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s8ncake · 3 years

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Originally I wasn’t planning on posting this here, but a friend of mine convinced me. You can also check it out on ao3!

🔞The following fic is nsfw. Minors dni.🔞

Sacrilege

Summary: Simeon has fallen, but he doesn’t view himself as such. No, given the feelings he has towards you, this could only be an ascension; one beyond anything he had in the Celestial Realm, and anything the Devildom could offer. Now he serves no one, only you. His one and only god.

word count: ~5700

⚠️c/w: gore and blood (but Simeon and the reader are fine), yandere!Simeon, sacrilegious themes, blasphemy

Additional note: the reader is gender neutral, and the reader’s genitalia isn’t specified

In ao3, I tagged this with Dead Dove: Do not eat. That still applies here. Make sure you’ve read over the content warnings before proceeding / interacting.

🔞And once again, minors dni.🔞

Falling’s a strange thing, a concept that Simeon never quite understood. It happened to angels who were wicked, those who sought to undo his father’s plan. So they were cut off. From the heavenly host. From their powers. Their wings turned black, and their light faded. Until the only thing left was a darkness, one that sought to consume everything that they once were. They either died or transformed, becoming monsters. Beasts. Demons.

Simeon is none of those things. He didn’t fall to oppose his father, nor did he seek to undo any sort of plan. He’s an author after all, and authors create.

And what could his muse be, other than you?

Your soul is brilliant, a beacon of light amongst everything else in this miserable realm. It took him far too long to see that. But thankfully, his eyes have been opened. And never again shall they shut. In the long span of his existence, he’s seen everything that the universe could offer. Stars. Galaxies. The rise and fall of human civilization itself. Existence itself is always in a state of flux, constantly shifting and warping as things are created and then destroyed.

But you… You exist beyond that.

Your soul never tarnishes, nor does it fade when things get rough. Instead, it fights. Nails. Fists. Some would say that it’s barbaric, but Simeon had always found it to be beautiful. It’s a philosophy that he’s tried to emulate. Words are meaningless, unless they are used to praise you. So now he resorts to action. And well, the saying is true. So perhaps it’s only natural that he uses it to replace his books, that the tales he creates are no longer works of fiction. No, fantasy has lost all meaning now.

There’s only you.

You have always inspired him. Even now, Simeon can’t help but write poetry about you as he moves. The world that he’s in is dark. Depressing. Very little of it is worthy of being compared to someone as brilliant as you. But that doesn’t prevent him from trying.

Today, he starts with a crumbling city. It’s silence echoes throughout the land, and you are the slight breeze that rushes past his ear. The moon, although unlike its cratered surface, you have no imperfections. No, the dips and grooves along your skin are beautiful. Like the glinting of a knife, the way the metal slices through the air. You have pierced his heart just as easily. But that’s okay, it’s yours after all.

It’s a shame that he can’t carve out his own and give it to you. That despite everything, he is still limited by this corporeal form. But if he were to be anything else, then you wouldn’t be able to look at him. And that would get in the way of his worship. A god must be able to view their subjects after all.

Besides, this new form is perfect for him. It’s yet another form of his art, a piece that was made specifically for you. His horns. His tail. His cock… He considered it all. Like a good follower should.

No one else would be able to do that. They are limited by their pathetic mortal frame. Rats. Parasites. They’re unfit to even look upon you. But with another flicker of his knife, they are handled. And he will morph them until something better. Something more suited for you.

The process of creation is a never ending one, especially given the thousands of pieces that he’s working on. Some of them are grand, and others are small. But all of them are for you. How else would he pay tribute?

There’s a gust of wind. Your arrival is soon. He can sense it. It comes with everything that is right. The sun peaking over the clouds. Starlight reflecting off of a lake. The rippling of water as it reveals the creatures that lurk within its depths. The sound of laughter, followed by the blessed silence that he’s come to adore. That is who you are. An omen of things to come. The others say you are bad, but Simeon knows better. It is impossible for you to be anything other than good.

For you are greater than the heavens, and the earth itself. His father was nothing, but you—

There’s a scream as Simeon feels blunt nails dig into his arm. It’s followed by a shove, and footsteps frantically scrambling away from him. ...How annoying.

His latest sacrifice had just ruined his internal monologue. And it was going to be such a good one too. What a shame. If only he had a pen and paper nearby…

They don’t travel far. There’s another sound, although this one is a plea. Simeon silences it with a crunch, and tsks when he looks at his hands. That was messier than he had intended, but it looks like no longer needs any ink. An amused chuckle falls from his lips. Would you like that? Poetry written in the blood of your enemies, the very nonbelievers who seek to destroy the world that the two of you are trying to create?

...Perhaps that’s something to try next time. Right now, he has something more important to focus on. He’s still in the process of creation after all, and he’s not finished decorating. Thankfully this… creature (it can’t be a human, for nothing could compare to you) should provide him with the rest of the materials that he needs. So Simeon gets to work.

This too is a form of art, and one he would never have considered before. But he has expanded beyond quills and parchment. Now he builds sculptures out of the very people who would defy you. Those who are unworthy of being graced with your presence. They are broken down, and fashioned into a suitable idol.

Another splash of crimson. The breaking of bones. Wire. Nails. And then it’s done. Your new altar is complete. Simeon takes a step back, appraises his work, and grins. It’s perfect.

Fresh blood drips off of it, reminding him of rain, the way it softly drizzles and brings life to those around it. This is a form of life as well, one that does nothing but speak of your greatness. The various limbs that have been tacked and strung above it make a rainbow, an icon of the color you have given this dull and drab world. Maybe one day you’ll be able to color it all. But the best part about it is when you stand away, when you view his masterpiece from a distance. It takes the shape of a heart, one that resembles his own. And it exists entirely for you.

The wind picks up, howling in his ears, and he knows that you are here. Once you enter the room, Simeon falls to his knees. He doesn’t have to stay there for long; it’s simply a gesture of formality, one that reminds you of how important you truly are.

“You may rise.”

He follows the command without hesitation. Your voice is a melody. A soothing tone that seeps into his bones and leaves him feeling lighter. It truly is an act of kindness that you’ve allowed him to stand as your equal, if only for a brief moment. But he will be on his knees again soon enough.

He can’t wait.

A sigh falls from your lips once you notice the various remains that litter the floor. “Those were supposed to be the new recruits. I guess none of them were willing?”

Simeon nods. “They were all unworthy of you.”

“A shame.” Your eyes then roam over his altar. He awaits your response with trepidation. ...Do you like it?

But as always, there’s no need for him to voice his question. Like the god you are, you already answer it with a grin. Your power, your majesty, truly knows no bounds. “You’ve found a better use for them though. I’m pleased.”

A shiver runs down Simeon’s spine. Your approval means everything. It is the air that fills up his lungs and allows him to breath. He feels incredibly lucky, to be blessed with such a thing.

It only inspires him to work even harder for what comes next. There is no church here, nor is there a temple. But those measly little things are unneeded. Your body outshines it all. And that is what he shall worship.

A strike of a bell, and then Simeon kneels before you once as you sit upon your handmade throne. It begins now. Sacrament. He licks his lips in anticipation.

You are an image, perched atop yet another one of his creations. Although this one is his favorite. There’s no flesh or bone, only gold. Treasure that he had stolen from the Celestial Realm and the Devildom alike. Melting it was difficult, but the result was definitely worth it. For now you have a throne, one that suits your majesty.

It makes him feel small, as it should. Your presence is grand, a shining iridescent star amongst the blank canvas that he’s created. And it’s reflected in his eyes once you beckon him forward.

He delicately peels each and every garment off of you, savoring the sight of your body as it’s slowly revealed to him. He’s seen it before, yet you never fail to take his breath away. Every hair, every scar, all of the dips and grooves that make up who you are; Simeon loves it all. How could he not?

Beauty takes the form of your legs, the way they spread open before him. Magnificent is the sight that greets him, your most intimate parts bare now before his gaze. Adoration is what he feels when you whisper his name and guide his head forward. And divinity, well... that is what you taste like.

He dives in with enthusiasm. You immediately grab onto his horns, and pull him in closer. Simeon groans. They’re handles after all, ones that he made specifically for you. To tug. To control. He is but a follower, and you are a god. One that will never fail to help him find the right path.

And everything about this, the taste of your essence on his tongue, is right.

Every noise that you make spurs him on. This is what you deserve. The pleasure that courses through your veins. The moans that fall from your lips. It’s a shame that he can’t give you more, not yet at least. One day the world will be yours, but until then… an orgasm will have to do.

You cum with a cry, one that could shake the very heavens itself. A part of him hopes that they've heard you, but the other knows that they are unworthy of such a thing. He laps up each and every drop. It would be a sin to allow any of it to spill. Nothing you create should ever go to waste. Especially when it’s this good.

Once your orgasm ends, he pulls away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. It’s a shame that he cannot taste you forever; that like all good things, it must come to an end. But his worship of you is far from over. No, the two of you have only just begun.

Your eyes meet, and Simeon’s tongue lolls out, wiping away the spare traces of your cum. A chuckle, then you gently pat his head. “Such a good boy Simeon. You’ve improved.”

Pleasure shoots down his spine the moment you praise him. This is what he’s after. This is the reason he exists. To serve you. To please you. Your fingers begin to run through his hair, and a moan falls from his lips as he leans into your touch.

“You remember what comes next, don’t you?”

Of course. His worship of you is a form of art, one that he has practiced over and over again. Simeon nods, and then finally removes the last of his clothing.

His cock springs free. It’s hard. Leaking. He wants you, as always. But how could he not? Your visage is the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. Your voice rolls through his mind like honey. He loves you.

It’s normal of course, for a follower to love their god. Yet even the word itself feels unsatisfactory. One day he’ll have to create a new one. But until then, love will have to suffice. Besides, he has better ways to show his devotion. Actions speak louder than words after all. So despite the desire that courses through him, he doesn’t even make an attempt to touch himself. His own pleasure is unimportant. The only thing that matters is you.

So instead he stays on his knees. Where he belongs. He starts with your ankle, placing feather light kisses along each one as his mouth slowly works his way up to your calf. You gasp once he reaches your thighs, and then the next part of sacrament begins: creation.

In the past he created galaxies. Stars. Nebulas. Simeon had the luxury of forming several of them before that task was given to someone else. But thanks to you, he can perform it once more. Only this time the materials are different. Instead of creating constellations in the sky, he makes them on your body.

Today he starts with the Big Dipper. He lightly suckles on your thighs, mapping out each and every star, and once that constellation is done, he moves onto another. Caenis Major. Orion. Cygnus. Your body looks even more breathtaking like this, so he adds a few more. These ones are new, ones that he just made up. They have yet to have a name, but for now… Consecratio will have to do. Perhaps he’ll be able to come up with a more official title for them later.

Your name falls from his lips, along with a moan, and something inside of him slips. He falls even further into your depths. Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. His name never sounded so pretty; but everytime you say it, he can feel his cock begin to swell. He is the one you want. The only being that makes you feel like this, and the only one that ever will.

You are his god.

Blood rushes through him, staining his cheeks, hardening his cock even further. In the haze of his own mind, his mouth parts from your skin, and his fingers enter you instead.

You mewl at the intrusion. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. This step comes later on, yet Simeon can’t wait. He wants to see you cum once more. To hear your praise as he pleasures you beyond your own comprehension.

Perfect. Stunning. Simeon adds another finger, his gaze fixed on your expression and nothing else. Finding that spot within you is easy. He had memorized its location long ago as proof of his devotion. Each and every part of your body has been mapped out, a never ending piece of parchment that he keeps in his head. In truth, Simeon has never been much of a navigator. But your body is the only thing that he needs to know.

You moan once again. You’re close, Simeon can feel it. Although he’s neglected to take his own pleasure into account. He’s close as well.

Simeon hasn’t even laid a hand on himself, yet his own noises grow louder. Every gasp. Every groan. Knowing that he’s able to do this to you spurs him on, his cock aching from how much it desires you. Yet your image drowns all of that out.

His peak arrives, but he never gets to fully reach it. Instead, your hand clenches around the base of his cock, preventing him from cumming.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Recite your scripture as punishment.”

His labored breathing echoes across the room, and Simeon’s eyes widen once he realizes his mistake. He was being selfish, allowing his own pleasure to get in the way of yours. Lust is a vise that he should have had better control of. He was a fool to let it get in the way of his love, so he accepts your punishment with grace.

Magic soon replaces your hand, creating a cockring that now leaves your fingers free to move up and down along his shaft. His breathing stutters, but he’s thankful for the intervention. More of your magic curls around his body, brushing up against his skin. It’s a sign of what’s to come, yet he shoves that excitement aside, or tries to at least.

Simeon frowns. The cockring was sorely needed. It makes sure that he doesn’t forget about what’s truly important. No matter what, he isn’t allowed to cum before you. The only sin that exists is putting his pleasure before your own. Yes, he deserves to be punished for this. His devotion towards you never should have wavered.

So he opens his mouth, and speaks; his voice not faltering despite the way your hand moves across his shaft. “The steadfast love of you, my god, never ceases. Your mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning.”

You press one of your fingers against his slit, smearing some of his precum along the head of his cock. A shudder runs down Simeon’s spine. Your touch is a blessing, one that he can never get enough of. But he cannot focus on it. No. The pleasure is unimportant. You must be worshipped.

“There’s no greater love other than this: to lay down my life for you.”

He focuses on the words instead, and on everything that they entail. He would gladly die for you. In both this timeline, and any of the other ones that follow. The universe is full of constants: gravity, matter, humanity itself, and the devotion that he feels towards you. Those are all things that shall exist in every universe.

No matter what, Simeon loves you. And he will die and fall as many times as he needs in order to prove it. Although he’s never met any of his alternate selves, he already knows that it’s true. His love cannot be contained in any vessel. It flows throughout time and space, and every spec of it is dedicated towards you and you alone.

Your hand leaves his cock. Simeon feels it twitch under the absence of your touch. A part of him wants to whine, but he holds that in. He refuses to sin once more, to tarnish his reputation as your most devout follower. So he simply continues reciting the words that he’s come to know by heart.

Indeed, you’re no longer stroking him. But that’s only because your hands have wondered elsewhere. A finger traces the rim of his ass, and it doesn’t take Simeon long to put two and two together. Ah. He had never—

You enter him. Slowly but surely, although there’s no resistance. Another one quickly joins it. Your fingers are slick from his precum and some of your own spit, not to mention your magic… It widens him, making lube unnecessary. Not that he would ask for any. No, he’s being punished right now. This is simply another example of your benevolence.

