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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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Committed to Hell

Yandere Male Demon x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, drugging, religious themes/imagery, reader dies but the story takes place in their afterlife, murder, blood, cock sucking, stalking, abduction, general yandere themes, dacryphilia) Word Count: 2.8k (Wow, okay, so this is a very special post, it is in celebration and thanks for getting me to 2.5k followers, and it is also for Halloween. I have been working on this ALL day. This post has a story with a new demon lord OC, AND, for the first time ever, and there is an audio component of the yandere OC speaking to YOU! I had to upload the audio in a separate post which can be found nowhere because I deleted it. I hope you all enjoy this food, your Halloween Feast, thank you all so much for following me. Please excuse any mistakes as this was not beta read.) (The music in the background of the audio is Horror Drone 1, music by audionautix.com. The voice of Ledlam, the demon, was provided by me, artwork by @solariahalsey in exchange for writing. Edit: Art was removed due to being NSFW and I didn’t want to get in trouble and audio was removed because it was cringe and only got 100 likes.)

One late night you had come home from work and exited your car to step into the chilly air. Two hooded figures leapt from the shadows, putting a rag of what could only be chloroform over your face before quickly taking your keys, stuffing you into your own car, and driving away. When you woke from your forcefully induced slumber you struggled to recollect the proceedings of the following night, all you knew was that you had been on your way home and now you were on some kind of stone slab in a large room. The walls were adorned with complex runes and sigils that had been painted with something red and suspicious, the room was dimly illuminated by torches along the walls, and an ominous chanting could be heard coming from an adjoining room. Your limbs were bound with rope and tied to four posts on the cold hard stone block you were trapped on. You thrashed and tried to yell, but your mouth was gagged and your muffled screams of terror only served to let your captors know you were awake. They stopped their chanting, their unholy prayer to a significant demonic deity, and suddenly a set of heavy wooden doors burst open and a few dozen cultists filed in silently and sat in pews laid out before the stone altar. One cultist, who you assumed was their leader as he was dressed in more intricate robes, stood before the altar and looked down upon you before turning to face his flock. “Fellow worshipers of Ledlam, Shepherd of the Shadows, we assemble here today in the house of worship to fulfill the will of our lord.” The cult leader turned back to you, now holding a ceremonial athame. Your eyes fixated on it and tears rolled down your face as you redoubled your yells and struggles. “We now commit this lucky chosen soul to the service of Ledlam.” And in one smooth motion he had cut your throat, your blood pooling into grooves carved into the altar, dark magic sizzled and popped as the cultist chanted and the arcane symbols were filled with your blood. Your life quickly drained away. Now you were in hell, through no fault of your own, in the home of Demon Lord Ledlam. Unbeknownst to you, Ledlam had been watching you for nearly a year. He had used his powers to peer into the mortal realm and find someone suitable to his tastes, that someone had been you. From the moment he first laid his eyes upon you he knew that, on this very Halloween, you would be sent to him. It was the only date that the veils between Earth, Heaven, and Hell all thinned a bit and those using the right magic rituals and using significant power could bend the rules a bit. And so it was that upon your death your soul had been funneled here by the ritual of his followers and by the gravity of his abilities. Otherwise you would have either walked the veil before reincarnation or you would have ascended into Heaven. Now you were confused and in an old style castle. Hell was a lot like feudal Earth had been, society was just often more violent. There were many different territories in Hell and Ledlam was the demon lord who ruled over the largest piece. You could see from the windows outside that you were no longer on Earth, the sky was an angry crimson red, crashes of thunder echoed periodically as flashes of black lightning danced across the tumultuous sky. Understandably you were shaking. Anyone would be scared in Hell, but your soul, your very essence, was not for such a place as this. Under normal circumstances only an impure soul would be here. The effect was that you felt much more uncomfortable here than others would, a creeping sense of unease that permeated every pore of your being. Ledlam, however, was beyond excited. He was putting the finishing touches on a feast in honor of you being here with him. He had all favorite foods, well, as close as he could get to your favorite foods with the type of flora and fauna that were available in Hell, he had his horns polished to make a good impression on you, and he even had the dining hall décor changed to match your favorite colors. You could hear the stomp of his footsteps approach the room you were in as his great hoofed feet hit the hard surface of the floor. Not knowing what it was you ducked behind a chair in a desperate bid to hide from whatever monster could possibly call this