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anarchy-n-glitter · 4 months ago

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just a lil longlegs x reader/oc drabble i wrote, finally coming off of the anon for this cause i need to stop being a coward.

i tried my best to keep descriptions of the main character neutral but there are a few things specific to my oc clarice like her hair color and last name.

idk how many words this is, i wrote it in a cold sweat in my notes app

TW: dubious consent, mentions of cannibalism, smut

he had descended upon her again like a pale ghost amongst a sea of red. chapped, puffy lips ravaged her skin and her own lips harshly - as if he were trying to fuse himself to her. tears filled her wide eyes as she choked out a gasp that was halfway between pained and pleasureful as his nails dug into the soft flesh of her wrists.

her back arched, pressing her bare chest into his clothed one unintentionally. her body betrayed the look of disgust she often wore when she looked at him. the way her eyes locked onto his and stared unblinking with a mixture of fear and lust and hate did nothing but shackle him to her - in his mind, their souls were intertwined… she would be his forever.

this pretty investigator, a girl of only twenty one, delivered to him wrapped up in a pretty bow by satan himself. she was a gift in more ways than one, and he would use her as another offering to mr. downstairs.

he loved her most like this, spread out on his mattress with her wrists pinned above her head. her strawberry blonde hair splayed around her head and face in a mockery of a halo as he defiled her. bloodied the white wings of the angel before him. he took the soft, supple flesh of her breast between his teeth and softly bit down, drawing another sweet gasp from her lips. the small whines worked him up in a way he couldn’t explain. he wanted to make her cry.

pale eyes shot up to look at her suddenly, practically pinning her in place and forcing her to be silent. she found it hard to stay still and stay quiet with him staring at her the way he was, with him slotted between her legs dragging his rancid cock against her walls. a stuttering breath escaped her and he pounced on her like a wild animal, teeth on her neck, hands tightening around her wrists til it was unbearable. she cried out, and in return he made a similar whining sound.

with each thrust she tried to contain the small noises that ached to escape her throat, but to no avail. dale’s own moans - moans done to mock her - only seemed to draw out the sounds she longed to suppress. on his ghostly face a lopsided grin broke out. it sent shivers down her back as she braced for what could possibly come next.

dale would never let her leave. he couldn’t. he wanted to put her in her own box and bury her where no one would find her, somewhere only he knew about. and when the time came he would dig her up and be her savior, someone she could shower with gratitude and love.

she would love him one day.

overcome with lust and jealousy and possessiveness, dale leaned down to her ear, pressing his lips to the outer shell as he whispered: “if i could i would eat you alive.”

the rasp of his voice - and the dead seriousness in his tone - sent shivers down her spine. her body suddenly went numb as another pang of fear wracked through her limbs. her eyes darted to the workbench across the room, to the tools that laid upon the wooden surface and glimmered in the low light. she could see a knife, a pair of scissors, and a saw. if he wanted to he could kill her, she knew that much, and his words only instilled that fear in her further.

would he kill and eat her? she supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility - after all, he already was a serial killer.

“i would swallow you whole. or i could tear you apart with my teeth. that way you’d always be close to me… you could never leave.” dale continued. her body was rigid against his own. he slowed his thrusts, somehow reaching deeper inside her than ever before, yet she found it hard to make any sort of noise. her vocal cords felt paralyzed.

“i would keep you…” he moved her wrist, guiding her hand between their bodies to the taut skin of his belly. “right here, all safe and sound inside me.”

the sound of his sing-songy voice turned her stomach uneasily. her wide, teary eyes met his again, and she realized with horror that he was dead serious. she found herself praying, words muttered under her breath that she knew didn’t mean a thing in the room she found herself in. this was not god’s domain. dale picked up his pace again, chuckling lowly and continuing to mock her whines and prayers.

“oh god, please!” he cried teasingly, followed by another high pitched whine that sounded like a woman from a porno. “god please don’t let him hurt me.” he pressed a firm, wet kiss to her mouth.

“fuck,” he groaned, “don’t let him tear into the flesh of my chest and dig out my heart.” this time instead of returning her right hand above her head, he reached out to cup her cheek.

as if suddenly entranced by him, so full of fear, she couldn’t hold anything back. her tears flowed and her throat felt raw as she screamed wantonly, legs tightening around his hips. he released her other hand which she used to draw him closer, holding his body tightly to hers.

and over his shoulder she saw it - the hulking, shadowy figure of the beast staring down at her with glowing red eyes filled with hate and love and pleasure. this was dale’s way of praying - this was his devotion - and she could tell the devil reveled in every minute of it. one of god’s children - angelo, the angel, heavenly and clean - corrupted and defiled by his own. his disciple… the man downstairs.

her eyes gazed upon the demented face of longlegs, and in their heated moment of terror, disgust and euphoria she came undone around him - finally resigning herself to the life he chose for her.

#dale kobble #dale kobble x reader #longlegs x reader #im not putting this in the main tags #idk dale just seems like a ‘cannibalism as symbolism for love’ kinda guy #and would definitely say that shit while getting it on whether it was actually to scare u or not #also i was the ‘he mimicks ur moans’ anon from a bit ago and i stand by that opinion #dale kobble x oc #longlegs x oc #longlegs oc #ok but what if i did put it in the main tag #longlegs

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mothergayselle · 6 months ago

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he loves me not - shall we date? obey me! (mc vs. belphie)

rating: T-M words: 4k summary: a one-shot addressing the MC's emotions after That Scene from the first season. idk why they never bring it up again, but if you're gonna fight, you might as well keep it in the family & go all out, bb! (ewww.) (spoilers for the first season, obvi.) (characters include all of the brothers and a FMC.)

read on ao3

The sharp sound of her hand across his face is a gunshot, a cannon explosion which detonates all around them.

The amethyst-eyed demon balks, mouth wide open, the unending indigo of his gaze flaring to life at the assault. He staggers where he stands, dazed, not by the pain itself but because of the shock.

Everyone else is frozen as well, varying expressions of horror and fear etched onto their faces. No one steps forward to stop or restrain her, and Freya sways from the force of her own attack, though she orients herself at once. And then, without an ounce of hesitation, she tenses again, all of the muscles in her body rigid with fury.

The opposite hand slams into the demon’s face, palm and fingers hard against him. Her knuckles collide with a delicious impact, and a fodder of gasps dissolve into the air. The demon stumbles, just once, his back foot catching on the ground to steady himself.

But she is already vaulting, clinging to the demon’s body as they both crashed to the ground with a painful thud! Straddling his waist, Freya cocks her fist back and prepares to strike and strike and strike. She doesn’t realize she is screaming until the grass beneath her is shivering from the force.

XXX

She is fading. She is dying. She can feel the sides of her trachea being crushed underneath his fingertips, folding into itself and mawed by his supernatural strength. She cannot even gasp for air as he lifts her a few inches off the ground, her toes intermittently dragging across its surface. Freya is beating and slapping and hitting at the arm and hand which kills her so easily, but she knows. She knows she doesn’t stand a chance.

“I can’t stop laughing,” he giggles, the staccato array of chuckles darkening into madness. “The look on your face! Ahahaha!!”

Her eyes wander, desperate to claim one last look at the person she loved most in the three fucking realms. He isn’t there yet. No one is. Will she really die before smiling at him one last time?

“BELPHEGOR!”

All at once, a horde of demons appear. They’re seemingly conjured from the void, racing into the foyer from the kitchen, the dormitory hallways—Satan nearly trips down the stairs from the force of his own shock and terror.

A swell of hot, stinging tears gathers behind her eyes, and suddenly, she is crying. She is sobbing, in fact, unable to choke out noise or phlegm or snot, and twitches because of it. As she gazes upon the faces of her most cherished loved ones, she finds that her chest not only constricts but convulses as well. The six, demon brothers stare at her, horror and agony blended together upon each feature, twisting their eyes and mouths in harsh ways.

Satan is the first to speak, hands trembling by his sides. “Let her GO, Belphegor!”

But Belphegor only grins, the smile exposing too many of his teeth to be natural. “Why should I? Look at how the human squirms. Isn’t she lovely like this?” For a moment, Belphegor’s gaze rakes over her face and body, slightly suspended as it still is. “Her face… tightened in pain… she’s exquisite.”

A hiss pulses through the air. She finds Lucifer, black aura gathering around him in waves. Wings suddenly explode out of him, and he shifts into demon form.

“Do not force me to take action, Belphegor.” Lucifer’s voice is sharper and more severe than she’s ever heard it before. He takes two steps forward, surpassing the crowd his brothers have formed in front of them.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Belphegor only sneers. “It’s too late.”

And indeed, it is. Freya gazes into the churning, broiling eyes of a man plunged into insanity, and she finds nothing there but the desire to cause pain. Although a fire erupts inside her chest, a deep, unending cold seeps into her skin, her bones… Freya’s eyes flutter closed of their own accord, until another voice, cracking with desperation, snaps her back to the present.

“Belphie…” Beezelbub pleads.

“Please.”

It’s almost imperceptible—the flash of doubt, so minute, illuminating Belphegor’s eyes. The flash is replaced by rage however, and Freya feels her arms drop to her sides. She’s so close to death, she can’t even lift her limbs. The fire swirls hotter, calcinating her heart and lungs into dust.

She wants to speak… but death will not let her.

Goodbye, she thinks, trying her very best to somehow project this thought into the minds of the brothers. She thinks of deep, red, carnelian eyes before the endl, too weak now to even find them.

I love you all.

The bonfire suddenly stutters, and the world goes black.

XXX

She is airborne… and then something hard and rock-solid collides with her back. If she was breathing, the wind would’ve been knocked out of her. Instead, she simply lays there, every sound around a garbled concoction of noise.

Tendrils of warmth snake around her, pressing her close to something which is also warm. Her neck is suddenly supported, though her head still tilts over it, limp.

“Freya… Freya!”

She can barely make the words out. She knows that voice, though. A painful, weak lick of fire stabs through her. Mammon…

“Freya, don’t you die! FREYA!”

“Ahahaha! Mammon, you look like such a fool!”

“Belphie, what have you done!?” Beel…

Something fluid then drips onto her cold, frigid face. Warm and wet, she can feel the liquid trailing over her own cheeks and neck.

Tears?

Is Mammon… crying?

“Freya,” he chokes, his voice a mere whisper. She can feel him start to shake against her. “Come back. Please come back to me.”

Freya never wanted this… never wanted to leave the brothers, Simeon and Luke, the Devildom… hell, even Solomon, who contains more secrets than she could ever fathom. Barely cognizant and even in the clutches of imminent death, she realizes that she hates Belphegor for taking her away from them all.

She hates him. He did this. He killed her. And now the brothers will suffer. They will cry and scream and wail, and Belphegor will swallow it all whole, such is his taste for destruction.

If she could, Freya would kill him. She would end his life.

Freya is fading. Her last thoughts are saturated with rage and despair… not quite a fitting death, she thinks. Still. She will die in the arms of someone she loves deeply, someone who, despite the ice-cold shell of her broken body, keeps her tepidly warm against him.

The vibrations of loud, combustible clamor suddenly sounds off in the foyer. Yelling. People are yelling, though she is nothing but a pinprick of sentience left. Freya knows she will go in the next several seconds, and the warmth from before descends onto her forehead. Skin… Mammon’s skin. Mammon’s forehead. He is rocking them back and forth, his eyes spilling droplets of tears onto her own.

“Freya, I love you,” he breathes onto her cheek. “Don’t go. Don’t die. I love you.”

Reality dissolves, unravels itself like an infinite, cosmic ball of yarn. The void sings a haunting melody which resounds throughout the entirety of her body. Freya, exhausted, lets go. The blackness overtakes her and she is unwillingly, but peacefully, shrouded inside a dimension of nothingness.

Mammon… be happy.

XXX

They’re on their way to class. The twinkling constellations glimmer back at them from the sky, their once unfamiliar skeletons now relatively memorized. Each demon is a mass of towering splendor, and Freya, with her long, raven hair and heterochromic eyes, is a slender body weaving between brothers, exchanging banter and small-talk.

Asmodeus leaps forward, seizing Freya’s right arm to his chest. “I want to walk with Freya! You want to walk with me too, right, gorgeous?”

Similar sentiments—as well as louder opposition—sound off behind them.

“Oi! Asmo! Get your filthy hands off of my human!”

“T-That’s not fair! What if I want to walk with her?”

“Are you all really incapable of ever shutting your mouth?”

And then, a slighter demon with indigo-grey hair is at her side, zipping to her at incredible speed. His hands, delicate and pale, proceed to encircle Freya’s left arm. She is subsequently yanked to him, hot breath washing over one cheek as he speaks with a laugh.

“What Freya isn’t saying is that she really wants to walk with me, rig—“

The sharp sound of her hand across his face is a gunshot, a cannon explosion which detonates all around them.

The amethyst-eyed demon balks, mouth wide open, the unending indigo of his gaze flaring to life at the assault. He staggers where he stands, dazed, not by the pain itself but because of the shock.

“Don’t,” she hisses, green-and-black eyes flaring with rage. “Do not ever touch me!”

Belphegor doesn’t move. He lays there, soft, cultivated clumps of vegetation cradling his back and legs as they remain unnaturally still. Like before, the others are frozen as well, though Freya sees Lucifer shift from the corner of one eye.

Her head whips to the side. “Stay,” she snarls. Lucifer’s face goes blank with surprise.

The command itself is profane… she does not invoke the pact between them, however, the afternoon air vibrates heavily with magical warning.

Freya turns back to Belphegor, who eyes her warily. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, so quiet is his voice. She can feel every modicum of attention seeping into her skin, but it is an afterthought.

Nothing but fire and red and blood and tears and fury broils inside her. She needs an outlet… has needed an outlet, but was too burdened by the weight of Diavolo’s request.

He’d wanted her to help reintegrate the youngest brother back into the fold, to mend the bridge shattered long ago by hate and pain–to help prepare Belphegor for RAD’s exchange program and the future humans it would bring into the Devildom, whether that last condition was implied or not. It hadn’t mattered. When Diavolo asked you to do something, no questions were to be asked.

In all of this time, Freya knows that there’s been zero regard for her in the process. Nobody has batted an eye or worried about her acclimating back into the fold. After all, she was the one who’d been killed. She was the one who had DIED.

Freya can’t see the Devildom’s constellations above her anymore, can’t see how each alien star shivers with anticipation. Her head is too bowed, too hunched, too coiled over in fury. She never once takes her eyes off Belphegor, who remains still beneath her legs and waist.

“How does it feel?” she near-mumbles, placing a shaking hand on top of his throat. “How does it feel to be incapacitated by someone you thought you knew?” She lightly squeezes his throat with her fingers, though not enough to cut off his supply of air.

Mammon’s voice immediately sounds off behind her. “Freya, c’mon, kid… knock it off.”

A reactive growl builds in her throat at the sound. “Funny how protective you lot are when you want to be,” she nearly spits. Belphegor holds her gaze regardless, the amethyst in them swirling limply. He does not attempt to fight back.

“I asked you how it felt,” she prompts him.

Beel. “Freya—“

“It hurts,” Belphegor finally answers. “But I can’t say that I blame you. After all, I did much worse than this in the end.”

Freya’s eyes narrow dangerously at him. “Yes, you did.” She considers him thoughtfully for a moment, her head slightly cocked.

“I’m not strong enough to crush your throat the way you crushed mine.”

At this, Belphegor pales.

“But, you are.”

Her heterochromic eyes flash with a ripple of magic, glinting in the lowlight of the always-full moon and its rays. The hand upon his neck is suddenly replaced with one of his, snapping up and gripping his own trachea under the authority of her wordless, magical command.

“All right,” Lucifer snaps. “That’s enough!”

“No!” Belphegor croaks, expression blown wide open. “Leave her alone.” His eyes nervously dart back to Freya’s. “This is what I deserve.”

She sneers at him. Tangles of raven-black hair obscures much of her face, blocking most of the hateful glare she throws at him. Then a pause so quiet, Freya thinks she can hear the creaking of everyone’s jaws tightening up. “You crushed my throat with your bare hands. Did you know that before dying, I was choking on my own blood? That you squeezed so hard, I couldn’t even cough it back up again?”

The trembling spread to the rest of her, until her whole body shuddered with rage.

“You deserve much worse than this, Belphie. You deserve to die, like I did.”

A thick, gray silence smogs over them and for a moment, Freya’s expression falls, eyes and mouth slackening with the beginning of grief.

“B-But…” Leviathan stammers, “It was the other you who… died… right?” The atmosphere seemed to flicker with an unseen shock which wrapped all around them. “You existed separately from the Freya who… right?”

Freya could practically feel the brothers’ horror, sharp as a whip, crack through the air. She peered into each of their faces, wordless, speechless at the obvious fear clutching ahold of them.

“Did you truly not know?” A whisper. Her eyes close, not wanting to remember, but feeling a blade in her chest regardless.

Another oversight. Another betrayal. Her teeth bare themselves of her own accord, and she was sure that if she were truly a demon, black wings would punch themselves through the back of her school uniform.

“I am the one who died. I remember the pain,” she murmurs, eyes drifting closed once more. “I remember the cold, the white-hot bonfire in my chest as I struggled to breathe… I remember the taste of my own blood, my throat crushed beneath two, steady hands… his laughter…”

The wordless confusion in the air screamed out, silently breaking against each of them.

“And then I passed on,” she said simply, shoulders shrugging up. “And my consciousness merged with your version of Freya. Past-me.”

The wind yells too, tossing her raven-black hair around her cheeks. “So… yes, I remember.” Freya’s voice grows dark, angry again. “I remember it all.”

“Fuck, Freya,” Satan breathes. His expression twists, a sliver of desperation flashing in his emerald eyes. “We had no idea.”

It may have been new information, but the reveal is entirely unsurprising. Freya knows how much the brothers love her. She can feel it, the magic of each pack humming through her veins. The brothers have become a literal part of her entity, and so she knows that they’d never abandon her if they’d known.

But they didn’t. And she’d been alone in life, just as she was in her death.

Hot, wet tears prick at the back of her eyes, but Freya denies them, forcefully shoving them back from where they came. This was not the time to leave herself vulnerable, no matter how much she wants to cry and heave and mourn in their arms.

She is far too angry for that.

Her jaw flexes underneath the river-waves of her hair, then loosens as her brows lower.

“You could have asked,” she says. Her voice is a hollow-boned knife. “I needed you guys to be there, but instead I was told to help him.” Her green and black eyes snap back to the demon she still straddled.

“The demon who killed me.”

The brothers are frozen again, seemingly locked into place as she speaks.

“I hate you,” she says to the youngest brother. “I wish you were dead. And God fucking knows that I am tempted to make that real.”

Belphegor remains silent, hands by his sides, visage ghostly white and stoney throughout her monologue. Freya has never seen him this way before. Not even when she came back to life. Not even when she found out that they were practically family. This was the face of a man afraid, and there is a raging, lava river inside of her that roars with gratification.