The feeling is strange, but he continues. “I give thanks to you, for everything about you is good. Our love endures forever.”

Your fingers haven’t stopped moving. They’re searching around for something, although Simeon doesn’t know what you're looking for. There’s nothing left of him to find. You have seen it all.

“And I know that in all things, you do good for those who love you, who have been called according to your purpose.”

And then you brush up against a spot inside of him, one that has him seeing stars. He’s unable to stop the surprised “Oh!” that falls from his mouth, or the way he tries to fuck himself on your hand. Thankfully that was the last verse, so there’s no harm in letting another mewl spill from his throat.

You laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, one that Simeon is blessed to hear. “What a good little follower. If you beg for me, I’ll let you cum.”

He wants to. To immediately get on his knees and beg for you to fuck him, as you take away the last shred of innocence that he has. Ah, but take isn’t the right word. Give. He would give it all to you. That purity is nothing more than a cocoon, one he’s been working on shedding himself of. It only gets in the way of loving you. Besides, how could he perform his tasks if he was worried about heaven’s definition of sin? No, there’s too much work to be done. And what he’s doing is okay. You’ve told him so.

Submitting to the desire that's coursing through him would be easy, but this is a test. One that he refuses to fail. Worshiping you takes precedence. It always does. “No. I wish to pick up where we left off. My only desire is to pleasure you.”

You flash him a smile, one more brilliant than the sun. “Your devotion truly is admirable. We’ll begin our worship again shortly. But first, I’m going to fuck you like this, okay? Remember the feeling of my fingers Simeon. Because next time, you’re going to cum around them and nothing else. Do you understand?”

Next time. He’ll be ready then. And you will finally own all of him. He can’t wait. “Yes, my beloved. I’ll do as you ask.”

You hum in approval, and then your fingers start moving once more. Pleasure courses through him, and he bites his lip as he smothers his gasp. You are everything. This is everything.

“I don’t want you to hold back Simeon. Let me hear you.”

Of course. This is a form of devotion too. How could he have forgotten that? A high pitched moan immediately falls from his lips. Words are hard, but Simeon still manages to speak. You wanted to hear his voice after all.

“G—Good. So good.”

Another finger gets added. Somehow the pleasure increases. His cock aches. It’s hard and weeping, yet he doesn’t care. The pleasure that you have shown him outshines it all. And he never wants this moment to end.

His mind is slowly becoming blank, the fog of lust threatening to consume his every thought. But Simeon shoves it all aside. Vocal. He has to focus on being vocal.

You briefly pull out. A fourth finger teases at his entrance, and your voice coos into his ear, “Can you handle more?”

More. The possibility excites him. He had no idea that it was an option. But he will do it. Of course he will. As your follower, it’s his duty to handle every inch of you. That’s why he created this vessel in the first place. And Simeon leaps at each and every opportunity to put it to the test.

He has to think, to piece the fragile bits of his mind together in order to form a response. But as soon as he comes close to making one, the magical ring around his cock vibrates. It’s slow, a low thrum that’s incredibly unsatisfying, yet it leaves him shivering all the same.

It’s a warning. He still can’t cum after all, and unless he performs well… he may never be able to. A response. You need one now. “Fuck. Y-Yes I can handle more.”

And like the benevolent god you are, you give him exactly that. Yes, you’re so wide inside of him. He didn’t even know that it was possible to feel this full. That his body could accommodate this much. And the fact that one of your limbs is inside of him... Simeon keens.

Truly, he’s unworthy of such a thing. Your fingers, your hand, should be elsewhere. That you would even consider touching him there is already enough to make him cum. Thankfully the cockring is still in place, so the pleasure never has to end.

He focuses on the shape of your hand, the dip and groove of each finger; the way it scrapes against his walls as you slam into him. Your pace is rough. Brutal. Heavenly. His mind goes hazy underneath it all. No. He can’t let this consume him. This is only a preview of what’s to come, and you are gracious enough to give it to him.

It’s another test. But this one… Oh, this one is his favorite.

Another wave of pleasure. He’s a shivering mess, one that can do nothing more than scream for you. Time itself has no meaning. There’s only this; the fullness that you provide, and the love behind each and every gesture that you make. He mewls out your name once more, and then it’s over.

He’s repented for his mistakes.

Your fingers… no it was your fist, pulls out of him. Simeon briefly whines at the loss. He falls to the floor, and then you place that very same hand in front of his lips. He lavishes it with kisses, and groans. More. He needs more.

And he knows that there will be more to come. It’s all a part of his worship after all. The taste of your inevitable union will be even stronger, richer. This is but a treat, a kind dessert that you have gifted him. The real meal comes later on. But Simeon is willing to wait. Once he’s finished lapping at your hands, he moves to your altar and lays himself upon it.

This is his final offering. His body is yours to use as you see fit.

You get up. Although Simeon cannot see it, he hears your bare feet walking across the abandoned chapel’s floor. There is no choir, but the ex-angel wants to sing when you impale yourself upon him.

A purr leaves your throat. “You feel perfect.”

He’s glad. Like his horns, his cock is made for you. Every ridge, every bump, was created to maximize your pleasure. No toy will ever compare. Simeon made sure of that.

You begin to move. He allows you to set the pace as his nails dig into your thigh. Perfect. You fit perfectly around him. He feels an incredible amount of pride as you gasp and moan with the rise and fall of your hips. Out of all of the offerings that he’s made, his mortal form is definitely the best. The flush of your cheeks proves it.

The magic around his cock finally loosens, and you clench around him. Simeon’s climax quickly follows your own. The tangling of tongues. The squirting of cum. He finished inside of you, but you don’t remain on his softening cock for long. No, you pull yourself off of him, and Simeon watches as his cum flows out of you.

He licks his lips. This is it. The moment that he’s been waiting for. His favorite part of worship.

Your voice is a command, one that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. “Clean up.”

He immediately begins lapping at your dripping hole. The taste of your cum has melded into his own. Your union has created this, the most delicious thing that Simeon has ever consumed. The essence of a god flows into his mouth, along with the proof that he was the one who had pleasured you. And now it is inside of him. A bond that cannot be broken. He hungers for more.

Simeon lewdly moans as his tongue reaches deeper and deeper into you, searching for every bit of his cum that he can find. Noises fall from your mouth, but like always, he drowns them out with his own. This is a feast, one that the Celestial Realm could never recreate. Their food pales in comparison. Simeon doesn’t understand how he was able to stomach it before.

Another orgasm ripples through you, and he keens as he consumes each and every drop. Were he in a more poetic mood, he would compare it to ambrosia, but he can write verses about you another time. Instead, he focuses on completing this final act. It doesn’t take long. Once he’s thoroughly licked every trace of cum off your body, he pulls away with a grin. You pat his head, and Simeon hums as he leans into your touch.

“I love you.”

The words sound beautiful coming from your mouth. It’s something that you’ve said before. A sentence that led to this exact moment, and many others like it. Yet he’ll never tire of hearing it, of knowing that he has earned those very words time and time again.

“I love you as well. My god. My beloved. And one day, the world will love you too.”

The two of you embrace. And in your arms, Simeon comes up with ideas for his next altar. It’s sure to take everyone’s breath away. It’ll be bigger than the last one. More limbs. More blood. Wires. Nails— Ah, he’s already getting excited.

It’s amazing; how quickly you inspire him, and all it takes is a hug. You truly are an excellent muse, one that he hopes to be completely worthy of someday. But until then, he is simply an author. An artist. One that exists to worship you.

Eventually you take your leave. There’s work to be done after all, especially for a god such as yourself. And although Simeon longs for your embrace… that just makes it more precious when it actually occurs. Besides, he wants his creations to be a surprise, and it’s impossible for that to happen if you’re looking over his shoulder. So the two of you part. And like the quiet whisper of the wind, you’re gone.

The silence doesn’t last long. It’s interrupted by the ringing of his phone. A number shows up on his screen, one that he hadn’t seen in an incredibly long time. He had tried to block it ages ago, but eventually gave up. Technology still confuses him. ...Some things never quite change.

He accepts the call, and Lucifer’s voice greets him. “Simeon.”

He hadn’t heard it in awhile. The man’s tone sounds deeper than he remembered, and it’s entirely different from your own. The contrast throws him for a loop, if only briefly. Simeon clears his throat. For some reason he doesn’t hang up.

“Yes?”

“This has to stop. The two of you are upsetting the balance. If this continues, then Lord Diavolo will intervene.”

A threat. Of course that would be why he called. But Simeon doesn’t care. No one can stop either of you, including the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Your love transcends beyond that. ...It’s a shame that Lucifer still is unable to comprehend what the two of you are trying to achieve.

A part of Simeon can’t help but feel disappointed at the reminder. “Perhaps he’ll join us. You’re welcome to as well, of course.”

“No. What your doing is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m simply serving my god.”

“They are just a human, Simeon. And can easily be replaced. There are billions—“

Anger rushes through him; the intensity of it causing him to crack his phone’s screen. His grip loosens, but the rage still festers within him. How dare he.

“Watch your tongue, lest I rip it out of you next time we meet.”

A pause. The silence seems awkward, sad almost. Lucifer eventually breaks it. “...I see I am too late. The others are right. You have fallen. And unlike me, you’ve had no family to help put you back together again.”

“I don’t need one. I have my god, and they have been by my side through thick and thin. What have you done for me, Lucifer?”

Silence. No other answer is needed.

After a minute or two Lucifer sighs. “I must report my failure to Lord Diavolo. You have exactly 48 hours before he arrives. Use them wisely.”

There’s a click, and then the number vanishes from his screen. Lucifer must have hung up. Yet his words echo around in Simeon’s head.

You have fallen. It makes him want to laugh. There is nothing wrong about this. The love that he feels towards you cannot be tainted, nor will it ever waver. For you have given him something that he’s never had before: Freedom. From the Celestial Realm, from his boring day to day life. Simeon had not truly lived until he abandoned it all in favor of following you. No, this was an ascension. One that everyone is too foolish to understand. And Diavolo seeks to destroy everything that you’ve built. But that’s okay, Simeon has a plan.

A few magic circles… some stolen holy relics… and even the future Demon King can be captured. So when he comes, Simeon will be ready, and the foolish prince will walk right into a trap.

A manic giggle bursts from his mouth. This is perfect.

Diavolo will be made to see, like so many others before him. It’s impossible not to after all, given how grand you are. Ah, but Simeon will deny him the privilege of serving you. No matter what, you will only ever have one follower. Diavolo can beg and plead as much as he likes, but he will never get to feel your touch. He hasn’t earned the right, and he never will. Once he has served his purpose, he will be disposed of, just like the rest.

Simeon grins. In truth, The world doesn’t even need to have people in it. A god does not require subjects in order to be considered such. So why bother expanding your little cult, when no one else will ever be able to serve you like him?

You are his. His human. His god. His everything. And no one is going to get in the way of that. This realm will be made into something that is worthy of you, even if he has empty it himself. But once every single creature is gone, and he is the only being left... Then the world truly will love you, won’t it?

#obey me #omnsfw #minors dni #obey me simeon #fallen!Simeon #simeon x mc #simeon x reader #the reader is gender neutral #my writing!#sacrilege

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jonnyparable · 3 years

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Cottage Hills: The Red Chamber Part VII

He's Not A Machine

Gray arrives at the square to tell the others about Zack being missing. He finds the townspeople getting ready for the hot pot. Everything's set up, and when they see him, they ask him where he's been.

Mayor Thomas :

"Gray! There you are! Where have you been? Come, join us. We are just about to start. Saibara said you had gone to Mary's earlier today. Have you seen Mary or Wally? They're not here too. "

Gray:

"Sorry Mayor, but they've gone to the woods to look for Zack. He's been missing all day and we were out searching for him. "

Harris :

"Missing? Don't worry Gray, we will all help to look for him. Alright everyone, it could be dangerous in the woods, so let's try to stick together in groups!"

While the town hurriedly mobilises to help find Zack, Saibara, Gray's mentor, upset with Gray for disrupting the festival, comes up to confront him.

Saibara:

"Gray, I've had enough of that abomination you created. I can overlook the fact that it lives outside town, but the villagers have only just started eating, and you've ruined this yearly tradition so that everyone can go into the woods, endanger themselves to search for that abomination? It is just a machine!"

Gray:

"No, master! Zack is not just a machine! I know you don't understand right now, but Zack is just like any one of us and he needs our help. Look around, you're the only one here who refuses to see it, and I don't know why... but I don't care anymore. You don't have to go if you don't want to, but he's my friend and I'm going to help find him!"

He leaves Saibara standing there, fuming. Eva and Oak watch with growing concern as the townspeople head into the woods. They give each other a knowing look before running off into the night...

Meanwhile...

The Man Behind the Pumpkin

Olkan:

"Zack! Have they hurt you? Why have you done this! Reveal yourself!"

Scrampy:

"You mean you haven't figured it out yet? And here I thought my natural charisma would have given me away! But I really can't stay, I've got someplace to be, but I'll be back! Come Moguai, the hotpot awaits! "

Olkan :

"Enough! Tell us who you are now!"

Won:

"Well aren't you an angry one. Fine. If you really must know, it is I, Won Moshu! Returned at last to exact my terrible vengeance!"

Mary :

"Won! I knew I recognised that voice! So you've come back, but why? And why have you captured Zack?"

Olkan :

"Speak, trickster! Why have you done all this? What have the people of this town ever done to you? Just who are you?"

Won:

"That is an interesting question isn't it? Who is Won Moshu really? I'm sure you are all familiar with this town's lovely little founding myth?"

Wally:

"Yes... Three pilgrims came to awaken the Goddess to end the eternal winter and fog, and they later founded the town. Led by... "

Won:

"FALSE! You have all been fed nothing but a shameful lie for centuries! A deceitful half truth! You see, there were not three pilgrims, but FOUR!"

Wally:

“Four pilgrims? But who... "

Won:

"Yes! The fourth pilgrim's name was Nehemiah Firethorn! And I am his last living descendant! The Last Firethorn! "

The Last of the Firethorns

Olkan:

"Firethorn? I do not know this name.."

Won :

"Just like the other pilgrims, Nehemiah came, equal in piety and faith, to awaken the Goddess, and later used his talents to help build the town. Nehemiah Firethorn was a sorcerer, a conjurer, and he was especially gifted at making poisons. In an age of chaos, his poisons kept the fledgling town safe from ferocious wild beasts and from marauding invaders."