place home. What you saw turned your stomach, a beast straight out of a nightmare. A colossal demon, well over 7 feet tall, opened the door and stepped into the room. He had sharp shiny horns protruding from his head of black and red hair, his legs were covered in thick white fur and his feet were mighty hooves, his body was all muscle, and his nails sharp and black. An upside down cross was tattooed on the back of his hand and a spaded tail could be seen moving behind him. The demon was naked except for a bird skull necklace and a loincloth, which was mostly useless, as his large cock and balls swung quite visibly and pendulously below it. His four yellow eyes glowed in the darkness of the poorly lit room, scanning for any sign of your presence and finding you almost instantly. “(Y/N)! There you are, come on, your food will get cold!” He spoke with a deep booming voice, one that echoed unnaturally. Ledlam approached you and grabbed your arm, completely apathetic to your resistance and only silently enjoying your terror. He dragged you into the dining hall and set you down at a small table opposite of him with a large plate of food between you two, evidently for you both to share. You just looked down at your lap silently and awkwardly. Your demon captor just stared at you with unblinking eyes as he smirked at your fear. It was so delicious. You flinched at that wicked voice when he spoke again. “How rude of me, in my excitement I forgot to introduce myself, I am Ledlam, lord of this territory.” He reached across the table, put his hand under your chin, and lifted your head up, your eyes threatening to cry just from the pure fear you were experiencing from him and your situation as a whole. “You need to look at me when we are having a conversation, okay (Y/N)” At this you nodded obediently, too scared to speak, but your acknowledgement seemed to please him as you forced yourself to look at his frightening visage. Ledlam reveled in your fear, he couldn’t help it, he did not meet too many human souls up in his castle and the few times he ventured out the souls were long since hardened and immune to the simple sight of a demon scaring them, even a frightening one with his violent reputation. Your fear was just so cute and pure. He could not help but enjoy it. “Leaving your Earth body behind takes a lot of energy, you need to eat, my little human. You cannot really die in Hell, but you can still suffer.” As he finished speaking he held something to your lips that looked similar to a dish you had enjoyed while living. A little mini quiche. You managed to speak in a small trembling voice, “N-no that’s okay I’m n-” “I was NOT asking. Open your mouth!” Not daring to disobey him, you blushed as you opened your mouth and took a bite of mini quiche that he fed to you. You chewed slowly and took a nibble of food from the plate intermittently to keep Ledlam appeased. “Such a perfect little human, that is why I had you brought here, you will be a wonderful mate!” Ledlam could not wait to hold you and kiss you and make you writhe in pure pleasure, he had been alone for untold millennia. None of the demons born of hell nor the humans sentenced here were what he sought. He wanted you. A sweet, kind, pure being. Unspoiled by the ravages of Hell, who he would protect and keep safe. Though you could not speak after hearing what he wanted you here for, your surprise covered your face. “Don’t worry, I know you are scared, my angel, but I will keep you safe.” At these words you started sobbing. You wanted to be home, safe and curled up in your bed. Instead you had been killed and had your soul dragged into hell. It wasn’t fair. As much as Ledlam loved seeing your face streaked with tears he did not want you to be too upset. The demon lord left his seat and tried to pick you up, but for the first time since you wound up in Hell you found the will to run. You ducked under his arms and ran straight out of the dining hall, running frantically, luckily the way out was pretty direct and you wasted no time rushing out the door. It appeared there were no guards or anyone else around and you rushed towards the forest surrounding Ledlam’s castle. Just as the sky was like an angry wound flashing with dark lightning so too was the forest completely alien. Flora with purple, red, and black foliage, strange animal noises, and grass and soil that just somehow seemed… off… But you could hear Ledlam shouting for you so you proceeded into the cover of the trees anyway. It was not a fun experience for you, some of the bushes lashed at you leaving wounds on your legs, you were getting bitten by any number of horrible insects, and just to make matters absolutely as bad as possible it began to rain. Blood. It was raining blood. To say you were miserable would have been a grave understatement. At least the blood rains dispersed all the insects. You trudged through the forest, trying to put as much distance between Ledlam and yourself as you possibly could. It felt like you had been running for hours, your entire body ached, and this rain was making your skin itch. You found a little cave at the base of a cliff and decided to take shelter until the weather was a bit more favorable. But it was only minutes before you heard the booming voice of your pursuer nearby. “I KNOW you are close (Y/N), did you REALLY think that you could escape from me? This is my kingdom, my playground.” The demonic voice was slowly getting louder, you hid a bit deeper in the cave behind a boulder. “Are you in heeeere my little angel?” “I can smell your wonderful scent even through the