#belial x reader
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𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐀
( i think of all that might have been / waiting here, for evermore. )
chara : belial
fandom : granblue fantasy
quote cr : dan stevens
a/n : ty for the comm :^)
ACT ONE : IT IS A MYTH THAT ANGELS ARE BORN FROM PURITIES AND VIRTUES, AND IN THE TRUEST FORM OF A HIGHER BEING, AN ANGEL IS A BEAST, A BURDEN, A BRUTALITY : FRIGHTENING, MONSTROUS, AND IN DESPERATE DESIRE FOR A DAMNATION THEY WILL CALL LOVE.
belial is a curse in existence, created with intention but a failure in execution. how very fitting for him, a fallen angel that consumes every ounce of hatred and twists it into something so hideously and falsely beautiful. how his wings have darkened so, white muddled and stained with black. but that is not his true form, not the core of his existence, and should you ever ask to see it, he will laugh, and it will break your heart over and over again, just as much as it breaks his.
he is a feign divinity made of hypocrisy and deceptions ; in the knowing of you, he realizes that the ugly truth is that you are entirely the opposite of him – you are what an angel should be, yet you are human, and that is the vast difference that will tear you apart in the end.
“asking to see my truest self, are you?” his voice is low, taunting, yet there is a familiar affection laced beneath it. “haven’t you seen just enough of me?”
he’s always been one to hide his feelings, always been one to put on a facade, throwing another into confusion and chaos in order to carry out his true intentions. but you’ve never fallen for his tricks– not you, never you, he’s noticed, and you are far more stubborn and resilient than he expected. he simply smiles a teasing smile, but you almost wonder if you sense a melancholy resting on the curve of his lips.
“please,” you whisper, and surely it is the way you plead that sends a shiver down his spine, but he will lie, tell himself it’s the frigid air, “i want to see all of you.”
“oh, but don’t you understand why angels warn humans to not be afraid?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice. “what makes you think a fallen angel is any less frightening?”
your hand cups his cheek, tender, and he almost instinctively leans into your touch.
“i won’t be afraid, belial.”
he hums, content, takes your hand and presses a kiss against your wrist. your pulse quickens, and he cannot help but smile at the realization.
foolish being, he thinks, but at the end of it all, he does not know who he refers to.
( it is a very cruel thing, this version of love he is falling into : the innocence of need, the slow decay of fantasy in this swan song between beauty and beast. )
ACT TWO : IT IS A MYTH THAT BEAUTY IS BORN FROM VANITY AND EGOTISMS, AND IN THE TRUEST FORM OF SELF, THE BEAUTY IS THE HEART, A KINDNESS, A BENEVOLENCE : SELFLESS, MERCIFUL, AND IN DESPERATE DESIRE FOR A DELICACY THEY WILL CALL LOVE.
but love is a CURSE, and it is not something that belongs in the bloodied hands of the fiend. it is something he has sought after since the beginning of genesis, and in the failed creation’s mind, love has always been a distortion : maddening, mindless, but befitting for a beast. it was all he knew, all he felt, all he thought he deserved. but what he shares with you – it is so vastly different in its purest form : an acceptance, a relentless longing, the knowing that it will end in remorse and resignation, and the knowing that goodbye will be the right choice at the end of the line.
to have something this kind, to know it in the most cherished of ways – it is slipping through his fingers, slowly slowly slowly, and he knows it, yet he does not try to save it. it is not meant for the saving, this connection between souls, because the beast is a curse, woven with thorns, and the beauty is a blessing, a rose meant to bloom, not wither.
yes, belial thinks, you are his blessing. he almost laughs at the sentiment, bittersweet, decayed. it is only then that he, an angel with a venomous tongue, is allowed to speak such a virtuous word. maybe it is because of the way you sleep soundly in his arms, trusting enough to fall into a deep slumber in the presence of the devil in disguise, or maybe it is because of the rare peace that he hardly subjects himself to– how it sinks into the crevices of a broken being, restores them with gold, granting silent and temporary permission to something never meant to be.
maybe it is because of the warmth that settles in the little distance between your bodies, the feeling of your heartbeat a fascination due to the absence of his. belial has a still heart, frozen in experimentation gone wrong, yet there is something else that flourishes inside his chest, and it is so beautiful and terrifying all the same.
it is very much love that is a mass of contradictions, and he feels it in the way you place your heart in his hands, the aching of his claws itching for release. you know of this, you do, but you know he would never destroy what remains of your humanity.
you are meant for something good, something better. he is everything you should not have, and you are everything he wants to have.
you are not meant to be. he knows this, and so he decides this fairytale must come to an end, just as all stories do. it will not have a happy ending, but none of them do, do they? he smiles, a quiet, foreign sorrow somewhere in the depths of defeat.
he moves swiftly, carefully, as to not wake you. he watches your sleeping figure, feels this strange sharpness in his heart. he is not used to this kind of pain; there is no joy or thrill to be found in it, only a lingering grief he cannot understand. he tears his gaze away, turns to leave.
it is time for the curtain call.
“you’re leaving, aren’t you?”
he should have known you were pretending.
he doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around. you don’t expect him to, and maybe it’s better that way. your voice is heavy with exhaustion, but not surprise, and maybe you both have known that this is how it would end. he doesn’t speak, but you can almost imagine that idiotic, coy smile he puts on for show.
instead, he smiles a sad smile.
“better this way, hm?” he hardly looks over his shoulder, but he can feel your gaze nonetheless. “it was fun while it lasted.”
he is going to leave you, let you go, knowing you will seek happiness elsewhere. he has always been so sickeningly selfish, but for you, he will not be.
you will not convince him to stay, not now. but this is your story, too. you will control how it ends.
perhaps in another life, he muses, should there be one after this, you will coexist in a world where you are meant to be happy together. but not in this life. not in this world.
he leaves, and somewhere, a rose petal falls, slowly slowly slowly.
( yes, this fairy tale ends in remorse and resignation.
yes, an angel reminds himself, goodbye is the right choice. )
ACT THREE : IT IS A MYTH THAT BEASTS ARE BORN FROM EVILS AND DEPRAVITIES, AND IN THE TRUEST FORM OF AN AVATAR, A BEAST IS A VULNERABILITY, A LONELINESS, AN ACHING : LOVELORN, HYPOCRITICAL, AND IN DESPERATE DESIRE FOR A DOOM THEY WILL CALL LOVE.
you occupy his thoughts more than you should, and even though you are apart, he still watches over you. from the skies, he ensures your safety, a bittersweet relief washing over him when he sees that you are healing from the hurt. he wonders if he is healing, too. he wonders if he made the right decision.
it is safer, better this way. a fallen angel has no place in the heart of a human. it doesn’t matter what he desires, what he wants.
he smiles, wonders what it would still be like, having you at his side. he does not dare admit he misses you– there’s no need to solidify the pain, acknowledge its unwanted presence.
love is a very cruel and tragic being, isn’t it?
something inside slowly unravels– it is not wrath that unleashes his true form, but perhaps it is a silent cry of mourning, this shift in appearance : the presence of thorns, so violently red, the markings that adorn his body, the black sclera. there is no need for it, but he does not choose to suppress it. he hums in forced amusement, closes his eyes. he wonders if you truly would have been fearless of him in this state. what a shame it is that he will never know.
time passes. he feels something strange in his chest– an unknown sensation, a jolt, and he wonders if that is the sensation of a beating heart. he opens his eyes to the familiar blue skies.
“you’re persistent. you’ve found me, after all.”
you stand behind him, and he can practically feel your sorrow, your frustration, that slight anger. when he turns around, he sees it all. from the moment he left, you knew you would find him, but the path to reunion has not been an easy one. you freeze, and he forces a grin.
“how is it? my truest form? does it frighten you?”
you don’t speak for a long while. it doesn’t, no. not at all. you have always found belial beautiful, and you still do. but there’s this dying grief that overwhelms you, the same grief you have carried in all the time you have been separated. it tastes bitter on your tongue, renders you speechless.
you’ve been waiting for this moment, and now that it’s here, you just–
you swallow hard. love is not meant to be cruel, nor tragic. one step forward, then another. his expression is unreadable, carefully crafted. it’s no longer that mischievous facade nor is it dejection. you’ve always been one to see through his games though, and somewhere in the deep red, there’s this excruciating loneliness that you also feel.
“you couldn’t love someone like me, right?” he laughs. “a fallen angel with the appearance of a demon.”
but you don’t falter. you don’t buy it.
“enough, belial.” your voice wavers, the words heavy on your tongue. how they almost threaten to choke you, and you wonder what will take you first : the tides of longing or the courage that dies in words unspoken. “why do you think i’ve spent all this time searching for you?”
your fingers trace over his markings, the ghost of your touch leaving a burning sensation in their wake. you’re trembling, he notices, and he feels it in the way you cup his face in your hands, gentle. you look at him, and he almost wonders if he is imagining the reverence and ardor in your gaze.
“you left because you thought it was better that way, right? because you thought i could find someone better, someone worthy.” you murmur, and now it is his hands that shake this time. “because you think you’re not worthy of anything good, because everything you know is painful, so you think you’re better off subjecting yourself to the pain because it’s all you know.” and there is this quiet smile that blossoms on your lips, and it grows the slightest bit when you see that quiet uncertainty in crimson hues. “you can love, belial. you can be loved.”
your thumb grazes over the markings once more, and he feels that frightening sensation in his heart again– a dull thud, slow– but then it picks up in its pacing, beats and beats and beats, and surely you must hear it too, the way it pounds so violently.
“there’s no one better, belial. it’s you that i want. it’s always been you.”
you take his hand, press a kiss against the inside of his wrist, and he almost laughs at the familiarity of it all. you’ve always had him wrapped around your finger.
“you’ve always been a stubborn one, haven’t you?” his lips meet yours, and he feels the way you smile into the kiss. “be careful you don’t regret this.”
you laugh, squeeze his hand.
“i won’t, belial.”
( yes, this fairy tale beloved ends with reunion and revelations.
yes, belial reminds himself, your fingers laced with his, you are his blessing, his happy ending. )
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🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞
“Come now, Singularity--I’m just making sure that you’re fully coated~”
Ruby red irises glinted mischievously, a pink tongue darted over smirking lips, long, slick fingers tightened their hold.
Belial was certainly enjoying his day out on the beaches of Auguste.
While other tourists were delighting themselves to seafood buffet feasts and basking in the picturesque scenery of pristine white sand and crystal blue water, he was finding much pleasure in some afternoon fishing from the comforts of a seaside bungalow.
And what a splendid catch that was now in his possession!
Squirming and writhing, swimsuit in a tattered disarray, skin sleek from a haphazard smear of suntan oil, you were left and reduced to a helpless sprawl upon the wooden deck of your bungalow suite. The platform--with the purpose of allowing easy access in and out of the ocean for a swim--now served to be an open showcase of Belial pummeling his cock into your core from behind for next door guests and the like.
His palms were still slippery with the pour of your suntan oil bottle from earlier, his fingers groping your breasts, toying with your nipples, with one even plunging into your ass in tandem with the vigorous pace of his thrusts.
Your nails clawing at the wooden floor in pleasure, the gorgeously obscene view of your backside as he watched his thick cock push into your drooling core, all while you looked back at him with such a flustered, pleading expression--his hunger, his thirst for more could not be any more aroused.
Calling out your name, he relinquished his hold on your breast to instead seize your chin as he bent further down, closing any distance between your face and his.
