inch, flaring your walls with his girth. Your head lulls, eyes rolling with need. He growls. 

“Say it.”

Your body is so heated, thrumming with the need for him to fill the aching emptiness between your spread thighs. He presses in another inch and your resolve crumbles, a low moan winding from your sealed lips. You try to maneuver your hips, press down, but his hands hold you steady, digging into your flesh with determination, though he too is shaking with restraint. 

He makes to pull out, and you wail with the loss. You give in and exhale the words he wants to hear.

“Please, fuck me, Idren.”

He snickers, the bastard, and claims your lips with a lazy smile. “That’s my girl.”

He drives you down onto his shaft with a steady thrust, pushing in until he’s seated fully within you, making you both break into a broken, tortured groan. He lifts, plunges in again, withdraws, presses in, fucking you steadily as he breathes into your mouth. Trailing kisses over your throat, your breasts strain against his chest. The cold tile of the windowsill bites at your ass as he places you down, and the chill from the window seeps over your aching nipples as you lean back. Grabbing your waist, Idren still drives into you with a steadfast rhythm, and pleasure mounts, making your thighs tingle. 

He snaps his hips and enters to the hilt, fucking you with small movements, never leaving the sheathe of your cunt. He hunches over, groans like a dying man, sucking one of your areolas into his mouth. It sends a spike of pleasure straight to your clit, and together with the rubbing motion of his hips; white hot heat explodes from your core and outwards, your thighs shaking with the force of it. 

Idren curses and takes your nipple between his teeth, his hips clapping against your skin with wild, erratic movements. Your cunt flutters against his pistoning cock, and with a final drive of his hips, his arse flexing taut, he chokes on a shout as semen shoots into you, the twitch of his cock spreading his wet heat within you.

For a long while, you just breathe, small movements and soft thrusts of his softening cock. 

A droplet of water clings to his nose, and you kiss it away. “You owe me a tunic.”

He raises his eyes to yours, gives you a puppy-eyed look; eager to please.

Your head falls to his shoulder in breathless laughter.

#ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #idren/ida #short story

[xxsycamore]

Hi! Hope you've been well <3 I want to tell you that I completely adore your writing, it's very detailed and I love it. I hope it's ok to request something for the Late Spring Tryst #6 Gilbert from Ikemen Prince. I can only imagine one of his pictures/events where both MC and Gilbert get caught under the rain. Thank youuu <3

Wait, wait, I didn't say that I'll be taking requests! 😳 But maybe I can try coming up with something for you...👀✨ Thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you can continue to enjoy my works, have a great day! ❤❤❤

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

↬ 🖤 Gilbert takes care of his naughty little rabbit, who doesn't mind getting drenched in the rain to have him...

Gilbert von Obsidian x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Sex in the Rain; Rough Sex; Outdoor Sex; Vaginal Penetration; Vaginal Fingering; Creampie; Biting; Messy Sex; Dirty talk; Verbal Humiliation (mild); Aftercare • wordcount: 1, 713 • masterlist

Running barefoot on the tiled-floor corridors, barely missing your step down the staircase; the following loud creaking of a heavy wooden door being pushed open. It all swirls together in a colorful haze - the world before your eyes, the sounds and then the emotions; and then the sensation joins too, of being hit with a portion of sobering cool air as the outside is unforgiving. Even when you stop on your tracks and fixate the figure on the path ahead, your heart remains of someone running, beating so madly inside your chest.

Your soul is loud in parade, yet the skies are mourning silently. Why must they weep and rain down on the earth that Gilbert is walking? It's his return, yet the clouds disobediently refuse to part and make way even for someone as mighty and daunting as him. Very well then; you shall differ and be met with praise.

"And here I thought I'd surprise you by avoiding the main gates. Could it be that my little rabbit can sense me approaching? Have you missed me that much?"

Surprise you? If he really meant to sneak up on you, he would've done so without a problem; a longing gaze cast randomly past the windowpane was enough to spot him cross under the rose arch marking the entrance to the garden that is facing the back of the castle. It's some kind of test, perhaps, yet you willfully focus on the part resonating with your own version of this rushed meeting holding a deeper meaning, the signal coming from within, like you knew he was coming back early. Something akin to the concept of soulmates. Sweet thoughts rushing in, you quickly make your way across the cobblestone path marking the final meters separating you from him, with open arms. It's a little rough on your bare feet, yet the cold doesn't get to you.