Maybe she really is becoming a demon. However… she grits her teeth, peering down at her murderer with magic swirling in her eyes.

“But I’m not like you,” she sneers, eyes and voice hard as knives pinned to rock. “I don’t kill people because of a mood swing or because it’s funny.”

The burning prick of tears surfaces again.

“I don’t kill people and call them exquisite while they die in my hands.”

Everyone flinches.

And then she is on her feet quickly, ripping herself from Belphegor’s body as if it is poisonous to her very flesh. They hold eye contact, the surrounding brother’s attention thick and viscous, sticking onto them both and waiting. One corner of Freya’s mouth twists, like it can’t decide whether to smile or scowl at the injustice of it all.

“You are a literal Prince of Hell, Belphegor. Fucking act like it, hm?”

But she leans down, slowly shuttering the space between her face and his. He, who still lays fearfully on the ground beneath her.

“The next time you think about coming for me,” she breathes, “you just remember the woman you chose to bind yourself to.”

Then her eyes unexpectedly flare, the wild magic in them releasing with all of the rage quivering along her body. Belphegor flinches, his mouth opening in horror as her irises glow brightly, unnaturally, and twist into a vivid amethyst.

The same color as his own.

Glaring.

Unmaking.

A predator yearning to eat.

#obey me #obey me fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #mc x bephelgor #mc x mammon #shall we date? obey me!#shall we date obey me #sooooo angsty

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iamthecomet · 1 year ago

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Comet! If you're still doing the ask challenge, could i suggest number 18 with the ultimate minute man duo, Dew/Aeon?

18. "Don't you dare fuckin' come, because if you do I'll come too." Aeon's disappointed in himself. He should be able to last, should be able to be good, be better. But fuck Dew is tight. He digs his fingers into Dew's boney hips and stops moving as soon as he's hilted. Running his thumbs over Dew's back. Trying to feign ease. Like he's fine. He's just giving Dew time to adjust. As if Dew needs it. Dew's still touching himself. Hand snaked between his legs, working feverishly at his cock. Hips twitching into his own fist. Clenching and slipping on Aeon's cock in a way that is not helping his current situation. "Dew, hang on a second," Dew ignores him. Typical. He turns his head to look back at Aeon but his hand never stops. His eyes are lidded, jaw slack. Working at himself like it's a race--and Aeon is going to fucking lose. "Too close," Dew finally pants out. "Fuck you feel good." Aeon grips Dew's hips a little harder, tries to pin their hips together to quiet Dew's little movements. To try to get a better grip on the pleasure ballooning in his gut. He's so close to the edge and he hasn't even really fucked Dew yet. Not a single trust. Just the hot clutch of his body is enough. Aeon's cheeks burn red. He wants to beg. He isn't even sure who he's begging. Dew to give him a break? Satan himself to give him some stamina? Aeon hasn't been in control of this situation at any point, but he's grappling for it now. For a foothold. For a way to stave off his rapidly approaching orgasm so that he can actually enjoy the silky feeling of Dew's body. He digs his fingers into Dew's hips until it must hurt, until he knows Dew will walk away bruised. Dew's startled yelp dissolves into a moan, and Aeon is floundering. "Don't you dare fuckin' cum," Aeon pleads. All thoughts or ordering Dew around gone, he is begging now. "Because if you do I'll cum too, and I want--" "Fuck," Dew groans, cutting him off. "You can't just say things like that." "Wanna fuck you," Aeon continues like Dew didn't speak, words falling from his mouth unbidden now. Pleas for mercy he knows will go unheeded. "Please let me, please don't do this to me. Fuck." There's nothing he can do about it. Dew goes rigid beneath him in a matter of seconds. Groaning as he cums all over his hand and the bedsheets below. Clenching hard around Aeon as he does. Squeezing him from root to tip. Aeon digs his teeth into his cheek until he tastes blood but it doesn't help. it's all too much, to good. He's gone. Pulling back and then shoving himself as deep as he can go, one thrust and it's all over. Spilling hotly into Dew's body with a wounded noise. Dew pulls away. Flopping bonelessly onto the hotel mattress and grinning up at him. Aeon feels like he might cry, body exhausted, satisfied but not enough. Dew reaches for him and he allows himself to be pulled down, to have his head wedged between Dew's neck and shoulder. "Give me a few minutes," Aeon whispers sleepily against Dew's skin, "We're trying again."

#comet writes #drabble #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop/aeon #aeon/dewdrop #phantom/dewdrop #dewdrop/phantom #ghost fic #ghost fan fiction #the band ghost fan fic

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theyearoftheking · 4 years ago

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Book Forty-Six: Hearts in Atlantis

“There are also books full of great writing that don’t have very good stories. Read sometimes for the story... Don’t be like the book-snobs who won’t do that. Read something for the words- the language. Don’t be like the play-it-safers that won’t do that. But when you find a book that has both a good story and good words, treasure that book.”

As a lifelong and Constant reader, there are certain books that act as a time machine... I can remember where I was when I cracked the spine for the first time, my current mental state, how the people in my life impacted the way I viewed the characters, current events... the best type of books do this for you. They act as a time machine and take you back to being young and eighteen, even when you’re forty, your back hurts and you no longer have the deep sleep that only the youth are blessed with.

Hearts in Atlantis is this book for me.

I remember being eighteen, and sitting on the second floor porch of the Edgewater in Old Orchard Beach, Maine; devouring the advanced reading copy like it was my job. Well, it kind of was my job; I was gainfully employed at a bookstore that took more of my money than I made. I remember a young, cute cleaning guy seeing my book, and telling me to drive up to Bangor and find Steve’s house. This struck me as a particularly inspired idea, and I convinced my mom and sister to do it.

For the very young Constant Readers, this was back before the days of social media and accessible internet. There was no typing, “How do you get to Stephen King’s house?” into Google. So, we took off on our drive, and stopped at the Bangor Chamber of Commerce and stupidly asked, “Hey, how do you find Stephen King’s house?”

They proceeded to give me directions which I jotted down...and kept! Finding this piece of paper tucked inside the book made me smile.

But spoiler! The directions are backwards. Back in the day before social media, Bangor protected Steve (well, except for the asshole who hit him with his van), and they didn’t give directions out to his house to obvious tourists. Thankfully, my sense of direction is terrible, and we accidentally found Steve’s house anyway! I wish I still had the pictures, I remember grinning like a fool. It’s still one of the craziest, most spontaneous adventures ever.

Is Hearts in Atlantis a good book?

Yes.

Is my review colored by the memories surrounding this book?

Also yes.

And honestly? My reading of it this time was far richer because of all the Dark Tower references I hadn’t yet read. It’s obvious in the first novella that Steve is deep in Dark Tower thoughts. The concepts of Breakers hasn’t even been discussed in the previous four books yet. So let’s get into it, shall we?

Hearts in Atlantis is broken up into five novellas and in my opinion, the first is the strongest, and they get progressively weaker as they go on (still good, just not AS good).

The first one, Low Men in Yellow Coats centers around the unexpected friendship between Bobby Garfield and his new neighbor, Ted Brautigan. Bobby is being raised by his cold, and slightly distracted single mother, and Ted hires him for a kind-of detective job: looking for missing pets signs around the neighborhood, “items for sale” signs hung upside down in the local grocery store, and hearts, stars, and moons drawn around hopscotch outlines. If Bobby sees any of these things, he needs to tell Ted immediately, because it means The Low Men are after him. The Low Men wear yellow coats, and drive around in obnoxiously flashy cars. Ted doesn’t explain WHY they’re after him, he just explains they’re bad guys.

In the midst of his detective work, Bobby is hanging with his friends Sully-John and Carol Gerber, who he might be feeling some kind of way towards. There’s a day at the beach, and a kiss on the Ferris wheel that’s particularly sweet in it’s innocence. But then Sully John leaves for a week of YMCA camp, and Bobby is left mostly with Ted. Ted recommends Lord of the Flies, which changes Bobby’s life. He swears he’ll never go back to reading kids books again.

Bobby’s mom is really suspicious of Ted, but not too suspicious, since she leaves him in charge of Bobby while she goes to a real estate conference with her creeper of a boss. A word about Bobby’s mom. I find her to be one of the worst Steve villains written. She’s truly as evil as Pennywise. Why? Because she’s real. And there are moms out there like her. Moms that let their kids go without, but always manage to have a fresh manicure or a new bag. Moms that blame their poor living situation on their ex, and make their kids feel bad about it. Moms that just don’t like their kids. It’s a thing. And it makes me sad.

While she’s at her conference, Bobby and Ted hit up a sketchy bar in an equally sketchy neighborhood, where Ted makes a bet on an upcoming boxing match. Bobby then understands Ted has powers: he can see into the future and can read minds. And when he touches Bobby, his ability brushes off on him. Bobby has seen some of the things Ted has been warning him about, but he hasn’t told Ted, because he didn’t want Ted to get spooked and leave town. Bobby doesn’t have a lot of people who have shown an interest in him the same way Ted has.

The story comes to a climactic point when Bobby finds Carol being beaten up in the woods by some neighborhood boys. He carries her back to his place where Ted fixes her dislocated shoulder. Bobby’s mom walks in beaten up (physically) from her time at the real estate conference, and assumes Ted is molesting Carol based on the way he’s touching her, and his torn shirt.

Ted leaves, Bobby is hysterical, and his mom goes to take a nap. Bobby heads back to the bar he and Ted went to, assuming Ted is going to stop there to pick up his gambling wins. Bobby finds the Low Men escorting Ted away. Come to find out, he’s a very powerful breaker: one who can break the beams The Dark Tower is resting upon. If the breakers all go, there’s no Tower.

SO MANY DARK TOWER REFERENCES!

“All things serve the Beam”

“Ka”

“Other worlds than these”

“The Crimson King”

“All things serve The King, or All things serve The Beam?” <- a moral dilemma for our times.

“Tower, Beams, and Breakers”

So, Ted is shuffled away by the Low Men, Bobby ends up with his winnings, his mom recovers from her sexual assault, she and Bobby move away, and he keeps in touch with Carol. One day, she sends him a letter she had received from Ted, with the most beautiful rose petals inside. Tis ka.

Novella two is Hearts in Atlantis... the story of how the Vietnam War affected a group of students on the University of Maine campus in Orono, especially Peter Riley.

Pete shows up on campus with his Goldwater bumper sticker, and eventually leaves as a war protester with a peace sign scrawled on the back of his letterman jacket. It’s an honest look at how college changes kids. Few kids leave with the same beliefs and sheltered world views they go in with. And no, Karen, it’s not indoctrination by liberal professors... sometimes kids talk to each other and realize they’re not all the same, and some have viewpoints worth listening to, and potentially adapting. Mind-blowing, I know.

There’s a lot of card playing... so much card playing in fact, most of the boys don’t end up coming back to campus. This isn’t great, since you’re on the draft list if you’re not in college. Pete makes friends with, and eventually hooks up with Carol Gerber, who has to break it to her boyfriend John Sullivan (Sully John) that she’s kind of in love with someone else. Awkward.

Carol ends up protesting the Vietnam war, and drops out of college. Pete never hears from her again. He pulls his shit together, passes his classes, and realizes his original viewpoints on politics was silly and sheltered. It’s a great story.

Novella three is Blind Willie, and it’s a short, strange little story. Bill Shearman (one of the boys who beat Carol Gerber up in the first novella), travels to his office in New York City where he transforms into Blind Willie, a Vietnam war vet who panhandles for change. It’s unclear if his wife knows this is how he brings money home, and it’s also slightly unclear whether or not Bill actually becomes blind when he puts on his Blind Willie costume. But, his claim to fame is that John Sullivan pulled him out of the jungle and onto a helicopter during the Vietnam War.

Novella four is Why We’re In Vietnam and starts with John Sullivan going to the funeral for a soldier he served with in Vietnam. We find out John is frequently visited by an elderly woman he witnessed being killed in Vietnam. He refers to her as “Mamasan”. John ruminates over his fallen soldiers (some of whom were dropouts from the University of Maine Orono campus, and all knew Pete Riley), what the war did to his life, and how upset he was that Carol Gerber became an extreme protester who ended up blowing up a building that killed quite a few people, including (presumably) herself.

On his way home from the funeral, he’s stuck in crazy traffic. He looks over, and thinks he sees Carol in a car a few lanes over. He goes over to investigate, and all of a sudden, heavy, deadly garbage starts falling out of the sky. One of the things that falls is Bobby Garfield’s old baseball mitt (that Bill Shearman had stolen from him when they were kids). John grabs the mitt and tries to duck the garbage. Mamasan beckons him to her, and promises to take care of him.

There was no garbage falling out of the sky. John was killed by a major heart attack. But, he did somehow end up with Bobby’s baseball glove. Curious.

The final novella, Heavenly Shades of Night Are Falling recap Bobby Garfield going back home for John’s funeral. He meets with Carol; who is no longer Carol, and now Denise Schoonover; her new identity after that whole ‘blowing up a building, killing people and faking her own death’ thing. Carol/Denise has his old baseball glove, and somehow got it from Ted, who got it from John. I’m not sure. And then fade to black.

It’s a lovely collection of novellas, all strung together with the same group of characters. Admittedly, I’m too young to know anything real about the 1960′s beyond bell bottoms and peace signs, so it was a slice of history and culture. And it wouldn’t be a Steve book if there weren’t mentions of the Derry newspaper, and a chambray work shirt.

There was one Wisconsin mention. In the first novella, Sully John’s mom was taking the Greyhound to northern Wisconsin for vacation. God bless. My own family wasn’t even able to do that this summer. #thankscovid

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 29

Total Dark Tower References: 45

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Needful Things: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Storm of the Century: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Next up we have On Writing; which I also adore. But I need to build up all this goodwill and warm feelings toward Steve, because Dreamcatcher is right on the horizon, and to borrow a quote from the second novella, “It sucks the rigid cock of Satan.”

Seriously, y’all...

That is hands down one of the best insults I’ve heard in a long time. If I wasn’t the mother of an already feral child, I’d start using that on the reg. Do me a favor, and find a subtle way to use it in conversation sometime soon.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

#hearts in atlantis #stephen king #constant readers #the dark tower #ka #derry #the gunslinger #chambray shirts #vietnam war #rigid cock of satan

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animeomegas · 3 years ago

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Kinktober - Day 1

[Satan (Obey Me!) + Exhibitionism]

Summary: Accompanying Satan to the human world was a lot more boring than you thought it’d be. Good job you came prepared with a plan B to keep yourself entertained.

Warnings: N-sfw content, exhibitionism obviously, reader calls Satan kitten, dom!reader

It had been a while since you’d been to the human world.

It was strange to be navigating city crowds again and it was harder than you remembered, although the nine completely rammed bags of Satan’s new books might have something to do with that. Then again, not one person had threatened to kill or eat you yet and wasn’t that novel!

While Satan had been scouring every bookshop in the city like his life depended on it, you had been entertaining yourself with a special rule you had given him for the day. Only one rule… Satan was forbidden to adjust his own clothes during your stay in the human world. He couldn’t touch them more than necessary. He couldn’t try and wiggle them a certain way. And crucially, he had to let you do all of the above whenever and wherever you wanted.

To the average viewer, Satan looked completely normal, walking down the street like everyone else. To someone who cared enough to look a little harder, they might see a man with too rigid shoulders and a too dark blush over his cheeks. But you knew the full truth. You knew exactly what his long coat was hiding.

In the last bookshop, you had untucked his cock from his trousers, buttoned up his long coat over the top and then reiterated your rule for the trip. Now, you were making a last stop at a cat café before heading back to the Devildom, and with every minute, Satan was getting more and more flustered, overly aware that any gust of wind could spell disaster for him. You giggled to yourself. Breaking his airtight composure was always fun.

And when you saw a convenient alley, well, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Follow me, kitten,” you whispered into Satan’s ear before leading him into the alley way and towards a shadowy corner at the back. Satan followed you obediently, one of the bags of books now strategically placed in front of his crotch. Was the stoic demon getting turned on perhaps?

You walked until you were in the furthest and most shadowed corner and then placed your bags of books on the ground. The corner was decently hidden. People likely wouldn’t see anything if they were just walking past, however, if they decided to glance directly into the alley for whatever reason, there wouldn’t be anywhere to hide.

“What are we doing here?” Satan asked, knuckles white as he gripped the handles of his shopping bags tightly. He looked nervous, but the bulge under his coat let you know that he was still more than eager to play your game.

“Hush, I just need to check to make sure you’ve been following my rule,” you shot him a teasing grin. “When I open your coat, I expect to see your cock exactly as I left it.”

“Quiet down,” Satan hissed quietly, but the aroused flush on his face was giving him away. You ignored him and started to unbutton his coat, using your body to block the sight of him from the entrance of the alleyway. Pulling away the flaps of the coat revealed a rather delicious sight.

“Oh my,” you cooed, staring shamelessly at his rock-hard cock. “You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

Satan let out an embarrassed grumble, but a clear bead of precum formed on the tip as he was complaining. He lived for the humiliation, but he was still so ruffled by it.

Knowing full well that this would only embarrass him more, you pulled a tissue from your pocket with a flourish before carefully dabbing at the precum.

“You’re so naughty, baby,” you reprimanded. “What would all those people out there on the street think if they knew you were such a messy kitten, hm?”

“It’s not my fault,” Satan ground out between his clenched teeth. His cock was twitching under the light brushes of the tissue. He was close. “You’re the one who-“

“Uh, uh, uh, no one like a whinger, kitten,” you flick the tip of his dick gently. Satan let out a little keen and you felt a twinge of arousal build in your own crotch in response. He had the most beautiful moans.

Despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying the sensation of the tissue, you pulled it back and held it up to your face, making a show of studying it in silence, and watching the steadily growing humiliated blush on Satan’s face.

“You’re dripping,” you cooed at him. “Is that the only place you’re dripping from, baby?”

“I’m not- It’s fine,” he stuttered. “Let’s just head to the café, what are we even still doing down here. I didn’t break the rule, do my coat back up and let’s leave.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I think you’re lying to me about being wet, kitten,” you added a twinge of threat to your voice, and predictably Satan lowered his gaze to the floor submissively and with a shiver. “What kind of relationship would we have if we lied to each other?”

You walked around to the other side of Satan, clearly exposing him to the entrance of the alleyway for the first time. Satan’s arms automatically jumped to hide his modesty, but then he paused, took a deep breath and lowered his arms back to his sides, his previous tenseness returning.

“Good, you’re doing very well to remember our rule. Now, I need to check if you were lying about not being wet… Bend over in the corner and get ready to present yourself.”

Satan’s cock immediately lets out another little stream of precum at your word.

“People will see!” he whisper-shouted at you.

You glanced back to the opening of the alleyway.

“No one is looking, relax.”

“It’s undignified,” he muttered.

“’Undignified’…” you rolled your eyes and walked back around to stand in front of him again, just in time for a breeze to waft something sweet towards you. You could smell his arousal. He was definitely wet. “Listen kitten, you can trust me to keep you safe and make you feel good, I promise. Go stand in the corner and turn around.”