Before he went forward to claim your lips for a kiss, he gazed straight into your eyes as he grinned wickedly, his voice dropping to a low purr as he spoke,
“After all, if the sun gets to kiss your skin today, isn’t it only fair that I get to kiss you all I want~? ♡“
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WHB Incorrect quotes#33 Bra section vs Boyfriend
Now If F! Mc asked them to buy you bra's given...a certain annoying angel destroyed it in your room...(This will gain updates the further I meet the gang -and characters I have yet to meet)
Sitri, Zagan, Belial, Minheyok, Lucifer, Leviathan(Once he stopped being tsundere)-: Hello, my love I’m in the titty section what size boob dome do you wear?*Sends a kiss thru the speaker*
Raph, Gabriel, Belial, Michael-: Hey B*tch, I’m in the boob section what size honkers do you wear?
Paimon, Leraye, Beel-: WASSUP SHARTIE BAE IM IN LE BRA SECTION, WHAT SIZE HONKER BADONKERS U WEAR?
Satan, Beel, Bimet-: Ayo babe I’m in the tittie section what size Dippin dots have you got?
Paimon, Satan, Beel-: DAMN GIRL those are some big honkers then, Lemme see them later kk, Mine are bigger but that’s ok, I still love you baby
Mc*On the other line of the phone, face-palming*...
#what in hell is bad#what in hell is bad x reader#whb#whb x reader#whb x mc#whb mc#female mc#whb minhyeok#whb satan#whb sitri#whb leraye#whb zagan#whb paimon#whb mammon#whb bimet#whb beelzebub#whb leviathan#whb belial#whb lucifer#whb michael#whb michelleel#whb gabr#whb gabriel#whb raphael#whb fluff#whb incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes
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Belial, hungover resting his head in R/n's lap: Urg... I think I went a little overboard wit' the cider last night.
R/n, as she's petting his head: The second you started calling me your "Little honey badger." I knew you were tanked.
#tw: alchohol mention#ultraman incorrect quotes#ultraman#tokusatsu incorrect quotes#tokusatsu#afab reader#ultraman belial#ultraman Belial x reader#Spark doll! Belial#alien x human#alien x reader
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Yaoi
NSFW
Pairing: Belial x Male MC
Warning: uh...yaoi/BL
The owner of the small manga store in Gehenna was stretching himself after a long time sitting on the chair when someone opened the door and stepped inside the store.
"Son of Solomon-
"Shhh..." You shushed the store owner. You are literally a celebrity in all of Hell so the moment you are recognized, you will be swamped by your demon fans, unless you are accompanied by a devil king or a devil from the 72, so you always try to be as subtle as possible when you go out, especially to do things that are not so innocent.
The store owner nodded, indicating that he understood what he must do. You nodded back at him before going to browse the manga in the store. It took you a couple of minutes to find the yaoi/BL section - your favorite genre.
You browsed through the titles in the section and began to read what interested you.
. . .
The more you read, the more you are turned on by the yaoi depicted inside those manga, even the thing between your legs are getting hard. You wish you could just buy these manga, but since the war was still going on, there was no safe place to put them, and you didn't want to see that irritating teasing smirk of Satan when he found out your masturbation materials.
"MC"
The sudden sound of a familiar hoarse voice made you jump and drop the manga volume in your hands.
"B-belial, y-you scared me!" You said, nearly to the point of shouting. But the devil before you only smiled, like he was enjoying experiencing a scene he usually sees from the anime.
Then Belial noticed the manga volume under the floor. You also noticed his gaze too, but you were much slower than a seasoned soldier like Belial and the devil was able to grab the manga before you.
"Wait, don't read it." You shouted but it was too late, Belial was already looking through the manga while you could only scream inside.
"Do you want to try it with me?" Belial said after finishing skimming through the manga.
"What?"
"The thing depicted in this." Belial said as calmly as possible, but there was red hue on his cheeks and his breathe had become a bit heavier than usual.
"W-what about Jj-?" It was only then that you noticed Jjyu hadn't been voicing Belial at all. You looked at Belial's horn and noticed Jjyu wasn't there.
"Don't worry, Jjyu got into an argument with the owner and they are still arguing at the counter as of now. All the other readers were attracted to the argument so no one would notice us."
It was then that you realized you had been too absorbed in the book to notice anything around.
You looked around and when you were sure no one was looking, you nodded.
"Alright, let's find some place where I can conjure up my space."
"No, you should conjure the space here." Belial said.
You were shocked at Belial's proposal but it made you excited at the same time. Your breathe began to feel heavy just thinking about it.
. . .
Belial pushed you onto the bed and his tongue began to travel on your body, the devil made sure to make you moan whenever his tongue licked through your sensitive spots.
"Your penis is leaking pre-cum." You heard Belial said just before you felt his tongue wrap around your manhood.
"Ah~" you began to moan as Belial was giving you a blowjob, while his right hand began to write on your body and his left hand found its way to your anus. One finger began to enter your butthole. He was preparing you for his huge dick. Soon a second finger followed as Belial stopped sucking your penis because he was afraid you would cum from too much stimulation, ruining the fun if you became exhausted.
"Belial, I want your cock...inside me." You said while panting.
Belial smiled with his tongue sticking out and he shoved his monster cock inside your hole.
As you were moaning and losing your mind with each thrust of Belial's cock, the demon commander grabbed both of your wrists and raised them up high so that he could see your armpits. His tongue then made a long lick from your armpit to your elbow.
"Beli-chan!" You called as his tongue was making your armpit wet "You are a hentai baka!" You teased him.
It was like he was turned on by your words, his cock inside you grow bigger and his thrust became rougher. You felt like his cock had reached a milestone inside you that it had never reached before.
"MC... everything about you is... delicious..." Belial then kissed you on the lips as one of his hands began to play with your penis.
"Beli-chan, I'm coming." You said, breathing heavily.
Belial did not reply with spoken words but with written language he wrote on your body. You could make out the words "Me too!"
"L-let's come together." You said as you reached out your hand, now released from the demon on top of you's grip, and grabbed his horn.
Your dick started to burst with the white liquid, which came all over your stomach, some of which got on Belial's sweaty chest. Belial thrust deep inside you at the same time and you could feel hot liquid from his cock filling your inside, which made you feel so good that you were sure that your dick cummed some more.
Though, soon enough, you could feel Belial's tongue on your stomach again.
"Your seeds...so delicious."
.
.
.
You, Belial and Jjyu who was now holding on to his superior's horn walked out of the manga store together. You could barely walked and had to lean on Belial to move.
"Are you alright, you shit-eating bastard?" You heard Jjyu asked.
"Thanks for your concern, Jjyu. It's just some minor hip pain." You replied, trying to smile while your hand wrote behind Belial's back "You are a beast", which made Belial smile.
.
.
.
The next day, when the customers walked in the manga shop, they saw new rules announcement at the counter.
Whatever you saw in the manga, please don't do it in my shop >:(
. . .
First time writing a smut >3<
I hope you guys like it :3
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Hush Now
Fluff with Belial and Jjyu
"Wake up!" Belial ignore it, but it gotten louder. "Wake up you fucker!!" Jjyu climb out of his little bed on the nightstand and flew towards the bed where you and Belial is sleep. You were sounded asleep, while Belial try to keep his mind calm and quiet so that Jjyu doesn't notice he's awake.
Jjyu land bottom first on Belial's chest, curse under his breath and slowly get back on his feet as he rub his butt. He turn to Belial's head stomp over to his face and start punching his chin. Luckily he's small so his hits isn't doing much.
But before Belial can put a stop to him. Jjyu gasp when a hand grab him.
"Put me down you shit-"
"Aw~ are you cranky?" You coo him as you set him in your palm.
"You son of a bitch! I ain't no baby!!"
"Hush now" You whisper before start rocking him to sleep.
"If you think rocking me like I'm- *Yawn*" before long and flop on your palm and immediately fell asleep.
You smile and lay back down and place your hand with Jjyu on your chest. Belial saw everything and he just smile and scoot close and drape his arm over your stomach and the two of you fell right back to sleep.
#what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad#whb belial#whb jjyu#whb mc#whb belial x reader#whb dribble fic
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Forget your tears - be brave, and fall asleep (WHB Belial x MC)
Revisited the chapter 8 Mephisto boss fight (and by extension the second phase BGM Lullabye) because the recent trailer for Arknights anime season 2, Perish in Frost, had a tiny snippet of it that maybe sent the entire fandom into a frenzy. Then I remember seeing a post speculating about the effects of the seed of the fruit of knowledge on a human with the most angst-filled HC in which it turns the human into an ally of the angels. And thus, this was born.
Also served as a distraction to the entire PM situation so...yeah. Apologies for any shit writing.
Tags: GN Reader x WHB Belial. Written before launch, so prepare for lore inaccuracies. Angst. Likely not proofread. Also it's been a while since I last wrote something and this is my first rodeo with reader insert so...
Title is taken from the English translated lyrics to Lullabye from the Arknights OST!
Belial had always associated music with comfort.
Ever since he'd lost his voice to the angels when he was young, he'd always experienced nightmares. Try as he might, no matter how much he actively attempted to suppress the memories of that day, they'd return to him when his psyche was at its most susceptible. Like a monster laying in wait, these memories would remain dormant - deceptively harmless, until they'd viciously resurface in his unconscious mind.
He'll always remember. The agony of his vocal cords getting burnt away, the searing pain in his throat as his voice is completely annihilated, the demons of Paradise Lost regretfully telling him there was nothing they could do about his voice.
The way his heart ached unbearably harshly as he is beset upon the realization that he is effectively rendered mute. The soul-crushing realization that he can no longer sing, melodies and lyrics becoming nothing more than ideas locked in his mind. The deep despair as it dawned on him that he could no longer communicate effectively with anyone.
Pain made way to sadness, to the despair of loss, to anger at the angels.
Belial was young, at the time. Impulsive and perhaps a little bit rash, fueled by wrath towards the beings that stripped him of his voice. A wrath so uncontrollable that even with Jjyu doing his utmost best to keep Belial's anger in check, residual traces of his wrath remain.
Perhaps it was an effect of Satan's influence on the demons of Gehenna. Perhaps his anger was just that potent. Perhaps, he was angry at how he never obtained a peaceful rest.
But either way, Belial's turbulent emotions remained - until Solomon arrived and managed to quell his raging emotions.
Solomon came with a song. A lullaby, a song to soothe a troubled soul. Though the melody seems anything but - a melancholic melody in a tongue Belial is unfamiliar with, yet carries with it the sorrow of a protector in the night. Silent, yet steadfast, always ready to be a sanctuary.
It was enough for his restless heart to grow calm.
Even after Solomon left, there remains a recording of Solomon singing the lullaby. It always became a source of a comfort for Belial, a brief calm within the turbulent storm that was their war against the angels. And it has become his way to remember his beloved Solomon, the only being in the entire universe to be able to calm his restless heart.
It was his main source for comfort, at this point.
~
The very first time Belial heard someone else sing the very lullaby that only exists in recordings, it was sung by Solomon's descendant, (Y/N).
It was late, while they were settling down for the night. They were changing into their sleepwear in Belial's room, who was bundled up in the covers while beckoning them towards him. And unconsciously, perhaps due to the comfort of the darkness surrounding them, they started humming that familiar tune.
Immediately, Belial grew still. Is that...
Fortunately, Jjyu was quick to pick up on Belial's confusion, as usual.