Gilbert's embrace is a source of scorching warmth, but it strangely can't be found anywhere on his skin or under his heavy and warm attire. Like a spark that is needed to light a fuse, when you hug him, the fire envelops you.

Gilbert coos and returns the embrace, his arms resting on your shoulder and your head and act like a temporary shelter from the rain.

"Too taken aback to use words? I understand, for I, too, was overly eager to meet you again. I fantasized about you on the way back a lot, you know."

A lone butterfly flutters in the pit of your belly, not having sought refuge from the rain... The screaming reminder of something takes shape and washes off the innocent happiness of witnessing Gilbert's early return in one strong wave. Would he bring it up?

Looking up at him, you notice what the rain has done to him - dark hair sticking wetly to his cheek, begging you to reach and gently move it out of the way for him; one water drop running down the soaked eyepatch, right at the side of his tall nose, soon to meet the corner of his lips. Your throat is so dry, you realize, gulping down.

"You're out in the rain in that flimsy gown... how reckless, little rabbit..."

His glove-covered hands don't carry the warmth of human flesh, but the goosebumps are inevitably cast upon each and every millimeter of your skin that they graze. Your clothing doesn't do much in your favor, and that's where you want to correct him - it's not recklessness, it's impatience. But he'll interpret that wrong, too.

A harsh groping of your rear.

"What are you- doing-"

"I told you in my letter, didn't I? I'll devour you as soon as you enter my sight."

Fingers sinking into the flesh, the only thing keeping the gossamer from tearing apart under Gilbert's fingernails being the barrier made of black leather - much like the retractable claws of a big cat that simply means to play around and not cause harm. Not that Gilbert cares about your girly little gown, but marring the skin underneath should be a privilege saved for his teeth alone.

"Mm... rain mixes with your scent better than I imaged. Oh yes, I'll definitely will be taking you right here and now."

The reality of his words brings forth another wave - now without a doubt, arousal - over your abdomen and perhaps it's a little embarrassing to whine so early on, but it's too much. He wrecks you with words alone.

He turns you in his embrace, your backside sticking to his front, and the way he grips your jaw still can't distract you enough from the feeling of something hard pressing against your backside.

Hand moving your chin ever so gently, he urges on.

"Tell me, little rabbit, where should I bend you over? How about that tree over there? Or maybe you prefer the rose arch? Tsk, tsk, if only you would've waited a little longer, you could've been rolling in the silk of our bed instead, but alas... you're a naughty girl that would go to borderline animalistic lengths to have me inside her as soon as possible."

It should be more humiliating and definitely less arousing, the way he accuses of those things, yet you give him a further confirmation by grinding back against his tall frame. The little hairs at the back of your neck straighten up with the portion of warm air that leaves his lips, along with the amused chuckle he produces.

It's a mystery how he walks you to where he wants you - feeling a lot like a marionette guided by his hand - and you envy him for remaining so collected. Yet it's in the little things that you find an impatience of his own. The unfastening of his belt, the fingers finding your entrance to prepare for likely rough penetration... it's a little rushed, somehow. It tells you enough about how he feels.

"Aha, so you're already soaked... you can't blame the rain on this one, I'm afraid."

The thin material sticking to your legs has done nothing to make you feel clothed, yet when Gilbert hikes it up, you can't help but squirm. You're outside and practically naked; the spot is hidden from sight with tall branches hanging over the rose arch, yet the thrill is still tremendously present. The blunt head of Gilbert's cock presses against your freshly-fingered entrance, and in a flash all thoughts and feelings unrelated to seeking pleasure dissipate in the spring rain.

"You're sucking me right in... Aww, maybe I should tease you more and pull out before I bottom out all the way in? What sounds would you make then?"

You whimper and throw your head left and right to beg him to reconsider, hoping that it wouldn't make him more amused instead - if he's met with such apparent and vocal protest at the bare suggestion of it, the real thing must be a spectacle to see...but Gilbert can be generous too. If it's hidden behind his own pending need to feel your insides wrapped nice and tight around the entire length of his cock, that's it.

Your loud groan is not drowned in the rain and your hands are too busy keeping you upright to help muffle it, and it's good that they are, because Gilbert sets a steady rhythm right away, threatening to break your fragile balance. His thrusts are deep and hard; if there was a part of you not crazed with the strong feeling of him, now surely there's none. You feel him in your bones.