blood rain darling~” Now you could hear his hooves against the ground, drawing ever nearer. “I love a good hunt every now and then too little dove, but my patience is wearing oh so very thin. Wouldn’t you rather get out of this scary cave and go back home to bounce on my cock?” Suddenly you saw four glowing eyes peering at you in the darkness. “Ah, there you are darling... mmm… I was going to wait until I got you nice and comfy back at home before mating, but seeing you covered in all this warm blood… mmm… it is really doing something to me. I really don’t think I have any choice other than to take you right here~” You did not know how he could see you so well, but you backed up until your back was against the rough wall of the cave. As he stepped towards you he uttered some kind of spell that illuminated the cave in a soft light for your benefit, you could now see that his uncut cock was fully erect bobbing excitedly with each step that he took. For what felt like the hundredth time today warm tears began streaming down your cheeks. Ledlam smirked, you just looked so irresistible like that. He continued his approach and stopped when his precum leaking dick was just in front of your lips. His intent was obvious. “Pl-please… I don’t want t-” “Suck. If you don’t get it nice and lubed up then what we do next will hurt quite a bit my little angel~” This wasn’t true, he did not and would not actually harm his sweetie, and his cock made enough natural lube so he did not need your saliva. But ingesting his precum would actually help to relax and arouse you and he relished the fear his threat got from you. Your lip quivered before you reluctantly opened your lips and he slid just a little more than the tip of his prick into your wet mouth. You stroked his dick as you sloppily sucked on it. His skin was extremely warm and his precum was strangely heady. Ledlam knew it would take a minute or so before his precum changed your demeanor any, so he had a bit of time to enjoy your clumsy nervous sucking. The demon ran his fingers through your blood drenched hair gently as you continued your task. Such rains were exceedingly rare, to have been drenched by one before completing his unholy union with you was surely a sign it was meant to be. You licked up and down the shaft, trying to get as much spit on his massive tool as possible, he caressed your face gingerly, careful not to hurt you with his sharp nails as he used his thumb to wipe away your gorgeous tears. The drug-like effect of his fluid was starting to become apparent. You slowly stopped crying and your muscles relaxed considerably, relieving all the tension that had been stressing your soul since your death. You found yourself more into pleasuring him as you gradually became more aroused. Nervous sucking and a desire to lube him up to ease future pain were replaced by eager licking and a need to swallow more of his precum. “Mmm, so good and obedient for me (Y/N), but I think we are ready to do something else little angel.” You looked up at him with a flushed face, desperation and confusion obvious on your face, all your previous fear completely melted away. Ledlam peeled off your wet clothing, easily slicing through it with his sharp nails. He leaned you over against a large stone and then kneeled behind you, his rough hands exploring your legs and thighs. Unable to stretch you with his fingers with his large nails he instead opted to use his tongue. It slid into you effortlessly. You moaned in desperate pleasure as he moaned at the taste of you. His serpent-like tongue thoroughly massaged and stretched your entrance, he licked, stretched, and kissed it until you started sobbing again, but this time in needy agony, yearning for more than just his tongue and mouth. “Shhh, I’ll take care of it darling.” Your demon lover turned you around. You draped your arms over his broad shoulders, dizzy with a need that you didn’t understand. Strong calloused hands gripped your waist. Ledlam pulled you into his lap and allowed you to nuzzle your head into his neck as he slowly lowered you and the tip of his cock teased your hole, smearing thick precum into it, before he finally sat you down on it. You moaned, literally drunk with pleasure. Ledlam took you to the base, moving you up and down on him, your stomach bulging from the enormity of his shaft each time you were forced back down, though there was no trace of pain or even discomfort. Seeing you utterly fucked out of your mind as he bounced you in his lap was even better than seeing your eyes wet and full of tears. You leaned against him, nuzzling lovingly against his chest, as he started plunging into you just a bit faster, his weighty nuts smacking your ass with each sinful thrust. Pleasure mounted in both of you until it could be held back no longer and you both came at the same moment, as he filled you up with potent demonic seed the ritual was complete and your soul was irreversibly bound to his. If there was any doubt as to who owned you it was certainly gone now. You were Ledlam’s angel from now and into the fathomless depths of eternity. You were too exhausted from the sex to stand, and too drunk off his cum to think, so Ledlam pressed a kiss to your lips before picking you up and carrying you all the way home.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere exo #yandere exophilia #yandere monster #yandere demon #male yandere x gn reader #gender neutral reader #demon x reader #yandere audio #yandere asmr #yandere speaking #my OCs #my oc ledlam #yandere x reader #Happy Halloween 2022 #thanks for following #Merry Hexmas