Mary:

"So... That's why the prophecy refers to the "one of four, once favoured by the Goddess" .... There were four pilgrims! But what happened to him?"

Won:

"Before he died, he wrote all his deadliest recipes down on a manuscript and left it for his descendants. But many years after his death, the townspeople, led by the traitorous Elmsleys, Goodmans and Rosenbergs, turned against the Firethorns! The cowards saw the Firethorns as a threat, and having grown fearful of the Firethorns' power, they whipped the villagers up into a frenzy, and they took the manuscript and hid it away in the church! Spurned and betrayed by the very people they protected, the Firethorns were then cast out of the town, any mention of their name was erased from the records and even Nehemiah himself was removed from the founding myth. Its the greatest lie of all, an act of unmitigated sacrilege! THIEVING LIARS!"

Wally:

"So that means the Firethorns fled to Shang Tao and became the Moshus! "

Won

"Yes! Cast out by the town they served, my ancestors spent years wandering like vagrants, but a storm blew them to the island of Shang Tao. There, the warlord, a visionary, saw the true value of our poisons, and the family grew in stature under his patronage, eventually changing our name to Moshu. We once more had riches, power! But we never forgot why we were there, and we never forgave that monstrous betrayal!"

Mary:

"So just as the prophecy said, you are back to seek your father's vengeance!"

Won:

"Correct! I was sent here by my father to take back the manuscript and to destroy this town. Tonight I shall fulfill his dying wish, with the manuscript now in my possession, I shall use Nehemiah's deadliest poison, The Black Cup, to destroy the backstabbing Elmsleys, Goodmans and Rosenbergs once and for all!"

Zack:

"He plans to poison the town's hot pot. It will prove fatal to all who consume it. I had found out about his plan last night, but I was captured. I'm sorry, Olkan..."

Mary:

"No! Won, what happened to your family is wrong but you can't do this!"

Won:

"Oh? Can't I? Perhaps you four should be the first to try the Black Cup, you are after all, esteemed guests in my humble home!"

Just then, the clouds above suddenly part, and the full autumn moon shines through. Olkan begins to cry out in pain and he suddenly glows like a burning ember, as if on fire from within. Wolves can be heard howling in the distance.

Wally:

"Olkan! What's wrong?!"

Mary:

" No don't hurt him! What are you doing to him? "

Won:

"What? It's not me! I'm not doing anything! What trickery is this?"

#the sims 2 #ts2 pictures #ts2 screenshots #ts2 neighborhood #ts2 scenery #harvest moon back to nature #sims 2 #cottage hills #sims 2 simblr #harvest moon tree of life #The Red Chamber

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years

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Gen Z MC - ikevamp headcanons (general)

Following that obey me post I reblogged about a gen z mc, and seeing how I already thought about this a couple times, I decided to write this! Enjoy~

ALSO,, sorry for disappearing for two days, I didn't really have any ideas nor motivation to write,,

When the vampires see a teenager coming out of the door, they kinda think "oh shit". An adult is something, but a teenager? It's a big responsibility

Gen Zers are very independent and autonomous so you often tell them not to pamper you nor treat you like a child, you know what you're doing and you can handle your responsibilities

You work hard and you're humble, often saying self deprecating or suicidal jokes, making everyone look at you like 👁👄👁are u ok, but you tell them it's normal and not to pay you any mind

Some of them will just get worried at how much self deprecating humor you use but you just keep using it to confuse them even more lmaoo

You particularly get along with Vincent for his good vibes and his dedication to art. You really love staying there with him and watch him paint, often asking him questions about his technique and stuff

You compare him to Bob Ross and start rambling about him to Vincent, who on the other hand thinks must be a very good man

Mozart would be the second member of the mansion you spend most time with if it wasn't for the fact that he likes being alone and your presence disturbs his work more often than not

Despite this you offer to sing/show him some songs from your time so that he could play them for you and find some inspiration. It's a win-win situation for both, especially since your phone died after 3 days of your stay

This brings you extreme pain. We all know how phones and electronics are a dependance to most of us, but you ask Leonardo and Isaac to help you create a charger and a socket to charge your phone (you'd still be without internet but you could at least show them photos of the 21st century)

You admire Napoleon a lot. He started a mfing revolution for civil rights! How cool is that? Also, rebellion and equality run in your veins, and you find yourself telling him all about the protests in your time

You tell him about suffragettes, stonewall riots, the blm protests, etc. listing all the reasons why they started, how they ended and what they achieved

Napoleon listens carefully, relieved and proud about the fact that there are so many people still fighting for they rights and to achieve freedom

Seeing the fire in your eyes as you talk about it reminds him of his younger self, a feeling of nostalgia accompanying him for as long as you stay and making him act kind of like an older brother

Your strong sense of justice and your fiery personality, make you very "responsive" to Shakespeare's schemes. He wants to start some weird shit? You will flip him over and kick his ass while giving him a 45 lessons long course about ethics. He won't be doing any toxic shit on your watch!

You and arthur communicate through vines. You taught him all the vines you knew and you're extremely proud of this. On the other hand, Arthur is very happy to have another way to confuse and make fun of the other residents

PLEASE make him say "why does somebody not know how to flush the toilet aftah they've had a SHET? DISGUSTANG"

When comte tells you "keep your head high, as all women should" you basically yell "aLL WOMEN ARE QUEENS" and hug him while sobbing, confusing the old man

The amount of chaos you bring into that house eye-

No one is able to get a hold of you and you have a sassy comeback for every joke is thrown your way

Whenever Theo refers to you using a dog analogy you just tell him "someone here is pretty kinky huh? Good job theo, implying these kind of things in front of a child like me~". This statement has both Arthur and Vincent holding Theo back before he does anything out of shame and anger lmao

You aren't the sweet and innocent angel you seem to be, and everyone realizes this pretty soon

Jean almost passes out after he hears you say with all the confidence in the world that God doesn't exist and you definitely wouldn't fear him even if he was up there. The amount of sacrilege things you say hurt his soul

But something that doesn't go unnoticed is that you respect everyone's opinions and ideas even if they are different from your own (unless they go against equality and human rights, in that case you're more than ready to throw hands)

Anyways, random fights and general chaos aside, you also bring a lot of positivity in the house. Everyone's quirks, diversity and positive sides are respected, enhanced and appreciated by you. Everyone's faults are accepted and you help them become the better version of themselves.

Your flexibility, awareness and knowledge on subjects like depression and mental illnesses make you the official therapist for these very sad vampires

The fact you're also very perceptive and don't step any of the residents' boundaries makes you even a better presence! You can kind of figure out what's going on in their minds without making them uncomfortable

When you go back to your time everyone can feel the void you left behind. Days pass by without your laughter echoing through the hallways. Your genuine interest towards everyone's problems now replaced with the hard and cold truth: you weren't there anymore.

But who knows, if they waited long enough, they might meet you again when fate decided to reunite you all

#my writing #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire

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ephemeral-sorrow · 3 years

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The Sweetness of Frenemic Love

Sometimes the strangest thoughts enter my head and make me write something bizarre but really touching at the same time. :D

pairing: Lilly x Male!MC

summary: It`s one step from hatred to love.

warning: a bunch of fluff ;)

Have you ever experienced resentment towards someone you`ve never met in real life?

Felt irritation and anger bubble up inside your head like lava slowly filling the volcano to the brim, almost turning your eyes into two sizzling hot coals?

Lilly had been familiar with these disgusting sensations even before she got to knew MC - the obnoxious stranger Hannah sent her number to and the one who managed to infiltrate their group and spread insurgency among everyone and everything around. Her sister`s disappearance ruined their peaceful lives, putting Lilly and her parents into huge stress, when each day with news even more horrible than on previous one, took away all their hope. So, to conclude it all, a completely unknown weirdo, who gained access to different sorts of information as well as trust of her blindly oblivious friends, now was sticking his nose into other people`s business without pangs of conscience.

The way things were progressing kept Lilly infuriated and incredibly... depressed. She refused to admit that to herself, but she was even angrier because of her own helplessness. She wanted to do something useful and finally get a clue that might come in handy or at least set things up so that the investigation would be faster and more efficient. However, guys from the group already had their own theories, sources and clues, took part in various events and furthermore, acted carelessly, not paying attention to threats. ... They made it clear that Lilly`s advice was pointless, just like her participation.

That`s why the mere thought of some stranger doing more for Hannah than her family made something snap inside, clouding Lilly`s judgement and true character with boundless spite. Not to mention, pure fear engulfed her at the suggestion that MC may be the real culprit, and here, cards played so flawlessly right into his hands...

* * *

Now it was a completely different story, and it was kind of hard to believe that was how she used to think of him only a year ago. A lot happened, making those restless days seem like a distant memory or rather a thrilling movie, characters of which were another people, portrayed in another places and time.

“So, what do you make of my new car?”

Lilly blinked, snapping out of her flooding thoughts and returned her attention to the cup of chocolate icecream with gente, pink frosting before her - and finally, stared at the rest of the group, that made themselves comfortable at the cafe table. Today was the celebration on account of Dan`s grandiose purchase - dashing, brand new Audi A3 model. It costed him a fortune but didn`t lessen his enthusiasm nor pride(having exited the hospital as soon as possible, he spent a great deal of effort in finding a good job AND cutting down on alcohol). As a result, every time he ordered apple juice at the Rainbow cafe he declared: “Cool dudes drink only juice!”.

“Dan, that was the hundredth time you`ve asked this question”, despite the fake bored tone, Cleo wore an amused smile, dropping her usual strictness.

“What can I possibly do when all of you are so short-spoken?” Dan dramatically leaned back on the soft cushion. “I need details. Not talking about this pretty girl is a sacrilege”.

“If she was mine, I`d call her ‘babe’ “, ice cubes softly clincked against the glass, as Richy thoughtfully twisted his cocktail in his hand. “And the quiet purrs of her engine are the same as a hearbeat--”

“Now, now, you`re just being ridiculous!” Hannah`s melodic laugh ringed before drowning in the chatter of the crowded cafe. Lilly`s insides warmed up upon seeing her sister smiling sweetly in the Thomas` embrace. She was safe and sound, cheerful and full of love for the surrounding world. Everything was back to normal and it made Lilly genuinely happy--

She felt hot breath pleasantly tickle her ear before a crisp, familiar voice sensually whispered to her:

“I don`t know about others, but if you asked me, the only ‘babe’ I see is you”.

Lilly couldn`t really help the flush that spread on her neck, so she coughed, pretending to be extremely interested in her icecream, which was already starting to melt.

She casted a quick glance at the man beside her, attempting to look unfazed by his sudden compliment only to be met with his mischievous, affectionate eyes.

“MC, we`re... we`re in public”, she whispered back rather shyly.

“You were kind of dreamy while looking at Thomas and Hannah, so I decided to remind you that you didn`t come here alone”.

“Hmph”, Lilly pouted, fixing the fallen lock of her hair. “as if I need your tasteless remarks to cheer up. You should come up with something more original”.

MC laughed airily, flashing his signature confident smirk. Lilly took a small breath, furrowed her delicate brows and turned away stubbornly, turning a deeper shade of red. She didn`t like her heart clenching bittersweetly at his actions, especially in front of her unsuspecting friends. It was difficult to keep a perfectly composed face.

“I`ll cook you Peking meat by my special receipt tonight”, MC continued as if nothing had happened, absentmindedly observing the lively conversation between Jessy, Dan and Thomas, and how Cleo was showing Hannah something on the phone.

“I’ll take it as an invitation to your house?” Lilly inquired. “Why are you so sure I`m going to accept it?”

“Oh please, sweetie, do you want me to list all reasons in front of so many people?” His expression was calm and serious, but Donfort knew better: he was mercilessly teasing her, not caring about precautions at all.

Lilly hit his leg under the table, earning a triumphant ‘ouch’ in response.

* * *

Later that evening at his place, after having had a fair piece of the most delicious meat she has ever eaten, Lilly was helping MC to wash the dishes, drying the shiny plates with a cloth and placing them into the cupboard. He was mumbling a delightful tune under his breath. She glanced at his features. Somehow simply being with this person made her forget about all troubles. But what about him?

“MC”, Lilly tried to sound not too curious.

“Yes?”

“Why did you choose me of all girls? I mean... I`ve never thought that you might become interested in me after what I did to you a year ago with that video and vote. Like in person, let alone a woman. You`ve been best friends with Jessy from the start, so it would`ve been logical if you two have had a thing”.

“To be honest with you, your brother said the same”, he smiled with the corners of his mouth. “What I found in you”.

“Excuse me, what!?” the girl exploded with outrage, dropping the cloth out of surprise. “Jake, that little jerk!! He`s supposed to back me up in situations like this!”

MC was holding his laughter for his dear life or he would inevitably get a handful but frankly, it was getting harder.

“What did you reply? Come on, I want to know!!” Lilly was worried and frustrated at the same time, looking at him impatiently and expectantly, like a little kid who desired to know their present for birthday.

“You seem so desperate-- HAHAHA, I CAN`T!”

Lilly groaned and threw a sponge at him on full speed, not bothering that it was still wet and full of soap. What was so funny when all she wanted to hear was these important words of confirmation?

MC cleaned his face and came closer.

“I replied that you`re the one who understands me. The one who always makes my day brighter. Also you are kind and candid”, his palm rested against her cheek, tenderly caressing it, as she leaned for his touch.

“I can often be impulsive and sharp”.

“That doesn`t make you worse. You always speak your mind. I think it`s admirable. Not to mention, you are a truly charming and elegant woman”.

She didn`t let MC finish his sentence because their lips collided in a soft, albeit passionate manner. Lilly lived up to her statement - this kiss was spontaneous and full of feeling. She traced his wide shoulders, stopping when her hands found their place in his unruly hair, slightly tugging at it.

They parted once they ran out of air.

“Jake additionally said my romantic confession would lead to this”.

“Ugh, you`re terrible!!”

#duskwood #mc #lilly #lilly x mc #jake #richy #cleo #hannah #thomas #dan #jessy #everbyte #duskwood fanfiction

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justjstuff · 3 years

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Fic DVD Commentary from Sacrilege: “You know, the first time I saw your feet I blushed so hard I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to put some cold water on my cheeks,” she said suddenly. - TO - There was a beat where they just stayed quiet, neither of them knowing what to say after their small confessions and Seth letting his eyes look anywhere but at hers while feeling her gaze heavy on him. (Can't fit the whole passage here, but everything inside of those sentences! It's just under 500 💖)

Hiya, Yossariandawn!! Thanks for the ask, friend <3

“You know, the first time I saw your feet I blushed so hard I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to put some cold water on my cheeks,” she said suddenly.