The target of his love bites this time is your left ear, and it means that you get to hear even the littlest noise of purring approval rising in his throat - the slight pain is coated in strange pleasure, as you've grown addicted to it, your tastes and preferences, your morality, your whole mentality, it's all bent and molten and reshaped into something dreadful and carrying his name.

"Are you going to be good and take my load inside you?"

He doesn't have to ask; it's absurd to think of turning around and wrapping your lips around him when you'll do a poor job of serving him with your mind emptied of coherent thoughts and muscle memory is nowhere near good enough for him. Your pussy clamps down on him, hands gripping the chiseled white stone harder until your knuckles start to resemble it in color. The rain makes the smooth surface of it more slippery, as if to rob you of the little stability you have.

"Just as I thought."

Gilbert is relentless and he presses up so deep inside it almost hurts; all in pursuit of his own pleasure. He hisses and finds it right there in your core, releasing his load inside you. It's scorching and it hits you deep inside, and though you want to fuck yourself back onto his cock, you stay and accept it obediently. Perhaps enjoying it like that is better than the pathetic instinct of your body, and Gilbert is doing you a favor you have to be thankful for. Either way, your pleasure peaks and you moan out his name amidst a strong climax.

The bite on your ear is kissed better, and the cock inside you withdrawn not long after. You didn't realize the stability you were so scared of losing was called Gilbert all along. The rose arch does nothing to hold you upright, and you feel your knees hitting the ground.

"Oh no, little bunny, you'll get all dirty in the mud... did I fuck you too hard and now you can't stand up on your own?"

The air is not enough for breathing, replying to him is out of the question. An unmistakable sensation is registered inbetween your legs, and you realize that Gilbert is watching you leak his cum, legs parted helplessly as you kneel on the wet, hard ground.

"You poor thing... You played in the rain and got all drenched up, didn't you? I guess that's your naughty way of making me pity you, so I can take care of you. But don't worry. I, too, look forward to spending some more special time with you while I warm and clean you up in the bath."

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#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince gilbert #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert von obsidian #ikemen series #ikeseries #ikemen #cybird #otome #ikepri fanfic #ikemen prince fanfic #ikepri smut #otome fanfic #late spring tryst ccc

[leviathans-watching]

hello! if the requests are open, as the obey me brothers (+diavolo if you can) reacted to mc start to get terribly sick (always coughing, high fever, always in bed, doesn't eat etc) kisses from Kisses from Brazil 🇧🇷❤️

sick mc with lucifer, diavolo, and satan

includes: lucifer diavolo, and satan x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.8k | rated g | m.list

a/n: sorry this took so long but ty for requesting! i hope you enjoy!! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, and request so come say hello!! and kisses from the US <33

warnings: depictions of illness, fevers, and colds, mentions of vomiting, taking medicine, coughing, sneezing, etc. if you're squeamish about sickness/sick fics then this is not for you lol

please reblog <333

lucifer was aware you weren’t feeling too hot, but he figured it’d pass with a little more sleep and promptly turned his mind to other things. he kept an eye on you, of course, but you were insisting everything was fine, and, well, he had work to do.

it isn’t until you don’t come down to dinner that he realizes that that may have been a mistake.

“mc?” he calls knocking on your door. no response. “i’m coming in.”

your room is dark, the curtains drawn, and its warmer than the draftier halls are. stepping forward, he looks around. you’re under a big nest of blankets, but sweat shines on your skin.

hastening forward, lucifer strips off his glove, pressing it to your forehead, you’re burning up.

“mc,” he tries again, “wake up.”

your eyelashes flutter a little but other than that he receives no response. lucifer curses, working on getting you out from the tangle of covers. your clothes are damp from sweat and your skin is a worrying color.

picking you up, lucifer carries you to his room, where it’s cooler. he changes you out of your old clothes, putting one of his shirts on you, then sets you into his bed, smoothing your hair back. you still don’t move, or make any indication that you understand anything that’s going on around you.

he hopes it’s just exhaustion. your fever isn’t nearly bad enough to knock you out, and to be fair, he hasn’t seriously tried to wake you up in any extreme way.