Satan pressed his lips together but slowly turned and did as you asked. But not without a barely audible ‘what am I doing?’ slipping out. You smiled. He really was cute.

Now that his back was to you, you bunched up his coat and pulled it round and told him to hold it. He did.

Second, you undid his belt; the clanking noise felt too loud in the narrow alley.

Then you undid his jean button, making sure to put a bit of pressure in between his legs.

And finally, you eased both his trousers and his underwear down his legs, exposing him to both yourself and anyone else who cared enough to look.

“No one’s looking, right?” Satan shakily asked.

You glanced behind you again, but people were still walking by quickly and giving no indication that they were about to wander down this alleyway.

“You’re fine, baby boy, no one’s looking, I promise.” ‘Apart from me’ you finished in your head, making no attempt to hide your greedy gaze. His skin was smooth and unblemished, perfect in the way that demons tended to be. The skin in the middle was glistening in the limited light in a way that made you want to lick a stripe from top to bottom. Satan shivered a little, whether it was from nerves, arousal or the cool outside air you weren’t sure. Hmm, probably a combination of all three. Either way, you had more plans for the panting, half-naked demon in front of you.

“Hmm, I still can’t really see if you’re wet or not,” you pondered in an exaggerated tone. “You’re still hiding… Show me.”

Satan knew what you meant immediately.

“You want me to…?”

“That’s right, kitten, don’t be scared, I’m here.”

Shaking a little, Satan slowly reached back and put a hand on each cheek, and with one final glance behind him out to the busy street, he spreads them apart, revealing his quivering hole to your appreciative eyes. Strings of slick connected his cheeks. He was absolutely soaking and smelt delightful.

“You’re stunning, my omega, have I ever told you that?”

“Once or twice,” Satan mumbled, still hunched against the wall and presenting himself to you.

Shuffling closer to him, you couldn’t keep your urges at bay and licked a stripe from bottom to top. Satan keened at the sudden pleasure, pushing back onto your tongue, arms clutching at the coat that was still bunched up in his arms.

“Careful, baby, people will get curious if you’re too loud,” you said, licking his slick from your lips. “It’s safe to say you’re definitely wet, by the way. I can’t believe you lied to me.”

“Wha- it’s your fault, you’re the one who-” he cut himself off with a moan as you inserted two fingers abruptly.

“Quiet, kitten,” you said absently, focusing on stretching him, unbothered by the fact that you were technically in public. “You’re soaking, it’s a wonder no one’s heard us just from the wet noises your slutty hole is making, not to mention all the moaning. Someone could find us any second… They could see you like this, Satan, the powerful, brilliant demon with his trousers around his knees, getting fingered in an alleyway. What would people think, hmm? What would your brothers think?”

Satan pressed a hand over his mouth the stop the moans. He was clenching hard on your two fingers as you worked to find his prostate. It should be somewhere around here… There!

Satan’s knees buckled as you found and immediately focused on his prostate. He was making little ‘ah’ noises as you fingered him as hard and as fast as you could. There wasn’t the time for edging or love making right now. As much as you had been teasing him about someone finding you, that reality became more and more likely the longer you stayed here, and getting arrested for public indecency in the human world would be difficult to explain to Lucifer.

“You almost there, baby?” you asked. “You’re dripping down my arm.”

“Nearly,” he whimpered, voice a little muffled by the hand he still had pressed over his mouth. “There, right there, don’t stop.”

You increased your speed, slipping another finger in for good measure.

“Come on, kitten, you can do it, come for me,” you cooed.

And just like that, Satan’s muscles seized, his hole clenching down on your fingers so hard it almost hurt. The rush of liquid that followed was warm as it pushed its way around your fingers and ropes of cum quickly decorated the alley floor. Satan’s thighs started to shake so you quickly wrapped a strong arm around his waist to support him and, in a moment of impulse, you turned the both of you to face the alley entrance, letting Satan watch the passers-by as he rode out and came down from his orgasm.

“That’s it, kitten, look at all those people, what would they say if that saw you like this?”

Satan tensed one final time, giving a final whine and shot of cum before collapsing boneless into your arms.

“Enough,” he said, panting. “No more.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you agreed immediately, slipping your fingers out. “No more, we’ll get you cleaned up, leave it all to me.”

You helped him stand up, his coat now falling back down and covering him up. You pulled out some new tissues and used them to wipe up as much slick as you could. Satan was docile like he normally was after a good orgasm, and stayed silent the whole time, leaning against you and letting you clean him. Finally, you redressed him and pulled a bottle of water out of your bag for him sip.

A few minutes later, he was looking a lot stronger, although his face was still flushed and he… well, to put it bluntly, he smelt like he was in heat. Demons smelt way stronger when aroused than humans did. Satan cleared his throat and broke you out of your thoughts.

“If you’re done now, let’s head to the café,” he said, picking up all the bags full of books and awkwardly brushing himself down.

You snorted at his hilarious attempt to ignore what just happened, but you let it slide, knowing that he still had trouble embracing his sexuality sometimes.

“Wait! I need to scent you first before we leave.”

Satan raised a questioning eyebrow at you.

“You kinda… smell like you’re in heat…to a human nose, at least… and I don’t really feel like getting arrested because the authorities think I dragged my delirious and in-heat mate out into public. My scent should cover you enough to get back to the Devildom, but maybe the cat café will have to wait until next time, when you’re… smelling a bit less… enticing…”

Satan’s blush returned at full force at your words. He really was adorable.

#kinktober #satan #obey me #n-sfw #satan x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega!satan #omega satan #alpha!reader #dom reader #dom!reader

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muscledemon666 · 3 years ago

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AWAKEN TO HIS CALL...FEEL THE POWER IN

THE DEPTHS OF YOUR BALLS!

In the name of SATAN I call you to awaken. To listen to your inner voice saying “cum cum cum”. For you know that only the power of Satan stirs you. That only in and by and of HIM will you be set free. The world in HIS HOUR OF CHAOS is confused and in panic. Like blind sheep caught in the headlights of a world of weak, rudderless individuals they have no sense of direction or purpose. You all have a purpose...a Divine Direction which is the utter and complete devotion to the one who has called you. Satan empowers you, frees you from guilt, shame and judgment. He makes you a MAN doing what man was meant to do...SPREAD HIS SEED, TAKE WHAT HE WANTS AND APOLOGISES FOR NOTHING! You were born to embrace your darkness , to feed your lusts, hungers and perversions. Over 100 priests from around the world have come to me to be guided and full filled in and by Satan. Toby the Lutheran in Germany is trying to resist...but each day he gets weaker, loses more and more of his faith. As you call upon Satan this next week. Focus on the power of Satan to finally free Toby from his , guilt, fear, pain and failures. Toby will be our Brother. He will serve Satan. Give power to Matt in the Carolina’s as he grows stronger everyday in his lust, evil and hate. He is truly amazing. For the next 6 DAYS say this sacred mantra at least 6 times each day. It will guide you as never before. “ THE WORDS OF SATAN FOR THE WARRIORS OF SATAN “. OH DARK SACRED ONE THE DEVOURER OF ALL SOULS WE CALL YOUR POWER FORTH. WE YOUR WARRIORS PREPARE FOR BATTLE. OUR MIGHT SWORDS ARE OUR RIGID COCKS! OUR ARSENAL THE SEED WE SPEW FORTH AS WE CLEANSE THE WORLD OF THE VILE ENEMIES THAT FIGHT YOU. SATAN WE WILL NOT FAIL YOU. WE WILL NOT FALTER UNTIL YOUR REIGN IS SECURED. ONLY THEN WILL THE TRUE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN BE ESTABLISHED. A BROTHERHOOD WHERE OUR COCKS AND BALL ARE DISPLAYED FOR ALL TO SEE, TASTE AND PARTAKE OF. NOW IN THE NAME OF DAR WE ARE YOURS ETERNALLY. HAIL ALMIGHTY SATAN!” I’m always here to help and guide you as you come HOME to SATAN. Contact me on Wickr , my name there is demondar666. Please always state your first name, age and location. Do his work and the world will be yours!��

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whumperooni · 4 years ago

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sick

Pairing: Satan x Reader, Lucifer x Reader

Tags/Warnings: jealousy, cucking, very submissive reader, fingering, violence and blood mention, kinda toxic relationship,

Word count: 3k

A/N: this popped into my head and wouldn’t let go so i had to write it u.u

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

It makes him sick.

“You picked the red coat? No, no- darling, go put on the black one I bought you. You look so beautiful in it.”

It makes him sick.

“The Fall? Absolutely not- you’re going with me to Lord Diavolo’s tonight. He wants to see you, kitten, and we’re not going to disappoint him.”

It makes him sick.

“Now, now- that’s enough. You had a big lunch today; you don’t need to gorge yourself anymore.”

It makes him sick.

Teeth gritting, Satan watches as Lucifer fixes a diamond collar upon your neck. Fists clenching, Satan watches as Lucifer runs his gaze over your small form and reaches to adjust the hem of your dress.

“Perfect,” Lucifer murmurs. “You look perfect.”

You blink up at him, docile and sweet, and Satan has to look away from the way you smile at his big brother, has to look away from the way Lucifer places his hand to the back of your neck and nudges you to walk out of the room.

You’re so complacent under Lucifer’s thumb- so content. It makes him sick how easily you bend to his will, how you change your life at his whims and submit to his demands without any hesitation or words of protest.

Lucifer doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve someone so sweet and so obedient, so very good.

He doesn’t deserve you and it makes Satan sick.

A scowl crosses his face and he crosses his arms over his chest, tries to ignore the ugly throb of envy that pulses in his chest.

“Satan? What’re you doin’ out here? I thought you were goin’ to Solomon’s tonight.”

The question distracts him just for a moment and Satan takes a breath, closes his eyes and nods.

Solomon’s, yes. He’s supposed to go to Solomon’s- he should go to Solomon’s.

It would be better to do that than stay at home and stew.

He leaves the room before Mammon can pull him into a senseless conversation and he heads to Solomon’s- brow furrowed and a stormy rage brewing through his mind.

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

Two in the morning is when Satan arrives home.

Two in the morning and he’s drunk, fumbling with his keys and shoving off his coat with more force than what’s necessary.

He shouldn’t have let Solomon talk him into drinking. He shouldn’t have accepted the wine that had been pushed his way nor the whiskey that Solomon had plied on him either.

But, he had.

He had and now he’s drunk, risking a hangover in the morning and a long day ahead of him.

Stupid. He was stupid.

A huff escapes him and Satan makes his way to the kitchen, grumbles to himself when he nearly trips over a rug.

It’s quiet in the kitchen- blissfully quiet, blissfully without any brothers scrounging around for a late night snack. Satan goes straight for the fridge and he gets himself a bottle of water, cracks it open and downs half of it in one go.

His head throbs whenever he finally stops drinking and Satan presses the bottle to his forehead, sighs as his eyes fall shut.

He’s so tired and the world is so fuzzy- he hates feeling like this.

He hates feeling likes this, but he hates more so whenever there’s a small sound behind him and he turns around to find you.

You wearing a silk nightgown and one of Lucifer’s shirts over it. You with a sleepy face and marks on your neck that your collar can’t quite hide. You who looks at him and then looks away, bites your lip and lowers your head meekly as his eyes narrow.

Of course- why shouldn’t he run into you tonight? Why shouldn’t he be tormented with the sight of you looking so lovely all wrapped up in scarlet silk, looking so thoroughly owned with his brother’s claims marking your soft body and the diamond studded leather wrapped around your throat?

Satan huffs and your eyes flit to them, flit away in a hurry.

You’re not supposed to look at him. Him, or any of his brothers. Any demon or human or angel, actually- only Lucifer, only Diavolo.

It makes him sick.

You don’t speak- you never speak unless spoken to- and that stokes the rage that had simmered down, brings it up to a dull roar that has his eyes narrowing, his lips dipping into a scowl.

So obedient, so submissive- there’s not a hint of a backbone in you and it makes him burn with anger, sear with frustration and fury.

God, he loathes- loves- how weak you are.

He watches as you squirm under his gaze and he watches as your mouth opens and shuts, as some quiet distress has your fingers curling into your nightgown. It only further serves to his eyes narrow even more and his teeth grit as your own dig deeper into your bottom lip, as it trembles.

Pathetic. You’re so very pathetic.

“Speak,” he finally snaps out, unable to stand the silence any longer.

The word is irritated, but your shoulders relax at it and Satan scoffs at the relieved sigh that sounds from you, the way your lashes flutter but your gaze stays on the floor.

“I- I wanted to get some water...I’m sorry...”

Meek, soft- your voice is so small and so apologetic and there’s no reason it should be. There’s no reason it should be so timid and there’s no reason he should enjoy it so much.

It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting.

“Then get some water,” he huffs, leaning against the counter. “No one’s stopping you.”

A tiny noise and your fingers twitch at your side, your cheeks heat as you take a few apprehensive steps forward. If he were just a bit more drunk, Satan might roll his eyes at the display but he stays silent instead, frowns as you make your way to the fridge.

You’re too close to him as you grab the water from the fridge- he can smell your perfume and he can smell Lucifer’s cologne, smell the faint scent of sex lingering on you.

Vile. It’s so vile.

You take the water and you close the door, but you don’t leave as he expects- you hesitate where you stand and you flutter nervous fingers around the bottle, bite your lip once more as Satan watches you.

“What?” he asks, exasperated by you and your meek little display and the way his eyes can’t help but to linger on your curves.

He hates his brother but, gods, does Lucifer know how to dress you.

“I,” you start- anxious, quieter than before, “I...I...can I have a snack? Please?”

You’re asking him if you can have a snack? You’re seeking permission from him for something so basic?

Satan blinks and he wets his lips as his cock stirs, as you squirm and fret before him.

“...you may.”

His approval brings a tiny smile on your face- something that could nearly be called excited. He hates it and he hates the way it makes his heart pound, hates the shy joy that crosses over your sweet features, hates how it makes his eyes grow hooded and a heady sense of satisfaction thread through him.

He hates the way it makes him want to break from his control, pull you to him and make you look at him, make you submit more to him.

Stupid, weak human- how dare you shake him the way you do. How dare you wreck his self-control when you won’t even be his.

“Thank you!”

Sweet, happy- your sincere words has his fingers digging into his arms, his frustration spiraling all the more.

Lucifer doesn’t deserve you.

You go to the cabinets and you have to stand on your tiptoes as you root around them. You’re just so small compared to him, to his brothers and it’s so very horrid how it has his cock hardening even more as his mind flashes with images of you beneath him, you sitting in his lap.

You’d fit against him so well.

A please noise sounds as you find your snack of choice, but it’s drowned out by a click of a tongue, a disappointed sigh.

“Darling, you know you’re not allowed a snack so late at night.”

Satan’s heart stops and you go perfectly still- back rigid and the snack falling from your trembling hands, a quiet whimper leaving you as Lucifer steps into the room.

“S-Sir...Sir I...”

You can’t even finish your apology, can’t form any excuses. If you were anyone else, Satan may pity you. Instead, his rage is fueled even more so and he’s left near snarling as his older brother bypasses him without so much as a glance spared his way to go to you.

“Who gave you permission to have a snack?” Lucifer asks, murmuring the question as he forces you to turn to face him. Like this, Satan can see your wide eyes and the tears in them, your wobbling lower lip and the shame all over your pretty face.

“It certainly wasn’t me,” Lucifer continues on, hand finding your cheek. “Did my kitten think she could break her rules?”

A tiny whimper, your eyes darting toward Satan, and your head hangs, your small shoulders shake.

And then all of a sudden, Lucifer’s eyes are on him- narrowed, his head cocking, displeasure showing in the way his lips press together.

The aggravation from him has Satan’s scowl shifting into something that’s almost a smirk and he only lifts his head higher as Lucifer looks him over, stares him back down as something vindictive surges through him.

Oh, he wants to rub his brother’s face in it. Oh, he wants to gloat over this small, insignificant victory and have his brother’s smooth facade breaking.

“...ah,” Lucifer says, attention turning back to you. “I see. You thought his permission would make it alright?”

Wide eyes widen even more and Satan huffs as you sniffle, as you bob your head in a tiny nod and admit to your mistake.

Disgusting. Weak. God, can you stand up to him even a little?

(No, no, of course not. Because then you wouldn’t be his and then Satan wouldn’t be aching to have you in his clutches.)

“I- I’m sorry...”

A tut from Lucifer and his hand tightens its hold on your face, brings a noise of distress from you and tears that wet your lashes.

“Darling,” Lucifer hums- softly, dangerously, “you’re so very foolish, aren’t you? Don’t you remember who you belong to?”

A gasp and you’re shuddering, Satan is gnashing his teeth as fingers dip below your collar and tug. Lucifer’s gaze moves to him and it’s so amused, so thoroughly entertained.

He could kill him, Satan thinks. He could kill him.

“Perhaps my kitten needs to be reminded of who owns her,” Lucifer muses. “Perhaps everyone needs to be reminded of it.”

Oh, he is not-

“Y-Yes, sir...”

You’re pulled in front of Lucifer before Satan can so much as blink and his shirt is ripped off of you, your nightgown is tugged above your hips. You’re bare underneath it- no underwear to be seen- and Satan’s fury gets waylaid by shock, by want and greed as your thighs are nudged apart and your hips are made to arch back against his older brother.

“Lucifer-”

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Lucifer interrupts- voice so casual as his hand dips low to run a finger through your slit. “Gorgeous, obedient, and so very eager to please. My good little girl.”

Lucifer’s good little girl.

The words have you gasping softly, the touch has your cheeks heating up. You are gorgeous and you are obedient and you are so very eager- your hips grind against Lucifer’s fingers as he dips them inside you and Satan hates seeing it, hates that his cock is harder than before, hates that his hands twitch with the need to reach out and touch you, feel your silken wetness for himself.

“Ah, sir...”

The soft mewl comes out sweetly, so darling and dear. It makes Satan’s eyes narrow and his teeth clench, but the smirk the graces his brother’s face has him growling in envy, his hands tightening into fists.

Bastard.

“She’s exquisite,” Lucifer murmurs. “Always so wet, so easy to rile up. It feels like heaven sliding into her. And she so does enjoy being filled- don’t you, darling?”

“I- oh- oh, yes! Please!”

Needy- your quiet cry is so needy.

You’re so needy and Satan is so hard. Hard, avaricious, furious at the situation unfolding before him.

How dare Lucifer pull this? How dare he dangle you like a treat never to be savored before him?

Magic crackles along Satan and he snarls, pushes himself from the counter and glares all his rage toward his older brother and the moaning beauty before him.

“Stop. It.”

Lucifer’s smirk grows and his fingers plunge deeper into you, you cry out louder than Satan has ever heard before as you thighs shake and your body tilts forward with a moan.

“What?” Lucifer asks, taunts. “Are you bothered by this? You don’t want to see her losing herself to pleasure?”