"Hey, that song..." Jjyu murmured, quiet and shaky, breaking the fragile silence of the night. Seeing that he caught their attention, he continued his question. "How do you know it?"
"Hm? Oh, my parents used to sing it to me whenever I couldn't sleep, back when I was a kid." (Y/N) replied. Belial noted the slightly subdued delivery of their statement and immediately sat up straight, scooting over to create more space for them.
"It's been a long time since I last heard them sing, but it has always stuck with me up 'til now, y'know?" (Y/N) laughed weakly as they settled down beside Belial. They snuggled closer to Belial, nuzzling their head into the crook of his neck, savoring his warmth and presence. "Even after they're long gone, I still remember their voices, and the lullaby."
"Where are they now?" Jjyu asked, even though both he and Belial had a feeling they knew what was coming next.
A sad, rueful smile made its way onto (Y/N)'s lips.
"Gone."
Immediately, Belial wrapped his arm around (Y/N), giving their shoulder a comforting squeeze. I'm sorry.
"It's been years, Beli. I'm fine now." They replied. He noted the slight tinge of grief in their voice but refused to comment further on it, seeing as they diverted the conversation to another topic. "Why did you ask about the song, though?"
"Solomon used to sing that lullaby whenever Belial would get nightmares." Jjyu supplied easily. "It would calm him down after one."
(Y/N) hummed contemplatively. "I'm probably not as good as Solomon, but if you want, I don't mind singing for you if you get any more nightmares, Beli."
Jjyu looked like he was uncertain, however one look at Belial must have showed how the other demon was truly thankful for the offer. Because while Solomon's singing was the one that calmed him down all those years ago, he still thought the way (Y/N) hummed the lullaby in question is soothing and beautiful in its own right. And, because of that, he decided he wanted to hear them sing.
"Thank you, (Y/N). We'll take you up on that offer."
(And hey, at least Jjyu isn't being an asshole for once.)
~
There's a lot to be said about the significance of music, especially for someone like Belial, who loves and appreciates all the intricacies that came with music and its structure.
The lullaby he'd always come to associate with comfort had also become associated with (Y/N), the human who had won over his heart. They sang it with such profound emotion, sorrow and solace blending into a heartrending harmony, so similar yet so unlike how Solomon used to sing it to him. It was soulful, soothing, and calming all at once.
It was so unlike the way they sing it now, consumed by the heavenly powers and transmogrified into a heavenly being, becoming a berserk "angel" hell-bent on killing the very people they once considered friends.
(Jjyu would prefer calling whatever they transformed into as a monster. Belial would be inclined to agree - if not for the fact it was (Y/N) they were talking about.)
Their voice is raw, broken and distorted. Rage, anguish, anger, and despair, all intermixed into a cacophony of grating noises. It was so unlike the charming and beautiful voice Belial was used to, and it hurts.
It hurts, because he knows why (Y/N) turned into this heavenly being in the first place. Because he knows they sacrificed themself, offered themself up to keep the demons safe. Knows, that even if it meant they were to die, they were willing to give up their life for the demons they have grown to cherish.
And yet Belial, still stuck in denial, desperately searches their eyes for any sign of the human he had grown affectionate towards. A spark of life, a hint of familiarity, something, anything-
Nothing. There is nothing.
They are unfamiliar in his eyes. A husk of their former self, blazing a warpath of complete and utter annihilation of Hell and its denizens.
Was this what (Y/N) meant when they told me to gain the strength needed to kill them?
His allies are all too far away from him. Satan made his orders clear, no matter how painful it was for them all - kill (Y/N).
He has a clear shot at the moment. Though their movements are erratic, they often remain still for long periods of time - exhaustion, perhaps, due to taking up a form they are not used to. Yet they continue singing, as if it could relieve some of the pain and anguish their forced transformation has caused them.
And Belial remembers.
He remembers them singing to him until he falls asleep.
He remembers the comfort from their voice, singing to him such a familiar lullaby.
He remembers them, eventually recording themself singing the lullaby and giving the recording to him.
So similar, yet so different to how she's singing it right now.
He can't bear seeing them suffer in a fate worse than death, nor can he bear hearing the lullaby, now distorted beyond belief. So he takes aim despite his tears, aims the muzzle of his sniper rifle at their forehead...
BLAM!
They crumple into the ground in a heap, before immediately turning to dust.
Belial sobs, and Jjyu wails with him, the pair of them unable to retrieve any trace of their prior existence.
And the lullaby, a song he associated with comfort once upon a time, is now identic of anguish, of the loss of a loved one.
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Announcements
Okay, lots of stories are coming out soon. I'm a bit behind cause of holiday. Forgive me, darlings!
Looks like you guys have been busy liking and reblogging my work. Thank you, everyone. Requests are open again so feel free to share ideas.
I did want to mention that some requests take longer than others, so don't worry, I haven't forgotten any. I have a list.
Some stories just come easily while others take time. A curse all writers face.
Please look forward to more stories being posted later this week.
The warmth of home
Luck? Ha!
Office affair
Pierced my heart part 5
#mairimashita! iruma kun#welcome to demon school iruma kun#iruma suzuki#reader#lord sullivan#robin x reader#lady levi#lord belial#opera#henri azazel x reader
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Y/n: *looks at Sariel*
Y/n: Baby boy. Baby.
Y/n: *looks at Belial*
Y/n: Evil.
#gbf incorrect quotes#granblue incorrect quotes#gbf x reader#granblue fantasy#gbf#sariel gbf#sariel (gbf)#sariel#belial#belial gbf#belial (gbf)#granblue fantasy x reader
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congrats on 1k!!! your writing is so gorgeous and I think about your fics so much ;o; 💕💕 im slipping in a request for the dreamscape event: dusk (or twilight!! whatever you feel fits best honestly), ☀️ belial, orchid 💓
𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞
( I WONDERED HOW ANYONE FINDS CLOSENESS WHEN
VIOLENCE IS SO NEAR TO IT )
chara : belial
fandom : granblue fantasy
quote cr : jeanette wintersonm
a/n : omg thank u sm !!! you are so kind, that means a lot to me !!! thank u for ur support :^)
・❥・[ dreamscape event ] ༊*·˚
⌛ fluff/angst • ☀️belial • 💐 orchid : reverence
ONE. fallen angels must yearn for redemption, don't they? their fates left to doom and damnation, wings dyed in hideous colors and impurities. but what happens when you are birthed from ruin & evils, feeding upon the existence of another, your life meant for the chasm? IT IS A VERY SAD THING, you think, TO MEET A DOWNFALL YOU CANNOT SAVE YOURSELF FROM.
& what a curse this one holds, the wicked belial, both angel and devil in a creature gone wrong.
you will find yourself in his arms one day, remember how they warned you of his unholiness ; how it would corrupt you, turn you into something you weren't. you press your head against his chest, breathe deep, listen closely :
you hear something gentle bloom and wither with love, tell him that his heart sounds beautiful. he will laugh, the fallen angel, and you will hear the self-hatred in the echoes of a false haven.
TWO. LOVE IS : twisted devotion that festers into obsession ; yearning that melds into sharp pains and agony. the severing of the heart / the disconnect between CREATOR and CREATION.
and it's supposed to hurt. it is. it is. it is, because they once told him that the things most painful are always worth it.
THIS PAIN MUST BE WORTH IT, belial will remind himself, so he'll call it love, this hatred and scorn he only knows from higher beings, because it's better to make something out of nothing.
THREE. "you are so desperate to be loved."
you feel him tremble as your fingers ghost over his wings ; how gracious they are in the way they bleed sanguine, stain porcelain with remnants of what could be good & holy.
something foreign and unspoken crosses his features : apprehension, fear -- you cannot tell. something so wonderfully unnatural, something exasperatingly innocent, something that tells you that you are right. but it fades, twists itself into guarded amusement. he chuckles lowly at such false assumptions, ignores this strange feeling of grief that buries itself in his chest.
"i've always liked the pain." he says, words light and heavy all the same as his fingers intertwine with yours. "you must have forgotten that i am already loved, hm?"
and love is not violence and violence is not love, but the teachings of angels are a vicious thing to unlearn. the admittance of defeat takes hold of you, so you cast your gaze elsewhere, instinctively avoid his eyes when he leans down to look at you. how delicate he is in the way he grabs your chin, forces you to recognize this moment as something you both will bury in dreadful hearts.
your eyes are filled with something he has never known. there is something warm about it, something so lonely and mourning for what has yet not been lost.
you swallow hard, clench your jaw, watch as his mischievous smile falters.
"yes, you are loved, belial."
FOUR. LOVE IS : lingering touches that leave fervor in their wake ; yearning that melds itself into nostalgia and quiet reverie. the understanding of two hearts that have never known better / the connect between SOUL and SOUL.
this does not hurt. it is not supposed to, it never is, you'll tell belial, and he will not believe you at first. surely this is a jest, a deception that will end with brutality. but the peace is endless, and perhaps this is the most confusing of all.
so he'll call this love, the way his name leaves your lips, and it will frighten him so.
FIVE. they warned you of unholy beings, their existence a threat to your own. they told you tales of fallen angels, sins a chaos and the bringing of a deserved downfall. how wrong the stories can be, you muse.
and there is something so profound in the time you share ; his head on your chest, your hands on the surface of where his wings reside. how fortunate he is to hear it, this steady beat. he shuts his eyes, breathes deep, listens closely :
he hears something blithe and innocent flourish in the roots of love, tells you that your heart is something he could cherish until the ends of time. you will laugh, and he will hear joy in the echoes of a home away from home.
he hums, presses a kiss to your skin as a smile blossoms on your lips.
"am i loved?" another brush of the lips, a devilish grin that you are all too familiar with.
you laugh once more, and it is the kindest thing he has ever heard.
"yes, you are loved, belial."
#belial x reader#belial gbf#granblue fantasy x reader#bites him. throttles him as he deserves#this fic took many days bc belial's character is so complex !! fights him#.: writing#.: event!fic.dream of me 🌿
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Incubus yoongi x reader
Go wild with smut maybe theres fluff and angst too! Love your writing so much
☾ Pairing: Incubus!Yoongi x archdevil!Reader
☾ Summary:
Sunder (sun·der) transitive verb
: to break apart or in two
: to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space
Sunder (sun·der) intransitive verb
: to become parted, disunited, or severed
☾ Word Count: 5,297
☾ Genre: Smut, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fated Lovers
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Vague worldbuilding - this takes place in a Hell setting so.. Lots of talk of literal hell, implied violence and war, themes of classism/species racism, hint of political scheming, depiction of servants who are chained/collared, implications of sex work/incubi being bread specifically for sex work, honestly Yoongi and reader kinda give co-dependant vibes, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little bit of overstim, cum eating if you squitn, multiple orgasms, bleeding/scratching/biting, possessive themes… um I don’t know the smut scene is more PrOsEy than straight-up smut.
☾ Published: Sunday, April 7 2024
☾ A/N: We are using Forgotten Realms (dnd) lore because I was randomly inspired to do so. You need zero knowledge of Forgotten Realms or dnd lore to read this - there is vague world building and references to a plot on the side that I imagine Yoongi and reader are a part of but that does not happen in this little one shot. I just did it for the tension and because I’m out of control. 100% change I got some dnd lore wrong - don’t care, I kinda made it my own in parts as needed!!! Thank you!!!