quickly making his way to the kitchen, lucifer speeds through gathering everything he needs. a cold compress of asmo’s from the fridge, one of beel’s sports drinks, and a handful of other provisions is what he ends up with, and he wastes no time getting back to your side to set you up with them. once he’s got the cold compress on your forehead and has put everything else on his bedside table, lucifer grabs a real thermometer from the bathroom, one from the human world he was glad he’d had levi order earlier on in your stay.

like he had thought, you weren’t dangerously warm, and all of your other vitals seemed okay. his theory of exhaustion was seeming more and more reasonable, especially when he considers how hard you’ve been working.

there's nothing he can do now besides monitor you and make sure you’re okay, so lucifer pulls his armchair up closer to the bed and settles in. he thinks maybe he’ll be able to get some reading or work done but quickly realizes it’s hard for him to take his eyes off of you.

he’s never seen you this sick before. sure, you’ve had the occasional stomach bug or cough, but it’s never been bad enough to take you out like this. he hopes the flu is all it is. he doesn’t know what he’d do if your fever gets worse or you don't wake up in the next few hours. call solomon and simeon for sure, but aside from that?

he has no clue.

*

it’s evening when you finally stir, opening your eyes with a small groan. lucifer instantly raises the sports drink to your lips, gently encouraging you to take a few small sips before you speak.

“i feel awful,” you finally say, smacking your lips.

“i’ll bet,” lucifer replies, leaning over to fluff a pillow. “you’ve got a fever and have been asleep for a while.”

“oh.” you sit there for a moment, contemplating. “how’d i get to your room?”

“i carried you.” even though you’re awake and coherent, lucifer still feels off-kilter and worried. “you were sweating to death in your room and the sheets were all gross so i figured this might be better.”

“that explains the shirt, i guess” you say, looking down at your attire. “thanks for doing all of this. i haven’t been feeling great, but i didn’t think it was this bad.”

“of course darling,” lucifer says. “now, are you hungry? you should try to drink and eat some more then go back to sleep.

diavolo steps out into the hall, pulling his robe tight around himself. it was rare for him to wake in th middle of the night and he hopes a drink of water will help him fall back asleep.

planning on just drinking from the bathroom faucet, diavolo’s surprised to see the light in there already on, peeking out from the crack in between the door and the floor. you were spending the night, but what were the odds you were both up at the same time?

after waiting a bit and not hearing the toilet flush or anything, diavolo decided to knock.

“you can come in,” you call, and diavolo thinks your voice sounds kind of weird.

pushing the door open, he’s surprised to see you on the ground, leaning up against the wall of the bathtub.

“are you alright?” he asks, crouching down to get a better look at you. your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are glassy and he’s starting to get seriously concerned.

you wave your hand. “i’ve been better. i think i ate something i shouldn't have,” you explain wryly. “my stomach hasn;t been happy.”

“you mean you’ve thrown up?”

you nod. “yeah, and then i tried to drink some water but that came right back up too.”

“why didn’t you come get me?” diavolo asks, and you laugh.

“and wake you up? no way.”

diavolo frowns. “you should have. i wouldn’t have minded, i promise. you can wake me up for anything, anytime.” you don’t look convinced but he resolves to put the matter aside for the moment, moving onto more pressing matters. “i think i have some stomach medicine, if you want it?”

you nod. “thank you, i’d appreciate that. since there’s nothing left in my stomach, i haven’t thrown up any more, but since i definitely need to drink some more water i think it’ll help.”

diavolo stands. “i’ll be back in a moment,” he promises, hurrying to his room. even though he knows you’re not actively sick, he still feels this sense of urgency, this need to get back to you as soon as possible.

bottle in hand, he finds you in the same position as before, but now your head is tipped up and you look a little more green. you still manage to give him a weak smile, though it’s clearly strained. sweat beads at the edge of your hairline.

“you don’t look too good,” diavolo notes gently.

“wow,” you say. “you really know how to flatter a person.”

diavolo winces. “i didn’t intend-”

“i know,” you say softly. “i was teasing, but i guess it fell flat.”

“ah.” pursing his lips, diavolo waits for you to swallow a pill, taking the bottle back. “let’s get soem water in you and then if you don’t puke, get you back to bed.”

you look sheepish. “actually, the first time i didn’t quite make it to the bathroom, so my room isn’t exactly a viable option. i’ll clean it up though, i swear. i’m really sorry, by the way.”