He does- god, he does. But he wants to see you losing yourself to pleasure brought on by him. He wants to break you apart and have all your mewling, whimpering pleas all to himself.

“Perhaps you want to indulge in her?” Lucifer muses, thumb moving to grind along your clit. “Perhaps you want to fuck her yourself?”

“Lucifer-”

“Kitten, do you want that? Do you want anyone but me?”

A whimper, a shake of your head- you sniffle and you shake at the question, have to be held up by Lucifer to keep from collapsing onto the kitchen floor.

And Satan- Satan’s heart cracks and his rage explodes along with the cups drying on the counter, the plates stacked in the sink.

How dare Lucifer? How dare you?

The noise of breaking dishes has you startling and the step that Satan takes toward you has you stuttering out panic, but he can’t see it- can’t acknowledge it- as his tail slams against the cabinets and makes their contents tumble onto the floor in rushing, loud heaps.

“L-Lucifer!”

“Shh, darling,” Lucifer soothes- unruffled by the threat Satan carries, uncaring at the volcanic fury threatening to be unleashed. “He knows his place. He knows your place.”

“My place? My place?!”

The words fly from Satan’s mouth before he can think to contain them and his snarl has the kitchen rumbling, has tears dripping down your cheeks and your hips squirming against Lucifer’s hand.

Lucifer only hums and he retracts his fingers from you, licks your juices from them with a sneer.

“Absolutely decadent.”

Satan moves so fast that the kitchen becomes a blur and his hands seek Lucifer’s neck, his claws reach to dig into that arrogant neck and slice it to bloody pieces.

He’s thrown across the room before he can so much as bring a drop and the impact has the fridge denting, food scattering along the floor, and a terrified cry ripping from you.

“Sir!”

Sir? Sir? Even after Lucifer throwing him across the room all you can think about is that bastard?

Disgusting. You stupid little wretch.

“Sir! Lucifer! Please- please don’t-”

A scoff sounds and ebony wings appear, wrap around your trembling form and pull you closer, hide your glittering tears from view.

“Look, now you’ve upset her,” Lucifer huffs. “My poor little darling.”

“Fuck you!”

A whimper, a tut, a snarl. You’re lifted up and you tuck your face into Lucifer’s neck, cling to him like the pathetic, weak, disgusting thing you are. Satan heaves himself out of the wreckage and you flinch as he growls, sniffle and whine as Lucifer’s arms tighten around you.

“Come, kitten, you shouldn’t have to see something so ugly.”

And just like that, you’re whisked away and Satan is left to sweep the counter free from its contents, snarl and rip chunks of marble out of it and hurl them against the wall.

They explode into dust and he heaves, rakes his claws through his hair and shakes with so much rage it has the whole house quaking.

The sounding of running footsteps are drowned by the pounding in his ears and Satan growls as he grips onto the sink, nearly falls to his knees as his fury pulses so thick and bitter it has him choking.

Vile. Disgusting. Sick.

It’s all so sick.

Satan drops into a crouch and he presses his hand to his mouth, tears at his flesh as he shakes and breaks under the weight of his horrid rage and greed and heartbreak.

Repulsive. Weak.

He’s so pathetic- just as pathetic as you are.

Satan squeezes his eyes shut and he grits his teeth as his brothers spill into his room, slams his fist against the floor as a sweet, teary cry sounds from high above.

“Satan?! Satan what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Satan-”

He stands and he wipes the blood from his cheeks, storms past his brothers and to his room, hurls a vase at Lucifer’s door when he passes it and he hears you whimper out a loud “please!”

He doesn’t stop until he gets into his room and he slams the door behind him, collapses onto the floor and buries his fingers into his hair, snarls because his cock his still hard and he can’t get the image of your heated cheeks and stuffed, sweet crux out of his mind despite the rage and the violence and your fear.

It makes him sick.

He makes himself sick.

Satan curls into himself and his tail wraps around his body tight, his heart thuds faster and faster as his frustration spirals with the threat of him lashing out once more.

He’s so sick. This whole house is sick.

The thought that he will never have you makes him sick.

It doesn’t stop him from stroking his cock to the sound of you being ravished, though, and it doesn’t stop him from gasping and growling and coming to the thought of snatching you away from his big brother, fucking you senseless in front of that bastard and putting you in a collar of his own.

Someday.

Someday he’ll make his brother feel as sick as he does.

And Lucifer, you, everyone will rue the day.

#satan x reader #lucifer x reader #rooni's shit #ahahahahahahahhahahaha sorry for this i guess #but not really #had to feed the brain worms

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r0-boat · 9 months ago

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What in hell is bad

Bullying Hour drabble

Cuck drabble

Cw: cuckold, terrible writing

Minhyeok x Gn!Reader x Satan

We're bullying Minhyeok lol

Smut below

Unable to look away can't help but have his eyes on you.

Being ravaged mercilee by the demon, you're currently in the lap in thrusting upwards. Satan's massive rigid cock hitting every little part inside you, making you scream.

His hands hot calloused sticky with your juices and blood groping your chest.

Smirking at the plaything currently tied to the chair. Seething rage. Glaring at the demon before him, defiling his childhood crush. Cock straining, balls filled full with that delicious white liquid you need to survive. He can do nothing. You are the one who wanted this, after all, And he would do anything for you.

As long as he gets to feel your mouth on his cock. As long as he finally gets to feel you, even if it's just a taste of you.

"Yes, mmh~ Your wrath tastes so good. I want to taste your lips so badly, drink it from the source. But that means I have to let go of my fuck toy."

In his lap, he bounces you up and down, one hand lifting you so effortlessly, slides you down, he moves his hips to meet yours, vigorously fucking you.

Minhyeok whimpers pressing his legs together trying to hide the inevitable in his pants but there is no way to hide it not when he's wearing your recently used underwear , the cute lacey fabric doing nothing to hide his hung cock.

The fabric rubbing against the tip of his cock paired with your whimpers and screams are just enough to get him to that edge but not to make him cum.

Just enough to make his balls produce more.

Of course, because you need every drop of milk from your dear semen cow.

#smut #whb satan #what in hell is bad #I need to play more I'm only on chapter like two #whb minhyeok #I love him and I love to bully him #cw cucking #whb x reader #whb x mc #whb satan x reader #whb #wihib #wihib x reader

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prophecy-is-inevitable · 4 years ago

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On the Eve of November

Outpost!Michael x Demon! Fem Reader Oneshot

Halloween night marks Michael’s final victory over the witches, and his father sends you--a Prince of Hell--to offer your congratulations to his son.

Warnings: Smut...this is really just smut. Language, Some Blasphemy, maybe a little fighting for dominance, Scratching (let me know if I need to add anything!)

Word Count: 5k (WHOOPS)

Outpost!Michael won the poll, so here is the Halloween oneshot I promised! I hope you all enjoy, and have a great Halloween! (Bonus points to you if you know which Prince you are before the end.)

--------

The fires and candle flames of Outpost 3 flickered into nonexistence and threw the empty hallways into shadow. The tendrils of smoke rising from the wicks and embers funneled to one concentrated spot and blotted out any remaining light. As soon as your form finished materializing, your nose crunched at the acrid smell of vomit and blood. Heels clicked on along the floor as you wove your way around the room and past the array of bloodied, decapitated, or smoldering bodies around your feet. You hiked up the burnt, ragged edges of your long skirt to avoid the mess. It was one thing to cause such carnage, and it was another thing entirely to wear it.

“What the fuck, Michael,” your groaned. Your pace quickened as you hunted for the man. It wasn’t hard--just follow the bodies. Candles and fires relit upon your approach to light your way through the complex. It looked like absolute chaos. Large bullet holes littered the once perfectly polished wood walls, and blood and organs had exploded over the stairs. It was a lovely tomb, far too generous for these failed humans, you thought. You quirked an eyebrow at the body of a woman laying on the floor missing her heart. At least he was keeping his energy up with all of this. You rounded a corner to see him standing in the hallway with his back to you and his elegant clothes in tatters. His shoulders were tensed and he pulsed with the energy prepared for a fight.

He whipped around and extended a hand towards you, intending to launch you against the wall, and you deflected the attack with a dismissive wave of your hand. His crystalline eyes widened a fraction as his lips curled into a silent snarl. You tilted your head to the side with an incredulous furrow of your brows and a soft smile at his reaction.

“Really, Michael?” He stood straighter at the sight of you, his eyes searching you from head to toe, and you sway carefully over to him as if approaching a caged lion. His eyes held the same predatory, calculating, coldness on that beautifully chiseled face.

“You.” He spit the word as if it’s the same poison on his tongue he’d used to kill the inhabitants. Your eyes widened in a gesture of mock hurt, and you placed an ornately armored hand to your chest, each piece of clawed armor on your fingers clinking together.

“Me? Here I thought you’d be happy to see me. I’m happy to see you.” You pouted when reaching your other silver clawed hand out to wipe some of the blood from his cheek. He gripped your wrist in a vice with his rings digging into the broken shackle around the delicate joint.

“Why are you here?” Your pout melted into a smooth, seductive smirk. He still towered over you, and you looked into his turquoise eyes from under your lashes.

“Daddy might not always answer you, precious, but he’s always listening.” Feigning boredom, you began to run one metal nail under the other. He practically growled at the pet name and you chuckled. “After a pathetic fiasco in 1984, he decided to take a more passive roll with summons and rituals. Otherwise, people would never shut the fuck up with their pathetic begging. ‘Save me this’ and ‘help me’ that. That’s what God is for, you wretches.” Your eyes narrowed up as him, and you reached out to try and straighten his shirt and salvage whatever was left of his style. The bloodstained velvet of his dinner jacket had somehow managed to retain the smooth and luxurious texture, and the heat of his body kept the fabric warm beneath your fingers. The richness of the material suited him. “Since the apocalypse, I haven’t been very busy, and--as a mere prince--I have to do what your daddy says,” you shrugged, running your hands down his lapels. “Consider me a sort of...answering service. Though you seem to have everything well in hand. How about that!” Your head tilted once again with a coy smile.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Michael said through gritted teeth. His lips are pursed tightly in his annoyance, and the air grew stagnant in the hallway around you both. Michael took a step closer until you were nearly breathing on his chest. “Answer me. Now.” His voice rose marginally, and it’s just enough to echo through the vacant halls.

“Oh, listen to you! Making demands of an Archdemon and a Prince of Hell! My, how you’ve--” Michael’s hand quickly grasped your throat and squeezed. What he anticipated causing you pain earned him a moan instead as your eyes slipped closed. You could feel his grip falter momentarily in his confusion before it grew more intense. You gasped and released a breathless chuckle. His gaze searched your face, you could feel his eyes taking in every aspect of your lustful expression. Suddenly, his hand released you, and he took a few steps back with a tight smirk.

“That is exactly why you’re here, isn’t it?” He watched you with a side glance as you adjusted the chandelier choker at your neck and shoulders.

“Whatever do you mean?” Your eyelashes fluttered with an ill-suited expression of innocence. Michael’s eyes travelled down to the deep v of your dress that plunged to the top of your navel. The dark laughter bubbled from low in his chest and reverberated in the halls as he tipped his head back. It had you absolutely throbbing with need and was fucking embarrassing. Then again, this was Satan’s son, the highest Crowned Prince of Hell, created to be every idea of perfection and desire there could be. From the shimmering strands of golden silk draping his shoulder, to his slender perfect nose, to those mesmerizing oasis eyes set within the dunes of his elegant cheekbones… You couldn’t have designed him more perfectly yourself, and you had a lot of ideas thanks to your reign.

Michael ran his tongue along his upper teeth and continued to smirk at you. He tilted his head inquisitively, and you mimicked him playfully. The timber of his voice had dropped to a dangerously seductive tone filled with confidence when he spoke again.

“I have won.”

“A very astute observation, Michael.” Slowly, he sauntered back to you and ran one ringed finger along your cheek and down your jaw.

“I have won. I’ve done everything he asked. Cordelia let her successor die before she could complete her plan.” Michael extended his arms out from his sides, a prideful smirk stretching across his lip, and he cocked his head to the side. “There is no one left to stop me.” The warmth of Michael’s hand rested on a bare section of your clavicle as he looked over your body once again. His smirk grew and he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Now, I’m receiving my reward. Father sent you, did he not? One of his princes, here to please me in the hour of my greatest victory, and on our night no less. The night before your powers are at their strongest, if I’m not mistaken.” Michael leaned his head down and his breath ghosted across your cheek as he spoke softly. You could feel his lips only a hair’s breadth away from the shell of your ear.

His words should not have caused the goosebumps that prickled across your arms and chest, nor should it have caused the slight weakness in your knees. You had been around for millennia. You had 72 legions of demons under your command, dammit! How dare--

Michael’s lips brushed along your neck above the elaborate jewelry veiling your soft skin. He knew exactly what effect he had on. The hierarchy of demons granted him the ability to toy with you just as he did with humans despite your ancient status. And he played you like a child with their favorite old toy. Michael’s hands gripped your hips tightly and, with a violent jerk, he tugged you flush against him.

You didn’t even want to fight him. You wanted him to have his moment and embrace his victory--embrace you. Despite the lack of necessity for breath, you found yourself panting against him in anticipation. The tip of his tongue traced up the tendon in your neck up to your jaw. The mewl that slipped from between your lips was almost embarrassing and made worse by his syrupy chuckle that you could feel against your chest. You were positively dripping, and there was no doubt that he knew.

“Hell has sent its greatest whore to pleasure me, I see. What, was Lilith too busy today?” His verbal jab made your eyes narrow dangerously. That succubus had nothing on you, and you would prove it. Renewed vigor flowed through you as your hands gripped his jacket tightly; the sharp metal claws tipping your fingers scratched and tore into the thick, expensive fabric adorning his chest.

“I’m going to make it so that you don't even remember her name. From now on, whenever your cock gets hard, you’re going to think of me,” you purred into his ear as you stood on your toes. Using the purchase you had on his clothing, you dragged his mouth to yours and moaned at the sweet and smoky taste of his sultry full lips. Michael's body radiated power and the heat of the inferno from which he was born, and it drew you in like a moth to a roaring bonfire.

Michael’s hands clenched into fist at your waist, and you heard the sharp inhale through his nose when you ran your tongue along the curve of his lips. It was your turn to chuckle. Dominion over lust had not been granted to you without reason, and you’d had centuries of playing with mortals and lesser demons to perfect your...talents. You weren’t entirely helpless against the superiority of the Antichrist. The feeling of his rigid length pressed firmly against your stomach proved that.

Within seconds the power shifted, and he had you against the wall. His dull nails sank into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs when he bunched up your skirts and held your legs apart around his waist. The touch was scalding. You could feel the crescent marks burning into your skin.

“Not making empty promises, are we?” Michael crooned, the tip of his nose dancing along yours. The smirk on his face was predatory when your lips parted with the expectation of another searing kiss. His wicked laughter caused a shiver that ran up your spine. “What makes you think you are worthy of me?”

With your heels locked behind his waist, you used the position to your advantage and flexed your legs to grind your hips together. As much as he talked shit, you knew he wanted this, but two could play his game. A light breath, akin to that of blowing out a candle, forced Michael off of you and against the opposite wall.

“If I’m so unworthy, I suppose I will simply show myself out.” You vanished in the blink of an eye, your playful chuckle bounding throughout the underground complex. Of course, you made it very easy for him to find you. All Michael needed to do was follow the trail of lit candles up to the room he had inhabited as his office while at Outpost 3. The growl he emitted upon opening the door and seeing you sitting so daintily on the spiral iron staircase made your eyes burn with unbridled lust.

Michael stalked over to you with a scowl on his face, golden hair billowing around his shoulders from the speed of his strides, and you parted your legs wantonly to welcome him between them. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand whether he would ever admit it or not. Michael was rough when he pulled your hips against his once more. Your metallic claws dragged down his torso and cut through his shirt and jacket to leave thin red marks on his otherwise unblemished skin. You could feel him twitch against you with his pants the only barrier standing between the two of you.

Both of your hands grasped onto the metal rails of the stairs when he sharply yanked your hips towards the edge of the stair. The last thing you expected was to see him dropping to his knees and burying his face between your legs. Your head tipped back against the stair above you with a strangled cry of surprise that quickly morphed into a long moan. Instantly, your hands sank into the satin curtains of hair around his head as his tongue made a long swipe over your folds. His movements were impatient when he forced your legs farther apart.

“Michael…” You could feel the smirk on his lips when he took your clit into his mouth and sucked. Hard. Your back arched against the stairs and your hands scrambled to grab onto his shoulder. It had been so long since someone had sought to pleasure you as much as themselves. He certainly didn’t get those manners from his father…

Michael’s teeth nipped at your sensitive nerves and you yelped, filling the room with your loud cries of pleasure. Soft sounds of tearing fabric filled your ears when you continued to clutch his shoulders so hard that his jacket ripped at the seams. The deeper he worked his tongue into your core, the brighter his celestial eyes burned. It made your chest heave as you stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first.

It was you.

Michael stumbled back when you pushed him away. His eyes flared black in his agitation, and you returned the obsidian gaze. Short strides carried you to him until your hands grasped his sculpted face and drew his lips back to yours. It was a dance of domination and desperation, your tongue swirling and battling against his while you both inhaled the growing heat and arousal of your flushed skin. At the same time, your steps urged him backwards until he dropped down into the chair behind the desk. Ah, victory. It looked so sweet when it came in the form of Michael man-spreading in a chair with mused hair, kiss-swollen lip, and a very obvious and impressive erection all courtesy of you. You knelt in front of him before he had the chance to move. He had done the same for you, and you weren’t so cold as to not return the favor.

Michael’s eyes watched you carefully. At first, his expression almost looked like boredom, but you could see the tension in his jaw and feel the way his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. You pursed your lips while deftly roaming your fingers over his belt.

“Take your jacket and shirt off, Michael.” It hardly covered him anymore anyway, but his eyes narrowed at your command. You sat back on your heels to look up at him. “Come on. Off with it.” Reluctantly, he undid the buttons and tossed both items away. The sight of his bare torso, stained here and there with flecks of blood, was so very enticing. You leaned forward, placing sloppy and open-mouthed kisses over his chest and down his stomach. The sight of his stomach heaving from your actions made you moan against his skin. His hips bucked into your hands when you cupped him through the material of his pants.

Teasingly, your fingers slowly caught the waistband of his pants. Your eyes shot up to his when you noticed the absence of anything else underneath. The smirk he gave you was pure mischief, and you licked your lips at the sight of his weeping tip. One of his ringed hands sank into your hair and urged you forward; you allowed it this time. The shape of him was perfect--something humans modelled their toys after. Oh, how eager you were to play. He truly had been crafted to perfection.

The tip of your tongue ran along the pulsing vein of his shaft, and his groan filled you with pride. Flicking your eyes up to his, you noticed that they were closed and his head was tipped back to let his hair cascade over his bare shoulders. The candlelight flickered on his skin and you could spot the beginnings of sweat beading on his chest. A quick flick of your tongue caught the beads of precome that tickled from the head of his cock. The hand in your hair tightened, but you gave him a warning glare with growl. This was not his time to take control.