“What?” Seth turned around so fast he thought he might have pulled a muscle. Kate had sat down on the top step, she was hugging her knees to her chest and looking at him like she deeply regretted saying anything, but she didn’t back down, even when he blinked dumbly at her. - That's Kate for you, a bit impulsive but she isn't one to back down and be meek about anything.

“Not like that, you moron!” she said with a frown, though her cheeks were getting pinker by the second. Seth couldn’t help but laugh as she exclaimed, “Shut up!”

“No, I’m sorry, go on about my feet, sweetheart,” Seth said, stepping closer to her so he could take his beer back. He took a sip and handed the rest of it to her, something unwinding in his chest at the sound of her embarrassed giggles. Kate took a long gulp of the cool beer before letting it drop on the step next to her. - Of course Seth would make fun of her but also feel really good about hearing and making her laugh.

“I just mean that it felt… intimate, I guess.” She shrugged one shoulder, somehow managing to look both shy and confident. “Like I was seeing you be vulnerable or something.” - I didn't know where to put this commentary but I guess here fits xD Honestly, the first sentence came to me suddenly and I pretty much had the same reaction as Seth. I just stopped and: ...what the fuck? xD But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense in my head. There's something about seeing someone's feet for the first time that feels awfully intimate for us westerners, like you're seeing a part of their routine (dressing down) that you wouldn't get to see in public. For Kate especially, I think seeing him barefoot was the moment she truly began seeing him as person and man instead of just, y'know, kidnapper, protector, outsider. She had already seen the armor he put and showed everyone else and had already noticed that he went deeper than that but I wanted that switch to flip in a very specific moment. Not when she saw him taking off his suit or shirt, which could be a very sexual/sensual act, because I think Kate already had him pegged, she knew that tough guy/manly man exterior came with using his looks and sex to his advantage, I don't think that would have surprised her. No, I wanted something simple and innocent to be what changed her view of him, kinda.

Seth propped one leg on the step beneath her, bracing his elbow on the railing so he could lean down closer to her. There was a soft smile on his face that he couldn’t hide no matter how hard he tried and his only consolation was that Kate’s cheeks were darkening still.

“I get it,” he let her off the hook, snorting a bit. “I had that same “oh shit” moment when I walked in on you only wearing a towel a few days in.”

“Don’t be creepy,” she whispered teasingly and Seth rolled his eyes.

“Not like that,” he threw her words back at her, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips briefly. “It’s just that I’ve never realized how… ready you were at all times. It’s like you carried yourself like a goddamn soldier on the battlefield, ready for anything thrown your way, you know? Confident and sure of yourself, always. But that day I caught you off-guard and… I guess I just realized how tiny you looked. Made me think of how much I needed to take care of you, to protect you.” - Ooh, this is a particular take on Kate that I fucking love. Look, yeah she looked super innocent and vulnerable but she wasn't, okay? She always had the right thing to say on the tip of her tongue, she used her looks/sexuality to her advantage (re: she played with Richie when they first met and she knew exactly what she was doing when she told Seth that SM had hit on her after she saw how he punched Chez for her) and she made tough calls, she was ruthless in a way. And I think Seth gravitated towards that. I imagine specially after the Twister, Seth would have been in complete awe at how well she was dealing with things, she was fine in a way that he really wasn't, she kept going, kept having a purpose while he drowned. So yeah, when he caught her off-guard I think it kind of made him snap out of that mentality of "what the fuck is this girl" and made him realize she was just like him, it made him take her out of the sort of pedestal he put her into though I think that process only ended when they were standing before the gates and he let her go. It was a process but I like to think it started with something as simple as catching her off-guard.

There was a beat where they just stayed quiet, neither of them knowing what to say after their small confessions and Seth letting his eyes look anywhere but at hers while feeling her gaze heavy on him. - This probably isn't even worth a comment but I think it speaks of their personalities, Seth avoids stuff while Kate faces them head on.

Thanks again for the ask! If you have any questions let me know!! <3

#ask #answered #sethkate #sacrilege

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the-ineffable-demon-crowley · 4 years

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The Temple

You’re chosen to be an offering to the angel Aziraphale in exchange for a miracle: protecting your village from invaders. As divine intervention (or a rigged coin toss) would have it, Aziraphale ends up travelling to Edinburgh, and asks Crowley to go collect the offering for him. Except Crowley was told it would only be a few baskets of harvest. Not you.

Pairing ↝ Anthony J. Crowley x reader

Genre ↝ Smut, fluff

Length ↝ 7.1k words

Warnings ↝ Probably loads of sacrilege (this is not meant to offend any religion/peoples) - temple sex, religious themes, mentions of blood-drinking, oral (m receiving), fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, general demonic sexy times

“I’m away to Edinburgh tomorrow.” The angel said.

“So very damp.” The demon complained. “I’m meant to be there as well.”

“Well... suppose I’ll see you there, Crowley.”

Crowley turned his head and smiled wickedly at the angel named Aziraphale. Though he tried, the angel did not look as surprised to see that look on the demon’s face as he should have been. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d come to form some sort of an arrangement.

“I’ll flip you for it.” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale paused and looked over both shoulders, hesitatingly so as if he expected God herself to come out and discorporate them both. He then looked at the demon, and nodded subtly. Crowley smiled to himself, and reached in to grab a coin from his pocket. He always kept one in his pocket just for such an occasion - there had been many arrangements over the centuries that required flipping. He could probably count on one hand the amount of times Aziraphale won.

He held it between his fingers, then with a snap, flipped it. The coin hung in mid-air until Aziraphale called it - and he almost always calls ‘heads’. Tails is reserved for you, for obvious reasons, he once explained. The coin fell onto the back of Crowley’s hand with a soft tap, proudly displaying the opposite side. Aziraphale huffed, slightly put off at the typicality of the result as he crossed his arms. He still never questioned the fairness of Crowley’s flips, which he should have, Crowley reasoned, so it was perfectly acceptable that he not broach the subject.

The coin was slipped back into his pocket.

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale conceded, arms dropping to his sides. “I’ll go to Edinburgh. And you stay here where it’s lovely and... warm.” He pouted, but Crowley flashed his signature grin, and Aziraphale knew there was no appealing the demon.

“Bring your wellies, angel.”

“You really are a scoundrel. Now, let me think... Alright, then I shall have to wrap up some things here then, and be out first thing. Oh drat! That reminds me - there’s a small village east of here that pledges some of their harvest to me, be a dear and go pick it up. It’s just a basketful or two of fruits and vegetables. I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Crowley blinked behind his spectacles. “I’m sorry, this lot give you a sacrifice like you’re some sort of ancient deity?”

Aziraphale scoffed in his posh way. “Hardly. I did some petty miracles for them a few decades ago, revived some malnourished crops, and this is their way of thanking me. It’s become a proper tradition.” He smiled, chest puffed out a bit, pleased with the idea. Crowley looked less enthused, tossing his head to the side with something nearing a sneer on his face.

“Won’t they notice we look only slightly different? Y’know, general demonic appearance, and all?”

“No, no, you needn’t be seen. Just go to the temple at dusk, there’ll be nobody in there. Oh, Crowley, you simply must go. They have the most divine pears.”

Crowley barked a laugh at that. “How am I meant to go into a temple? I’ll be tenderized into a pair of boots.”

“It’s less of a temple and more of a ceremonial altar. Really, now you’re just looking for excuses, Crowley. And anyway, you owe me. I’m almost certain you cheated this time.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and miracled himself away after the last word. Crowley noticed how he’d only said ‘this’ coin toss, and he wondered what made Aziraphale suspicious this time. Perhaps he hadn’t put enough oomph into it. Well, it was a small price to pay for not having to ride a horse in Scotland. Picking up a basket of fruits from some temple sounded relatively doable, and he knew Aziraphale would never forgive him if he stood between him and his pears.

Especially pears that he’d eat with crepes.

So Crowley waited until dusk fell, then he sought out the village to the east. It didn’t take long, not for a demon anyway. When he came upon it, the sun was beginning to set and from a tall hill on the town’s perimeter, he watched as the villagers doused candles in their homes. A breeze buffeted Crowley’s loose tunic, the ends of hair not tucked into the bun tickling his shoulders. He trained his eyes on each of the simple yet sturdily built structures within the village until he spotted one in particular. Even from a distance, he could see that the wood and stone used to build it were ornately carved, with a looming arch and small pillars. It positively screamed temple- er, ceremonial building to him, anyway.

As the little village tucked away under the hill prepared for slumber, Crowley set down the hill rather leisurely. He’d miracled himself to appear invisible, his presence marked only by an invisible breeze. What the villagers saw was a bit of a leaf swirling in the wind, when in reality, he traipsed through the town quite comfortably, glancing at each of the homes as he passed.

Though most of the lights had now been doused, Crowley saw that a few people stayed outside, positioned several feet away from each other, at what seemed to be their posts. Weapons glinted menacingly in their hands, axes and knives and bats. They were arming themselves. But against who?

Crowley continued on, idly wondering what sort of miracles Aziraphale had managed for the villagers, and if they had gone sour.

Still, he was only here to pick up some fruit; it was no concern of his. Perhaps he’d mention it to Aziraphale later, if he remembered (though the last time he’d had a mind to remind Aziraphale of something, it had been a few thousand years later and that particular civilization had collapsed). Regardless, he continued on with his stroll through the folksy town square, under the awnings of the shops until he reached the front of the temple (in his mind it was still a temple).

His chin tilted upwards as he surveyed the building, found it rather mediocre as far as temples went, and sighed quietly. Bloody angel. He lifted one hand, and with slender fingers, snapped himself inside. Immediately, he felt the overwhelming solemness settle onto his shoulders, a most unsettling feeling. He shook it off, and looked down to see his feet were still firmly flat on the ground. No burning. The angel was right, it wasn’t concentrated.

“Hm. I would’ve thought he’d be lying if he wasn’t an angel.” Crowley mused to himself. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of red hair back that had fallen out of the bun behind his ear, and stepped deeper into the temple. The building was mostly stone inside, with altars carved into the sides of great boulders worn down and shaped to be suitable to build with.

He walked along the interior, fingers brushing over the cool stone faces of the pillars, mindlessly loitering around, seeing no fruits or vegetables, until he spotted another door. The inner sanctum. Alright, let’s get this over with.

Crowley’s light touch against the wood of the door prompted it to open without a single sound. As he walked in, the entirety of the room was shrouded in shadow, aside from a raised stone platform which was bathed in the light of the moonlight from the skylight above. His steps were slow, the heels of his shoes clicking quietly against the stone floors. His eyes fell upon the bounty; a basket of plump fruits, fresh vegetables, what looked like some baked goods wrapped in cheesecloth, and... a woman.

Crowley blinked behind his black spectacles as the woman raised her head from her position laying on a flat stone surface where the foodstuffs had been placed. She did not seem surprised to see him, which did not necessarily comfort him any.

“Ngk.” Said Crowley.

The stone was cool against your cheek, and your breath was even as it fanned out against the rock beneath you. Your fingertips traced patterns around the small embedded stones mindlessly, shifting only slightly when the hardness of the surface began to stiffen your bones. The moonlight cast pale blue light upon your skin, and black shadows underneath your raised hand. You studied it with pointless scrutiny, anything to keep your mind off the coming dawn. The one you weren’t likely to see.

Truth be told, you weren’t afraid. There were worse things than being offered to an angelic deity as an attempt to beseech him to protect the village from a looming threat. It had to be done. Even from behind thick stone walls, you could hear the clattering of the weapons the able-bodied brandished to protect themselves and their loved ones through the night. The sounds travelled down through the skylight, and you tried to close your ears to it all, humming a soft song to yourself to fill your mind.

You thought you might be nervous, pacing, climbing out of your skin, but nothing suited you more than just laying there in the moonlight. Almost as though you could already feel the angelic presence surrounding you through the moonlight pouring in. Reassuring you that things would be alright. But the moon would also act as a signal. It was said he would appear when the moon was at its peak; directly above the opening of the skylight above you. For now, it simply skirted the edge of it, as though peeking in. Wouldn’t be much longer now, you mused. When you volunteered to be the offering, nobody really argued. You had almost no ties to this village, having been left on the doorstep of this very temple when you were just a baby.

The phrase ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ rang true in your case, and while everybody was kind and generous as you grew up, nobody took the role of family. Everybody already had their own, and you didn’t fit into any of them. Nobody had time to spend on a child that wasn’t blood when survival was on the line. So you wandered around from home to home, perfectly content to spend your days lost in the forests around or holed up in this very temple. How poetic that you were now being offered up in the same place you had been abandoned just two decades ago.

You’d wanted more from life, and this was your way of getting it, no matter how it all ended. But your intentions weren’t all selfish. You still loved the village you grew up in, and you didn’t want to see it burned to the ground by invaders. You couldn’t afford to lose another home, even if you weren’t around to see it saved.

Suddenly, the stillness of the atmosphere was disturbed. A soft clicking sound reverberated in your ears, the unmistakable noise of a leisurely cant. You lifted your head, and found yourself staring at a man.

Who was certainly no angel.

“Ngk.” Was all he said. You blinked as he stepped closer from out of the shadows, clearly very uncertain of your presence. His lithe and lean form was slightly hunched as though in thought, fingers stuck in the pockets of his dark trousers. His black tunic hung loosely from his shoulders, as did the bun on the back of his head, allowing stray locks of fiery hair to come loose. But what was most peculiar was the pair of black spectacles perched atop his nose, hiding his eyes from you. His entire presence was slack, nothing at all like the formality you’d been expecting.

You stared at each another for a silent beat.

“Is that how most angels talk?” You asked, your voice ringing through the stone walls. You hadn’t meant to sound impertinent, only that you were fairly certain no angel looked like this, clad in black like a warrior. He was beautiful like an angel would be, but a different aura seemed to flow from him than piety. Temptation.

“Er, yes. Something like that anyway. And um, you are?” His voice was low, smooth, but decidedly confused. You smirked.

“Y/N.”

“Right, that obviously clears it up.” He responded sardonically. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m here as an offering to the angel Aziraphale. And your name is?” You raised a brow, lifting yourself to a seated position. Your white dress positively glowed under the moonlight, bringing an ethereal aura to you. Crowley blinked at the sight of you behind darkened lenses.

“Aziraphale, of course. Silly girl.” Crowley replied easily, smirking in return.