“silly human,” diavolo says. “don’t even worry about it. this isn’t the first time these walls have seen a sick person. and anyway, barbatos knows a spell to magic it away.”

“if you’re sure…”

diavolo nods, resolute. “i’m sure. now, water.”

you’re able to drink one glass, and then another, and after about fifteen minutes has gone by, diavolo feels confident in getting you out of the bathroom.

“we have more guest rooms, obviously, but my room is always open to you as well,” he offers, and you look at him sharply.

“um, is there one you’d prefer?”

“actually-” and now it’s diavolo’s turn to feel sheepish “-i’d rather be able to keep my eye on you, if you’re comfortable with that. i also keep a wastebasket right by my bed which may come in handy.”

“alright then,” you agree, “thank you. and thank you for taking care of me.”

“of course.” offering you a hand, diavolo helps you up. “next time you get sick, let me know and i’ll be there right away.”

satan raises his eyes from his textbook as you sniffle for the nth time since he’d sat down to his study session with you. you don’t even seem to be aware that you’re doing it, but the noise is grating, and, satan’ll admit, a little concerning.

noticing his stare, you look up from your own work, raising an eyebrow. “what?’ you ask, and you’re voice is a little scratchy.

“are you well?” satan asks without preamble. “i believe you’re coming down with something.”

“no? i’m fine,” you say, but the words are broken with a fit of coughing.

“oh, really?” satan asks, unimpressed. “that didn’t exactly sound ‘fine’ to me.”

you scowl. “it’s probably just a cold. and anyways,” you continue with a little sigh, “i don’t have time to be sick, not with exams right around the corner.”

it’s a noble through, but satan knows that’s not how it works.

“i think we should call it a night,” satan says, bookmarking his page and shutting his book. “you obviously are sick and i can’t concentrate with all of your coughing and sneezing.”

“awww, so you do care.” the words are sarcastic, almost caustic, and the tone takes satan by surprise. the venom seems to take you by surprise as well, as you lean back, rubbing your eyes. “i’m sorry. that wasn’t kind of me. i’m just tired.”

“and sick,” satan adds, and you roll your eyes.

“i’m not that sick,” you argue but another bout of coughs cuts you off. “fine,” you say after a moment, “maybe we should stop for the night.”

the two of you pack up quickly, making your way out of the library within minutes. noticing your shiver, satan wraps his scarf around you, tucking the ends in. you smile then, and he feels a little bit better. upon getting back to the house of lamentation, he instructs you to go to bed then promptly does the same.

*

satan wakses with a start, catching the end of a knock on his door. “come in,” he calls tiredly, sitting up. he’s only a little bit surprised to see you on the other side; no one else had reason to call upon him.

“satan,” you say, and he sits up even straighter. you sound absolutely awful. “i think i’m sick.”

“you think?” satan stands hurriedly, pressing his hand to your cheek. “you’re definitely warm.” underneath his hand you shake and quiver, teeth chattering.

“are you cold?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “drat,” you mutter. “i was hoping it was just freezing in here.”

“let’s sit down.” satan says as you sway a little, pulling you to his bed. “when was the last time you drank some water?”

“i don’t know,” you reply. “probably a while ago. satan,” you say again, “my throat really hurts.” with that, you begin coughing again, much raspier sounding than earlier.

“i’ll bet,” he murmers. “i think i have some of that throat soothing tea. would you like me to make you some?”

“don’t go out of your way.”

satan huffs out a sigh. “it’s only a cup of tea. besides, if we don’t start treating you now, you’re only going to feel that much worse later. let’s go to the kitchen.”

you stand, and he pauses to hand you one of his pullovers. you're not terribly fevered, so it’s fine for you to put on a few more layers.

“thank you,” you say fervently, pulling it over your head. “i feel like my fingers are ice cubes.”

“the tea will help with that too,” he says as he ushers you towards the kitchen. “if you have to cough again please don’t do it on me.”

you smile. “i’ll try. thanks for helping me out.”