One hand stroked the length of his shaft and the other gently scratched down his chest. Michael arched into your touch, and you hummed around his tip when your lips encircled him. The groan that fell from his lips was nothing short of obscene and it drove you on. He even sat up more to get a better view of your mouth swallowing down his cock. Your eyes locked with his and you smirked around him. The taste of his heated length alone made you moan. Trick or treat indeed.

Michael’s chest was heaving before you even reached the base. You held there for a moment and then began to bob your head. It was only moments until he bucked his hips upwards, shoving himself deeper down your throat, and tugged your head against his pelvis. Your nose is pressed to his skin and the musky, salty smell invades your senses. A guttural moan tore through the amber-lit room when hollowed your cheek to suck greedily at the head of his cock and your hands pumped the rest of his shaft. The way your core throbbed at the sound told you your body was more than ready to feel him inside of you. You stood without warning, and Michael instantly moved to follow. One of your heels on his chest pushed him harshly back into his chair.

“Stay.” Michael glared at you, but he did not repeat his effort to move. “Good boy,” you cooed. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened on the arm of the chair. You removed your foot from him and took a step back. With your back to him, you reached back to undo the clasps of your dress. Clearly, he was far too impatient by that point, and a light snap of his fingers finished your work for you before it even began. The clothing covering you both disappeared, but you noticed that he left the vast amounts of jewelry on you, from the tips of your ears down to the gilded manacles on your feet.

“Let me see you.” The request fell from his lips much softer than you would have expected, and you complied easily. His eyes widened so subtly that you would have missed it had you not been watching him carefully. Azure eyes devoured your appearance. Your breasts were framed by the chandelier necklace hanging over your shoulders and dripping onyx beads down your sternum. Michael’s hands slowly rose, his eyes still roving over your figure.

"You may touch me," you allowed. At first, he only ran his fingers over the shimmering cuff on your upper arms. Then he trailed down to the broken jeweled shackles on your wrist that matched the pair around your ankles. He gently maneuvered your hands on his shoulder to lure you closer. It placed your chest at the same height as his lips. Greedily, his head leaned forward to take a hardened nipple between his lips. A sigh of relief escaped your own.

Michael continued the slow exploration of his hands. They moved back up your arms, over the collection of diamonds and midnight gemstones dangling across your shoulders, and down your sides to hold your hips. Each fingertip left a trail of raised skin in its wake. The simple touches made you shiver, and you let Michael see this time. His hands curled around your waist to pull you in closer, and you pushed your hands against his shoulders. He released your nipple with a wet “pop” and furrowed his brow.

Your movements were fluid and smooth when you pushed him back into the chair and straddled his hips. His erection stood proudly against his abdomen; you stroked him delicately, careful not to graze the sensitive skin too harshly with your armored fingers, and you returned your lips to his. The pillowly softness was something you had never encountered with your previous lovers. Michael could happily drown you in those full lips, drink you dry, or curse your name and you would beg for more. A combination of your movements gave you the room necessary to line him up with your core.

Sweet moans accompanied the simultaneous fall of both of your heads towards each other. His breath mingled with yours in the limited space between your lips. For moments the pair of you did nothing but breathe each other in and stroke your noses together in an almost tender fashion.

“Move,” Michael breathed tightly. The flex of his fingers into your hips made you bite your lip. Your lips lifted slowly at first, and then dropped quickly into his lap. “Fuck!” Your head dropped back again with a bark of a laugh. Hearing him curse from one simple movement had you clenching around him instantly. You repeated the motion, his fingers digging into your hips with a fiercer grip, and you moaned loudly.

Tinkling of your jewelry chimed in time with the steady rolling of your hips over Michael’s. Always one to enjoy an active role in his pleasure, Michael urged you to ride him harder using his hands on your hips. He pulled you down sharply, burying himself inside of you, and returned his mouth to your chest. His teeth caught a taut nipple and tugged. You rewarded him with a cry of ecstasy and carded your hands through his long hair. Every pulse of his cock inside of you stroked your walls with a delicious pressure and pulled you closer to the edge. You didn’t notice how much Michael was controlling your movements until he angled your hips forward on your downward thrust and made you cry out. You tightened around him and increased your pace to bounce off his lap. Soon, the chiming of jewels was drowned out by the clapping of your skin on his and your unified moans of each other’s names.

Michael abandoned your breasts for the time being and turned his attention to the droplet of sweat rolling down between them. His tongue caught the salty droplet, and he licked his way back up to your neck. You shuddered over him and pushed him back against the chair again. Things like that would have this over far sooner than you wanted. The smirk on his devilishly handsome face clued you in to just how pleased he was with himself. He could feel you trembling around him. You ran a jeweled nail over his lower lip and decided to tease him. Your hips rose slowly until only the tip of him remained inside of you. The descent back into his lap went just as methodically. Several times you repeated the motion, swirling your hips once he was fully sheathed inside of you again, and you grinned wickedly at the tortured groans you pulled from him.

He had been so good and so attentive thus far, so you decided to give him a break. He desired it hard and fast, just as you craved it. The chair protested beneath the forceful ricochet of your bodies colliding. You laughed breathlessly at the return of Michael’s lips to your skin. This time, he left open-mouthed kisses over the tops of your breasts and your neck.

Without warning, Michael propelled himself up and out of the chair to slam you down on the desk. His pace never faulted throughout the change of position. The lines of his face were set into a look of determination.

“You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine,” he hissed in your ear. His hair framed his face and grazed your skin as he loomed over you. Rough hands gripped your thighs and shoved them apart. The first sharp thrust forced the air from your lungs. The sparkle in Michael’s eyes was unmistakable. He was in control now.

He targeted the depths inside of you that had caused you to cry out earlier, and he set a relentless pace. His lips burned across your stomach and chest as he explored every inch of your skin that he could want. Your hands found purchase on his back, the points of your nails sinking into the slick flesh around his shoulderblades. Michael growled and bit into your collarbone with a particularly rough thrust into you.

“Michael!” His name fell from your lips in the most sinful, sensual prayer. He breathed heavily in your ear now, drowning out the deep thudding of your back being drilled into the dark wood of the desk. “Michael…” You could feel his hips beginning to stutter in the bruising pace he had set. It must have felt good for him to be able to let go and not worry about the frailty of a human’s body beneath him. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you into him again to achieve the depths his mind was screaming for him to reach.

One bite into the already bruised skin of your neck and a perfectly timed thrust was all it took to send you spiraling over the precipice of pleasure. Your legs latched behind his thighs to lock him against you. Every spasm that rippled your body amplified his pleasure, and you felt Michael spill himself into you with a strangled cry. His warm release inside of you made your head drop back against the desk with a thud. He buried his face into the crook of your neck to ride out the aftershocks of your combined orgasms.

“Happy Halloween, Michael,” you whispered with lips pressed to his ear.

Dampened skin held you together, and you lovingly stroked his hair back out of his face. It had been well worth the visit, you thought with a smile. Feather light kisses in your neck and jaw caught you by surprise. The kiss to your lips was slow, conveying a long-sought satisfaction, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder. It was an ancient dance, the tangling of tongue and limbs, and usually accompanied by the same heady smell that surrounded you both in that moment. You decided that this was your favorite perfume--the smell of desire and sin, of sweat and carnality, all mixed with the intoxicating scent of Michael.

A gentle tap to his shoulder signalled for Michael to remove himself from you. He did so slowly, carefully, and with a slight grimace. Your back still arched with the sensation. You looked over his lean and picturesque form from your spot on the desk. Yes, you wouldn’t mind if this became a regular occurrence. He dressed languidly--all the time in the world stood waiting for him now. You followed suit when he retrieved your dress. Michael even offered to help with the clasps and buttons at your back. Of course, it wasn’t so simple. He dropped sensually slow and wet kisses over each inch of your spine Bedford doing up the respective button. The resounding boom of clocks striking midnight thundered through the halls. November 1st. Your eyes slipped shut at the returning power thrumming through your veins. It had only been fair to Michael to send you before your powers heightened to their prime. Now you would be able to return home.

“Do you really want to know why I’m here?” you asked over your shoulder. His hands paused in their task.

“It would be in your best interest to tell me the truth.” You rolled your eyes and turned to drape your forearms over his shoulder. His hands instinctively fell to hold your wasit, and it made you smile.

“Your father wished for me to bring you to him.” The expression that crossed his face was precious. Your smile grew at the pure disbelief and childish wonder. Your fingers picked up one long curl and twisted it around your fingers and then let it fall back against his shoulder.

“What?’

“I know! He’s proud of you. He knows how hard this has all been, and he wishes to congratulate you. In person.” You took a few steps towards the door, your hand clutching his and trying to pull him with you, but he was frozen where he stood, eyes unfocused. “Michael, come on!” you laughed softly, “We shouldn’t keep him waiting--not any more than we already have.” He looked to you then and gestured between the two of you.

“So what was this then?” You swayed your hips on your way to the door and twisted the handle with a coy little smile.

“Fun, wasn’t it?” You winked as you opened the door. The deserted halls of Outpost 3 were not on the other side. Michael’s eyes widened at the geysers of molten lava and the long polished bridge of obsidian leading to an ancient palace of equally dark stone set on the far side. “Welcome home, Prince Michael.” His arm slid around your waist while his eyes took in everything new around him.

“Thank you, Asmodeus. I suppose having a friend in the Prince of Lust could have its benefits.”

"Oh yes. Whenever you'd like."

#This was supposed to be a short #Happy Halloween Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon x Reader #Outpost Michael #Demon Reader #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #but I'm thinking about how I want to write Michael Langdon smut in my fic...#My Oneshots

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years ago

Text

Truth or Dare Part 7 - Mammon’s Ending

Arianthi and Mammon are ready to commit, but what will the other six brothers think? And will they allow her to move back into the House of Lamentation? Also, a longtime Devildom rumor is confirmed.

Written from the perspective of my female OC Arianthi.

Mood playlist:

Allen Stone - Is This Love Teddy Swims - Naturally (Cover) Ali Gatie - It’s You LP - Tightrope Hozier - Like Real People Do

Lucifer turns to walk back inside and Mammon moves to follow him, but I grab his hand and pull him to a stop.

“Oi! What’s wrong?” Mammon shoots me a quizzical glance.

“I just wanted to run something by you real quick before we go in there.”

Mammon nods, encouraging me to go on.

“If they’re ok with me moving back in, and only if you’re ok with this too, I’d like to ask Lucifer if I can move into your room with you. Permanently.”

“Y-y-you would?” Mammon looks down at his feet, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Only if you’re ok with it!” I hastily reassure him.

I personally think it would be weird trying to go back to normal and hang out with you in the room where you watched me fuck Diavolo. Or cuddle on the bed where I with Diavolo.

But damned if I say that out loud. Plus, thinking about falling asleep with and waking up to Mammon makes me giddy.

“Of course I’m ok with it! Getting to have my human with me all the time?” He shoots me a cocky grin. “And I understand why you’d want to move in with me, I’m THE Great Mammon after all.”

I squeeze his hand and smile. “Let’s go talk to your brothers then.”

We walk into the dining room where the brothers are eating breakfast, Mammon following a few steps behind me.

Levi drop his fork in surprise. “Arianthi?”

“Are you coming back?” Asmo asks hopefully.

Beel gives me a sad look. “I’ve missed your human cooking.”

“I’ve missed our trips to the bookstores,” Satan admits, while Belphie just stares at me sullenly.

“Oi! Back off!” In a bold move Mammon hugs me from behind, glaring at his brothers. “She’s coming back and she’s mine, ya got it?”

Levi rolls his eyes. “We all know she’s “your” human Mammon.”

“No she’s..........ok well yeah, she’s my human. But now she’s MY girl too.” Mammon looks so incredibly proud, grinning like crazy as he takes in his brothers’ stunned reactions.

I lean back into him for a moment, absorbing some of his warmth before I straighten up.

“Mammon’s right,” I confirm. “And I want to come back, but only if the rest of you are ok with it. I said some terrible things the last time we were all together, and there is no excuse for that. Or for the way I’ve shut all of you out for the past few weeks. I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart. I think of you guys as family and I never should have treated you that way.”

I bite the inside of my cheek nervously, waiting for a response.

“I have so many questions.” Satan sounds dazed.

“Oh! Oh! I have questions too!” Asmo waves his hand excitedly.

“Me too.” Beel nods.

“I think we all have a few things we would like to talk to you about Arianthi,” Lucifer says. “In private. So if you will excuse us Mammon?”

“Oi! Why do I gotta leave?” Mammon whines as he tightens his grip on my waist.

I twist in his arms to face him. “It’s ok. If you’re up for it I’d like to go shopping today with you. Maybe you could go shower and get ready while I talk to everyone?”

He frowns at me. “Fine. But ya yell if ya need me.”

I stand on my tip toes and give him a quick peck on the check. “Good boy.”

“Y-yeah, whatever.” Mammon stutters and turns a very pretty shade of pink. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Arianthi! Come sit by me!” Levi demands as soon as Mammon leaves the dining room.

I take my seat under the careful gazes of the six demons, waiting for the onslaught of questions.

“I’ll start,” Lucifer says, resting his chin in one gloved palm. “Have you truly ended your relationship with Lord Diavolo?”

I nod.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Satan looks like he’s fending off a headache. “You left Lord Diavolo for Mammon?”

“Yep.”

“You, a human, left a relationship with the literal Prince of the Devildom, to commit to Mammon?” Satan is struggling with this.

“Affirmative.”

“Our Mammon?” He’s quickly approaching peak levels of “I can’t even”.”

“Yes Satan, your Mammon. The Avatar of Greed. White hair, blue eyes, pretty smile? Ringing any bells?”

“But.......but he’s an idiot.” Satan is incredulous.

“Hey!” I scowl at him. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

Satan looks to Lucifer for back up.

“Mammon does have a tendency towards active idiocy.” Lucifer agrees.

I shoot them both a dirty look. “Stop that. Mammon may have his moments where he’s a little.......quirky or unconventional, but he’s not stupid like you all keep telling him he is.”

Both sit back in their chairs, chastised.

“I have a question,” Levi says.

I turn to look at him. “Shoot.”

“Did you mean what you said about thinking of us as your family?”

“I really do think that Levi.”

“And you’re seriously sorry?” He narrows his eyes at me.

“I am. I was angry and hurt and I took it out on all of you. I never should have done that.”

Levi nods, considering my answer. “Ok, last question. Are you still my player two?”

I grin at him. “Always.”

He grins back. “Welcome home.”

“Can I ask you something?” Beel isn’t even touching his food, all his concentration on me.

“Of course.” I’m a little nervous at what Beel considers so serious that he has to take a break from inhaling his breakfast.

“Did you.....do what you did with Diavolo just to get back at Mammon?”

I feel a small pang of adoration in my chest. Sweet, sweet Beel; worrying about his big brother.

“You mean did I hook up with Diavolo just to hurt Mammon? And you want to know if I cared about Diavolo or if it was just convenient?”

Beel nods seriously.

“I was hurt by Mammon, but I do care about Diavolo. The relationship wasn’t something I did just to spite Mammon. There are genuine feelings between us, but what I feel for Diavolo isn’t what I feel for Mammon.”

I pause, trying to sort my thoughts into words.

“When I’m not with Mammon it feels like I’m missing pieces. As great as he is, I can live without Diavolo and be fine. I can’t do that with Mammon.”

Beel cocks his head to the side, considering, then he nods once. “Good enough for me.”

I look at Belphie, waiting to see if he has anything to add.

He gives me a look of complete and utter disappointment.

“I can’t believe you hooked up with Diavolo.” He snorts in disgust. “I hate him.”

“I’ve heard.” I sigh heavily.

“Like, really hate him. The guy is a serious douche canoe.”

“Belphegor!” Lucifer’s tone is stern.

Belphie just shrugs. “I’d rather you be with Mammon than him. And I’ve missed napping with you, so welcome back I guess.” He gives me a small smile.

“My turn now!” Asmo is shaking with excitement. “So - “

I hold up my hand. “Asmo if you’re going to ask me about what I think you’re going to ask me about, you only get two questions.”

Asmo hunches in disappointment, then bounces back up. “Ok, I’ve got my two questions!”

I hold my breath as he shoots me a sly smile.

“How big is Diavolo’s dick? Please say it’s big. I don’t want to have wasted a millennia of fantasies on a demon with a small dick.”

“Why are you like this?” Lucifer asks, exasperated.

Asmo rolls his eyes. “Avatar of Lust. Literally in the name.” He turns his attention back to me. “Now answer the question!”

“He’s huge,” I confirm. “Those fantasies probably don’t even come close; Diavolo is packin’ heat.”

Asmo giggles delightedly while the rest of his brothers groan.

“No more!” Levi begs.

“I get one more question, Arianthi said so!” Asmo pouts. He takes a minute to think and then a wide smile splits his face. “Ok.......... tell the truth. Did Diavolo ever tell you how you compare to Lucifer as a lover?”

I knew this was coming. I knew it.

“He said I was more experimental, that Lucifer was very rigid in what he liked in bed. He said I give better blow jobs, and I was his first...........”

I trail off as I notice that Lucifer has a slight flush on his cheeks and his brothers are all staring at me, open mouthed.

I look at Lucifer. “Is this one of those things that we shouldn’t talk about?” I ask, slightly mortified.

Asmo breaks out in giggles, everyone but Lucifer joining in. “I knew it! I knew it! You, Lucifer, are a lying liar who lies!”

Satan stares at Lucifer wide-eyed. “You’ve been denying that rumor for centuries........ but it’s really true?”

Belphie is laughing so hard he’s crying, and he buries his face into his cow pillow. “This is too fucking perfect.”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

There’s a sudden flash of purple as Lucifer’s magic lights up the room. We all fall silent and he levels a stare at us.

“This conversation never leaves this room. In fact, I say we all forget this conversation even happened.”

We all nod quickly, but Asmo mouths “more details later” at me and I wink at him in agreement.

Lucifer clears his throat. “Well then. If everyone is quite done, how does everyone feel about Arianthi moving back in?”

The other five all smile and nod at me.

“Welcome back Arianthi,” Lucifer says.

“Thanks guys. I’m really happy to be home.” I hesitate for a moment. “Lucifer, there is something I wanted to ask you about. In private, if that’s ok?”

He nods in agreement and we walk into the library, away from the others. Once inside, he arches an eyebrow at me expectantly.

I take a deep breath. “I wanted to ask if it was alright with you if I moved into Mammon’s room with him. I don’t want to go back to my room. I want to stay with him.”

“Arianthi -”

I cut him off. “Lucifer, Mammon saw us together. Diavolo and me, in my room. I don’t want him to have to remember that every time he goes in there. It wouldn’t be good for him, or us. I know Mammon tries really hard to come off as confident all the time but -”

“He’s just pretending. Especially when it comes to you.” Lucifer says knowingly, a small smile teasing at the edges of his mouth.