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alackofghosts · 4 months

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just look at this fairy tale come true, as if someone heard our wishes

#i was going to ignore winter and christmas as like. a bit. but then i was sat in the kitchen at 5 am and the radio played a xmas song #that sounded like something ripped straight out of my wol's playlist musically speaking and i was like uh oh.#anyway we celebrate the 24th in estonia so merry crim crams #warrior of light #Ardbert #fanart #speedpaint #i draw sometimes #Final Fantasy XIV #also oh my god felt some intense longing for some real oil pastels while drawing this. maybe something to look into in the new year....

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 4 months

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Prompt: "You have a fever."

Pairing: Epel Felmier x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff

TW: NA

"Come on, (Name). Please? " Epel batted his eyelashes at you.

You sighed, tilting your head slightly as you looked at him. Fighting against the part of you that just wanted to coo at him and give into his demands was hard, but you managed to contain yourself. You remained silent, watching the shorter boy fidget under your intent gaze.

"Epel is smart," Vil had told you, days before he had to leave for some project. "Despite his hesitancy in using his beauty, he will employ it against you should he want something. He knows you well, Prefect. But you mustn't give in."

I mustn't give in, you chanted in your mind as you looked at Epel, who was growing more antsy by the minute.

"You've just recovered from that cold, Epel. I don't think it'd be a good idea to go out and play in the snow when it's not even been that long," you tried to get him to see reason. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Rook was instructed by Vil to keep an eye on you. If this gets back to him..."

"It won't get back to him!" Epel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he switched the puppy eyes for a pout. Sevens, was he aiming to persuade you, or to kill you?

"Vil's not here, and Rook's going to the mountains today–"

"Why?"

"– I don't really know, but that's besides the point. (Name), I'm bored. I've been stuck in my room for almost a week, I'm fine now! Besides, isn't it Vil who says going outside is good for your health?"

"He says that to have you join him when he's jogging," you hummed in amusement. "Also, who says I'll not snitch on you to Vil?"

Epel took a step closer to you, gently reaching out to hold your hand in his. A light tug, followed by a soft "Please...?" had you blushing and looking away. Epel tilted forward to catch the expression on your face while you tried to cover it with your free hand.

You mentally apologized to Vil for failing to resist Epel's charms. For someone who disliked being called cute or any synonyms of it, he sure knew how to wield his cuteness. And you were but a weak, weak human.

"Fine. Fifteen minutes," you said, trying to ignore the way Epel's face lit up with smug happiness. "Only fifteen minutes."

"I'll take that!" He smiled as he placed a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving you dumbfounded. The smile on his face quickly turned into a mischievous grin as he let go of you and turned, running out of his dorm yelling, "Last one out's a rotten egg!"

"Hey, not fair!" You yelled back as you chased him.

"You have a fever," Vil's voice rang out, a disappointed note to his words as he stared down at the thermometer in his hand. You squirmed in your place on Epel's bed, twiddling your thumbs. A quick glance to your side showed you an equally miserable and sick Epel mirroring your position.