“of course,” satan says. “thanks for coming to me so i could help.”

leviathans-watching’s work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

#obey me #obey me game #obey me shall we date #obey me! #omswd #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x gn!reader #lucifer obey me #obey me lucifer #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #diavolo obey me #obey me diavolo #diavolo x you #diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #satan obey me #obey me satan #satan x you #satan x reader #satan x mc #anon ask #answered asks #leviswriting #leviswriting-obeyme #cw sick mention #tw sickness #sick fic

[raeny-thorns]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

POV: First person told in the present tense

764 words

M/F!MC (referred to GN)

Minors DNI

Plot:

Simeon and F!MC play Seven Minutes in Heaven

Closet sex//semi public sex//seven minutes in heaven//MC receives oral

A/N: ughhhhh it's been a minute, sorry. Anyway, here's a small thing I thought about while sitting in a closet. Also did not do any editing, I'm too tired today

The closet is dark and cramped, especially with the both of us in it. Simeon's knee pushes between my legs, spreading them for him and pulling my waist to straddle it. His hands grip at my thighs, rubbing my ass and slipping fingers under my pants teasingly.

"Simeon-"

"Shh" he hushes sweetly before kissing my lips chastly. His gloved fingers pull at my underwear's waistband and let it snap against my skin with a gentle sting.

"It's not like they don't know what we're doing in here…" I groan in complaint. He snaps my waistband again, just above my groin and massages the ache. "Fuck."

"But it'll be our little secret what exactly we do~" he teases and nibbles my earlobe, I rub my heat on his leg hoping he'll get the hint and just fuck me already. He kisses my neck and grinds his hard on against my leg. "Do you want to experience 7 minutes of heaven?"

"Mmphh simeon-"

"Shhshh"

My eyes squeeze shut as he pushes his body against me, pinning me to the closet wall. It's too small in here. We can hear some giggling from outside the closest from Asmo and Solomon.

"5 minutes left, better hurry~! <3"

His mouth is so warm and inviting, his tongue is sweet and strained against mine. It's so flexible and long. My core aches and I lean into his touch reflexively, grasping for any way to hold him.

"Would you like me to…?" His voice is light so that only I can hear him ask. The tone is velvety with lust so I know what he wants permission for

"Mhm..please…"

His fingers seamlessly pull down my bottoms as he kneels between my thighs. He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder before touching a gloved finger to my wet sex.

"MMPH-" he gags me with his cape quickly.

"Shhshh"

Spreading my labia with his fingers, he runs his tongue down my slit, flexing the tip against my entrance. In replacement of his tongue, he slips a finger in my heat, working it lazily against my core, not enough to satisfy me, but enough to leave me wanting more. He grips my thigh towards him and works his tongue around my clit just out of reach of stimulating the nerves.

"Simeonnn…", I groan lowly.

He licks the flat of his tongue over my clit before flicking it back and forth. I buck into his face, grinding against his tongue. I can feel him smile at me tightening around his gloved finger and his mouth works faster. A second finger gets added to my aching sex, curling them inside of me.

-fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuc–

His head is between my thighs and I'm straining against his movements, bucking into him and strangling my moans with his cape sleeve. I tried to stop breathing to mute the heavy breaths coming from me but it just rips louder grunts from my chest.

"30 second warning, lovebirds~!" Asmo's singsong voice calls from outside the door.

Oh fuck. Times almost up

My movements get shakier as I near my high. Simeon grips my ass to keep me in place.

I've let go of the cape, letting it ungag me and entirely began fucking his face without thought, gripping his hair and pushing his face into my sex.

His movements speed up, groaning, he licks and moans my name into me.

My body tenses and spasms as I finally reach my orgasm, my juices coat his lips, a loud stuttered groan breaks from mine.

We sit together breathing, a sheen of sweat glossing our bodies and we giggle at the whole scenario.

WAIT SHIT THE TIME-

The door swings open and I've barely got my pants on and zipped up. Simeon's face is absolutely fucked. While he got most of me licked off before the time ran out, there was some on his chin. His hair is messy sticking up on some ends. His cape which is barely even on him is damp with saliva and his gloves are coated in my arousal. Solomon eyes us as we exit the closest and chuckles at our dishevelled looks. Asmo is not even trying to be subtle with his gawking and smirking. Simeon strides over to the counter and casually takes a good sip of his water.

"How was seven minutes in heaven~?" Asmo grins.

"Quite swell I'd say. What do you think, Mc?" Simeon smiles softly, passing the question onto me.

I say nothing and just grab his hand to lead him to his room, practically dragging him down the hall.

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