You scooted to the edge of the raised platform, letting your feet rest on the stone step below, and adjusted your dress to drape nicely over your legs. Glancing at the man with a scoff, a disbelieving smile encroached on your lips. “I think not.”

“And what makes you think to the contrary?” His words were almost purred, the first attack of charms from... whatever he was.

You lifted your hand and gestured vaguely at him. “Just. All of you.”

“You have a way with words, don’t you, love?”

“Well,” You shrugged, absentmindedly touching your hair. It had been done up, but you rolling around on the ground had made it come loose. You touched a few stray strands, unsure what to do with your hands, and dropped your eyes from the man. “I guess I didn’t think being a sacrifice required much articulation. I am, after all, an afterthought to all the pears.”

“Ah yes, those bloody pears.” The bloody pears that had netted him in this situation. And Aziraphale, he’d get an earful. Did he know about this? Was this revenge for the coin toss?

“An angel who curses.” You deadpanned.

“A sacrifice with a lip.” He responded smoothly.

You stood from your place on the stone table, and stepped down from it. He hadn’t moved this entire time, regarding you from a distances with cool indifference. If he was here to eat you, he was taking his sweet time. Perhaps he liked having philosophical, self-scrutinizing discussions about his identity with his prey. Perhaps he just liked being a trickster. You couldn’t read his eyes, and that gave him the advantage. You’d essentially decided that he was here for no good, though for all intents and purposes, you’d obviously never seen an angel before. Who were you to decide what one should look like?

“You’re still keeping up this facade?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m merely here for the food. What you’re doing here remains an utter mystery to me.” Crowley gestured towards the food with his elbow, his fingers still locked in the pockets of his trousers.

You crossed your arms over your chest petulantly. You hadn’t expected any sort of fanfare, but this was getting a little insulting. Wasn’t this meant to be a little bit more... climactic?

“Look, are you going to take me or not?”

Crowley choked on nothing. “Pardon?”

“Take me. As an offering.”

“To what extent exactly?”

You threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “To save my village, you... being! We’re at risk of being raided by another clan, we need nothing short of a miracle!”

Crowley made a noise of understanding. That explained the brandishing of the weapons outside the temple. Apparently the village was looking to tack on another miracle in exchange for the girl. Though what Aziraphale was meant to do with her, he had no idea. “That lot out there, with the angry faces and sharp things.”

You didn’t know if he was mocking you or not, but the longer you stood in front of him, the more you were starting to get a little distracted from the matter at hand. The way he was standing in the moonlight let you look at him more clearly, and it was becoming unsettling just how beautiful he was to you. The fact that you couldn’t read his gaze made him all the more mysterious, the more unknown. And you wanted to know who this man really was.

“What’s your name?” You repeated.

“Crowley.” He purred again, suddenly taking a step forward. Despite your initial confidence, you jumped and nearly tripped over the steps as an attempt to jump back. You’d barely noticed he’d given his real name in that moment. “Well skittish, aren’t you, love?” His long fingers calmly reached for an apple that sat atop the pile. It was a bright gleaming red, though it looked like a pallid pink in the light of the night.

“Not a pear?” You couldn’t help but tease, though your voice shook a bit. Perhaps it wasn’t best to anger him, not until you knew more about him. The closer he was, the more curious you became. His features were sharp up close, but chiseled like a statue. His skin looked smooth, and his hair soft to the touch. You swallowed.

“Oh, apples have been a favourite of mine for a long time.” He grinned like he knew something you didn’t, and took a bite. Gesturing with the pierced fruit at the baskets, he spoke while chewing, “Go on. It is yours, after all.”

You were still sat on the edge of the step on the side of the table, having somewhat collected yourself after falling back. Still, your heart hammered. He was an unpredictable, strange man, and you were alone with him. But.. you were also hungry. Crowley continued to chew, this time pacing a few steps back and forth as he surveyed the temple, as though he’d only come in for a visit. Though it was surely akin to some sort of sacrilege, you leaned forward and plucked a peach from one of the woven baskets. It was soft and ripe in your hands. You took a bite, but your eyes did not leave the curious man.

“So you’re not Aziraphale.” You deduced, sucking the juice from the peach. Crowley swivelled on his heel at your words, the apple now missing several bites from it. He continued gesturing with it as he spoke.

“‘M not. But I do know him. He was indisposed, so here I am.” He sighed quietly. “Dealing with his complications.”

You hooked your arms around your knees, your peach hooked between your thumb and index finger. “You’re also not an angel.”

Crowley shrugged. “Nobody wants a history lesson, love. I fancied a walk, and sauntered vaguely downward one day. It became a whole thing.”

You quirked a brow at that, chewing another bite of the fruit. “A demon then.”

Crowley began slowly pacing towards you, but you forced yourself not to flinch. The longer you spoke, the less afraid you were of him, but that didn’t mean you knew what he was capable of either. “Very good, angel.” He praised in that raspy voice. You felt yourself flush, and hoped the temple was too dark to see. “How d’you feel about that, then? Being in the same temple as a demon?”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words. Truthfully, you hadn’t even considered that.

“Well-”

“And what was Aziraphale meant to do with you, anyways?”

“I-I don’t know. It’s just what’s done, isn’t it? Whatever he saw... fit to do.”

Crowley was silent for a beat, but the smirk on his lips said it all. “And as his stand-in, does that extend to me? Do whatever I see fit?”

You laughed dryly. “Only if you keep up your end of the bargain, demon. And you can’t do miracles.”

“‘Course I can, angel.” He tossed the empty apple core into the air, snapped his fingers, and it disappeared without a trace. Your lips parted in surprise. The peach pit also suddenly disappeared from between your fingers, leaving them empty and sticky from the juices.

“How...” You murmured to yourself, staring at your hand, then stood up triumphantly from the steps. “Wait, you can? Then you can help us!” You picked up your skirts and ran down the steps towards the demon, stopping just a few feet short. It was hard to keep your wits about you, especially when he turned to look at you with thinly veiled curiosity. Even from behind his glasses, you could tell he was as intrigued as you were.

He pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then furrowed his brows. “Why would you want to help a village that’s offered you up so easily?”

“I don’t know, I suppose I still want to do right by them. And anyway, this was my choice.”

“Well, that’s normal.”

You smiled to yourself; he was right. This was not the normal thing a young woman would choose to do, but you were beginning to get the feeling that this was meant to happen. “Will you help us?” Your request was quiet, your voice barely travelling the length of the distance between you.

Crowley didn’t respond for a moment, and he thought hard. Between you and Aziraphale, he’d get an earful if he didn’t do this one favour. Especially if this town’s pear supply was eradicated. Nobody had to know.

“I don’t have to, y’know, ceremoniously drink your blood if I say yes, do I?”

“Well, I’d think you’d know more about the nature of demons than I would, Crowley.” You purred his name back at him, attempting to throw some of his tricks back at him. It seemed to work; he raised his brows playfully.

“Nah. Our lot prefer alcohol, and this being a temple and all, I don’t fancy there being any nearby. Your blood will have to do.” He nodded solemnly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Jokes aside, you paled at his words, which he seemed to find very amusing. “Relax, angel. Not my taste.”

“Will you take the harvest then, in return?”

“I will.”

“And me?” You felt your heart begin to beat faster. “Are you going to kill me? Do you need my s-soul?” Curses, that was difficult to get out. Perhaps this sacrifice business required a little bit more strength than you’d anticipated. When actually faced with the reckoning, you’d begun to falter. You balled your fingers into fists, digging your nails in to keep yourself present. It wouldn’t do to pass out now.

“Is that what you want?”

You didn’t respond. You let out a shaky breath, and released your nails from your skin. Crowley began to slowly walk towards you, just five paces or so, absolutely nothing for his long legs. He towered over you, but his presence was not as intimidating as you’d expected. For all intents and purposes, he’d been respectful of you during all of this. So you weren’t afraid when he raised his hand, and using his index finger, slowly traced it down your cheekbone to your jawline, and along the column of your neck. His touch did not travel any farther down. Your breathing grew shallow, skin burning from where he’d touched it. It was an addictive feeling, and you found yourself already craving more.

“I’m not going to kill you, angel, because that would be a sin at which even hell itself would shudder. I don’t need your soul or your blood.” He spoke lowly, calmly, and all the while you couldn’t think of anything but his hands on you again. To your frustration, his hand fell to his side and did not come near you again. You hung on his every word, entranced in the sound of it, the roughness of it. “Your village will be safe from any attackers. And in payment for this miracle, I just came for the fruit.” His mask fell away, and he grinned again. “Don’t tell anybody, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

He stepped back away from you, and the spell between you was broken. His eyes turned towards the baskets still lining the steps of the ceremonial altar. He stepped around you to assess them, and with three consecutive snaps of his fingers, they disappeared. The stone steps were bare now, except for you, the last of the sacrifices.

“I can’t go back.” You said suddenly. Crowley turned his head to look at you, a confusion etched on his features.

“Are they expecting to find a bloodbath in the morning or something? Blimey.”

“No-” You couldn’t help but laugh a little, though defeat was beginning to seep into your voice. “No, it’s just- I don’t belong there. I never did, and if I go back to the village as the one who escaped the sacrifice, they’ll never accept me. Even if the raiders never attack. They’ll say it was their own doing, warding them off with their men.”

“That’s why you did this whole sacrifice thing then?”

“Yes.” You replied quietly, almost feeling foolish. “I just wanted to experience something new, feel a purpose. Even if it was just for tonight.”

“Right. Of course.” Crowley took his spectacles off, but his eyes were closed and his fingers were rubbing at them. You couldn’t help but peer, trying to see the reason why he wore them even in the darkness. He replaced them before his eyes opened again, but from what you saw, he looked perfectly normal. He let out a short breath, “You’ll have to come with me then, angel.”

“Wh- to hell?”

Crowley snorted. “Not unless you’ve committed some atrocious sins, which I somehow doubt. Anywhere you like. Other side of the world, or across the river. If you can’t stay here, you can choose where you’d like to.”

Relief burst through your heart, though outwardly, you were still coming to grips with his words, standing perfectly still with your mind racing. It all almost seemed too good to be true, and yet you’d be damned - literally - before you let it all slip away. Crowley was standing on the raised part of the stone platform, and you stepped onto it to meet him. He still towered over you, looking devilishly handsome in black.

“That’s two miracles, then.” You looked up at him. He was watching you curiously. Your eyes scanned his face. “The addition of a second miracle requires further payment. Can I give you something?”

Crowley inclined his head in acquiescence. The moonlight drowned both of you in its cold, blue light, yet the demon in front of you still looked warm to the touch. His hair retained its fiery red colour, even tucked back into the loose bun, and his skin was a warm hue. You lifted your hand, fingers mirroring his previously as they traced over his cheek and jawline. It was then that you noticed a small black smudge near his hairline, depicting the symbol of a snake. Your other hand came up to cup his other cheek, at which point you stood on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his.

You felt him kiss you back, you felt it with every fibre of your being as his lips pressed into yours, deepening the kiss. The feeling immediately spread warmth into your chest, but it didn’t last. He broke the kiss, concern adorning his face.

“You’re not indebted to me.”

You smiled. “Not anymore, I’m not. The kiss was your payment. Anything else is because I want to.”

“Anything else?” He repeated in that low tone, and you just knew he was doing it on purpose this time. “Don’t you know it’s bad practice to tempt demons, angel? What am I meant to do?”

“Sin, of course. Silly demon.”

He playfully mocked your teasing smile, which made you laugh. The sound quickly died in your throat as his lips crashed against yours again, this time more fervently. It wasn’t until your own hands, gingerly and hesitantly, touched his sides that his hands came up to rest on your waist. For a demon, he was certainly gentlemanly, you thought dryly.

You became bolder by fisting his tunic in your hands as his kiss deepened, his large hand come up to snake into your hair. Your updo began to fall apart at his touch, though you suspected that was no accident as pins tumbled to the floor. His other hand tightened around your waist, bringing you closer against his lean, hard body. The juxtaposition of his rough tunic and leathery trousers compared to your white, draping gown created a delicious friction, and you wanted nothing more than for him to tear it off. He broke the kiss again, both of his hands slipping along your waist, down to your hips and over your bottom. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, a small gasp from your lips. He brought his mouth to your ear.

“Just remember you asked for it, love.” He growled, then licked a short stripe down the column of your throat, just underneath your ear. You shivered in his arms, nails digging into him. “As long as you want this, you’ll get it.”

“And when will I get it?” You teased, at which point you felt his teeth nip at your neck. You let out a quiet yelp at the feeling of his canines scraping against your skin, and you felt him laugh against the crook of your shoulder. He soothed the sting with a kiss, at which point you heard him murmuring against your neck.

“Are you a virgin, love?”

“No.” You admitted shyly.

Crowley chuckled again. “It’s not a requirement.”

“Now, first things first,” He lifted himself to his full height, and you tipped your chin back to regard him. The moonlight created a soft aura around him, in direct opposition to the wicked way he was looking at you now. You could practically picture him licking his lips. “On your knees. Like a good sacrifice.”

Before taking your position, you reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, unable to stop yourself from tasting his skin. Your eyes fell to his trousers, and you began undoing the corded leather belt that cinched him in. His waist was impossibly slim, and you couldn’t help but see the snakelike resemblance. You could already see he was hard through his trousers, and you teasingly passed your hand over the bulge. He hissed in pleasure, one of his hands coming down to tangle in your hair, now freed from its pinned-up confines. “Don’t tease me, love, or you’ll have a long night ahead of you.”

You chuckled smugly to yourself, and began to kneel down when you felt your legs hit a soft surface. A cushion had appeared on the stone surface, providing a welcome barrier between your skin and the cold floor where your dress would not have sufficed.

“A kind demon.” You mused to yourself, and you felt his grip tighten in your hair impatiently. You smiled, knowing he must not have appreciated that. Finally, you pulled his trousers down, allowing his hard cock to spring free. He was long, but mostly he was thick. You let your hand pump against him a few times, then you proceeded to take him into your mouth.

Crowley groaned above you, fingers scraping deliciously against your hair. You saw that he was trying his best not to thrust into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but internally applaud his self-restraint.. for a demon. You bobbed your mouth up and down, using your hands for the last inch or two you couldn’t fit. He was hard and heavy on your tongue as you swirled it around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum.

“Oh, so good for me, angel.” He said hoarsely.

You placed your hands on his hips, eyes flickering up to his as you sucked on his cock. His praise warmed you, but it was the sensation of being on your knees for a demon that was beginning to make you soaked between your legs. When his eyes met yours, you nodded slightly, and he acted upon the permission you gave fervently. His hips gently thrusted forward against your mouth, causing tears to spring to your eyes almost immediately. You dug your nails into his hips after a few more thrusts, and he pulled himself out of you, your saliva connecting to his still hardened cock.