"In our defense," you started, voice slightly croaky as you looked up at the Pomefiore housewarden, "we were out for only 15 minutes."

"And look what that brought upon the two of you," Vil deadpanned, looking very much like an exasperated mother as he made sure both of you were comfortable.

Rook stood silently in the corner of the room, not moving a muscle as he watched the three of you from where he'd been placed on timeout. His crime? Letting you two be unsupervised for an entire day. You felt bad for him, letting him know that with an apologetic smile in his direction, which he returned with one of his own.

"Honestly... I was away for three days, potatoes," he sighed, manicured hands carefully pressing a cold damp towel to your forehead, then doing the same to Epel. Neither one of you commented on his fussing, not wanting to get scolded any more than you already had.

"Now wait here while I go and brew you some medicinal potions."

"Uh, Vil we could just get some from the infirmary-"

"I said, wait here, like good little spudlings," Vil calmly stared at you, lips curling into a triumphant smile when none of you dared to make a sound in protest. "Good. Rook?"

The blonde in the corner turned his attention to his housewarden. "Yes?"

"Keep an eye on them."

Back to Masterlist...

#finally #another one done #idk why rereading it makes me think ive messed up with vil and how he speaks #but it could be the 3 hours of sleep that ive been working on the whole day thats messing with my brain #idk #but whatever #twst #ice writes #twst writing #epel twst #twst epel #twisted wonderland epel #epel x reader #epel felmier #epel x yuu #epel x prefect #merry twstmas event

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twosetmeridian · 10 months

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in light of some folks i know who are leaving the fandom on various platforms, i've been reflecting on my time as a twosetter and the people i've seen come and go. life brings with it inevitable change, whether we like it or not. people change, hobbies change, interests change, and the world continues to spin. we just have to accept the fact and let things go when the time comes for them to leave.

but it's still sad. i miss a lot of friends and faces that are no longer around. a lot of comments on my works and posts that make me smile now lead to broken profile links and unrecognizable usernames. the fandom keeps changing, always, and very little is ever permanent.

but i'm thankful too for everyone who's come by, every fellow fan i've come to know intimately or in passing. whether they know it or not, they've all left indelible marks on me. and i'm ultimately happy to think that, for a time, we were all brought together by our shared love for music and two guys who've inspired it to grow.

so: i'm still here. i've been seated for these violin guys since 2019, and i suppose, whatever comes and no matter the ups and downs or wherever else i find myself on the internet, i always will be. 🥹

#merri speaks #it's just fucking bittersweet is all #the atmosphere over on tsvtwt is a little disheartening to say the least #and all of this during the world tour too hooo boy 🥲

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inaconstantstateofchange · 4 months

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don't come crying - a young!Raphael fic

An incredible rendition of young!Raphael by @shahs1221, here: please go check her out and give her some well-deserved adoration for it!

A/N: I'm gonna be so honest, I have no idea how to tag this in a comprehensible way, relationship-wise. Suffice to say, the Mephisto-lovers are... probably going to appreciate this more than I wish you would, and if you too are fifty leagues down the Niche Forgotten Realms Characters™ rabbit hole, you may also be enticed by the Baalphegor inclusion. 18+, please and thank you.

Summary:

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here. Or: Centuries prior to the events of the game, Raphael's return from a routine fetch quest on Mephistopheles's orders is interrupted by a summons to the throne room. His father has a lesson to impart to him, and he's going to ensure it sticks.

This is part of an ongoing story I've had in the back of my mind for several weeks now. Rather than another WIP longfic, I'll be posting additional segments from this 'verse in a series if/when I add more. If @sky-kiss has any say in it, I'm sure I will.

The only background info you really need is:

All characters are drawn from actual Forgotten Realms lore.

Raphael has recently been plucked from the Material Plane to join his father's court on Cania, in the Nine Hells.

Due to Raphael's stunted development, and an unwillingness to be shamed by his spawn's weakness, Mephistopheles has placed Raphael under the purview of his consort, Baalphegor.

Baalphegor's body is able to produce an empowering draught, too weak to hold much significance to true fiends, but sufficient to bolster Raphael's growth.