☾ A/N 2: Dear anon, I don’t have a clue what this is, but it was inspired by a very specific scene in the movie Troy when Paris (Orlando Bloom) sneaks up to Helen’s (Diane Kruger) room while the Greeks and Trojans are downstairs partying and he’s like hehe let’s bang it out. That’s it. I really hope you like this because sometimes I fill requests and I'm like ..... that probably was not what they had in mind and yet here I am, delivering whatever ??? this is ??
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Main Masterlist ☾Filled Requests ☾ Masterlist Milestone Request Event ☾ Ask
Note: I don't use my tag list for requests!
A pair of dark eyes in the shadows around the party catches your attention as you listen to Archdevil Belial's drone about his victory in Phlegethos. The fiend’s words fall on deaf ears as your gaze narrows to a deadly point on the man lingering in the shadows across the room, keeping away from the revelry with a single chalice in his hand.
And he’s staring at you.
You feel your muscles constrict as you flick your gaze away, your heart rate picking up speed as you try and focus on Belial again. It isn’t a story you care to hear about - he’s been droning about his defeat of the Kelemvor worshipers on the fiery planes of Phlegethos. Hardly a battle as much as a skirmish outside of the city gates that demanded his attention.
Archdevil Belial is none the wiser that the creature he really desires to kill is lurking at the edge of the party, burning eyes on you as he cocks his head and glances toward the empty staircase that leads toward the living quarters.
There’s a twitch of irritation in your stomach as Yoongi turns and vanishes into the shadows. He is good at being seen only when he wants to, which works in his favor when he enters the hall of his greatest enemies, all in one room because of war meetings against the very fiend who now slips upstairs to your bedroom.
It was only a matter of time before Yoongi showed up - despite the level of stupidity it takes to show up in the hall of your sworn enemy. Yoongi likes to show off though. He likes to remind his enemies - and himself - that he is not so easily kept out of places that he wants to be.
Especially if those places he’s being kept from have you inside of them.
“Thank you for the conversation, Lord Belial,” you interrupt. The devil looks at you with his mouth open, eyes blazing as you interrupt him to dismiss yourself. You feel a small twist of satisfaction. “I must retire for the evening. I am returning home tomorrow before starting my campaign through the realms to ensure my father’s army are being… led properly.”
Belial’s face twitches in irritation. You’re above his station - though not too far - and decorum is everything in matters of spoken insult. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is important for our… figureheads to inspire. The Whip of Asmodeus paints a threatening picture, to be sure. It is hard to be of influence on the battlefield - we do appreciate your efforts off the field.”
A laugh like cutting glass bubbles from your lips. “You honor me.” You feel the ice in your mouth when you dip your head politely, pretending to be unbothered by the implication that you’re nothing but an empty threat. “I will see you in a tenday, Lord Belial, when I come to inspire in Phlegethos.”
With a curt turn, you cut through the party toward the stone dias. Those in attendance part for you like water parting around a sharp boulder, hurrying to get out of your way. Figurehead or real threat doesn’t matter - you’re the daughter of their lord and by rights their lady.
Your father sits on his throne of twisted bone and fire ahead of the party, crimson eyes drinking in all that happens from his seat of power. Yet he has missed something incredibly important that now lingers upstairs waiting for you. The thought makes your lips twitch in a smirk as you ascend the stairs to where Asmodeus sits, a giddy tingle in your belly.
A beautiful incubus boy sits next to the throne on the floor, a gold collar around his neck with a glittering chain that leads to Asdmodeous’ hand. The incubus looks at your father with adoration, gold eyes burning. Mouth agape. Breath catching.
You don’t know how much of it is performance. It’s always hard to tell with the lower level fiends what is real and what is an act. It’s part of the dangerous game they play, and thought you’re more accustomed to their kind - especially the one lurking in your room - you’re still unsure how to tell the difference with this one.
You catch the scent of honey and vanilla as you step nearer, though the incubus doesn’t look at you. You immediately feel the ebbing power of allure from the creature, battering your senses just being so close. Asmodeus seems unaffected by the battering power of lust radiating from the incubus, but you see the two guards behind him glance toward the creature on the floor.
You grit your teeth and ignore the twist in your gut, trying not to be irritated. Only one man has power over you this way. It isn’t the incubus’ fault that he’s doing what he was trained to do, but the sudden pitch in your stomach and dizziness you feel around him unsettles you.
“I am returning to my chambers, Father,” you murmur, bowing deeply. “I have grown wear of Belial’s peacocking.”
Behind him are two massive Orthons, no less than eight feet in height and wide like a troll. Their horns are curling and battle-scarred, ugly tusks showing from thick, fat lips. The beasts are hellish weapons from wars passed, now assigned to the personal guard of your father. You note that they also did not notice the shadowy incubus slipping into their party and up the stairwell.
It almost makes you tsk. Even for a creature as skilled and powerful as Yoongi, slipping past an entire party full of the most powerful infernals in the realms is impressive. He is, of course, more than just an incubus now, but still. The sheer magnitude of doing it successfully is not lost on you - and makes you worried for his sanity.
“Sleep well,” Admodeous voice rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together. “Tomorrow, you return to Malbolge and ready to set out on your campaign.” His fiery eyes turn to you and you feel the weight of the burning Nine Hells press against you. “They will feel the crack of the Whip of Asmodeous and know that we are mighty.
“It will be done.”
“She is as pretty as My Lord is,” the incubus boy purrs from where he sits at the foot of the throne. You glance at him, realizing that his golden gaze has broken away from your father and turned to you. Your stomach twists in equal parts anger, guilt, and disgust as you feel the lick of his power. “The House of Asmodeus is as beautiful as they are powerful.”
Again, it’s hard to discern if the incubus is performing or if he means it. Asmodeus pulls the chain hard, yanking incubus toward him. You hear his neck pop, though it doesn’t break as the creature wimpers at the sudden show of violence. “Do not speak to her, worm. You are nothing. She is the Heir Apparent and Princess of the Nine Hells. You are fodder.”
The incubus cowers, and ducks his head away from you, curling in on himself. The sensual allure to him lessens distinctly, the energy souring. You feel your fingers twitch as you think of Yoongi. It is not difficult to guess that Asmodeous’ newfound desire to humiliate and dissipate incubi and succubi are inspired by his hatred and inability to rid himself of Yoongi’s stain.
Swallowing thickly, you bow once more, slipping backward off the dias and toward the stairs that lead upward. No one guards them - there are supposed to be no enemies at this party - and shadow falls over them, the torches flickering as though watching you ascend.
Music and voices follow you up the stairs, the soft click of your shoes against the carved stone louder in the growing silence as you navigate to your bedrooms. The staircase winds and the sounds drift further away from you until it’s only the crackling of occasional sconces and your steps.
Two heavy doors in the west wing of the Citadel belong to your bedroom. The crackling energy of the arcana buzzing along them acting as a lock makes your skin tingle. You mutter the password and feel the pop of magic as it vanishes, allowing you to push heavily against one of the doors to grind it open.
The room is both yours and not. It was your room for most of your life growing up under the ruler of the Nine Hells, opulent and dark, full of old possessions and heavy, draping curtains to keep out the smoke and ruin, rich art painted by careful hands with red and purple splashed across canvas.
Now, it feels like a room that belonged to someone else entirely. You’re no longer the vicious little thing that thought would sit on the throne in Nessus one day. You’re no longer the unthinking weapon that Asmodeous uses to maintain order and public punishment.
A large bed stands on a lifted dais, covered in silks and piled high with pillows. They lay undisturbed as you close the door behind you and mutter the password again, feeling the static of magic seal them shut behind you. It would take a small army to batter through them, thankfully.
Your eyes scour the room. Embers burn in a smoldering fireplace, offering little light in the dimness of the bedroom. A large sitting area stretches to the right with leather chairs and velvet chaises, tables covered in untouched books and scrolls.
To the left is an open study, a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room backed with bookshelf-covered walls and heavy chests locked with tombs inside. You see the cover of a journal flipped open, the only sign that Yoongi had been lingering in your study snooping.
Your mouth twitches at the corner as you look away from it. Yoongi leaving something out of place is only ever on purpose, a confirmation to you that yes - his visit has double meaning. You might be the primary reason the incubus and favored chosen warrior of a death god has snuck into his enemy’s home, but you’re not the only reason. Of course he is looking for any extra information he can use against his enemies.
It stings a little more than you’d like.
Stepping further into the room, you swivel your gaze back and forth, looking for a sign of the slippery man himself. A master of shadows, Yoongi is only seen when he wants to be. Strange, for a fiend whose very nature is to be seen and devoured, to give and to receive, to lure and enjoy. Most of his life has been spent in spectacle, and now he spends it in the shadows.
Warm breath brushes against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. “I like this dress.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Yoongi’s callused fingers brush up your arm. It’s a ghost of touch but it makes your eyelids flutter shut, warmth thrumming in your stomach immediately. Unlike the incubus downstairs, you don’t feel a magnetic pull that is arcane here. You just feel the pull to Yoongi - a desire that is your own and fueled by nothing else.
He has no reason to use his charm here. It makes you shiver as you lean backward into him, eager to feel the solidness of his chest and smell the sweet wine on his breath.
“You always say that,” he purrs, the words low and scratchy. His other hand comes up to brush his fingers up and down your other arm, pulling you toward him full. You melt, fading into him faster than you should. “When will you learn that I will go wherever you are?”
“Even if it means your own demise? You’re in the Citadel of Asmodeus.”
“He’s killed me before.” Yoongi’s touch is more solid now, hands exploring your waist and curves, squeezing your flesh, pressing you against his waist. You rest the back of your head against his neck, inhaling cedarwood and sage. “I’m not so easily destroyed.”
“Don’t.”
You don’t want to recall the many times Yoongi has been wrenched away from you. Each time a little closer to permanence than the last. Time and time again, he has been ripped from your hands as your father attempts to destroy the fate linking you, to burn it until there is no tether there.
“You’ve been good,” Yoongi notes. His hand goes to the silk strings on the side of your dress, pulling them undone. “He truly thinks you no longer think of me? That he has succeeded where he has failed a dozen times before?”
“Yes.”
“His arrogance knows no bounds. He’ll think he’s a god, soon enough.”
You turn your head to the side, brushing your mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips are warm and taste of wine, urging your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip for a taste. “Is he not?” you ask against his mouth, fighting the need to shiver as one side of your dress falls open. “He rules the Nine Hells absolutely.”
“Oh come off it,” He laughs. “You and I both know that isn’t true, otherwise he wouldn’t be in a civil war. Plus… I have recently acquired Avernus and Dis.”
You straighten and turn around sharply to look at him, brows furrowing. For a moment, you forget what it is he’s said to shock you. You’re hypnotized by eyes dark enough that they reflect the stars when in the mortal world, a mouth that is soft and sensuous, a gentle, round nose that is opposed to the way he can turn it up at someone in a sneer. A faded scar over one eye - one of many that he's received over the years.
Yoongi is beautiful the way the moon is, distant and cold, but with a glow of softness that is often underestimated.
You had made that mistake before. A long time ago, incubi and the lower creatures of the Nine Hells hadn’t been a blip on your radar. They were nothing to a princess of the Nine Hells, someone whose entire purpose for existing would be to one day step into ruling over all nine of the realms crushed in your father’s fist.
Now, you know better. You’d been a silly, arrogant girl then, head filled with dreams of ruling over the dread cities and bringing the dukes and duchesses to heel. You’d never considered that perhaps your existence was more for appearances and leverage than anything else.