“There’s a good love,” He praised quietly, and pulled you up from your knees. “But I need you to stop there, if I’m to take you properly.” He spun you around with a flick of his wrist, deft fingers immediately working on the clasps of the dress. You knew he could have just snapped his fingers and it would have disappeared completely, but you weren’t complaining against the feeling of his hands against your skin, caressing as the gown fell to your feet. He slowly turned you back around, hands slipping from your hips to your breasts, which he kneaded gently.

You took the opportunity to tug on the bottom of his tunic, which disappeared in a moment’s notice at your request. His pants followed, leaving you both naked.

“I’d love to taste you, angel.” He murmured as he fell to his knees himself in front of you, and you blushed at how obvious your arousal was. It was not lost on him, either. “-But I can see you’re far too excited for that, hm? Do you think you’re ready to take me, angel?” His fingers slowly made his way between your legs, and with practiced swiftness, one of his fingers slid inside of you. You let out a shuddered gasp, goosebumps breaking out all over your skin.

“Yes, let me take you, Crowley.” You hissed at the feeling of his thumb barely ghosting over your clit, but giving you no relief in your frustration. He was enjoying the power, you saw it in his grin. “God, please.”

A second finger slid inside, and your breath quickened at the feeling. You were positively dripping at this point, your arousal slick against his fingers. Again, his thumb just barely touched your clit before his hand was gone completely, and you were in his arms. Desperate for his touch, you wrapped your legs around his slim waist, and felt yourself being lowered onto a soft sed of blankets. Turning your head to the side, you saw that you were surrounded by a lavish display of feather-filled cushions and blankets, turning the raised stone surface into a temple of hedonism.

Crowley hovered over you, his arms corded with lean muscle on either side of your head. His hair had almost completely come loose from his bun now, so you reached up and tugged the rest of it out, tossing the band aside. His red hair fell to frame his face, creating a hellish aura that seemed far more appropriate for him and his station... and for what he was about to do to you. You reached up, brushing some of his hair away from his face.

“Can you take them off?” You whispered, seeing a tiny version of your face reflected back at you in a fuzzy, distorted image against the black spectacles.

“Not sure you know what you got yourself into, love.” He warned, but raised a hand to take them off all the same. You watched his body shift, appreciating the sinewy way he moved. The spectacles were gone, and you gazed up into his uncovered eyes. They were a little startling, perhaps, but you had assumed he’d look something of the sort. You raised a hand to swipe your thumb underneath his eye, smiling as you looked up at him. His gaze was green-yellow, positively reptilian, but you preferred it to the blackness of the spectacles; at least now you could see the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

You tightened your legs around his hips, and bucked up. The heat boiling in your lower stomach was getting to be too much to handle. Crowley’s face scrunched in a moment of pleasure as you displayed your frustration, and his grin grew.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you? So eager to be sullied by the likes of a demon. Ready for me?” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone, and you nodded, feeling yourself dripping against both your skin and his. He must’ve felt it too, because he didn’t spare another second before sinking fluidly inside of your folds. You shuddered at the feeling, your breathing immediately becoming uneven as his hips, slowy at first, then steadily, built up a pace.

He was thick and hard inside of you, hips rolling against your pubic bone in order to hit that one sensitive spot. You positively keened against him, never having been so full before in your life. Bucking your hips against his, you finally started to feel the friction you had been searching for so desperately this entire time. Crowley’s hips pounded mercilessly against you, skin slapping against yours in the silence of the temple. Only your groans and his panting could be heard, though it was steadily growing louder.

You cried out when you felt his hand snake down between the two of you, and begin to rub against your clit. His thumb pressed down against it harshly, and you squirmed against the overwhelming sensations. All the while, he thrusted in and out of you without breaking his rhythm.

“Crowley!” You sobbed, your own hips unable to keep up. Instead, he pressed you down with one large hand, the other still rolling around your clit. Unable to move, you had no choice but to take his relentless cock.

“Yes, angel.” He hissed, pleased with the way your sensitive body was reacting to him, back arching as you desperately sought your release. Oh, he’d give it to you, alright. “I’m here, and you are mine. Say it.” His hand released your hips and moved to your breasts.

“I’m-” You cried out again as his fingers rolled one of your pebbled nipples.

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” He cursed at the way you clenched around him when he said that. “Liked that, did we? Knowing your release is in my hands? Be a good girl and say it.”

“I’m yours!” You panted between your words, your breaths now laboured as his fingers returned to your clit. The only way you could tell that he was close too was by the way his hips began to stutter against yours, though each of his thrusts remained hard and perfectly calculated to hit your sweet spot every time.

It didn’t take much more - a few more swipes, and the sight of his face, a wicked smile that reached his demonic eyes, to set you off. You bucked your hips against his a few times to ride out your release as it sent sparks up and down your spine, and stars behind your eyes. You tightened your legs around him as he thrusted one, two, three more times inside of you, fingers still swiping at your clit. You squirmed at the overstimulation, fingers digging into his back as he pressed his hips against yours, spilling himself inside of you.

“Fuck, angel!”

You gasped, feeling his hot cum fill you up, and you desperately soaking all of it up. He collapsed beside you moments later, and you felt your arousal mixing with his release all over the inside of your thighs. But you were too exhausted, laying spent on the velvety blankets, to care. A thick fur blanket materialized on top of you, and you happily pulled it over your shoulders. The moon had now passed over the skylight and was no longer visible. Instead, the sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of purple. The thought of morning almost seemed threatening to the little hideaway this had become for the two of you. You smiled as you felt Crowley’s arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. His chin rested on top of your head, and you were certain he could feel your heartbeat hammering away underneath his hands.

“Well, I don’t know what Aziraphale would’ve done with you, but I know it wouldn’t have been that.”

You couldn’t help but a laugh, fighting sleep as it tried to take hold. You wanted to cherish was little time you had left in this temple, silly as it might have seemed. Though you wanted nothing more than to see the world, and hopefully Crowley again, you knew you’d look back at this village and this temple (and especially what happened inside of it) with happiness in the years to come.

“I guess it’s a good thing you showed up instead, hm? Can I call it kismet?”

“If you like.” Crowley’s nose nuzzled against your neck. “Though I prefer ‘divine intervention’.”

“Who, Aziraphale?”

“No, love, a rigged coin-toss.”

You turned your head to face Crowley with a disbelieving smile. “All of this was dependant on a coin toss?”

“A cheated coin toss, you must learn to listen.” Crowley taunted.

“And you didn’t know I’d be here?” You asked, your fingers trailing up and down his arm, the one wrapped around your waist.

“No, I sent him packing to Edinburgh. He asked a favor of me to come here.”

“Hm. So you won the coin toss, yet you did him a favor by coming here... then you did me a favour by promising to save my village, and to take me away from here.” You looked up at him, sparkly-eyed, high on the pleasure still coursing through your blood. Crowley’s gaze narrowed, and you grinned. “Awful nice of you. Did his angelic tendencies rub off on you?”

“I’m not nice!” Crowley grumbled petulantly. “’M a demon.”

“Of course you are.”

“Right then, let’s have that neck. Time for the ceremonial blood-drinking.” Crowley’s hands slithered against your body, and you shrieked at the feeling, squirming between fits of laughter. When his teeth nipped against your skin again, you screamed in mock fear of the villainous demon. Crowley’s mouth against yours muffled the sound, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Meanwhile, down in the village, the moon began to fade, and the sun began peeking out over the horizon. The otherwise dewy and tranquil morning was broken by the sound that of blood-curdling scream, followed by an eerie silence that seemed to settle over the town. All of the villagers looked out from their windows, some stepping outside to see if they could witness anything happening. They all sighed and shook their heads, tutting at what a shame it was for the young woman to be taken so. Yet, as the fear began to shake off of them with every passing moment, a sense of relief spread through the inhabitants. The anxiety was gone. They would be safe now.

And so would you.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens AU #good omens fanfic #good omens smut #Anthony Crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony crowley x reader #anthony j crowley x reader #anthony j crowley x you

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straycat-writes · 4 years

Text

jiāoqiǎnyánshēn // 交浅言深 (fyodor dostoevsky)

jiāoqiǎnyánshēn // 交浅言深 (chinese, v.) - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger

requested by: anonymous

notes: i haven’t had this much fun writing anything in a long while! I hope whoever requested it is still around, and pleeease do tell me what you think!

You look down at the thin file in your hand, a frown lining your face.

Name: Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky

Origins: unknown (presumed Russian)

Age: unknown (presumed early to mid-twenties)

Ability: unknown

“Is that really all we know? His name?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Ango Sakaguchi is leaning against the wall across from you, arms crossed in front of him, “We don’t even have a photograph. He won’t let us take one.”

You look up, “Won’t ‘let’ you?”

He shrugs, “No one wants to take the risk of forcing him.”

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips. Perhaps that is understandable, though, you think. You had heard of what happened when Ango and his team had gone to apprehend him.

He was supposed to be transferred to a maximum-security prison in Europe, especially made to contain dangerous ability users. But before that, the Special Abilities Division wanted to see if they could get anything out of him.

That’s where you came in. Specializing in criminal psychology and one of the best in your field, there had rarely ever been a person who didn’t talk when you asked the questions. And since you owed a favour to Ango, here you were, having abandoned whatever job you had previously been occupied with.

Ango straightens himself and motions for you to follow him. Tucking the practically useless file under your arm, you let him lead you through the level until you arrive at a pair of twin metal doors. He opens one of them, and you follow him inside. There was nothing inside the small room except for the door you just came in from, and a large glass window through one of the walls.

On the other side of that window was Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Your eyes widen. Whatever you had been expecting him to look like, you certainly hadn’t thought it would be this. A tall, emaciated, and sickly pale man with dark eyes and even darker hair. He is sitting with his head bowed, hands bound by metal cuffs fastened to the table in front of him.

Very slowly, he looks up, as if feeling your gaze on him even through the two-way mirror. With eyes that you could have sworn are staring directly at yours, a thin smile stretches its way across his pallid lips. You unconsciously take a step back, trying to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine.

Ango shifts beside you, “Unsettling, isn’t he?”

“That’s…one way to put it.” You murmur. Unsettling, yes, but also so fascinating. “What do you need from him?”

“Anything you can get.”

You sigh, “I’m a psychologist, Ango, not a magician.”

“I know.” He replies, “That’s why I said anything you can get.”

You stare through the window for a few more seconds, before inhaling deeply and leaving the room. The other door you had seen on your way in is quite a bit sturdier than the one you had just left through, and it creaks on its hinges as you push it open.

Fyodor doesn’t move at all, continuing to stare at the two-way mirror that showed him nothing but his own pallid countenance. It’s only when you saunter directly into the centre of his field of vision that his eyes finally flit to you.

You clear your throat discreetly, “Good evening. I’m – “

“The shrink they sent to make me ‘talk’.” He tilts his head slightly to one side and smiles, “Pleasure to meet you.”

His voice is deep, and heavily accented, with a rich but unnerving timbre to it. Up close, you can see his eyes much better, and realize that they are actually of a deep and unnatural shade of violet. It suits him, you find yourself thinking, even if he does look like he hasn’t slept in weeks.

Berating yourself for getting distracted, you flip open the file, “So, Mr. Dostoevsky – “

“Please, devushka.” He interrupts, then smiles, “Call me Fyodor.”

You look up at him, unimpressed, “I’m not here to make friends with you, Dostoevsky. I’m here to gather information.”

He chuckles, “Ah, that’s right. Information. And what exactly do you want from me?”

Ignoring his question, you look back down at the file, “Multiple first degree murders, attempted murders, acts of terrorism, assault….you have a rather impressive portfolio here, no?”

“I’m delighted you think so,” he trills, “But that’s not quite the aesthetic I’m going for, I’m afraid. It’s a little too, well, beneath me.”

“You strap bombs to children and use them to manipulate people far better than you, and then have the nerve to say it’s ‘beneath you’?”

“Am I supposed to feel bad about that?”

Your gaze snaps back to him sharply, and you try not to get too angry, “You know what? Let’s begin with that. Why did – “

“Let’s make a deal, devushka.” He interrupts you yet again, leaning slightly forward, his shoulder length hair slightly obscuring his face, “A game of sorts, if you will. I will answer one question of yours, and in return, you’ll answer one of mine.”

“You’re in no position to make any demands from me.”

“I know.” He says simply, “But if you’re really as good as they say you are, you’ll humour me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, his confident tone never faltering for a minute. “…Fine. You’ll answer first. How long have you been in Yokohama?”

“A month, give or take. What did they tell you about me?”

“Enough. Who are your collaborators?”

“I don’t have any collaborators. Only accessories.” The handcuffs jingle as he leans back languidly in his chair, “What is your name?”

You pause. “That’s…none of your business.”

“Come on, milaya.” He smiles in amusement, “You already know my name, it’s only fair I know yours.”

You frown at the overly intimate nickname. He just blinks slowly, long lashes shadowing the tired violet hues that never seem to leave yours. You swallow, “It’s…it’s (y/n).”

The way his face brightens, confident and victorious, makes you want to berate yourself for giving in. He’s sitting in a chair handcuffed to the damn table, you’re supposed to have the upper hand in this conversation!

“Lovely name, indeed.” He murmurs. “Tell me something, (y/n). Do you think there is a god above?”

What?

“I…I don’t know.” You say, after some thought, “It’s my turn. What is your ability?”

“I do believe there is a god.” He says, completely ignoring your question, “But he’s tired. Tired of caring about this sin of ability users that is devouring the world.”

“Answer the fucking question.”

He tilts his head, “All abilities are born of sin. Does it really matter what mine is?”

“You used it to murder dozens of people in cold blood.” You state coldly, “So, I’d say yes.”

“Fair enough.” He says with a chuckle, then leans slightly forward, “But tell me this, was it really murder if I only freed them from a cruel existence?”

Your psychologist brain went into overdrive. That single sentence reeked of delusion and a hundred unresolved issues, and even through your professional excitement, you were getting kind of scared, “…What?”

“It’s a rotten world, devushka.” He states matter-of-factly, “It’s better to die than to live amongst this steaming pile of filthy sin called humanity.”

You look at his sickly pale countenance in mute wonder. He really is beyond fascinating, a corrupted enigma, and there’s nothing you want more than to stay and unravel him painstakingly slowly, layer by layer. Unfortunately, you have a job to do.