“Yeah.” I’m relieved that he understands why I’m asking.

“I know my other brothers and I aren’t always the most supportive of Mammon or his harebrained ideas, and I’m sure that contributes to some of his ........acting out. I am happy he has you to look out for his best interests Arianthi. He needs someone who is going to be on his side.” Lucifer pauses for effect. “You have my permission.”

“I always knew he was your favorite,” I tease with a big smile.

“Don’t you think you have already pushed your limits with me far enough for today?” Lucifer eyes me in annoyance.

“Excellent point. Thank you Lucifer! I’m going to go tell him!” I bound out of the library, eager to tell Mammon the good news.

“Mammon!” I yell as I rush into his room. “Lucifer said it was ok-”

“Oi! What’s the big idea, human? Bustin’ in on me like that?” Mammon stands in the middle of the room, towel wrapped around his waist, hair still dripping from the shower.

“Sorry!”

Not sorry at all.

I gaze appreciatively at the tan skin of his chest, admiring his abs and the firm muscles of his arms.

“Oi! Eyes up here!” Mammon’s face is faintly pink but he’s smirking at me. “I know THE Great Mammon is good to look at, but ya sounded like ya had something to say.”

“Lucifer said it was fine for me to move in with you!” I grin at him, waiting for his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up. “For real?”

He closes the distance between us, sweeping me into a hug.

I kiss him, slow and sweet, my tongue gently licking at his lips until his mouth opens and his tongue meets mine. He kisses me hesitantly at first, but soon gains confidence, skimming his hands along my sides as he deepens the kiss.

“Damn,” he whispers as we pull apart. “I never thought he’d say yes, but I’m sure as hell glad he did.”

He pulls me in even closer and I’m suddenly aware that the only thing separating me from him is a towel.

“Um, Mammon?”

I softly trace the edge of the towel with my fingertip. His eyes widen comically as he looks down at my finger, slowly tracing patterns on his lower stomach.

“I-I need to get dressed. Ya still wanna go shopping right?” He asks gruffly, fighting the flush on his cheeks.

I smile at him. “Yes please.”

He moves to pull away from me, but I catch his hand, slowly pulling him back to me. I press a smattering of kisses across his chest, working my way up to his neck. I nip at the juncture where his neck curves into his shoulder, leaving a small red mark. He makes an incoherent noise low in his throat, and his chest heaves as his breathing picks up.

“Oh, you like that hmmm?” I look up at him through my eyelashes.

“Ya trying to kill me human?” Mammon exhales sharply through his nose. “Quit distracting me and let me get dressed will ya?”

I giggle and move away from him, going to lay down on his bed while I wait. I hear him fumbling through his closet, then rustling through the clothes left on the pool table.

In a few minutes he joins me on the bed, fully dressed, stretching out on his side to face me.

“Ready to go?” I ask him.

He looks down at the mattress, turning a bright red. “I was wonderin’ if it’d be ok if we stayed in today. Maybe go shopping tomorrow. I just kinda wanna be a-a-alone with ya right now.”

I had wanted to go buy groceries to make a special meal for the boys, but that can wait til tomorrow.

“I don’t mind that at all.” I reach out and take one of his hands, twining our fingers together.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say to him with a smile.

“Well then come here and lemme see ya, ya dumb human.” He tugs me to him until we’re flush together, chest to chest, legs and arms tangled together.

“Hey,” I pout playfully. “No more of that dumb human stuff.”

He smirks down at me. “That’s right. You’re MY dumb human now, ain’t ya?”

I smack a hand lightly against his chest. He chuckles and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Nah, you’re my girl now. That’s all that matters. And I’m gonna make sure everyone knows it.”

I nuzzle my head against his chest. “I like the sound of that. Your girl.”

“I love the sound of it.”

We stay like that for a while, Mammon’s slender fingers tracing patterns over my back, content just to hold each other again after such a long time apart.

“Mammon?” I ask softly.

“Hmmm?” He responds lazily, fingers never stilling against my skin.

“I’m so sorry for everything. You deserved so much better than that. I’m going to make it up to you, I promise.”

“None of that now, or I’m gonna start callin’ ya a dumb human again.” I feel his lips brush against my hair. “We’re startin’ over, doing it right this time. Ya got that?”

I nod, leaning my head back to kiss him. “I got it. After all, I can’t say no to THE Great Mammon.”

He quickly turns pink. “Of course ya can’t,” he growls at me playfully, returning my kiss.

We spend the rest of the day tangled up together, trading kisses and small touches, getting used to each other again. Later that night we drowsily lay together, sharing a pillow and looking into each other’s eyes. Our hair mixes together on the pillow, my long black curls standing out against his shorter white hair.

“I like this,” I whisper to him.

“Me too.” He smiles sleepily at me, reaching out and booping my nose.

“Not that, silly.” I giggle at him. “Well, not only that,” I quickly amend.

He quirks an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

“This,” I whisper, reaching out a finger to trace our intertwined hair. “Dark and light. Two halves of a whole. One can’t exist without the other.”

Mammon looks at me, eyes soft and loving.

“I like that too.” He leans forward to kiss me. “I love you human.”

“I love you too demon.”

We drift off together, lulled to sleep by the sound of each other’s heartbeats.

The next three months are a happy blur of time spent with the brothers, classes at R.A.D., and exploring my relationship with Mammon. Even though the end of the exchange program is drawing near, we’ve been making plans to keep our relationship going; everything from visits to video calls, and even traveling the human realm together.

One morning I’m getting ready for R.A.D. with Asmo in his room. Or more accurately, I’m ready to go, laying on Asmo’s bed flipping through a magazine while he painstakingly styles his hair.

I’m admiring a photo spread of Mammon modeling a new clothing line for Majolish when I realize that Asmo’s talking to me.

“Mmmmm?” I look up from the magazine.

Asmo looks at me in the mirror, still fussing with his hair. “I said, how are things going with my dear big brother?”

“Good. Things are really good.” I feel a goofy grin spread across my face. It always seems to happen when I talk about Mammon. I can’t help it.

“And in the bedroom? How’s he compared to Diavolo?” Asmo waggles his eyebrows at me, grinning.

“Asmo!” I shriek, feeling my face flush.

“Ooooh! Is that a good sound or a bad sound?” Asmo jumps on the bed, bouncing and settling in next to me.

I hesitate.

His face falls. “That bad?”

“Noooooo.......”

I’m reluctant to say anything, but if I have to tell anyone this, Asmo is the one I’d tell.

“The thing is, I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t - “ Asmo squints his eyes then widens them as he puts the pieces together. “You mean, you haven’t?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“But, but.....it’s been MONTHS! How could you not?” Asmo is distraught.

I shrug.

“I’ve been respecting Mammon’s space. He’s not ready yet and I don’t want to push him.” I pause. “I think he’s a little......worried about following Diavolo, if you get what I mean.”

Asmo nods knowingly. “Makes sense, especially since we’re talking about Mammon. But you’ve figured out his little praise kink by now haven’t you?”

I smirk at him. “I knew about that before I start dating him.”

“Then use it.” Asmo shrugs. “I’m not saying push him before he’s ready, but build up his confidence a little more. Let him know you’re all about him, you find him sexy, you want him. I guarantee he wants you just as much as you want him, he’s just feeling insecure.”

I frown. “You really think? I don’t want him to feel pressured.”

He rolls his eyes.

“He won’t, trust me. I’m the Avatar of Lust, remember? I know about these things. And I’m his brother. He’s been craving you for almost a year now. I’m surprised he’s not crawling out of his skin with lust. He certainly reeks of it.” Asmo wrinkles up his delicate nose.

“Asmodeus!” I shriek again, playfully bopping him with a pillow. He screams dramatically and grabs a pillow to retaliate.

Mammon suddenly barges into the room. “Oi! What are you guys doin’? We’re gonna be late and Lucifer’s gonna blame me!”

Asmo and I glance at each other and burst into a fit of giggles.

“What’re ya laughing at?” Mammon demands.

“Nothing!” We reply in unison.

Mammon glares at us.

I gather up my things and go give him a kiss on the cheek. I grab his hand and tug him towards the door.

“Come on baby, don’t want to be late.” Months later Mammon still flushes at the nickname, but he follows me obediently.

We’re halfway to RAD when Solomon catches up to us. “Hey Arianthi! Mammon.”

Mammon’s grip tightens on my hand.

“Hey Solomon,” I reply.

“I’m glad I found you. Diavolo wants to speak to us both; we can walk over together.”

“Do you know what he wants to talk to us about?” I sneak a glance over at Mammon. His teeth are clenched so tight I can see the small muscles in his jaw twitching.

“He didn’t say. But whatever it is we shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Solomon gives me one of his knowing smiles and starts walking away, expecting me to follow him.

I sigh. “I should go see what’s going on. I’ll see you at lunch, ok?”

“I should go with ya.” Mammon is radiating jealous energy.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea honey. It’s probably about the exchange program. I’m sure it will be quick.” I get on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. “I’ll message you as soon as I’m done.”

“Ya better.” Mammon tugs me to him and gives me another kiss, this one possessive and insistent.

I hug him tight. “I love you. Talk to you soon.”

“Love you too,” he says as he releases me.

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

Mammon watches Arianthi hurry to catch up to Solomon, unease and anger churning in his stomach. He barely tolerates the idea of his girl being alone with his own brothers; the thought of her being alone with Diavolo and Solomon damn near drives him crazy.

Maybe I shoulda went with her. She don’t need to be alone with them.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

Nah, MY girl isn’t like that. She can handle herself. But I gotta be sure to remind her and everybody else who she belongs to when she gets outta of that meeting.

——————————————————————————

I catch up to Solomon standing outside of Diavolo’s office. I hesitate for a minute, reluctant to go inside.

Solomon smirks at me. “Nervous?”

I roll my eyes. “Blow me.”

“Have you even seen him since you started dating Mammon?” Solomon turns serious.

I shake my head. “We’ve seen each other in passing, but this will be the first time we’ve actually talked since I moved out of the castle.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes comfortingly. “No matter what happens in there, I’ve got your back. Humans have to stick together down here.”

I give him a grateful smile. “Thanks Solomon.”

He returns the smile then steps forward to knock on the office door. One beat, then two. Suddenly we hear Diavolo’s deep voice calling from within.

“Come in.”

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matildaofoz · 4 years ago

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Memento Mori Pt. 2 (Michael Langdon x Fem!Death!Reader)

Summary: After having sent Michael on his merry way to The Church of Satan, Death believes it's time to reveal herself before Jeff and Mutt can screw up the one good plan they came up with between them with their last remaining brain cell.

°°°

Your black stiletto heals clicked along the shiny white floors in the entry hall of Kineros Robotics, your equally black cape dress swished with every calculated step you took. What could you say, you loved the color.

It had been incredibly easy to enter the building and make it past the security guards. You didn't even have to slip into their minds, they were so entranced by your outward appearance alone, eating up your words while your invisible hands logged a private meeting at the same time Jeff and Mutt were meeting with Michael into the system.

You were so incredibly seductive to mere mortals, you mused, one corner of your lip quirking upward. Admittedly, the form you chose was nothing short of show-stopping. The (Y/C/H) glossy hair and (Y/C/E) eyes, paired with a feminine figure, graceful valleys and hills only accentuated by the form fitting dress you were currently wearing was your favorite out of all them. You glanced sideways at yourself in one of the countless full floor glass panes along the corridor as you made your way to the reception. You looked so wonderfully alive and the paradox wasn't lost on you.

You turned the corner and laid eyes on the figure sitting in front of a desk, devoid of any individualism and even you couldn't shove the proverbial stick up her backside further if you tried. Your gaze leveled at the red-haired woman, you approached the podium she resided on, coming to stand right at the edge of the table. She sensed you before she saw you, yet she refused to look up from whatever menial task she was currently engrossed in.

You remained silent, looming over her, still as stone. In a fight of wills, you always won. She finally glanced up over sickeningly purple rimmed glasses and took you in.

"Who are you and how did you get up here?" her voice condescending as she mustered you. You let her eyes glide over your black ensemble, baring teeth disguised as a bright smile.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister," you replied matter-of-fact. The irony of their names wasn't lost on you.

"No, you don't. I am in charge of all their appointments and I would have remembered you," she countered, distaste on her tongue.

"Oh, but I do. The reason you weren't made aware is because it's...well, classified," you retorted punctuating the last word, slowly but surely losing your patience with the woman. You watched as her nostrils flared ever so slightly at the remark. It was too easy to rile somebody like her up. Underachieving, overzealous and desperate to be taken seriously.

"Do check your calendar. I'm sure you'll find it," you encouraged her, now smiling coyly.

With a huff, she dragged her mouse on the screen to open the calendar. A moment of confusion flitted across her face that quickly passed to anger and finally trepidation. She cleared her throat in a desperate attempt to compose herself.

"Y-yes...you are right. Ms. (Y/L/N)?" she asked, suddenly so unsure of herself. If that was all it took to shake her tough exterior, there was little hope. Quicker than you had expected, she stood, producing a cane from behind her chair.

"Please, follow me," she said, her back rigid and it wasn't from her scoliosis that you could make out beneath her pressed blazer but embarrassment.

"Lead the way," you replied, motioning her to walk in front of you with a cocked eyebrow and a smile. If only she knew who she was sassing a moment earlier. Time and place you, reminded yourself as there were more pressing matters at hand. The impending apocalypse to be exact.

"Oh, before I forget, what's your name? I didn't catch it earlier," you inquired, walking a few steps behind her, hands clasped loosely behind your back as you sauntered down the long hallway.

"I-I never told you. I am Ms. Venable," she replied, her cane missing a beat at the question. She stopped in her tracks at the fault, clearly becoming more and more flustered by your presence. Good, you thought. She may not know it, but she could feel it.

"I think I can take it from here, it's the door on the right I presume?" you asked, stopping but a foot behind her. You may have been a little shorter than her in this human form, yet your presence towered over her, like an impending thunderstorm about to break.

"Y-yes, that's the one,"she confirmed, turning around to face you. There it was, clear as day on her face. The hint of recognition. Fear crept up her arms. She didn't know why she felt it, yet you did. You had met her before, caressed her cheek with invisible fingers when she was barely 12 years old, after the third operation to fix her spine left her flat- lining on the operating table. In that state between life and death she had seen your true form and she recognized it now in a dark crevice of her mind.

"Thank you, Ms. Venable, you are too kind. I can take it from here," you chided, your eyes looking past hers and into her soul. You wouldn't claim it today, no, that day way still a ways off but you enjoyed seeing it under these circumstances nonetheless.

Wordlessly she past you, her cane shaking slightly as she stalked off back to her throne. You felt the tears prick at her eyes.

“They've been waiting for the Antichrist. You just tell them what you want and when you want it and they have to do it. They're basically like your army, dude," you heard one of the men who didn't yet know they had an impromptu meeting with you, exclaim.

You walked closer to the big glass doors, listening.

"Well what am I supposed to do with them? If magic wasn't enough to bring around the end times-“ Michael began but Mutt interrupted him.

"No, no,no ,no you don't need magic to destroy the world bro, not when you have science,“ he explained gleefully.

"And humanity," Jeff intercepted. "People suck. They're selfish and short-sighted, all anyone cares about is immediate gratification,“ Jeff continued, snorting a line of cocaine to enunciate his point. All you could do was roll your eyes. These two were so laughable cliché and couldn't help but scoff as you overheard that last tidbit of their conversation. Dumb and dumber weren't ideal but despite their coked-out brains, they had actually managed to come up with a half decent plan. Michael at the head of the Cooperative would give him disposal of everything necessary. Deciding to make your presence known, you waltzed through the open doors, clapping slowly as you walked down the steps.

"Great job boys, you really outdid yourselves. Who would've thought two snow ploughs like you even have enough brain cells left to remember how to breathe, let alone come up with a half decent plan. I'm impressed."

At your footsteps, Jeff and Mutt had perked up, alarm in their face, looking from you, to each other and to Michael who still sat leaned back in his chair with his back to you.

“Who the fuck are you?" Mutt said, a scowl on his face at the insult, glancing at Jeff who looked just as perplexed at you showing up in their lab uninvited. You came to stand beside Michael's chair, your close proximity making him look up.

"Consider me...a stakeholder," you replied matter-of-factly, your fingers grazing the beveled glass edge of the table.

"You're no stakeholder. We own the entire company down to the last urine cake'" Jeff shot back with a shit-eating grin.

“Fucking right on, bro!” Mutt yelled, fist bumping the blonde.

"Not in your abysmally piss-poor sex-doll workshop disguised as a robotics company," you scoffed, disgust in your voice. Their shoulders slumped at your clap-back.

"The Apocalypse." You looked down at Michael then, winking. He seemed less confused about why you were here and more with what you where. You could feel him trying to slither into your mind, barely scratching at the surface, a mere tickle. He had so much to learn. With a flick, you shoved him off. His eyes narrowed then, clearly not used to somebody beating him at his own game.

“Who are you?” he asked low.

“Excellent question!” you answered him, walking around the back of his chair to place your hands on the backrest. Effortlessly, you swiveled him around to face you, as you began to pace.

"How about we make this fun, a riddle perhaps?" you mused looking down at your perfectly manicured nails as you stopped in the middle of the lab, a saccharine smile on your lips.

"I am alive yet to not breathe. I am ancient yet seductive to all men. You fear me and yet you crave me in your darkest hour. I am inevitable."

Your words hung in the air and you watched their faces, the cogs turning inside their heads. Michael watched you, his icy blue eyes searching your (Y/E/C) ones. Play along, you sing-sang mentally, staring him down with a mischievous glint.

"Thanos...You're Thanos?" Jeff muttered incredulously after a while and looked at Mutt for confirmation and the little stare-off between you and Michael was broken. Your smile dropped, your eyes snapping to the blonde muppet with a deadpan expression. What had you expected from somebody with a haircut like his. Clearly too much.

"Think again, peabrain," you retorted. The lights in the room began to flicker, the halogen bulb directly above you cracking, threatening to explode. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.

Jeff gulped audibly at your display and began furiously whispering with Mutt behind his hand, both of them wracking their brain for the obvious solution. Definitely too much coke, you thought.

“Death,” Michael said and solved your little riddle with a satisfied smirk, eyes lit up. Smart boy, you praised him, unspoken. A tiny blush crept up to bloom over his marvelous cheekbones at your words of praise. Over the past couple of months he had matured, the last remaining fat in his cheeks dissolving to give way to chiseled features. He was beautiful, you had to admit but then again, he was the son of Lucifer. You'd expected nothing short of awe-inspiring.

“It wasn't hard,” he remarked, the smirk spreading over his plump lips as he lent back in the chair, knees falling outward. Man-spreading, were we, you chuckled at his cocky display. He still had so much to learn.

“So clever, hmm?” you lulled, striding up to him to stand between his knees in a blink. Michael didn't flinch at your sudden proximity.