A puppet.
Belial, was, unfortunately, quite right about that.
“What do you mean you have Avernus and Dis?”
“The skirmish in Phlegethos was a distraction. The dukes and duchess’ have been so frenzied about making sure they don’t have any disruptions in their rule that Belial scrambled to deal with his, turning his eye away from the others. Mammon… well you know Mammon. He is not a concern, for now. He cares little who holds Avernus and Dis.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I had help with Dis.”
That sours your stomach. “Bel.”
“He has no love for Zariel. And he’s from Dis.”
“He’s a traitor. You’d do well not to trust him. Who knows when he’ll turn on you if promised something.”
“The Nine Hells are full of traitors.” Yoongi’s deft fingers undo the other side of your dress. “Including me. You think I would not sell out every single one of my fighters for you, hmm?” Yoongi presses a wet kiss to your jaw. You lean your head back to give him access to your throat. “You think I wouldn’t throw away being Kelemvor’s chosen and carrying his mantle for a chance to have you forever?”
“You do have me.”
“Not in the way we are designed.” His voice is a growl as he bites at your throat, teeth scraping. You feel dizzy in his arms, but he holds you steadfast. “You were designed for me by the wheels of fate, and I for you. All of this - war, death, political scheming - it stands in our way and I would betray the god who gives me my many lives to cut to the chase in an instant.”
The rage-laced words are an anger you’re familiar with. Two creatures born to exist for one another - more than fated mates. Your very existence tied to Yoongi’s is a matter of universal balance, two threads of fabric that must remain woven together, lest the realms collapse.
Divine Scales. Two lives bound together that must remain in balance for the rest of the world to exist. You and Yoongi are not the only Divine Scales in the realms, but you’re perhaps one of the most difficult to balance in a world set on keeping you apart.
You, the daughter of the Archduke of the Nine Hells. Yoongi, an incubus servant whose purpose was to lure, steal, and spy on behalf of Asmodeus. It was an unfit match that your father was set on destroying - his daughter an heir would not be tied to a lowly creature of lust and servitude.
“Careful,” you murmur as Yoongi peels the fabric from your skin. The air is warm but you feel a shiver anyway, nipples pebbling at the temperature change. “Your god might not like to hear you say such things.”
“He is not my god,” Yoongi mutters. His eyes are hungry, burning with desire as he drinks you in, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips. “He is a convenience. I need power to take control of the Nine Hells, he gives me power. You are the only being I worship. The only goddess I recognize.” Yoongi sinks to his knees and your stomach flips. He looks up at you, lips parted and pupils blown, eyes so dark you could spill into them and never find your way. “Let me prove my devotion. Let me worship the only divinity I’ve ever known.”
Yoongi’s words are a spell on you, and not because he’s in an incubus, created and bred to be alluring and lead mortals to the Hells to give up their souls. Yoongi’s words have power because he is Yoongi, a being who he designed to be your other half. Another being you love so entirely that you intend to sacrifice the realm you call home, that you actively betray the people you’ve known since you were a child in order to be with him.
These snatches with him are so few and far between. He fights a war against your father and his archdevils while you unravel them from the inside. Two knives carving away at the system which fights to keep you apart.
You forget about all of the atrocities committed and to come. You push away the anxiety that Yoongi is thwarting his power by coming to the seat of his enemy’s power, just because he can and because he wants you.
Instead, you focus on the way his mouth leaves wet kisses across your thighs. Yoongi’s fingers press into the back of your legs, holding you to him as his tongue lavs at a small scar on your hip, his teeth nipping the flesh.
Your world falls away as his tongue and mouth suck at your skin. Heat gathers between your legs, feeling the wet ache in your folds as Yoongi purposefully avoids going toward the apex of your thighs, instead showering your inner thighs, calves, and hips with soft kisses.
Strong hands pry your legs apart. You let him slide your foot over, widening your stance easily. You cannot recall a single person you have ever been pliable for. You are the Whip of Asmodeous, a sharp weapon made to force subservience and delve out punishment.
You are no whip in Yoongi’s hands. You are silk, sliding through his fingers as his mouth presses closer and closer to your heart. To everyone else, you are a weapon. To Yoongi, you’re just you. A mind to adore, a body to worship.
Your knees threaten to buckle when the first, slow swipe of his tongue runs up your drenched folds. Yoongi chuckles, the sound throaty. Gently, he lifts a leg and pulls it over his shoulder, providing a counterweight as you stand but also giving him access to your aching cunt, pressing his face close as he licks you from hole to throbbing clit again.
“Yoongi,” you whisper, a hand shooting to his hair. Your fingers slide through soft, silk strands and twist, rooting him there. He groans in appreciation, focusing his tongue on slow, up-and-down licks, avoiding your clit as he works. “Fuck.”
He hums, the feeling buzzing through your pussy as he closes his mouth over it, sucking gently. His mouth is wet and warm, tongue soft as it circles your aching bundle of nerves. Your legs feel gummy as you waver, holding onto him to keep yourself standing as much as you are to keep him in place.
Yoongi’s hunger can rarely be sated. He devours you, mouth eager as he sucks and licks at you, lips smacking loudly as he does. You barely register the obscene noise, canting your hips up into his mouth as the pleasure begins to build slowly.
A hand presses into your ass, pressing you harder against the flat of his tongue. Yoongi opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, looking up at you with fucked out eyes as he urges you to fuck his face at your pace, to use him like a god would use a conduit.
Yoongi is your conduit, and you are his. You vowed centuries ago to be his whip, a weapon at his command. He vowed to be your shield, your knife in the dark.
The powers of the Hells would keep you apart. Beyond the impropriety that someone so lowborn could be fated for one of the highest powers among the infernals, the two of you together are too much of a threat. Too much power tied to one another, a divine match that cannot be broken.
Still, they try.
The two of you have died before. Keeping you dead isn’t easy, though. Neither can truly die while the other lives and no one has quite managed to kill you both simultaneously - a familial crutch that Asmodeus cannot seem to overcome.
You’d die every day to have this moment with Yoongi, your breath caught in your lungs, sweat beading on the small of your back, head tilted back as your heart beats so loud it's all you can hear. You feel every part of your body coil before there is a moment of white noise as your orgasm crests over, your cunt squeezing, your hand pulling his hair.
Yoongi drinks you in like he cannot get enough. Gluttonous, ravenous man, pressing into your heat as he sucks. Your hands tug at his hair, the stimulation going from warm and fluid to sharp and biting. He grows a little when you pull his face back by the strands of his hair, a picture of madness with the lower half of his face covered in your slick, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused.
You pull and he stands, knocking you back as he does. You stumble the remaining footsteps to your bed, mouths connecting in a tangle of teeth, tongue, spit and cum. You taste yourself on him, sucking his tongue greedily into his mouth as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.
He complies, letting you push the shirt off his shoulders as he climbs over you, pressing a knee between your legs as he traps your lips in a searing kiss again. Your lips feel bruised where you kiss, his mouth demanding. His hands claw at your hips, pulling you down into his knee, grinding your slick cunt against his leg.
You let out a breathy sound, both from the feeling of pleasure blooming between your legs once again and the warmth of his skin, your hands rubbing across his chest, seeking to chase the inferno within. Yoongi has always been warm, but something hotter burns in him now. Something divine, vicious, and powerful lurking beneath his skin, the unlikely power of a god of death lurking just beneath the surface.
You know that Kelemvor, the God of Death and Lord of Judgement has chosen Yoongi as a conduit of power because Yoongi seeks the balance of the world - he is a part of the balance of the world. His very existence is paramount to a deity whose very nature is to maintain the scales.
It doesn’t stop you from wanting to eat away at the divinity under Yoongi’s skin, to drive out the influence that isn’t yours, to assert your dominance over a god and remind him that Yoongi does not belong to Kelemvor, he is not an extension of death. He belongs to you and you alone.
It is an irrational, violent bout of jealousy that overtakes you for a moment. Your nails rake down his chest a little too hard, leaving trails of blood beneath. You bit his bottom lip a little too hard, the taste of iron and salt spilling into your mouth with his tongue.
Yoongi smirks against your scarlet mouth, pulling back to look down at you. He knows what it is you seek. Yoongi always knows. Your minds are not connected, but your souls are and there is little you can hide from him. “You cannot rip him out of me, no matter how much you want to.”
“I will try.”
“Good.” He leans down and bites hard on your collarbone, making you gasp. “I will tear Asmodeous’ influence from you in kind.”
Your hands are less harsh as you undo the laces of his pants, pulling them down powerful thighs. Your viciousness cools in the shower of the whisper of his love against your ear and the scrap of his tongue against your skin. Every single part of you burns hotter than the deepest part of the Hells, driven there by him alone.
You love him - such a simple word could convey it accurately, anyway.
It seems too small of a word, unable to fit the fountain of want, desire, trust, and yearning that spills out of you into such a small cup. You don’t know if love can truly hold everything you feel for him, if it conveys that there is nothing god, archdevil, or fate that would stop you from being here with Yoongi, getting to touch him, to taste him, to whisper into his mouth as he presses the head of his cock into your weeping entrance.
“You’re mine,” you gasp, rolling your hips forward to meet the slow, powerful strokes of his cock. Yoongi cradles you to him, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses your bodies together, as though you could meld. “Mine mine mine.”
“I’m yours,” he agrees, voice throaty and strained. “Who else could I belong to?”
You have no answer. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you move to his rhythm. Yoongi’s skin is heated and sticky as he moves against you. You feel his heartbeat in exact time with yours, twin rhythms. Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the muscle of his back and shoulder flex as he fucks you slowly, each stroke pointed and driving you to the edge again.
Yoongi’s mouth brushes yours. You breathe in his air, unable to put anything else into words, thoughts consumed with him. With how he tastes, with how he smells, with how he feels. Nestled in the deepest part of you, you feel home. It is such a rare feeling, only discovered here like this, connected.
It makes your breath catch, barely audible above Yoongi’s low groaning and the loud smack of skin against skin. Your heels dig into the bed, head pressing into the mattress as you throw your head back, unable to do anything but take what Yoongi is giving you.
His pace quickens, slamming into your cunt with enough force to break you. But you do not break - you could never break with him. You squirm in his hold, babbling and panting and trying to breathe as he drives you to the edge of madness - and then you peak.
A wild sound escapes you as you seize into him, muscles clenching, cunt spasming. Yoongi’s thrusts turn vicious, fucking you through your orgasm as you clench down on him with a vice grip. His fingers grip the back of your neck, pulling you toward his chest as he leans backward, your legs sliding as he seats you in his lap, fucking up into you.
“Imagine thinking they could take you away from me,” Yoongi hisses. His thrusts are sloppy and hard, spearing you and sending you hurtling right toward the edge again. You submit to him, head lolling to the side as he takes you. “Imagine thinking that you could defy a prewritten fate that you are mine, that you are anything less than what was made for me.”
A sob slips through your lips. You cannot think of a response, only able to cling to him as though to say yes.
“They cannot take you away from me,” he growls. “I will destroy this world again and again if they try. They cannot sunder what is here, they cannot rip you away from me any more than you can rip the stars from the sky.”
Just as you begin to teeter on the edge, Yoongi slams his hips home, clenching as he comes. “You cannot be anything else but mine.”