“That’s really not true, you know.”

“Oh? You don’t think the world is full of sin?”

You shake your head, and he laughs.

“Tell me about yourself, then. Have you never committed a single despicable act in your life?”

The question takes you by surprise, and you find yourself at a loss for words. His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second, making a chill run down your spine, and you unconsciously lean back a little, “I…that’s not – “

“Are you really telling me you have never hurt anyone? Never acted cruelly or callously? Never stepped on anyone weaker than you to get where you are? Are you really telling me your soul is completely free of any blackness?”

For every inch you leaned back, he leaned forward, until you were staring at him with wide eyes, and heart hammering in your chest.

“Ah. So, I am right.” He smirks once he sees the look in your eyes, “You are just as tainted as the rest of them. What was it? Did you tell some heinous lie? Did you destroy someone? Did you kill someone?”

“I – I didn’t – “

He’s right, he’s right, you did lie and ruin and destroy and kill –

“Tell me what you did, milaya.”

Your breath is coming out short bursts now. “Nothing! I didn’t do an – “

He’s right, he’s right and you know it. There’s no sin you haven’t committed, no sacrilege you’re not guilty of. There’s no forgiveness for you.

“That’s not true! Stop it!” you cry, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He looks at you something almost akin to sympathy in his eyes, “Fragile little humans. You’re all the same. Covered in sin from head to toe and yet pretending you’re holy.”

“Stop it, please!”

You try to push yourself away from the table, but he grips your shaking hands with his cuffed ones and pulls you back forward. His hands feel icy cold on yours. He takes one look at your wide eyes and trembling lips and laughs.

Just the sound of it makes every single drop of blood freeze in your veins.

Evil, cruel, sinner, with your tainted, misshapen, and blackened soul, forever damned to hell. He’ s right, he’srighthesright -

“Sin, my love...lives in your very veins.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream just as the door is kicked open, several armed people rushing in at once.

“That’s enough! Restrain him!” you hear someone yell and immediately, Fyodor is ripped from his chair and away from you. They push him forward roughly onto the table, releasing his hands from the attached cuffs and binding them behind his back instead.

Your hands still feel cold where he had gripped them, and you can’t bring yourself to move.

“Get him out of here, now!” You hear the voice yell again, and think that it might be Ango, but you’re not sure.

You’re not sure of anything anymore.

Fyodor smirks at you one last time as they drag him away, a look of utmost satisfaction on his face, as if he had just won some unspoken competition between the two of you. Perhaps he had.

Someone puts a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. Maybe someone is even saying something to you, but it doesn’t really reach you. Your vision is glitching in and out of focus, and your head is filled with static and screaming.

You stare straight ahead at the wall, your gaze dazed, blank, and empty. A lone tear slips down your cheek.

Sin, my love...lives in your very veins.

#fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #one shot #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #imagines #fanfiction #straycat's 1k follower celebration

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Text

Bruised (1/?)

For @batboycentral <3

Whumptober day 10

Internal Bleeding

Ao3

Warnings: blood, nosebleeds, illness

-o-o-o-o-

The first time he noticed it, he didn't actually notice it. Like, bruises were common in Tim's line of work. Sometimes, he'd wake up in the morning with enough purple splotches to almost look like he was trying out Cheetah cosplay. Not remembering where a bruise came from was just as frequent. When you went out close to every night to fight common street crime you're going to get hit very often. So often, that really, it would be impossible to remember where you've gotten every single bruise, cut, and ache.

Tim waking up this morning to see his legs had large, dark bruises polka-dotting his pale skin was nothing out of the ordinary.

He just looked at them, shrugged and wondered if he got that bruise sparring with Kon or if it was from stumbling on one of his lands last night while swinging roof to roof.

Then he continued with the rest of his day, not even thinking about them. They were just bruises, what was the point of wasting brain power thinking about them?

The second time he noticed it, he still didn't actually connect the dots. The only difference this time was that there were bruises on his arms as well.

"That looks painful," Bart pointed out, literally and figuratively as Tim made himself breakfast that morning. He had to practically dance out of the way from having the bruise on the outside of his bicep poked.

"It's just a bruise," Tim said, retreating from the Tower's kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal clutched in his hands. "People get them all the time."

Bart hummed and followed Tim to the table with a spark in his eyes that Tim didn't like. He'd have dodging practice early today, he guessed.

Bart sat down next to Tim, kicking his legs under the table. "I don't get bruises like that. It's big"

"Because you're superhuman with a heightened healing factor," Tim deadpanned before stuffing his mouth full of captain crunch.

"Oh yeah, I forget that sometimes."

“How do you just forget you have superpowers?!”

The third time he noticed it was when he actually began to wonder about it. For the past three days, he'd been covered in bruises. On his sides, limbs, even a persistent one on his cheek. And yes, he was used to being covered in bruises, but the bruises were starting to look strange, covered with little red dots that gave him the impression of acne hanging out right below the layers of his skin on his legs and arms. And it felt like he was getting bruised for every little thing. Cassie playfully punched his arm a little while earlier and he soon found himself scowling in the mirror, poking the dark stain of skin. Cassie punched hard, sure, but she knew her strength. Even when she was roughhousing, she knew how to make it so no one got hurt.

And then, there was the fact that he woke up this time with bruises once again, but he hadn't gone out the night before. He stayed in to hack into the mainframes of various potentially corrupt companies of Jump City and their neighboring city of San Francisco that they occasionally patrol from time to time. He didn't do anything last night to warrant bruises.

The third time he noticed it, he was more careful with it, because Tim wasn't dumb. He wasn't oblivious to his own body. His spleen was missing for crying out loud! That could change things about his health and how he pursued both his everyday life and his night life. Common illnesses could be deadly. His body just didn't function the way it used to.

But now, it wasn't just the bruises. It was also the new episodes of lightheadedness and weakness that he just… couldn't explain. He slept. Not a full 8 or even 7 hours of sleep every night but he still slept . He ate food. Good food, especially for dinner. Meats, vegetables, the whole shebang. It was impressive, actually, how well everyone at the Teen Titan's Tower ate, especially for being a bunch of, well, teenagers .

He shouldn't be that tired. Standing up shouldn't be a chore like it was beginning to become.

And the others were noticing as well, which only served to worry Tim more about his own health.

"Woah, you good?" Kon asked, grabbing Tim by the shoulders as he stumbled up from the couch and almost fell immediately backwards.

Tim slapped his hands off, even though normally he always welcomed the company of Kon, but he was close to panicking. Something was wrong, and he was afraid to figure out what. "I'm fine," he replied, trying to keep a fearful snap out of his voice. Judging by the way Kon scowled, Tim wasn't to be believed. "I'm just… tired."

"Tired"?" Bart asked, zipping up from the couch and ending up right in front of Tim in the blink of an eye. Bart was scowling, looking up at Tim with narrowed eyes. "Tim Drake? Tired? I don't believe it."

"No, Tim's always tired," Cassie put in, her voice carefully level to the point Tim almost winced. "Tim admitting to being tired? Feels almost like sacrilege."

Bart nodded, like that was what he was thinking the entire time and Tim had to swallow down a deep sigh. He sniffed and stepped away from the others, folding his arms across his chest. "I think I'm just coming down with something." Oh no, Kon's frowning. Tim quickly continued, sniffing again. Maybe. It's not a big deal. I'm just a little more tired than usual-" Tim sniffs once more as something wet begins to slide down the inside of his nostrils. Great. A runny nose? He reached the back of his hand up to his nose and wiped. "And feeling a little weak. But that's it. Just…"

All three of them were staring at him oddly now. He frowned.

"What?"

"Tim…" Cassie started, "your nose is bleeding."

"What?!"

Tim looked down at the hand he had used to wipe under his nose, and to his shock he saw a thin streak of red trailing down over his thumb joint, parallel to his pointer finger. Right next to one of his strange bruises.

He reached up to his nose, wiping once more. His eyes widened when his hand came away with more blood. He sniffed again, only this time he brought his hand back up to his nose and kept it there. "I'm gonna... um…"

"Go," Kon said, "we'll talk after."

Tim nodded, knowing there was no way his friends would let him off the hook now that he admitted to not feeling the greatest. He quickly rushed past them—sniffing and sorely hoping no blood would drop down onto his shirt and stain it—and eventually found himself inside one of the many bathrooms built into the Tower. Using his free hand, he grabbed a tissue and painstakingly folded it up a few times. He leaned over the sink as he finally let the hand cupping his nose fall away, and instantaneously a few drops fell into the sinks porcelain. He swiftly pressed the tissue over his nose and turned on the water to wash his now blood streaked hand. The water ran crimson to pink and back to clear. He turned off the water and carefully closed the toilet seat lid to sit down on the shaggy purple cover. He kept the napkin pressed tightly over his nose and leaned back against the wall, breathing through his mouth and fighting the dizzy feeling settling in his brain and on his chest.

He could taste blood in his mouth. He hoped it was because the blood was dripping the wrong way down into his throat and not because of alternate reasons. He could see the dots. He didn't want to connect them. Not yet. He just had to wait for his bleeding nose to stop. Then he could start sorting out the symptoms.

Unconsciously, he brought his free hand to his side, under his armpit and above his stomach, then ran his fingers over the scar placed there under his cotton tee-shirt.

Please don't be related. Please oh please don't be related.

He exhaled, swallowing blood, and dragged his hand away to pull out his phone. He ignored the Google app and instead began to distract himself by checking the notifications on every other app he owned. Tumblr, Discord, Instagram, all of them. Every so often, he'd pull the napkin away from his nose just to immediately put it back when blood attempted to drip down. Eventually, he ran out of apps to laze through and opened his Email, however he immediately gained a headache when he saw most of them belonged to Wayne Enterprises.

After quickly changing the napkin for a new one once his fingertips began to feel wet, he opened the Play Store and downloaded the first mindless game he could tap on.

He was in the middle of figuring out where the sevens could go in his solitaire game when a knock on the door caught his attention. He lowered his phone and turned towards the door. "Yeah?" He yelled, his voice nasally thanks to the tissue still squeezing his nostrils shut.

"You good?"

Kon's voice. He sounded concerned.

"Um, yeah?"

A beat of silence. Then a clearing of a throat. "You're still bleeding?"

Tim almost hummed, but that would shoot gore out of his nose. So he clicked his tongue instead. "Yeah. A- a little."

More silence. "Do… do noses usually bleed this long?"

And not for the first time does Tim regret making friends with mostly superheroes who are, in fact, super. With their indestructible skin, healing factors, and amazing feats of strength, it was sometimes hard for them to comprehend how plain old humans with no abilities acted in certain situations. What plain old humans with no abilities needed to keep physically healthy. He loved his friends, no doubt about it, but questions like do noses bleed for this long gets his head spinning with the realization that this was his life.

Tim tucked his phone away in his pocket. "Um, depends. Really."

He should open the door. Talk to Kon face to face. He sounded genuinely hung up on Tim's health. Talking directly with each other should help calm Kon down at least. He put his hand on the counter next to him and used it to lift himself up.

Once his butt left the toilet seat, he knew he had just made a mistake. The world swirled and his head suddenly began to pound. He wasn't sure if he blinked, or even blacked out, but he did know that one moment he was halfway to sitting and the next he was on the ground with his legs crumbled beneath him, blinking cobwebs from his dizzied brain as the door suddenly slammed open.

And that was another thing about being a part of both a team and a friend group of supers. They sometimes underestimated how much a plain old human with no abilities could take. Though this time, Tim was pretty sure the worry on Connors face was for good reason. Those poor door hinges though… they’d need replacing...

There was a warm, copper tasting liquid dripping down over his lips and off his chin. During the confusion, his hand holding the napkin had ended up limp by his side, his body having forgotten to hold it over his nose while he blanked out and fell. At the back of his far away head, he knew that the amount of blood dripping from his nose, especially considering how long he's sat here with his fingers pinching it shut, was way more than what should be normal.

It took a tremendous amount of energy to lift his eyes up to Kon, who at this point had ended up in front of Tim, kneeling with hands lifted and eyes wide.

"Are you okay?" Kon was asking. His voice teetered the line of hysterics.

Tim brought his hand up to his face and tried to wipe away the blood to open his mouth, but all he did was smear the liquid over his hands and face. His heart pounded as he leveled his gaze into Kon's eyes. He thought of the bruises, and rash like dots on his arms and legs. He thought of his spleen, of the lack of it. He thought about his compromised immune system. He thought about the dizzy spells. The weakness. He thought about how his nose should have stopped bleeding by now.

"I think… I think I need a hospital.

-o-o-o-o-

End of chapter one. More will update after whumptober is finished. Please do not ask to be put on a tag list.

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missrkl · 3 years

Text

The Temple Chapter Eight

The Dilemma

Rachel loved taking long walks. She was a hiker. She could hike all by herself and feel supremely happy and calm. Rachel always processed her thoughts better when she walked. Today she was walking in Chiltern Hills. Rachel loved more than anything was beautiful scenery, especially that of nature. She loved the greenery and wild animals she would find along the way. Rachel found solace in nature, it was like Adon’s massive playground He made just for her. As Rachel walked around the greenery Rachel felt the breeze swoosh around her. How she loved that feeling of the open air, the breeze on her face, the earth beneath her feet. Rachel always felt energised and full of life when hiking. She could be alone and not feel alone there. The worst thing to have in one of these hiking trips would be to be with somebody who could chat none-stop. Like Pin, one of the members of The Temple. Pin was an older woman also part of The Voiceless bordering on being a Dazzler because she was friends with everybody. At first you would think she was a sweet woman, like a sweet auntie, but in fact she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a sniper in the dark, a weapon of mass destruction, a ticking time bomb. Pin had a way of getting people in The Temple to trust her, tell her all their problems and secret issues, then she would blab about all they shared to the whole world! She would even stalk people and come to conclusions about people that weren’t quite right based on her findings. She would act all innocent and act like she didn’t know what she was doing, but she knew perfectly well exactly what she was doing. Rachel knew all of this and she hated HATED how Pin was so friendly with everyone, taking many selfies with everyone and being their friend and everyone loving her, not realising the damage she was doing to their lives. Like an adulterous woman she would bring you to your grave. Rachel HATED how all these people were being ‘fooled’ by her and her non-stop talking mouth. She knew everything about everything and everyone about everyone. All their intricate details of life, what everyone really thought of everyone and how everyone really felt. Rachel had made the mistake a dozen times of trusting her and being with her and giving her time and space, only to find herself feeling sad, emotional, upset, confused, and flabbergasted after. Rachel HATED how Pin treated the people in The Temple. Even though they treated her like rubbish, Rachel cared deeply about them and only wanted the best for them and to see this woman secretly destroying their lives and then pretending to be their friend angered her to her very core. She didn’t know what to do about that, she didn’t know how to handle that. What could she possibly do? How could she prove any of it? If she had a way of proving all of this she would, despite everyone feeling hurt by this, at least the truth would be out and they would be safe. Instead, every time Pin wanted to chat to Rachel, she would lose two hours of her life listening to Temple Gossip and because this woman was her ‘elder’ she couldn’t say anything because it would be disrespectful, rude and dishonourable. She couldn’t do it, it just wasn’t the cultural thing to do. Rachel sighed as she thought of her dilemma as she stood in the middle of beautiful greenery scenery. If she confronted Pin then they would all side with her because they didn’t know the truth. Pin could easily destroy your life with her gossip and slander, which shouldn’t be happening in The Temple anyways, it was forbidden by Adon Himself, yet The Temple always seemed to find a way to shirk their way out of this one.