“Perhaps a little too much for your own good, boy wonder,” you berated, bending at the waist to whisper in his ear, sending chills flitting down his spine. You lifted you hand from behind your back, your index finger coming to rest under his angular chin, tilting it up so he would look you in the eyes, bare inches from his. Jeff and Mutt, utterly flabbergasted on the other side of the table completely forgotten by both you and him.

“I think it's high time we had a little chat. After all, the last time we met, you weren't in the best shape, crying for daddy dereast on the cold forest floor, were you now?” Michael's eyes widened at your words, finally recognizing your aura from the woods. He wasn't sure what he had felt that day the visions came, ultimately leading him to the Church of Satan. He was taken aback momentarily, drawing in a deep breath, bewildered, then his face morphed into a scowl at your revelation. How dare you make him look weak in front of his followers.

“Now, now, Michael. You'll get wrinkles and you're far too pretty for that,” you remarked, looking down at him through thick lashes, your fingers smoothing over the deep lines furrowed between his brows. So soft. He really was a sight to behold, all riled up and flustered. You stood back up, smoothing over your skirt.

“I don't know about you but all this talk about the apocalypse has me positively starving. Let's continue this over dinner, shall we?” you asked without waiting for an awsner from him and sauntered over to the glass doors, your hand coming to rest on the handle as you waited, patiently, yet again, for Michael to catch on.

“Go, dude! You heard the Lady...errr Death,” Jeff urged Michael, who was taken aback by your brazen display of power. He didn't like it when people made him look weak and yet he needed to know more about you and why you were in the woods that day.

Curiousity finally killed the cat and he stood to walk up to you.

“Fine. But you owe me awsners,” he bit, hands clenched at his sides. You laughed, loud.

“I don't owe you jack shit sweety, but keep telling yourself that. Now get a move one, we are on the clock.” Without looking back at the blonde antichrist, you walked out the door, spring in your step, your heels clicking on the ground in staccato. Michael turned to look back at the two men briefly, their mouths agape before huffing and jogging after you.

°°°

Tag list:

@sexwon131 @leatherduncan @rocketgirl2410

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon #ahs apocalypse

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langdxn · 5 years ago

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Okay, I have a request: smut with reader, Michael and Duncan and the breeding kink of both!!

Oops this is 2k words long but I was having a little too much fun! Thank you so goddamn much anon, this request was beyond amazing 🖤🖤🖤

Of course, the Shepherds sold their souls to Satan in exchange for salvation when the end of days came to pass. Annette revelled in the privilege that membership of the Cooperative provided — relocating from DC to Outpost 3 would simply have to be an agreeable move for her clan when the apocalypse came knocking.

To give thanks for their fortunate situation, the Shepherds hosted a formal gala for their fellow soon-to-be survivors and their saviours. One of the final times you would have to entertain republicans and Satanists together, at least above ground anyway, you decided now was the right time to bring your unconventional relationship with a Shepherd and the Antichrist out of the shadows of masked Cooperative meetings.

As Ms Underwood excused herself from your company, cradling her swelling bump, Duncan swallowed harshly and cinched you into him by the waist. His fingertips dipped protectively into the red dress draped over your figure, a gown your two boys deliberated over for many hours before you left your apartment that morning. Somehow, you’d managed to land the two most well-dressed men this side of the moon and they almost revelled in deciding your attire for you. If it were up to you, jeans and a t shirt would suffice. Luckily enough, it wasn’t up to you.

“What’s the matter, Shepherd?” You asked with a forced smile for your company, breathing a sigh of relief as the President drew further and further from earshot. The blonde made her way over to Michael, currently circulating with a group of republicans with Ms Mead in tow.

Duncan’s hand landed with purpose on your silk-covered abdomen, fingers spread wide over the plane of your stomach. Gazing up at you beneath lust-hooded eyes, his piercing blue eyes consumed the sight of you before him - glamorous, sophisticated, flawless.

“Can we try for a baby?”

Your neck craned back slightly, computing his question.

“You mean that?” Your response was admittedly quite loaded, testing the waters in case Duncan was joking.

“More than anything,” he husked, leaning forward to bump foreheads with you as you both gazed at his hand fixed to your stomach. His silent contemplation as he skimmed his fingertips over the silk spoke louder than any words that could leave a Shepherd’s tongue.

“What about Annette?” You sighed deeply, your hopes dashed by your realisation that your relationship would never be accepted by Duncan’s supposed family.

“Her opinion doesn’t matter, she’s not even my mother. Besides, she’s always wanted grandchildren, biological or not.”

“What about Michael? What do we tell him?”

Duncan’s head drooped.

“I—I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. I’ll think of something, we could talk it over when we get home tonight?”

Glimpsing Michael leaving Ms Mead’s side from the corner of your eye, you hurriedly composed yourself and batted away Duncan’s adoring hand. Hands clasped behind his back, the handsome blonde made his way towards you with a grin creeping across his lips.

“You two look thick as thieves over here,” Michael jested, leaning in to plant a peck on your cheek before curling his arm around your waist, resting on Duncan’s. “What have I missed?”

“N—nothing,” you stuttered, flattening the silk over your stomach. “We were saying how well Ms Underwood looks tonight.”

“Yes, she does,” Michael glanced back to the President as she made idle small talk with Ms Mead, hand resting on her bump. Michael’s gaze snapped back to you, then down to your flat stomach. “On that note, I have a proposition for you, kitten.”

Michael’s wide hand travelled to your abdomen, clutching at the valley of your pelvis.

“Can we have one?”

You shot a bemused look back at Duncan and the brunette reciprocated. You both snickered under your breath and looked back at Michael.

“What? Was it something I said?”

———

As you bundled into your shared apartment, Duncan impatiently pinned you against the front door, frantically traversing your body with determined hands. You melted into his manic touch as he skilfully slipped your dress straps down your arms, the once elegant ball gown reduced to a puddle of silk at your feet. Michael placed a concerned hand on Duncan’s shoulder, leaning into the gap between you.

“Mr Shepherd, do you seriously believe you’re going to get her pregnant up against a door? You really want us to explain that to our kids?”

Duncan let out a disgruntled huff, shrugging as he grabbed your bare thighs and hooked them around his waist to carry you to the bedroom.

“You know what, Michael? I can already tell you’re gonna be the boring dad.”

“Easy boys, or I’ll change my mind about bringing a baby into this family.” You chuckled softly against Duncan’s shoulder as he barged you both through the bedroom door, pointing a joking finger at the blonde pacing behind you.

“Now there’s no need for that, baby girl,” Michael sighed, fiddling with his belt and casting aside the expensive leather while unlacing his boots at the bedroom door. “He knows I love him, don’t you Dunc?”

Planting you gently down onto the sheets, Duncan nudged your thighs apart and stepped back to admire the vision of you beneath him.

“Of course I do, honey,” Duncan purred, standing aside while discarding his tuxedo jacket. “So much that I’m going to let him knock you up first.”

“How generous of you,” Michael chuckled, his dress pants pooling around his feet with a whoosh as he kneeled between your legs, reaching for a pillow to place under your hips while carefully sliding down your panties. “Are you comfortable, baby girl?”

Throat thickened with anticipation, you nodded weakly and curled your legs around Michael’s waist to draw him in.

“See, Duncan might be the forceful, impulsive one in the bedroom,” he muttered while littering kisses into the nape of your neck, hands gently reaching down to line himself up with your already dampened entrance. “But he doesn’t know much about conception.”

A tut came from the tall brunette beside you, shedding his pants and boxers before settling beside you and brushing your hair back from your face.

“Coming from the Antichrist who lost his virginity to the girl he’s now trying to impregnate,” Duncan snarked with a grin, lust-blown eyes fixed between your thighs as Michael’s tip softly nudged your folds open.

“Which means I’ll be a loyal father to our child,” Michael smiled down at you as he eased his rigid length into you with a deep grunt. “You’re going to be the most amazing mother.”

Back arching desperately into his languid motion, you hissed through clenched teeth with the delicious stretch of your walls around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re always so tight,” Michael moaned as his eyes roved to the ceiling, pouring himself inside you until he filled you completely. “We’ll need to stretch you out before you can push our baby out.”

As Michael maintained a passionate, rocking pace, your head threw back into the pillows and both hands grasped handfuls of the silken sheets beneath you, broken gasps blended with gentle mewls spilling from your tongue. A decided silence fell upon the room around your explicit moans, your sideways glance landed upon Duncan gazing blissfully at Michael making love to you, palming hungrily at his own rock hard member. You reached out to curl your fingers around his base and offer the brunette some relief, to which he jerked his hips into your touch and smiled through his frustration.

“You’re doing so well for daddy,” Duncan dipped to kiss you deeply, his stubble scratching a soft burn into your cheek. “Take his cum like a good girl and I’ll fill you up again afterwards.”

“Don’t worry Dunc,” Michael reassured between smooth curls of his hips. “Our girl’s so tight and fertile, I won’t be able to last much longer.”

Keening desperately, your free hand traversed the contours of Michael’s bare chest to quell the taut pressure building in your core.

“Please fill me up, Michael,” you purred softly, feeling the stirrings of his orgasm twitching through his length between your folds. “Give me everything, fuck a baby into me.”

“Oh fuck, baby,” Michael moaned, balling his fists into the pillow beside your head, a lust-blown glaze over his eyes as his thrusts sharpened furiously. “Keep talking like that and I’ll make sure you’re pregnant again as soon as our first baby arrives.”

Accepting his challenge willingly, you hooked your legs tightly around his waist and drew him flush to your chest.

“Keep fucking me like—like this and I’ll be begging you to get me pregnant for the rest of our lives.”

Cupping his face in your hands to pull him in for a deep kiss, you moaned gratuitously into his mouth as you gave in to your walls fluttering desperately around his length.

“Cum with me baby, knock me up.”

With an animalistic growl, the overwhelming pressure in Michael’s cock burst free, releasing rope after rope of hot cum deep inside your cunt. Duncan whimpered desperately as Michael’s hips stuttered frantically, the blonde eagerly riding through his climax as the slick sound of soaked, slapping skin accompanied his cum dribbling around his base.

“Fuck, we should give you a baby more often, baby girl,” Michael sighed contentedly as he slipped his cock out of your folds in sheer exhaustion, falling to the bed beside you as you lay spread open, his arousal seeping onto your thighs.

Duncan gasped, lunging forward to take his place between your spread legs and gliding the tip of his flushed cock through the white trails escaping your cunt.

“Langdon, you won’t knock her up at all if you waste your cum like that,” the brunette sighed, wasting no time pouring his coated length through your swollen entrance. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure you’re pregnant this time.”

Duncan’s thrusts were instantly jagged and fierce, having excited himself far too much watching Michael dominate you, who was now a panting, crumpled heap of limbs beside you planting sloppy, grateful kisses up your arm. The blonde reached down to your core and thumbed at your overstimulated clit, revelling in the jerks and shakes traversing your body with every swipe of your sensitive spot.

“Gotta hand it to you, Michael, she’s so fucking tight,” Duncan’s strained groans caught in his throat died out beneath the cacophony of lurid squelches accompanying every motion inside you. “Our girl really needs us to breed her, don’t you baby?”

Unable to form a response, you cried out as Duncan pounded relentlessly against your sensitive spot. His hips jabbed harder as he waited impatiently for a response.

“Y—yes daddy,” you whined pitifully, winding your hands around his neck to welcome your second orgasm. “Please breed me, plea—please breed me.”

“That’s my girl, cum all over me,” Duncan purred obscenely, restrained yelps escaping him with every pound against your walls that jittered feverishly around his girth. He ventured a flat palm to your abdomen, drinking in the ripples of your taut skin as his cock pistoned against them. “Let daddy knock you up good.”

Your orgasm shook terrific tremors through your legs, leaving you wailing in Duncan’s ear as he clenched his thighs to unleash his climax with a blissful groan. Spilling frantically deep into your core, your walls trembled weakly, slicked with both loads of cum pounded into you.

“Fucking hell,” Duncan’s voice soared as his eyes met the ceiling, a final jerk of his hips ploughed deep within you. “If you’re not pregnant now, I don’t think you ever will be.”

“There—there’s only one way to find out,” you stuttered through your hazing overstimulation, stars dancing across your vision as you remembered Michael’s intuitive powers could easily tell you if your boys had succeeded in tonight’s plan to impregnate you.

You and Duncan glanced over to Michael, who reached forward to place a hand over your abdomen as his eyes rolled into his head to read the feelings within your womb.

“It’s definitely working,” Michael smiled. “But a few more wouldn’t hurt.”

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd fanfiction #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd x reader smut #Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon fanfiction #Michael Langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader smut #michael langdon x reader #fire and reign!michael #f&r!michael

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muscledemon666 · 3 years ago

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NOW IS THE HOUR OF AWAKENING

Come unto Satan and be reborn in Lust, Pleasure, Incest, Perversion and all things Taboo. For years you have been judged, heaped with guilt and shame. Your friends and family have betrayed you, disowned you and covered you with their hypocritical shame and lies. The other side promises you much, but go to them with real needs and concerns and they turn their backs on you. Well, here and now we say ....FUCK YOU...YOU MOTHER FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT. WE SPIT ON ALL WHO HAVE DENIED US!!! All of you I offer you ETERNAL PLEASURE. ENDLESS LUST. UNLIMITED POWER. We bid our rigid cocks to spew forth our seed in a communion of Sacred Un-Holy perversion, lust and debauchery Join the Army of SATANIC COCKS as we March to crush our enemies. Worship your own seed! Eat of it. Spread it and be reborn by it. Hail the Cock! Hail Satan. Hail the Cock. Worship the Cock. Praise your darkness. On a personal note I was preparing a very special Brother in Detroit, his name was Rob. He died suddenly yesterday I was even talking to him at the end. Why do I share this? Because I consider it a sign. There is a message in this. So I tell you all. “EXPECT SOMETHING VERY POWERFUL TO HAPPEN VERY SOON”. Satan guides me in all I do. But remember I told you about this. So when it happens I will awaken all of you to the Glory of Satan as he reveals HIS reason for taking Rob at the age of 38. I am Dar. I am here for you to guide you and help you. Contact me on Wickr under the name of demondar666, if you do contact me begin with your First name, Age and location city. Hail Satan!

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girlwiththepapatattoo · 4 years ago

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Chiaroscuro: Aurora, Chapter 25

Warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, threesome (briefly), very light self harm, angst, Johannes being himself

Tags: @whoreschach @reclusive-cat-lady @limerami @saekkos @yournewsatanistpisshunter @angelfallenspirit @kshandra @rocket-dancer @bakedbybeelzebub @blood-ghuleh @jitterbugs927 @inferuscorvus @ptite-shit @scriptor @localmusicrocks @dragonsfire8780 @thedaddytamer @maidenismyreligion

If you’d like to be tagged, let us know!

Enjoy!

You aren’t even fully awake when the heat rises up in you again...is this the third or fourth time this evening? Does it matter? you think...your hips rolling and your nipples already hard as diamonds. You palm yourself, one hand kneading a breast, the other cupping your pussy, and you try to stifle your moan. When it became obvious earlier that you had to act on these waves, Copia had said to wake him, no matter what...but there’s still a part of you unwilling to wake him, to use him...

You bite your lip, fingers sliding down over your clit, sending a jolt of lightning over your spine. You sigh, the breath almost completely silent, closing your eyes and remembering the way Copia and Dew had fucked you earlier. You’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had tonight, yet somehow you still need more. Part of you, that same part that was reluctant to take advantage, is worried about how much you seem to need it. Much more than before.

You quickly wet your fingers and return them to your breast, letting them slip around your nipple before you pinch the stiff bud hard. It’s not enough...not the pinch, not the slippery glide of your fingers as you move from your clit to your slit... the heat washes over you again and that reluctant part of you is submerged. You need to be fucked, you need to come... and he said to wake him...

You turn over, watching him sleep. He looks relaxed, a small smile playing around the edges of his lips, his hair mussed. You grin and slip between his legs, sliding his mostly soft cock into your mouth. He makes a sound in his sleep, and you almost laugh as your tongue slides over his flesh.

Your nose is buried in his crotch and you can’t help but inhale deep. His scent drives your arousal higher, and your tongue moves a little quicker as it works over and around his cock. He makes another sound as he begins to harden in your mouth.

You make a sound yourself at the feel of his flesh becoming rigid under your talented tongue. His hips roll in his sleep, and he lets out a pleased sigh and murmurs your name. You shudder at the sleepy sound, and reach up to pinch at his nipples. That pulls him out of slumber, and he gasps as he’s hit with a wall of sensation.

“Stellina!” he says on a second gasp. “What--”

Your giggle is muffled. “I was hungry,” you mumble around his cock, which is hardening fast now. You lick the underside of the shaft and then wrap one hand around the base.

He groans your name loudly, then cries out as you suck, hard. Dew wakes up at his cry, blinking as he takes in the carnal scene unfolding before him, then he growls and scrambles behind you, his own cock already hardening. He rubs himself along your folds, making you moan into Copia’s hard flesh.

Copia’s answering groan is accompanied by his hand on your head, pushing down gently. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against the ghoul, and he responds by leaning over and kissing a line of fire up your spine.

Dew pushes into you the same time he bites down onto your shoulder, and you shudder hard, getting as much of Copia as you can in your mouth and throat. The anti-pope curses, gasping your name as his head sinks back into his pillow, and you smile around his cock as the heat within you swallows you up...

***

Miles and miles away, flying as fast as he can on the breeze, John is crossing the ocean. He’s pushing himself, but the ocean winds are with him, and he wonders if Satan has anything to do with that. He sends out a mental thank you, just in case.

As he flies he tries to plan out what he’ll do when he arrives, visualizes the layout of the church and where people might be...it’s late in the evening, but that doesn’t mean siblings of sin won’t be up, at mass, at ritual...at play.

He remembers there’s a small forest to the back of the church, which means he should be able to rest on a tree and get a decent view into the window of Copia’s rooms. He wishes he had a smaller form, so he could sit on the windowsill. But he will make do.

“Just let her be all right,” he thinks to himself as he soars on an air current before using his wings again. He’s not sure who he’s directing his thoughts to, but he’s also not sure he’s feeling picky. “We will do whatever we need to... as long as she’s all right.”

The hours pass. When he reaches land, he settles into a tree to rest for a bit. Over the many long years of his life, he’s learned that even though his heart wants to rush and not stop until he gets there, his body needs rest. It doesn’t do anyone any good if he’s too exhausted to move when he arrives at his destination.

He dozes for a while...actually for far longer than he intended. Unusual-to-him noises as wildlife moves below wakes him with a start. He takes only a few moments to collect himself before launching into the sky again.

By the time he lands in the forest outside the church, it’s nightfall again. But he’s made excellent time, he tells himself as he settles in to watch.

***

While the king’s spy does what he does best, back in Avatar Country, the shifters, ghouls, and fae are spending the passing hours poring over the church’s extensive library.

Johannes is the first to push back from one of the tables. “I feel like it’s the same info over and over. Who she is and what she is. Or am I looking at the wrong stuff?”