Finally, it is a pet headcanon I've incorporated into this 'verse that Baalphegor is the same individual later know as Haarlep, but you are welcome to use your own interpretation.

Raphael stumbles through the extravagant entrance doors to Mephistar, the flesh-shearing winds of Cania grabbing after him as he ducks behind the solid, enchanted stone. He’s done his best to cover all exposed skin, but there is always some that escapes his notice, leaving him bleeding out strength he can ill afford to lose. He loathes these “errands” his father sends him on, tasks purported to test his skill, devotion, and cunning. In reality, it feels more like busywork designed to keep him weak and subservient, reminding him of his contentious existence in the hierarchy and reinforcing his dependence on his father’s dubious goodwill.

The desiccated parchment that proved the focus of this most recent quest crinkles slightly, as he shifts his gaze up, the slight sound echoing across the cavernous hall as he looks with certainty for the being he knows to be waiting for his return, just as always. But — they’re not there.

He furrows his brow, an agitated and disquieting anger growing within his gut. He strides across the marble floor on frostbitten feet he can barely feel, shoving the parchment at the lone figure of Mephistopheles’s chamberlain Barbas, standing at attention at his post, and wearing his habitual sneer as he looks down at Raphael. Raphael ignores it for now, as ever, but files the snub away with all the other insults he will one day be strong enough to return tenfold.

“Where is m—the Lady Baalphegor?” He demands imperiously. They are almost always waiting for him upon his return to bestow his reward. That is the deal, the entire reason he engages in these banal fetch quests even though they are entirely beneath his rank and status. He pushes sharply at the errant thought of the pretty fiction it makes, knowing all the while that his true choice is to bow to his father’s whims or perish. True or not, it does no good to dwell on such matters, not when he will be changing them just as soon as he can manage.

Barbas’s sneer gouges even deeper into his face, growing a biting and nearly gleeful edge as he answers Raphael, “Well, young lord, as your august presence must surely have ascertained, the Lady is certainly not here.”

Raphael can feel his face going blotchy and red, and curses his mortal heritage once again for its constant betrayals. The ice-blue crystals in the eye sockets of the chamberlain harden and glint with glee at the sight. Raphael spins on his heel, marching furiously away, the parchment crumpling further within his fist. Barbas’s mocking voice rings out behind him, “Don’t forget to report to His Grace, little lord! He insisted it be done immediately upon your return.”

Raphael almost turns again to berate him, but manages to stop himself at the last moment, lest he lose even more face from the encounter. He’ll make his report as quickly as possible, then hunt down his wayward… Baalphegor, and claim his rightful recompense. The brilliant halls of Mephistar blur around him as he storms through them, focusing only on making his way to his father’s great hall with haste.

He doesn’t wait to be announced, merely pushes firmly on the doors, both with his physical form and, in a manner only recently attained, with the lashings of his own metaphysical aspect. They creak open, the sound like distant screams even on the well-kept mechanisms, and he steps through without hesitation, words of complaint already springing to his lips, when he stops dead in his tracks.

He’s found Baalphegor.

The succubus – and they are in full succubus form in this moment – is perched indolently on his father’s lap, where he sits on his ostentatious throne. But not just perched, no — impaled, as he finds when, with stricken eyes, he watches them move their body in a smooth, undulating motion up, degree by degree, before dropping back down, brilliant hair falling around them and catching the flickering hellfire-light as it glints off their red-brown skin. Soft, melodious moans are driven from their throat with each movement, as if pushed out by the — by the member within them. Their round breasts shift with the motion, the revitalizing milk within them welling up and dripping down their chest, squandered and disregarded.

He swallows, throat dry, his eyes and chest burning in stark opposition with one another.

His father casts an apathetic glance across the hall, and his eyes alight on Raphael, a cruel smirk curling at his lips. “Ah, the returning triumphant! What have you brought me this time?” His voice is nothing but mocking, no attempt made to couch his disregard for his unwanted and unloved spawn.

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. Everything within him is raging at the broken contract, even as it boils with jealousy at the manhandling of something that is his, and it is only the barest dregs of his staunch self-preservation that manage to keep him from attempting something truly foolish. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here.