Rachel remembered Kai warning her about Pin, he had said some things about her, that she wasn’t safe, she wasn’t a good friend, she wasn’t a true friend and to be careful because she could ruin your life. Rachel knew why. Pin had destroyed and meddled in Kai’s life. She had stalked him and some of his old relationships, the females she stalked even. Coming to her own weird conclusions about their relationships she would tell them things about each other to the point that everyone else found out about those things as well and it made for everybody’s business. The leaders of The Temple wasn’t happy with this either, they didn’t trust her, but what could they do? She was an older woman, in her 60s and they had to respect the elderly, they couldn’t possibly punish someone like that. Yet they could punish rachel because she was young, in her 30s. Rachel did not agree with that. Rachel watched some sheep grazing and prayed silently to Adon about it. She really didn’t know what to do, the only thing she could do was turn to Adon for His Wisdom. She couldn’t do this alone. If she ended their friendship and if she spoke out about her concerns then there would be a fight, especially amongst The Voiceless because that’s where Pin came from. She had made her way into The Dazzlers because she had become friends with Kai. Despite the leaders knowing all about Pin they were reluctant to throw her out of The Temple because of her age. Rachel really wished she could rat her out, she was betraying everyone’s trust in there. She was naming and shaming everybody, ruining friendships. She was a disaster on legs and she knew it. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, a disguise well fitting for someone so dark of origin.

Rachel remembered Adon’s words in his Holy Book when He said As it is written:

Matthew 7:21-23

Easy-to-Read Version

21 “Not everyone who calls me Lord will enter God’s kingdom. The only people who will enter are those who do what my Father in heaven wants. 22 On that last Day many will call me Lord. They will say, ‘Lord, Lord, by the power of your name we spoke for God. And by your name we forced out demons and did many miracles.’ 23 Then I will tell those people clearly, ‘Get away from me, you people who do wrong. I never knew you.’

Pin was a person who DELIBERATELY did wrong. She knew exactly what she was doing. She PLANNED her methods of attack and always saw it through. Her INTENTIONS were evil and her heart was hard. She had no compassion, no care at all. If there was a group for people like her in The Temple, Rachel would call them The Heartless because heartless she was. She used everything and everyone to her gain and to her advantage. She didn’t talk to you unless you had something she wanted. Rachel always had to work extra hard to keep her mouth shut because every time she wanted to say something, to reveal this enemy in their midst Rachel remembered Adon’s words of warning to her “Most important of all, continue to show deep love for each other, for love covers a multitude of sins.”

‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭4:8‬ ‭NLT‬‬ so Rachel would keep her mouth shut to cover her multitude of sins. Yet when Rachel felt confident in this word Rachel would remember Windsock and one of his many training sessions. Windsock had said there was a difference between a ‘peace keeper’ and a ‘peace maker.’ A peace keeper was someone who would stay silent just to keep the peace and yet everyone would suffer sacrilege. A peace maker was someone who confronted evil with truth but then once you worked out the issue that would make peace between you and everyone else involved. You never turn a blind eye to a wrong being done. That is not keeping the peace. So Rachel kept quiet, for now, because she just didn’t know what to do. In this she was lost, in this she felt challenged, in this she needed discernment, more time in Adon’s presence, Elysium and listening to Adon. Like Exodus 23: 1 says in Adon’s Holy Book “Do not spread false reports. Do not help a guilty person by being a malicious witness.”

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vellikvr · 3 years

Text

◇ Sempiternel Longing

Fallen Angel!Jimin x Human!Yoongi

Dynamic: Minyoon (slight sub yoongi)

Troubled college boy, Yoongi, finds a way to contact demons. In a deeply numb state of personal adversity, he conjures a fallen angel of surpassing beauty and mind. He supposes that the best time to feel will have to be in the hands of a tender, yet intimidating, black-winged immortal.

cw // implied existential crisis, implied homophobia, sexual innuendos, implied sacrilege (?), derogatories

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

[Part One]

“so, am I supposed to arrange some agreement?” Yoongi questions, watching the conjured immortal step around his cluttered, dark room. The space is now drenched in some sulfuric, deathly odor that makes Yoongi shiver in temporary unease.

“An agreement was already made, Yoongi,” the sultrious voice of the demoniacal echoes throughout the room. The creature leans against the wall, exposing the white collarbone. “You slit your skin to sacrifice a drop of blood. You’ve relinquished the privacy of your soul to me, and I’m now under a spiritual bond with you.”

He’s only become familiar with the practice only hours ago. He was given a ritualistic seance regarding demonic conjuring from one of his delinquent friends. The friend is a quiet consumer of the dark web markets, therefore such information could be accessed. Yoongi, overtaken by some flattened rationality, was sceptical and decided to take manners in his own hands. Guess his friend found the ritual by quite a reliable source.

“Were you in any way prepared?” the moral-torn angel chuckles menacingly.

“I wasn’t,” Yoongi admits.

“You didn’t have to say so, I could already tell.”

“Well then,” Yoongi decides to accept his fate, plopping his exhausted self on the bed. “What’s there to do with you?”

“I can only torture you, people get depleted of their sanity when around me.”

“Aren’t I already tortured in life? I’m sure you have some telepathy quirk so you must’ve figured my perspective,” He curls into his frail body, looking down at the raw, narrow gash through his pale skin. He pads it experimentally.

“I have a few quirks.”

“Mmh. spite me, then.”

The man makes his way, with subtle entitlement, to Yoongi. Yoongi had to sit up since a climbing adrenaline shakes his entire body alive. The satanic creature carries a corrupted smirk, “I’m a fallen angel— a diabolic immortal that broke all unspoken laws under my former holy God, and has been expelled from the righteous place. The seven deadly sins poisoned my once saintly blood until it became a murky black, swallowing any righteous light—

“I am a creature that can give you the unpleasantly pleasant experience of every single sin,” His unrepentant eyes are drowned in a gruesome liquid charcoal like it was made to pollute what it gazes upon. Yoongi’s reflection is all it defines, at this very moment. “I can give you hell, but like falling victim to temptation, it’ll feel temporarily heavenly.”

Yoongi can’t help but wonder all the ways sin can appear. For this demon, it’s exhibited in the black leather attire that exposes the erotically sharp collarbone, the plump lips that curl into a defiled leer, the feline eyes that only radiate crooked temptation. He is—truly—the embodiment of sin in Yoongi’s eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Jimin,” he chuckles. “That’s all you wonder about me?”

“I really don’t care,” Yoongi lays back down and appears content rather than terrified. “I’m an individual of no morals, I’m an atheist as well.”

“Well that honors you dignity,” sarcasm drips from the demon's lips.

“It doesn’t, I’m slowly rotting in this empty place. Might as well have an audience. or someone to bring an artificial heaven to me.”

“What’s brought you to this resolution?”

Yoongi spreads his legs to stretch, and almost in a vulgar impression. “I’m a sinner, as well, I’ve fallen hopelessly victim to the lustful temptations of sex”

“Sex is natural, mere human,” Jimin scoffs.

“But I’ve let people in my bed, and I only experience the raw complications of my attraction. I draw to lust and cravings, but let there be guilt and sorrow that comes after…for I’ve let men touch me, and I’ve let them fuck me into a black desolation. It’s so good that blinking stars capture my vision for an amount of pleasurable time after I release,” Yoongi tilts his head back, showing the expanse of his neck. Jimin’s eyes draw forward at the other’s lovely facade. “I’m intoxicated by the masculine hands of a stranger, forcing me down and making me beg until depraved tears fall.

“My room still echoes reminiscent moans and cries,” Yoongi smirks. “It defines me, yet it draws me to a complicated blur, I’m guilty but will never beg forgiveness or break such a habit. It’s an addiction to feel. I might as well experience sin until my body numbs, since I don’t deserve remission under your former God,” Yoongi rubs his hands with an empty stare towards Jimin’s frown.

“You’re so depressing.”

“Thanks.”

“Heaven would spit at you,” Jimin chuckles darkly.

“I already figured, though I have no intention of crossing their gates.”

“Unfortunate how your words spite your own emotions. Men are a true gift to the world, I can admit.”

Yoongi closes his thighs together, thinking about being happily destroyed by a stranger for another night.

“They are,” he nearly moans. Jimin gets taken back by Yoongi’s transparency. He looks deliciously vulnerable to him, sprawled on his bed arching his back. No problem with the scarce protection of himself nor the diminishing sanity when sin chains him tightly. He’s a human with nothing left to drag him forward.

“My sad baby,” Jimin sweet talks. “It’s okay to be attracted to men. Men have a delectable body, personally speaking.”

“That speaks volume coming from you.”

“Fair enough, but when I tell you that it’s lovely to feel a man, I’m serious.”

Moonlight spills through the blinds, light stripes paint Yoongi’s button up shirt, but it also exposes the drained but lewd eyes of the human.

“‘Lovely’— not something I could describe really anything in my life.”

“Elaborate,” Jimin occupies his focus to Yoongi’s plants; they’re fairly well-maintained.

“Love is nothing but mere false hope,” Yoongi mumbles. “False hope that life is worth it when you fall into an intimate connection with another person. I’ve never experienced love, as you may tell by my pessimistic aspect.”

“Love and affection is life’s gratification for a mortal’s will to exist.”

“A luxury, that is,” Yoongi eyes the deathly figure sitting on the bed. The mattress dips, therefore solidifying the fact that he exists and not just a fantasy in Yoongi’s head. Jimin is incredibly attractive for a hell-bound demoniacal, it gives Yoongi an excuse for this growing desire in his chest.

“I’m deprived of love,” he finishes, trying to find that singular cue from the creature. He suddenly urges his legs together again to relieve some tension.

Jimin crawls toward the other with lidded eyes, giving an improper appearance of something vulgar but intentive, throwing Yoongi off. The innocently feline eyes barely masquerade the coarsely salacious manners that inhabit the male like an inner, quiet flame. The leather garment on his upper body drapes low to reveal a rugged chest.

“My Yoongi is lonely?” Jimin mutters under his rough throat, it voices a ripple effect in Yoongi’s veins.

Jimin couldn’t be any more attentive to Yoongi than now. The human looks like a doll in his loose wear, it reveals soft milky skin, and he’s now trembling as Jimin inches closer. Confidence seems like a false hope as much as Yoongi’s perception of love.

“I can give you love.”

Air thickens, Yoongi could barely catch a breath of obstinance in his attempted repression towards the demon. He instead feels an urge to yield to the other; he wants to experience yielding to Jimin’s seductive eyes—which is giving Yoongi whiplash. He gulps hard, swallowing really nothing.

“Yoongi looks troubled.”

“Don’t act innocent, your innocence is of mere blasphemy.” Yoongi spits, leaning back as Jimin proceeds toward him.

“‘Course you say that, and you’re right—I’m nothing innocent, but a dirty tease. I can play my way into one’s heart, and leave them crying for repentance.”

Yoongi feels so enthralled in Jimin’s attitude that rationality hits against his own temptations. Half of his thoughts are at conflict with the other.

“But you’re a little different. I play with pure souls like a game. You’re broken beyond repair. Nothing I can do but make you forget the pain.

“Plus, personally, I do find you so attractive, that it's boggling to hear you are neglected of affection,” Jimin quickly adds, sounding rather informal.

“Then do it,” Yoongi blurts.

“Do what,” Jimin smirks, knowing exactly what Yoongi demands. His claws reach out to curl Yoongi’s hair behind his ear, then strokes his cheek very lightly. The sharp claws grazing his skin sends a daring chill down his spine. He forces his eyes shut before they give away the temptations before he speaks them.

“Make me forget. I might as well experience the pleasures before I numb my way towards the end.”

“My human seems quite needy?” Jimin pursues, combing Yoongi’s hair back and lightly pushing him flat on the mattress. A huff of the human’s breath is heard clearly through the pointy ears of the demon.

“I am, should I remind you of why I never repent?” Yoongi inhales sharply when the body climbs on top of him, one thigh forcing itself between his own. Heaven won’t ever forgive him now.

“Nope, it still rings in my mind,” Jimin leers, leaning down to gently peck Yoongi’s cheek before padding the ear lobe. “Proud sinners arouse me, especially those that don’t believe in such things like demons. You must be terrified.”

Yoongi exhales a soft moan, hiking his hips up to join his crotch with Jimin’s own, but it was solely to feel the friction made from Jimin’s bulging thighs. “The—there’s no use to be terrified when we are living in a world of theory and approximation. Theory is just a falsification to maintain our sanity as people. Hell, we are just trying to be humans everyday despite an inescapable death approaching with no true, palpable understanding of its substance. I tried to believe that I was gonna reincarnate as a stray cat, but that’s just a distortion to comfort myself.”

“What’s your point now?” Jimin’s sharp index finger presses a slight indent on Yoongi’s bottom lip, dragging it down until it pops back up to its place.

“I don’t care anymore,” Yoongi mutters. “I have accepted that we just don’t know. I’m not even gonna be terrified of the inevitable truths. I’d rather not accept lies. So you shouldn’t be a thing that defies logic, cause we have no absolute logic.”

“I’ll make you afraid,” Jimin smiles tenderly but it barely disguises the wicked charm that’s magnetizing.

Yoongi huffs, finally sharing a smile of enticement. What’s there to lose?

“Make me terrified, demon.”

#minyoon #minyoon au #yoonmin #yoonmin au #jimin #yoongi #park #min #bts #my writing #one shot #when you just looked up sacrilege #hell looks pretty okay???#my attempt at being a writer lol

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