It sends you hurling over the edge again, so powerful that you forget where you are for a moment. It is intoxicating, this bliss that unfurls like the flowers of a petal. Nothing exists here but calm water and the scent and taste of Yoongi. There is no war here. No fight to keep you apart. No demands, no expectations. It’s just you and him. Like it was always meant to be.
Slowly, awareness creeps back toward you. It is a lumbering, lazy thing. You only feel somewhat aware that you’re in a bed and that you feel the heat of Yoongi next to you, the press of his mouth against your shoulder. The aftereffects of sleeping with an incubus are not lost on you, even as a powerful infernal.
Everything feels melted, like it could fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Perhaps you could float away if you tried, but Yoongi grounds you. The feeling of his hand on your hip and his mouth on your skin is the most solid thing that exists in this world in between, keeping you tethered to something real. Something substantial.
When you blink away the sticky high of the post-orgasm daze, Yoongi is watching you with soft, round eyes. The burning desire is still there, but at the forefront is adoration. Worship. Love. Anything stronger than words can describe.
“Are you okay?” he kisses your jaw before drawing back to examine your face. You nod, head heavy. “Too much?”
“No. Not with you. Never with you.”
His mouth twitches like he’s unsure. You nestle closer to him, closing your eyes as you’re cupped in the safety of his presence. “With Avernus and Dis at your command, you can take Phlegethos,” you murmur. “Mammon will give you Minauros if you can do that.”
“Hmm.”
Your eyes flutter open, watching as Yoongi closes his. You can tell by the twitch in his mouth that he is thinking. “I will deliver you Phlegethos.” He cracks an eye open and looks at you, seeing the hunger that burns there. “Belial needs a good whip to put him in place.”
“The Whip of Asmodeous?”
“No.” You grin. “The Whip of Kelemvor’s Chosen.”
#yoongi smut#suga smut#min yoongi smut#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x reader#bts suga#bts fanfic#minors do not interact#minors dni#bts suga smut#i forgot how to tag at this point its been so long#also raise ur hand if you cannot pronounce phlegethos
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Make Up Sex
John Price x reader
Warnings: angst to fluff, smut, age gap, price is 41 and reader is 20, reader is a lieutenant, poc friendly, callsign Belial, only pronouns, Make up sex
Based on the prompt: “I can’t do this anymore.”
Words:1.6k
Text messages. Your relationship with Price was a secret and you didn’t mind one bit. You’d both text each other like crazy even when you were sitting across the room.
Price: Date this weekend at 8?
You: Sure baby but where?
Price: That’s a surprise dear
The days flew by and you went on the date with John. This isn’t your first date with him, you've been with him for six months. And from what you could tell, no one knew you were the Captain’s lover. You made your way to John sitting next to him placing a kiss on his cheek.
He brought you to the park to watch Halloween on the big screen he had put up just so you could watch it. “Thank you, John.” You were happy and he loved it. “Welcome, love.” He watched as you watched the movie.
John wasn’t a fool but he was a complete fool when it came to you. A couple of days before your date Soap made a jab at him for having a crush on the younger lieutenant.
The messages between you and John were less frequent. John spending the night in your room had stopped. So when you see the text telling you to come to his office you jump up all happy and make your way to him.
Pushing the door open, you step inside. “Hi, baby.” You smiled but John raised his hand. “It’s Captain Lieutenant Beilal.” You frowned but covered it up. “What’s wrong Captain you needed to see me?” You spoke eyes watching him as he put out his cigar. “I can’t do this anymore Beilal.” You felt your stomach drop.
“Can’t do what Captain?” You felt a lump in your throat when you asked him the question. “This lieutenant! our relationship. People are going to think horribly of the two of us together. It's our careers on the line and if one of us were to go..." His voice trailed off. Your hands were in fists at your sides as your eyes twitched. "Why does it matter what others think about us, John? I don't give two rats asses what others think about us. I just want to be with you." You hissed out as he let out a sigh.
"This was a mistake, Kid. You need someone younger." Your heart fell in two and dropped to your stomach. "I need you, John." At this point, there was no hiding your feelings, your vision was blurry. "Beilal." You wiped your tears and stood up straight there was no sign of the emotions you had shown seconds ago. "Good day, Captain."
“'Cause girl, I'm hungover Let's just start over Gotta be more to love than this We should be naughty Connect our bodies You know I'm on it I'm on my knee”
Months went by and you spent your time avoiding the captain the best you could. While you could hide your pain, the others knew Price well. "Belial, I don't know, Price just seems Irritated lately." Soap spoke as you sat next to Ghost cleaning your guns. "I don't know and honestly don't care. Whatever is bothering the Captain is personal he would've told us what was happening." The others were used to you being blunt but what gave it away was the venom that dripped with every word. You didn't catch the look that Soap and Ghost threw each other. It was late so you bid the two goodnight and headed back to your room.
Once you were in the room you closed the door behind you and jumped on the bed and screamed into your pillow as a knock was heard from the other side of your door. "What!" You called out but there was no answer. The knocking continued. Getting up and opening up the door. "What do you want?" You looked over your ex-lover who stood there leaning against the doorframe. You could smell the alcohol on him.
“You love.” Grabbing your hips and pulling you against him. You pushed against him. “No, John.” You spoke trying to push him out the door. “Y/n please just one time.” You looked up into his eyes dragging him into your room and closing the door behind you as his lips trailed along your neck. “One time only John.”
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
The thing was it wasn’t one time only. You and John continued to fuck and it was getting to you now. So when John came and threw your door open closing it behind him with his boot only to find you sitting on your bed. “What’s wrong?” John was confused about why you were sitting there with your arms crossed. “John I can’t do this anymore.” It came out in a whisper. “Can’t fuck around with you and pretend that I don’t have feelings for you still.” You told him looking up at him from your spot on your bed. “You fuck me and do everything with me that we used to do in our relationship…I admit I still have feelings for you John. I love you but you can’t admit that you love me.” You watched as John watched you speak from where he stood.
“John say something!” You were now standing toe to toe with him looking up at him. His hand was twitching in irritation. “Beilal please.” Taking his hand. “John I admit I have feelings for you and I love you. But I need to know do you love me, John?” You whispered.
“I fucking love you Beilal and I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He pulled you in his hands cupping your face and placing a kiss on your lips. “Let me make it up to you love.” He spoke as he pulled away from the kiss leaning his forehead against yours. “Make it up to me John.” Once the words passed your lips, clothes were flying. John had stripped you both of your clothes in record time. Your body bounced slightly from the force of John throwing you on the bed as his eyes looked over your body, his fingers trailing your body as he kissed up your body, mumbling apologies to you. The way his fingers were featherlight and ghosted across your skin had you almost begging for more. “John, it's okay.” You looked down at him as he lay between your legs placing kisses and nibbling on your inner thigh. “Gonna take my time with you love.” His hand trailed down from your thigh to your now soaked pussy. “Shit.” He groaned as he dipped into your wet core and a small moan escaped your lips. “I barely touched you and your soaked honey.” His fingers pumped in and out before he slid them out spreading your arousal across your clit as you watched as he sat up and back on his legs as he fisted his dick. His thumb rubbed across his tips and his other thumb drew circles on your clit. Your moans and his groans filled the room as he wedged himself between your thighs, tip running between your wet folds before his tip pushed into you as groans spilled from both of you. The stretch from his dick was something that you hated and loved.
His hand wrapped around the back of your head, pressing your forehead against his as his hips rocked, filling you with his cock. He pinched your side as he bottomed out and you squirmed beneath him. When his pace increased, your moans increased in volume. Your mouth was covered as he gained speed. You moaned into your hand as he told you "move your fucking hand.". John reached up and snatched your hand away from you. “John they can hear us.” you breathed out as his pace got faster. “Let them hear you love.” He groaned placing a kiss on your nose. “Love you so much honey 'm sorry I hurt you.” John’s words were slurred with pleasure and you paid no mind as your nails dragged down his back. “Not gonna last need to fill you up.” He growls out as he drops his hands from your head as it falls against the pillow both of his hands now on your hips. His hips hit the backs of your thighs as your body rocks with him and he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it. The knot in your stomach was growing and you were pretty sure if no one heard you before they sure did hear you now. “Fuck John m’gonna cum.” You moaned as John’s thrusts became brutal and he nearly had you in a mating press rubbing your clit as he bullied his cock in and out of your pussy. His head dropped from against yours to your neck as his tongue and teeth ran across your neck and collarbone. The knot in your stomach began to unravel as you felt your orgasm washing over you. As John fucked you through your orgasm, your pussy clenched around his dick. A moan escaped his lips as his pace got sloppy. "Fuck, sweetheart, you're making a mess," he muttered as he filled you up with his cum with one final thrust. He placed a kiss on your forehead before pulling out a hiss and watching his cum spill out. “Shit, that's a pretty sight to see.” As he gathered up the cum and pushed it back in your pussy.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“Woah Captain you never told us you had a girlfriend,” Gaz spoke up once he walked into the gym seeing Price’s back littered with the scratches you left last night. “Who’s the lucky lass?” Soap spoke as the others waited as you walked in and placed a kiss on his cheek handing him a bottle of water. “NO FUCKING WAY.”
#ureternalmajesty#call of duty#modern warfare ii#john price x reader#John Price#captain price#captain john price#call of duty smut#mw2 fanfic#cod x reader#cod x you#cod x female reader
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WHB Memes#3
Found Siblings Au With Mc and Laemas be like-
Gehenna demons*Seeing the now local human and fallen angel take turns posing on rude graffiti on angels*...
#what in hell is bad#what in hell is bad x reader#what in hell is bad x mc#whb mc#whb#whb laemas#whb samael#LOOK IN MY WORLD NINA AND LAEMAS ARE IN EARTH WITH MINHYEOK LIVING LIFE-OK-#found siblings au#whb satan#whb sitri#whb ppyong#whb leraye#whb zagan#whb paimon#whb belial#whb astaroth#whb gehenna#whb memes#whb meme
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{R/n's ex-fiance shows up after having no-contact with her for years, thinking he could just move in and start back up where they left off.]
R/n, answering the door: What the hell are you doing here? and what's up wit' the U-haul?
Ex/n: Isn't it obvious? I've come back to you!
R/n: No.
Ex/n: Oh, c'mon are you still angry about that little hiccup?
R/n: Hiccup? You slept with my cousin two days before the wedding and ran off with them!
Ex/n: That's all water under the bridge baby, I'm all about you now.~
R/n, gags: Seriously, you're gonna make me puke!
Ex/n, looks R/n up and down: You're still looking good...even with the extra weight.
R/n: Wha-...I'm pregnant you dolt!
Ex/n: Pregnant?...Oh, I get it you got lonely without me around and decided to get a donor, makes sense who'd wanna make a baby with spoiled goods?
R/n, stares at him stunned: Excuse you?
Ex/n: Well, if you ask me, there's nothing more beautiful than a pregnan— *goes to touch R/n's belly*
Belial, appears and grabs his hand in vice like grip: Do it and you pull back a bloody stump.
Ex/n, pulls his hand back startled: wh-Who the hell are you?
R/n: Sorry, Ex/n. Lemme introduce you, this is Belial. My husband, and the father of this baby.
Ex/n: Husband?! I didn't hear anything about you getting married!
Belial: Of course you didn't, why should R/n have tell a poorly endowed cheating pus-maggot like you how her life is going?