He holds the parchment, now looking rather worse for wear, out before him on a finely trembling hand. He searches for the words he needs in a mind nearly whited out by rage.

“I… your cult in Waterdeep sends their obeisance, y–your Grace.” He curses his tongue for its fumbling, driving home further how well his father’s ploy is working to discomfit him.

“Oh,” Mephistopheles waves a careless hand. “That collection of rabble. You will leave it with my steward.”

Raphael ducks his head a bare inch, keeping his eyes away from Baalphegor as much as he can, and turns to leave.

His father’s voice rings out after him before he has completed even half his turn, sharpening with the first warning edges of his infamous temper. “Where do you think you are going, whelp? You have not yet been dismissed.”

Raphael turns back to face him, slow and careful, as the true danger of the situation sets in. He has rarely found himself in the presence of his father when these moods strike, and never without at least the tenuous support of Baalphegor behind him. And yet… he meets their gaze now, searching, and the barest fraction desperate, but there is nothing. Their red eyes meet his without flinching, cold as Cania’s glaciers. Trickles of the subtly shimmering draught spilling from their breasts have reached down to their hips now, soaking into the thatch of hair between their legs.

He tears his eyes away and forces his attention back to the far greater threat, scrambling for an answer that will satisfy his father.

“My apologies, your Grace.” The epithet comes easier this time, its passage eased by his awareness of his own precarious position. “I misunderstood your direction, and wished only to carry out your will with utmost alacrity.”

Mephistopheles rests his chin insouciantly on his hand, elbow propped against the arm of his throne. His voice, when he speaks, is sardonic and shows no signs of the ongoing actions of the succubus on his lap. “Oh very nicely salvaged, whelp. My wishes, however, are for you to remain just where you are, and appreciate the lesson I’ve prepared for you.”

Raphael swallows, the boiling heat within him growing fiercer, rage intertwined with other, less-savory feelings.

With little warning, Mephistopheles moves his hand to entangle within Baalphegor’s tresses, pulling the succubus fiercely down onto him as he wrenches their head back against his shoulder. A tremulous cry breaks from their throat, and Raphael only barely keeps himself from starting forward at the sound.

Mephistopheles brings his free hand forward and toys with Baalphegor’s breasts, pushed forward into the air from their current position. He twists pitilessly at them, prompting yet more cries as the liquid inside spills out in greater quantities, splashing, wasted, against the smooth skin of Baalphegor’s stomach. It runs in rivulets onto the throne, and down, to collect into puddles on the floor of the grand hall.

Raphael feels his stomach turn even as his mouth, well-trained by association, waters, unhindered by every other horrible aspect of this waking nightmare.

Mephistopheles wipes his hand dismissively on Baalphegor’s hair, leaving behind silvery streaks, then draws them up by their hair and hip, beginning to move within them in earnest as he continues his reproach. Raphael wants to close his eyes, his ears, every one of his senses, but knows such an admission of weakness would be worse than his undoing.

“You’ve prevailed enough upon my largess, and I am no longer willing to indulge your weakness.” Mephistopheles sneers. “You’ve proven more fortunate than any other cambion within the Hells, but from now on you will make your own way, or fail. Such is the way of Baator.”

The fires around the hall burn fiercer in alignment with their lord as he looks down at his unloved progeny. “Should you find yourself desperate for one last taste to stay your appetites, however, you may lap it from the floor like the whelp you are, and thank me for the concession.”

Raphael feels like he is become hellfire himself, the hatred he knew within him for his progenitor stoked to dizzyingly fierce new heights. Jaw aching with the effort of withholding the flood of vitriol within him, he grits out, “My thanks for your… beneficence. I would not dream of prevailing upon it further.”

Mephistopheles snorts, dismissive, then turns his attentions back to Baalphegor, by all accounts having forgotten Raphael’s entire existence.

Raphael stands, Baalphegor’s unfeeling eyes burning into his, until he is finally – finally – dismissed. All the while, the ambitions within him, already cast in carbon, are pressurized further and further, until they are as fearsome diamond, reflecting the blood and fire around him.

He will not remain his father’s lesser for long. He will see him deposed, and make him suffer for these indignities heaped upon his person.

By Asmodeus, he swears it.

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