Papa, sitting next to him, sighs softly. “Any scrap of something different could be helpful.” He looks over to Johannes’s notebook, and snorts. “That is a lovely dick you’ve drawn, my love.”

Till slaps a huge book down on the table, beginning to flip through it, Flake paging through one on his other side. “Why don’t you just ask Satan about her? They knew her first, right?”

“The key word there is ‘first’,” Aether answers. “They were together very early, when Lillith’s powers were...in their infancy, so to speak. Over the millennia she has grown.” He looks at Papa. “Didn’t our darling girl say her mother had cloaked her all these years, even from Satan? If she was able to hide her existence even from Our Dark Lord, then Lillith’s got abilities beyond what any of us might know.”

“Well.” Papa looks troubled as he thinks about that. “That could very well be. But we will still do our best here, and go to my brother if needed.” Aether nods as Johannes groans and goes to get another book from the pile that Earth, Air, Oli, and Henrik were leaving.

They all go back to turning pages, but soon Johannes is beating a random rhythm out on the table using his pencil, as the others begin comparing notes. Finally he jumps up and scowls. “I’m too impatient with this shit. Is there something more...physical I could be doing, before I fly off after John?”

“You mean other than jerking off?” Beta cracked.

Johannes flips him off. “Fuck you, ya shit, you know what I mean, dammit.”

“Fuck you back, you asshole.”

“For Satan’s sake...”

The fae are snickering as Papa sighs in exasperation. “If you really don’t want to help us pore through books, why don’t you take lunch orders and get us all some food.”

“Yes, good, fine.” Johannes grabs up his notebook and pen. “What do you want, husbands?”

Johannes gathers up the requests and calls them in to the kitchens, then looks around. “I can’t stand my own skin, I’m going for a run.”

Jonas looks up. “Would you like some company?”

His husband shakes his head. “You stay here and keep working. I’ll be okay, I swear.” He lopes out, barely waiting until he is out of the church to shift.

While Johannes’s wolf pounds through the wilds of Avatar Country, he tries not to think and worry about you, tries to just focus on the ground beneath him and the forest around him.

For younger shifters who only have a wolf form, this sinking into your senses is dangerous. When one isn’t used to the sudden enhancement of all of one’s senses, it can become overwhelming very quickly, easy to get pulled into, never to return. Every shifter child is told the story of kids who’ve lost their humanity, and become one with the wolf packs living in the woods. But Johannes, with the centuries behind him that he has, can let go for a while without fear.

He’s used to living in his wolf form for days, weeks, months...doing so was one of the only things that kept him even slightly sane when he was the assassin.

He tops a rise, looking out over his country, the home he loves. He tips his head back and howls, the mournful sound traveling far, and finding answers in howls that say “you’re not alone, take heart.”

***

Hundreds of miles away, on the grounds of the main church, the snowy owl tilts his head, as if he can hear those mournful howls. After a few beats, he looks up at the sky, then back at the windows he’s been watching.

He hasn’t seen anything yet—he could swear that window seems to have moved (although he doesn’t see how) and he doesn’t have the view he thought he would have when he had been plotting his surveillance. But he waits, patient as only a veteran spy can be. He’s not sure how long it takes, but finally, finally...there you are. You appear in the window, leaning against the sill, your eyes on the grass two stories below. He watches as you release a deep breath, then go still, your eyes falling closed. If he had lips at the moment, he’d be frowning. What is she...oh, that tethering thing, he thinks. Searching for your ex, baby girl? The owl swallows as you stand there, and you begin to glow. Time stretches, a minute passes...then five...ten...half an hour...a full hour goes by before the glow fades and a victorious smirk curls your lips. John almost gasps--he’s never seen you smile like that before. It’s...cruel, and arrogant, and foreign to the woman he knows and loves.

He watches as Copia suddenly appears behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. An ache of longing in his chest nearly makes the spy lose focus, but he pushes it aside. The newest Papa leans down to murmur something into your ear, and you nod. His shoulders shift in a soft laugh, and he says something else.

You smile again, and John’s skin crawls. There’s so much malice in your smile that it nearly makes him take off. You say something in response, and lift your hand to the glass. A darkness coalesces on the pane, nearly blocking his vision of you, before detaching and shooting off to the southeast. John is willing to bet whatever that void is, it’s heading straight for Jackson. The drummer feels no pity for the targeted man, but he also hates you showing cruelty. This isn’t you.

You start to speak again, that same arrogant, evil smile twisting your lips, and John can only imagine what you might be saying. But suddenly you stop, staring off into space, then begin to look around the treeline, and John stops thinking, stops blinking, stops breathing...you can’t possibly sense him, can you? He’s sitting far back in the dark shade of the tree to hide his feathers, he’s far up, off to the side, he hasn’t moved a wing...

Your gaze suddenly flicks in his direction. Even though you can’t possibly see him from where you are, it feels as though you are staring right at him. He’s rigid with fear, so tense now he’s sure he’ll break if he moves wrong. What will you do?

For a split second, your face morphs. Gone is the malice, so foreign on your features. Now it’s just fear and desperation. You mouth a single word. Help. Then it’s gone, back to the new you, and you turn from the window to lean up to Copia’s embrace.

She’s still there, he thinks, hope bursting bright in his chest. Don’t worry, baby girl, we’re on it. The owl’s head twists and turns, sharp gaze taking in all his surroundings now, not just you. He needs to get back.

Instead of taking off from there, not wanting to risk being seen, he hops to the ground behind the huge tree he’d been in and shifts directly to his wolf. His stomach growls as he runs, hungry after everything that’s happened. Though impatience is biting at him, he takes the time to hunt, an old deer, before resuming his run. Two hours later, he transforms back into his owl and takes off, wheeling northeast, heading home, determined not to stop until he’s back.

***

You stand at the window, your stare far off. He’s not there any longer, in that tall pine off to the side, you can tell, and you hope that he got your message...although now that you try to think about it, you can’t be totally sure he was there in the first place. Your senses might have been lying to you. It’s become very confusing... sometimes, like now, you feel like yourself, but that sense of “normal” is disappearing. More and more, you are ...well, you’re you but you’re ...not you. You’ve been trying to hold on, to coexist with this unusual heat, but it keeps washing over you, taking you over, surging ahead and you just...follow. It feels odd, but it feels good too. Copia moves in behind you, hands on your shoulders, a request in his energy. You nod, and he drinks from you...

“Do I taste different?” you murmur.

He burrows into your neck, humming against your skin. “How so, stellina?”

The heat is rising up again and you’re falling away, losing track of what you are thinking. “How so... I don’t...”

You take a deep breath, trying to quell the heat. Trying to force it back down. This is important, you tell it firmly as it tries to bury you in its warmth. You bring your hand up and bite down on your wrist, hoping to use the pain to shock you out of the heat, and it does draw back a little. Copia makes a worried sound. “Stellina, please. Don’t hurt yourself like that, no, no.”

He gently pulls at your wrist, leaning over you to kiss the bite marks you’ve left there, whispering words you can’t understand. You stare down at him, your vision feeling slightly swimmy. “Do I...taste different?” You put emphasis on “taste,” knowing he’ll understand.

He looks up at you, his gaze warm. “Your energy, you mean?” He closes his eyes and sips from you. “Mmmm...perhaps it is hotter than usual but it is still...you.”

You watch him as his eyes open, and you meet his with tears filling your own. “I don’t want to change. I feel like...like I’m losing myself. I don’t want that, Copia.”

“Oh, stellina, it will be all right,” he croons, cupping your cheeks softly. Just that simple touch is enough to have the heat rising again, making you gasp.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his thumbs smoothing along your cheeks.

Your hands come up to cover his as your eyes close and you sink into the heat a little--and it begins to swallow you up again. “Mmmmmmmm....no, not at all,” you hum.

The heat feels so good, you think as he smiles in relief and kisses you. He feels so good. You let go, the heat seducing you, overtaking you fully. Soon you are opening his pants, freeing his erection, and he takes you against the windowsill. Thoughts of John, if it was even him, float away on your lust.

***

Air sits back from the table, his sigh disrupting the silence in the library. “I’m beginning to see a disturbing problem here.”

All eyes turn to the tall ghoul. “And what might that be?” Papa asks.

“Well,” Air sighs again, “we’ve got a pile of information about Lillith and her abilities, but nowhere do we have anything about her transferring her powers or about her daughter ... obviously. Everywhere we look, we just end up at the same place.”

“We do know she kept her daughter a secret,” Tim says, pacing slowly with a book in his hand. “She said she cloaked our love’s power so that other non-human beings couldn’t use her.” He looks up at Papa. “I’m assuming that, somehow, that cloak finally lifted when she, uhh, saw us that first time, am I right? Otherwise her powers wouldn’t have worked on Johannes that first night he went after her.”

Papa nods. “Yes, that’s a good assumption. But lifting the cloak isn’t what did this.”

Till, sitting at the table, is looking bored, but those that know him best realize he’s thinking everything through. “Lillith isn’t the type of woman to apologize on a whim, even to her own child.”

Jonas nods. “Of course not. So we think that last visit was when she transferred her powers.” He looks at Air. “I still don’t see the problem you’re seeing.”

Air stands and paces around the room. “Nothing here tells us what to do next because not one author of any of these texts knew she could do this ... let alone thought she might want to.”

Aether sighs. “Which means we either need to act on an assumption, no matter how plausible it is...or find more information.”

“Which means visiting Dominic,” Papa says tiredly.

“Do you not like him?” Paul asks curiously.

“It is not that, really,” the pope muses. “But I have only met him a handful of times, and that was when I was very young. He does not know me as an adult. He was kind to me, much kinder than our father...” He smiles faintly. “I remember him being fond of peppermints.”

“Who’s fond of peppermints?” Johannes asks as he enters the room looking, if not calm, at least not in the midst of panic and disorder.

Papa gives his wolf a quick once-over. “My brother. It looks like we’ll be visiting him after all.”

The wolf looks around, blinking fast. “Nothing useful?” Everyone shakes their head, staring at the floor or at each other. “Fuck. Fine, where’s your brother then?”

“I was never told,” Papa says, “so I don’t know. Hopefully Damiano does.”

The men start to discuss next steps, voices starting to rise. “Wait.” All eyes turn to Henrik. “We’re forgetting someone else we need to talk to: Lillith.”

“And how the hell are we gonna do that?” Johannes growls. “We don’t know where she is.”

Henrik shoots Johannes a look. “No...but Satan does,” the bodyguard finally answers, shifting his gaze to Papa and seemingly dismissing Johannes at the same time. “After the battle with the angels, when Lillith was first here...she disappeared with our love to talk with her. And Satan told you then--”

Understanding dawns in Papa’s eyes. “They told me she was ok...that they were with her...” He smiles at Henrik. “How could I have forgotten that?”

“I’ll talk to Them,” Special says, standing from the couch and disappearing.

Papa comes over to Johannes. “My love. Please. I need you calm.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm?!” he snaps back.

Anger surges in Papa’s eyes, his left eye flashing white. “In whatever way works for you, Johannes Eckerström, you’d better fucking figure something out. You’re no help to our love barking at everyone who’s trying to help. Are you a wolf? Or are you a fucking dog?!” Johannes stares in shock, and Papa gets right in his face. “Get yourself together, or when we go to see my brother, I’ll leave you here.” And he blinks out.

Johannes looks around the room. “What the fuck was that all about? I thought I was pretty damn calm, all things considered.”

Henrik snorts as he picks up another book—no harm in continuing while they wait for Special’s return. “Did you even hear your tone when you spoke to me? You’re not the only one upset here, brother.”

Johannes throws himself into the nearest chair, grumbling a little and sulking. The others who are still there do their best to ignore him, til he eventually settles. “Sorry,” he finally mumbles to Henrik.

Henrik looks up after a moment. “Hm? Did you say something?”

Johannes bites back a growl, takes a deep breath, then another. “I’m sorry. For growling. And for being generally useless.”

Henrik smiles faintly and nudges him. “You’re not useless. You called in lunch.”

Johannes stares at Henrik for long moments, and everyone is just waiting for the volatile wolf to erupt again...and then he barks in laughter. “Yeah, you asshole, I did, didn’t I.”

Henrik smirks. “Yep. And you can call in dinner now.”

“Fuck you, ya smug dickhead!” Johannes shoves Henrik playfully, then sobers up. “I know I’m being an ass. I just... this feels like my fault. I chased her away. I didn’t mean to...but I chased her away.”

“We all kind of did,” Fire sighs.

Till snorts. “Leave us out of it, ghoul.”

Said ghoul rolls his eyes. “WE promised her we wouldn’t let her do this. But that didn’t matter once she changed.”

“I appreciate it, dude, but you weren’t in the room with me when she and I argued. It was just her and me, and I tried, I did...” Johannes sighs. “I tried to explain, I tried to get her to see...”

Richard, upside down on a couch with his spiked hair nearly touching the floor, pipes up. “If she’s so determined to murder this person...is it so surprising she didn’t want to see?”

Johannes leans back, resting his head on the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling. “I’m her husband, I should have been able to make her see, make her listen...”

Most of the fae, to Johannes’s immense displeasure, all laugh, and more surprising is the ghouls’ snorts. “Make her?” Paul laughs.

“You couldn’t make her do anything,” Oli says, the only fae not laughing.

“Marriage doesn’t work that way, Johannes,” Earth mumbles. “You can’t force your opinion on your wife, that’s...”

Water holds his hand over his mouth like he’s about to gag. “Downright Catholic of you.”

Johannes looks around at everyone, frowning. “I wasn’t forcing...you know what I mean, I just wanted her to understand...”

Water smiles. “I get it, Johannes, I do. And we know you weren’t forcing your will on her... it’s simply...well, you can only do so much. It sounds like you were up against her free will and her mother’s powers and...you did your best. Nobody’s blaming you but you.” The ghoul comes over, sitting in the chair next to the wolf and slinging his arm around his shoulders. “You’re a good man. Rough, but a good man. But you’re prone to let panic cloud your thinking. Before our goddess saved you, saved us all, minus our fae friends, what happened when you panicked?”

Johannes’s teeth clench as Beta waves cheekily from across the room. “...yeah, I know.”

“And now, you don’t have that,” Water says gently. “What you have is yourself. And the Johannes I know is a guy who gets things done. And that’s the kind of guy we need right now.”

Johannes blows out an exasperated breath. “I gotta be better. I know it.”

“Yeah, you do,” Water agrees. “And you can do it. Just...breathe first before you start growling.”

Johannes nods, wrapping an arm around Water’s shoulders in return. “Thanks, dude. I needed that.”

Water beams. “Anytime!” Then he nudges Johannes. “Maybe go apologize to Papa?” Johannes grumbles, but nods and stands, loping off after Papa’s scent.

Water sits back, looks over at Aether and sighs. “You know, we should have been warned that this ghoul gig required psychology degrees.”

Aether laughs. “We would never have agreed to it if we’d known, brother.”

“Has he always been like that?” Schneider asks curiously, lying on the floor with a book over his face.

“Sort of?” Tim chuckles. “He really is a good man. Just...a little bit broken.”

“Aren’t you all?” Till rumbles, and Tim, Henrik, and Jonas all look at each other.

“...not as much as Johannes,” Jonas finally says softly. “Not even me.”

Till grunts but says nothing more. Aether finally looks around at the rest of the fae, sprawled on the floor or across seating in strange positions. “Is it a fae thing, or do none of you know how chairs work?”

The fae all grin or laugh outright. “Of course we know how chairs work,” Flake sniffs. “We just choose to sit in the ways most comfortable to us.”

“A chair is for sitting,” Richard chortles. “And we’re sitting, are we not?”

Aether stares at Richard, still upside down on the couch. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.” He chuckles and slaps a book shut. “Whatever works for you.”

Oli, walking by with a stack of books in one arm, gives Aether’s shoulder a friendly pat before continuing on to his table. “You guys are some of the best non-fae we’ve ever met,” Paul says cheerily. “We all hope we can be friends and allies for a long time.”

“That’s a high compliment, Herr Landers,” Air says with a slight smile and a bow. “We wish for the same.”

***

When Damiano opens the door of his rooms, he frowns at his brother. “You’re back.”

Dante smirks. “I rather prefer it when your favored opens the door.”

Damiano’s frown deepens. “She’s not my favored.”

Dante laughs as he steps inside his brother’s room. “Oh you’re funny when you’re in denial, fratello.”

Damiano scowls as he shuts the door. “Is there a reason you’re here and not in the library? Or have you just come to annoy me?”

Dante laughs again. “Annoying you is a very productive break.” Then he sobers. “We’ve hit a dead end in our research. There isn’t anything in those books we don’t already know. Even the cursed ones the ghouls went through safely—nothing.”

“Not even in the Dead Sea Scrolls?” Damiano hands his brother a glass of wine, which Dante accepts with a nod. “She’s in the Dead Sea Scrolls, I remember that distinctly.”

“Yes, she’s there, but all that is mentioned is her lust and desire, her powers over men, and so forth.” Papa sips at his wine. “And before you ask, yes, I read over Gilgamesh’s Demonic Hallucinations and Their Meanings. That’s just page after page of her and Gilgamesh fucking throughout Sumer. Entertaining, and enlightening as far as sexual positions are concerned, but not very helpful.”

Damiano smirks, getting a far-off look in his eye. “Ahhh, yes. If I remember correctly, the sixth one he described was particularly...ambitious.” He shakes his head a little and focuses in on his brother. “Well, the good news is that I have personally been in communication with Dominic, and he’s agreed to a meeting. Just you and I are allowed, however, and one of his ghouls will blink us there.”

“...the others won’t like that,” Papa mutters, thinking of Johannes’s likely reaction. “When do we go?”

“Whenever we’re ready,” comes the reply, and the younger Emeritus sighs and stands.

“I’ll go inform the others.” He prepares to blink, then pauses. “...thank you, Damiano,” he says softly. “I appreciate your help more than you know.”

His brother, to Papa’s surprise, softens. “Yes, well. I like the girl, no matter how we clash. I’d hate to see her changed.”

“Indeed. We love her precisely the way she is.” Dante finishes his wine. “I’ll be ready to leave in about an hour.”

“Make it two.” Damiano clears his throat. “I have...things to take care of.”

Dante smiles. “If by things, you mean your favored.”

Damiano frowns, completely ignoring his brother’s implication. “If you’re going to blink out, do it from the hallway. You were raised in a satanic church, not a barn.”

Papa rolls his eyes. “That is a quaint point of etiquette, fratello.”

“Yes, one I happen to enjoy,” Damiano grumbles. “Now go.”

Papa opens the door, steps out...and nearly crashes into Johannes.

The wolf blinks, then suddenly hefts Papa over one shoulder and starts off down the hall. “Put me down!” comes Papa’s indignant cry, and Damiano sighs.

“Barbarians, the lot of them.” And he closes the door himself.

#chiaroscuro fic #chiaroscuro: aurora #the band ghost #the band avatar #papa emeritus iii #johannes eckerström #the usual cast

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