Ex/n: We..well, b-Because she-
R/n: What, are you gonna say that "I love you"? Sorry to break it to you jackass, but that ship has long since wrecked and you have yourself to blame for it. Honestly, You should've seen this coming. It's pretty egotistic and delusional that you thought I'd wait for you after everything you've done.
Ex/n:
Ex/n:...This is bullshit!
Belial: No. What's bullshit is that ego of yours and thinking you could just move in with R/n after all this time.
Ex/n: Where am I supposed to live?!
R/n: I don't know and I don't care, go hug a cactus or something.
{Ex/n looked he was gonna lunge at R/n only for Belial to stand between then, Ex took a step back when he finally noted how much taller and bigger Belial was in comparison to his lanky frame, the larger man looked like he could pick Ex/n up and snap them over his knee like a twig.]
Belial: I think you should leave now, this whole situation is starting to piss me off... And trust me, you really don't want that.
[Belial briefly lets his projection slip allowing Ex to see his true form; Ex being the coward that he is went ghost white before running off the porch and ran passed the confused movers. The movers asked where to put Ex/n's things? and R/n made them put it all back on the truck and gave them the address of Ex/n's parents home and let them deal with him.]
#ultraman incorrect quotes#tokusatsu incorrect quotes#tokusatsu#ultraman#spark doll au#ultraman belial#ultraman belial x reader#afab reader
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𝕯𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘
Chapter I:ℜ𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔇𝔞𝔶
Sodo/Dewdrop x fem!reader
Summary: Copia summons a new nameless ghoul
Word Count: 1977
Note: bad english, i'm new to this whole ghost thing, correct me if i'm wrong on anything, I will use a name for the protagonist for more practicality.
Chapter II...→
The place was devoured by darkness, thunder rumbled outside the abbey like cries from heaven in response to profane acts, the wind hit the stained glass windows and lightning illuminated them with a flash of light, stained glass windows that reflected images of Baphomet and other demons. . Regarding Cardinal Copia, his face seemed extremely serious, something unusual for him but the situation warranted it. In each corner of a pentagram were each Ghoul and Ghoulette, the tools of the ritual. It would be an important night, a gift for the group, a refreshing element for the world.
Copia looked up at the sky, looking behind the glass dome above their heads at the moon obscuring the sun, the time had come, he walked down the stairs towards the group, with a light touch to the ground and the gunpowder ignited, burning powerful and bright, until completing the figure of a pentagram connecting with each Ghoul. The group placed their instruments in front of them, giving each other a supportive look.
Montain set the rhythm with the drums, Cumulus took the keyboard with Cirrus, Swiss and Aurora started the singing, Phantom activated his rhythm guitar, Rain shone with his bass and Sodo showed off his guitar. The instrumental flooded the chapel, the melody reverberated in every foundation and made the place shake. The ritual had a single motive, a single need, each Ghoul gave his best, letting some of his essence flow over the fire, calling one of his own, inviting whatever responded on the other side to come out of the darkness and join them.
"Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub" Cardinal Copia sang, calling to the great leaders, asking for a demon from among his legions "Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer"
The place was filled with abysmal and intelligible murmurs, beings from the other side of the pentagram observing from the shadows without daring to cross the threshold. Copia looked proud and excited like a child to feel so many presences present with him, all interested in her vocation. Lightning fell around the Ministry with more force than before, attracted by the power, Swiss and Aurora began their prayers, in a language that only the creatures of the abyss could understand.
A murmur rose from everyone, a shiver ran through the body of all the Ghouls, something had answered the call and had crossed.
Thick black smoke emerged from the gunpowder and condensed into a humanoid figure with no fixed features other than shining fangs. He made small jumps inside the pentagram from one side to the other, looking (if you can put it that way) at each of the ghouls, analyzing them with amusement.
He danced with small childish leaps from one to another, from air to earth, from earth to quintessence, from quintessence to water. She tried to get closer to Sodo, the fire demon. He showed her fangs and the small cloud of smoke walked away scared, it was clear that she didn't want another Fire Ghoul and honestly one was more than enough. She snuck between Montain's drum set cymbals, breaking her personal space several times to check her height in amazement, the ghoul couldn't help but smile nervously.
Cirrus and Cumulus greeted the entity excitedly, letting out small laughs to get its attention. The figure floated towards them and smiled back, playing with the cloaks on their shoulders. She briefly made eye contact with Rain, but out of shyness it wasn't long before the ghoul looked away from her. The specter laughed softly and danced around Phantom a little, plucking the strings of his acoustic guitar with his ethereal hand. Swiss and Aurora laughed at the scene, enjoying seeing how the humanoid being seemed delighted with everyone present, both demons rubbing shoulders in complicity.
Cardinal Copia was excited, this was his first ritual to summon Ghouls from hell, although he somewhat regretted Sodo's bitter attitude, he counted on the others and especially the Ghoulettes to give a good welcome.
The figure took one more turn and his laughter echoed like a child. He returned to the center of the pentagram, looking at the eclipse behind the dome, and raised his hands to the sky, as if he could touch the moon. One after another drops of cold rain began to fall quickly, until they almost became a sea on the ministry, the figure smiled and turned towards Aurora, the latter tensed immediately and one shiver after another crossed her back. The air began to get cold and become salty, capable of hurting the nose when inhaling, everyone could feel it, even demons like Sodo so carried away in their element felt cold, the type that you can only find if you get lost in space or in the last circle of the hell.
Aurora took a step back. The band's instrumental was accompanied by a piano and an energetic female voice, the humanoid figure approached Swiss and extended his hand.
"Hello" the figure greeted before a group of lightning fell again, filling the entire room with absolute white, extinguishing the infernal fire and thus ending the ritual.
Everything returned to darkness after such a dramatic birth, Cardinal Copia applauded excitedly and the lights turned on showing a strange lump covered with a thin and opaque black fabric, a hand with shiny black enamelled nails peeking out of it.
The ghouls avoid the gaze of the lump on the ground, somewhat uncomfortable and extremely tired. But Cardinal Copia waited to see the slightest movement to ensure that the ritual had gone perfectly.
The lump trembled with a movement similar to a first breath.
"Okay, everyone out." announcement, the Cardinal "It's time to find out what they have sent us from hell"
The group's rib cage calmed and a huge sigh of relief escaped everyone's lips. Cirrus and Cumulus crossed their fingers, it was no secret that since Aurora's arrival no girl ghoul had arrived. The ghoul area needs more feminine energy.
"Swiss, can you wait outside?" Copia asked him.
Like owl heads, the group looked at Swiss waiting for his response. Even the disinterested Montain had turned to look.
"Yes," he responded with the firmest tone he could fake.
Aurora approached and pulled one of her sleeves, she didn't have to speak, her concern was obvious. The last time it had been Aether who had stayed at the ritual to bring Phantom. Aether never came back.
Swiss approached Aurora's ear in a hug. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, trying to calm her agitated essence.
The ghoulette didn't believe him, clearly. But I trust him, because Swiss never lied.
Inside, Swiss's soul wanted to run after them, but his duty prevented him from showing that kind of rebellion.
He turned to the Cardinal, this walk way towards Swiss handing him a shiny new helmet, accompanied by the usual uniform.
Copia crouched in front of the bundle, lifting the fabric a little to discover what it was hiding, squinting in case everything had failed, giving it more suspense. The figure trembled and both Copia and Swiss took a few steps back.
Little by little the figure stood up, showing a wild tangle of short black hair from which two small black horns with white tips protruded, its tail uncoiled from around its leg and waved behind its back, its hands holding the blanket to avoid being naked.
"She's a she," Swiss sighed with the air contained in his lungs and his lower lip slightly fallen.
"Wonderful" Copia pronounced with some pride, the girl raised her head quickly and the Cardinal was met with a gaze of coal-black pupils and eyelids that contrasted with the glaucous blue of his irises, the creature opened its mouth showing its fangs, perhaps to speak but I don't breathe out any words.
Swiss knocked after the Cardinal, a sign that he should start talking before everything became awkward.
"Do you want to get dressed?" Copia asked in a friendly tone. The girl nodded and the Cardinal nudged Swiss lightly to hand the package to the demon.
Her eyes lit up when he saw her clothes and without shame he completely dropped her blanket, amazed by everything he had before her. Swiss immediately looked at the ceiling and prayed to Satan that Copia had done the same. The lack of what they called modesty was normal in new ghouls, small details that lost importance in hell.
"It would be ideal if you could start with the pants," suggested Copia who had turned around.
They heard the fabric slide down her legs, the metal buttons clicked as she pushed them into the buttonholes of her pants, the next time she put her feet on the ground it was with the boots, giving her a few extra inches of height.
She continued dressing, tucking the Victorian-sleeved blouse into her arms and securing the vest to her body. She looked at herself for a few minutes, satisfied with her appearance.
"Already?" Copia asked, who had turned around with a hand over his eyes, he seemed somewhat uncomfortable or self-conscious about the situation.
"Yes" A feminine and friendly voice answered him.
Copia looked through his fingers to make sure before removing his hand from his face and remembering that he had a script to follow and had to start as soon as possible.
"Ahem…" He cleared his throat and began to speak. Swiss stood silently next to he, holding her helmet. "Do you know why you're here?"
"Yes" replied with a timid tone.
"You are here to be part of Ghost, to help me with your talent to bring the message of the Clergy to the whole world, do you understand that?" The young woman nodded "Do you understand that you are not indispensable and can be replaced if you become a stone in my way to fulfill my mission?" That was the part of Copia that he hated the most because he tended to get more attached to his ghouls and ghoulettes than he should, the punishment of returning to hell was too great for small delusions of fame or prominence, that is, he had forgiven Sodo several of those but He remembered that that was the reason why Papa Emeritus III had been taken out of circulation.
"I understand, sir." He pronounced as seriously as the situation warranted. "My only duty is to help you fulfill your duty to the Clergy and bring our Lord's message to the world."
The girl walked forward, face to face with Cardinal Copia. Now came the fun part, Copia took the helmet from Swiss's hands and placed it on the girl's head, thus sealing the 'contract'.
"Well…I…" Copia took a moment to remember the next step. "What's your name?"
"Aesir, sir," she responded quickly, almost over the Cardinal's question.
"Well…Aesir, the third quintessence ghoul" He raised his voice, proclaiming. "Welcome, dear" Copia lost the threatening and vehemently image that she had maintained until then, when she gave Aesir a warm welcome hug.
The girl seemed happy to have that hug but Swiss was sweating cold.
"He's one of your companions, Swiss," Copia said and the demon approached and extended his hand towards her.
"Hello," Aesir took Swiss's hand, shaking it in greeting.
"Swiss" I call Copia.
He sighed, afraid of the next words the Cardinal might say.
"Could you take Aesir with the others?" The ghoul's mouth opened a little in surprise, he was expecting farewell words "The girls will be very happy to see another female face in the pavilion."
Swiss smiled with deep relief and nodded. "Yes, Cardinal." He directed the girl to the door. "After you," he offered chivalrously.
"Oh, Aesir," Copia called. "If there is any problem, don't hesitate to tell me. In cases of emergencies or things like that." The Cardinal said goodbye.
"Bye," she said as Swiss closed the door behind them both.
I hope you like it, I'm new to the fandom and the lore is somewhat complicated, all help would be VERY welcome.
#sodo ghoul#montain#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#dewdrop ghoul#rain ghost#cardinal copia#aurora ghoulette#cumulus ghoulette#nameless ghost#oc original character#fanfic#slow burn#per sodomizer eriksson#sodomizer ghoul#swiss ghoul#sodo x reader#dewdrop x reader#spanish writer
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when true love's kiss
Papa Emeritus III x Reader | Papa Emeritus III x OC
from this slumber you shall wake | AO3
After waking up in his glass coffin Papa has travelled back to the Abbey in search of something he needs to regain his true strength. This is a sequel to from this slumber you shall wake and for @petrifyingpapas resurrection prompt
TW for choking and murder
It was a nightly procession, a ritual completed in reverence to her lover. Her dead lover. It begins as the sun starts to dip beneath the horizon, sitting at the half empty vanity she applies his paint in slow steady strokes. Her dull eyes staring out of his face, the familiar paint only causing a dull throb in her heart where once it had inspired overwhelming love, then after, overwhelming despair. She had learned the shapes and contours painting his face before his rituals, mass, meetings. It was a small intimacy, one of many they had shared but she had always preferred helping him wash it away. Removing Papa and revealing her lover underneath. The man only she got to see. No more though. When she washed the paint away she only saw her own ashen face. He would forever be resting as Papa or at least she thought.
As darkness falls across the room she affixes her veil draping the dark material over her face, the delicate lace pooling around her waist as she sits. Her reflection shows the shadow she has become, her old life just a silhouette underneath a shroud of darkness. She adds the final touch, pulling on her gloves lace covering the last glimpses of skin, the golden claws another signature of his, glinting in the muted light. She must stare at herself for a moment longer sitting motionless, where her gaze lands is lost in the shadow but what else is there to see but herself. Suddenly she stands and the next stage of her ritual begins.
She walks through the corridors like a ghost. If you really tried you might hear the whisper of her skirts against the tile but you couldn’t distinguish her footsteps or the choked sobs that rise from within her. Any siblings lingering in the hallways move aside lest they interrupt her procession now, long since startled by her presence. It had been a shock the first time they had witnessed this ritual. The once warm and charming Prime Mover, dead in all but body along with her Papa. No one saw her for weeks after and then she began her mourning ritual which continued and then continued until now, a year on from his murder she still hadn’t ceased.
Her procession ends in the Chapel of Lilith now, but she had worked her way through them all. Satan, Belial then Lucifer, Belezebub, Asmodeous, then Behemoth but her prayers had not been heeded. None had borne witness to her nightly vigils, leaving her to commune with her chosen demon in privacy, but it was not hard to guess at the subject of her prayers. For him to be returned to her, for her to be able to join him in hell, for the ones responsible to receive their due punishment but when she had finally seemed to give up hope for an answer to her prayers she took solace with Lillith.
She kneels before the statue as is her usual custom, her bare feet visible now under her layers of skirts, a surprise given her carefully layered dress but perhaps she needs some way to feel grounded, just that small connection to the reality she is forced to live in now without her Papa. Her reminder that she is still here and still alive even if she doesn’t feel like it. Her head is bowed, the long veil obscuring most of her body now she has made herself small before Lilith praying for the strength to go on. Although she has followed all the same steps, completed all the same measures, there is something different about this night. A year on from his death to the day there is a finality in her manner as she prays. Is it that her mourning period is coming to a close? She has spoken to none but the demons she had begged for relief since she learned of his demise but as she whispers her mysterious requests to the mother of all evil her body begins to shake. The rosary that had been clutched in between her fingers clatters to the floor as her prayer ends as she slowly, carefully draws up the front of her veil revealing her painted face, the silent tears she had wept leaving wet grey streaks in their path. Her eyes are locked on the statue as if waiting for something to happen.
A rush of wind fills the chapel whipping around her, her veil and clothes disturbed by its strength and just before it dies every candle in the room extinguishes simultaneously; the only light left is the muted beam of moonlight shining through the window above the altar. A haze of smoke from the candles hangs in the air as she twists and turns looking for the cause of the sudden gusts but in her frantic search she misses the slow moving shadow at the end of the pews. Turning back to the statue she stares up at unmoving face, scrabbling to pick up her discarded rosary without taking her eyes off it.
‘What does it mean?’ Her voice is broken and dry from disuse and her suddenly dry mouth. She had wanted a sign, whether she should move on, give up hope, try to just keep him as a fond memory and had been given this. ‘Please what does it mean?’ The tears that never really stopped cascade down her cheeks, her shock and confusion overwhelming her after all this time.
‘It means you have been loyal.’ She freezes when she hears his voice not even remembering to breathe. It must be a trick she would recognise that voice anywhere but it just couldn’t be. His heavy footsteps echo through the otherwise silent room and she can almost sense the disturbance of the air, everything else is so still as if in anticipation of their reunion. ‘It means mia regina,’ she shudders every memory of him calling her that running through her mind at once. ‘That you will be able to help your Papa return to this world and take back what is rightfully his.’
She turns to him slowly where he has come to a stop conveniently in the pool of moonlight. As much as this is what she had been praying for she seemed almost reluctant to look at him, scared of what she might see. He is alive, somehow, that is obvious, but something about him is very wrong. There is a stiffness to how he holds himself upright and his eyes are no longer filled with love and joy and life just malice.
‘Terzo,’ she sighs, an acceptance that he really is standing there in front of her as haggard as he looks. His vestments are creased, his paint flaking away. He looks exactly like he has been laid in state for a year. ‘How?’ The shock and her lack of practice speaking make it almost impossible to articulate anything more. He smiles, well smirks, there is no warmth there but it draws over his face almost in slow motion, like the muscles need time to remember how to react to his body's commands.
‘Someone wished very hard for me to be returned to them, no matter the cost.’ He continues coming closer, his jerky uneven steps getting more sure the more he moves. Still on her knees she crawls back until she is sat at the base of the statue, hoping that Lilith will heed her prayers one more time, her instinct told her she would need it more than ever. When he reaches the altar steps he collapses with none of his natural grace, bracing himself on his hands and hissing in pain, his joints unnaturally stiff from his time at rest. But he continues on towards her until he is close enough to touch.
‘You missed me amore?’ He whispers and she winces at the understatement.
‘Yes,’ She hadn’t just missed him, her whole existence had ground to a halt. She wanted so desperately to reach out and touch him, confirm that he was truly there, real and in front of her but something stayed her hand.
‘You prayed for me?’ His face is cast in shadow now and looks all the more sinister for it. Up this close she could see his muscles twitching to maintain his expression like someone else was trying to control them.
‘Yes,’ She twists her rosary between her fingers, the clicking of the beads drawing his attention before his hand closes over hers, stilling her nervous fidgeting. Feeling his touch even through the gloves steals the breath from her lungs.
‘Then help me finish what you started?’ He dips his head drawing her attention away from where his hand clasps hers.
‘How?’ The smile he wears grows at her lack of dismissal anticipating that she will agree to his demands.
‘Give yourself to me.’ She nods slowly unsure of exactly what he meant but as she looked into his eyes she saw a glimpse of the man she loved, something inside of him begging and pleading her to help him and she knew she would do anything he asked. He reaches for her with his gloved hand cupping the back of her neck, drawing her towards him. She can feel how warm he is through the tight leather and the pinprick pressure of his nails transports her back to memories of smooth soft leather contrasting with the cold sharp nails as he stripped her leaving his mark on her bare skin night after night.
He barely has to guide her now she is caught in his trap, she comes easily kneeling up to meet him halfway. His distinctive scent, though stale, fills her senses and she is ensnared. He could ask anything of her and she would do everything in her power to grant it. She thought or perhaps hoped that he would kiss her, help her remember the feeling of him against her once again, but first she felt his other hand circle her neck and it seemed to break her from her reverie. She tried to pull back, eyes widening in shock but he had regained more strength than he had let on and as his grip tightened she could not break free.
Her windpipe was closing and his sharp nails bit into her skin sharply as he squeezed tighter and tighter. She clawed at his wrists trying anything to lessen his grip but he did not falter his wide manic eyes boring into hers. As panic began to take hold she reached for his face, his eyes anything to allow her to breath but even as she managed to slice his cheek he didn’t flinch so set on her destruction. As her vision tunnelled, her body shutting down due to lack of oxygen she realised what he had needed all along. He needed her life. She was foolish to wish for his return, naïve to think it would come at no cost. In her grief she had forgotten the fundamentals of the world, the balance that must always be maintained. All the fight left her then, if her life was what he wanted then he could take it, she had spent the last year living as a shadow now she could allow the darkness to embrace her completely. His cruel victorious smile is the last thing she sees as her vision dims, acknowledging her surrender and the last thing she feels before everything else fades away is the press of his rough lips, so soft in comparison to his deadly grip but she clung to that feeling knowing it would sustain her wherever it was she would end up.
You watch him kneel over her body, lying her back gently as her life force leaves her, flowing into him in twisting translucent tendrils. You keep quiet not wanting to interrupt his moment. He didn’t seem sad though. He had been resigned about what he must do as you had surreptitiously travelled here to the Abbey, almost sullen and disinterested with all your questions. But once he was on the grounds it was like he was possessed with a new vigour. Perhaps returning to the location of his murder had impassioned him but you could see the difference almost instantly. He had been most impatient with you as you had slotted back into Abbey life so you could report back to him. Nothing you did was good enough but perhaps now he would be happy with you. You had delivered him the final piece of his plan. The soul of his Prime Mover. He had never explained to you exactly why he needed it. You had offered him yours and he had only scoffed but seeing your disappointment he softened slightly explaining that it was not your role to sacrifice yourself for him, not yet any way, that he had much bigger plans for you. Your heart had swollen with pride at that, that he would entrust you with such important tasks but he was hard to please and you tried so so hard. He straightens up leaving her prone at the foot of the statue ending your time for rumination.
‘We need to leave now, little one.’ He sounds stronger already and any lingering regret you had about her fate fades away. She had been wasting her life anyway; her soul would be much better served empowering her Papa.
‘Do you want me to do anything with her?’ She was in a better place now but part of you wondered whether it was right to just leave her there but he turns on you with a fire in his eyes.
‘No let them find her. Let them guess at what power I now possess. Let her be a warning. I wonder if they will heed it.’ He looks down at her tracing along the smudged lines of their shared face paint. ‘She was so beautiful. It was a shame it had to come to this but I need to be at full strength for what is to come.’ He stands movements much more fluid, he looks healthier, more alive now and you marvel at him. The more you learn, the more you see, the more you crave his presence and his approval. When you had gazed at him through the glass you had never dreamed you would get to be his right hand, his confidant yet here you are helping him to steal away into the night, back into hiding until he was ready to make his next move. As you hold the door for him you notice him pause, looking back at her. He is right, she was beautiful you think. She is bathed in moonlight now, laying as a beautiful sacrifice at the altar of Lilith but when you look at him you see the first hints of sadness.
‘Did you love her Papa?’ He looks away but pauses before he answers.
‘Maybe, once, but what was more important was that she loved me. That was all that I needed.’ There is resignation, you think in his voice rather than regret but you hate to see him feeling that way at all. You believe he must do what he needs to do even if he will not yet reveal his reasons to you.
‘I love you Papa.’ You sense at this moment he needs that reminder.
‘I know little one and you still have your role to play.’ He turns away after one last long look at his past love but you reach for his hand as you notice the darkness beginning to lift. A rich sense of satisfaction fills you as you hurry into the dawn. She was his past but you were his future.
#petrifyingpapas#papa emeritus iii x reader#papa emeritus iii#the band ghost fic#the band ghost fanfiction#my writing#terzo
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