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orsuliya · 3 years

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Since you do such detailed asks and give a well thought out answers, I want to know your opinion on the Ma brothers. Zilong, Zilu and Zitan. What do you think about them?

Ah, our three intrepid Ma princes... Wait a minute, why three? It's not like we're in a fairytale and while Zitan is certainly a fool, he's not nearly good-hearted enough to play the role of Ivan the Fool.

But seriously, it seems mightily suspicious of Daddy Emperor to sire three sons in quick succession and then, as far as we know, never ever procreate again. He's an Emperor and obviously fertile, so how come the imperial nursery remains so glaringly empty? Could it be that he has no concubines at all except for his beloved Xie Guifei?

Or... has the Empress been aborting babies left and right, and poisoning her way through swathes of women to boot? Not impossible, knowing her temperament, but it doesn't really make sense within the dynamic presented in the drama. Drama!Emperor hates, hates, hates the Wangs and especially his wife, so it's hard to believe he wouldn't have used this juicy tidbit to weaken their influence. In the book Wanru is allowed to run roughshod over Potato's concubines and feed them contraceptives willy-nilly, but that's because Potato doesn't really care. The Emperor, as we see him in the drama, would have found reason enough to care upon being given such an obvious opening to start a smear campaign against his favourite enemy. Stymying the imperial bloodline?! Why, I think it might be a crime and easily provable one at that!

This leaves the other option - perhaps there aren't any concubines in the palace or, if there are, they're not being, pardon my French, bred. It's not that multiple imperial concubines of lower rank aren't a thing in this universe - Potato gets at least two and possibly more after sitting on the throne for a relatively short time. It's a pity we don't know what's the policy on entering the palace. Is there a multi-stage selection process? There is certainly no indication of that! Xie Guifei might have been an attempt to balance out a Wang Empress, Seagull was Zitan's impromptu choice, Miss Screecher was meant to be chosen by Potato outside of any organized selection and the same could be true for Potato's other concubines. Our only outlier might be Zilu's Mom and even then it's rather doubtful she was ever processed properly as it would have required a lot of effort and luck to conceal an already existing pregnancy. No, Zilu's Mom was most probably a gift of 'peace' from one brother to another.

My guess as to what Daddy Emperor is thinking? If Zitan has been his preferred heir from the start and he very well might have been since it never had anything to do with Zitan's actual qualities, then it's possible that he simply didn't protest - or did so in a purely symbolic manner - when the Wangs started limiting his reproductive chances. Why breed competition? We already know he has no use for any sons lacking powerful backing of their maternal clans, see: his treatment of Zilu. And any son with such backing would be a direct threat to his favourite, not to mention a potential upset to the carefully maitained Wang-Ma-Xie balance.

...or it could be that Daddy Emperor really loved Xie Guifei and wanted no other. Seeing as he's strongly implied to spend his nights in her chambers twenty years after their only and last kid was born, this would make a staggering amount of sense. The same principle applies - he'd still not protest Wang tyranny over the inner courts, only he'd do it for Xie Guifei and not for Zitan. It does seem to fit with Daddy Emperor's general mindset. Let the others do open battle and exert all that effort, he'll just sit there, look sage and reap the benefits!

After this rather senseless and overly long prelude, let's finally get to answering your question. Mind you, those are not going to be organized, thoughtful opinions, just my subjective impressions on each and every Ma Prince.

His Imperial Spudness Ma Zilong

The not-so-little Potato that could not, but still tried! Let's start with the elephant in the room, namely his rapist tendencies or the lack thereof. See, I'm convinced that raping Awu wasn't actually in the cards, at least as far as Potato was concerned. Compromising her, sure, just lure her into an emptied palace and cry wolf. Outright raping her, no, if only because Potato is way, way too weak and soft to execute a plan this ruthless in its entirety. Besides, harming Awu to this extent would be risky as all hell and sure to provoke authentic wrath in both Daddy Emperor and Daddy Wang. The Empress is not stupid enough to give her husband the perfect excuse to do away with her son nor to alienate her main supporter in the same move. Even if she was able to force a marriage in the first place, Potato would be pretty much done for politically unless both Daddies suddenly dropped dead. The most she would be able to get would be a grandson in a privileged position, so she'd be back to square one, only with one more female to share power with. No, what Potato did and what Wanru suffered was mostly courtesy of Zilu's suspicious drugs. Not to say Potato isn't a rapist all the same, but I'd argue for diminished capacity.

As for Potato himself in his shining spuddy glory, I truly pity the man. From time to time we see glimpses of the ruler he could have become and whom he still tries to be, and it becomes clear that there was something there worth cultivating. The problem is that nobody could be bothered to even try. Daddy Emperor certainly didn't, leaving Potato pretty much to his own devices and believe me, it had nothing to do with his talents or the lack thereof. Do you remember that lovely family scene at the beginning of episode 1.? You know, the one where Awu, Zilu and Zitan lure Zilong into a trap and then leave him there to lie amidst icy rocks in the middle of winter? He could have easily hit his head and died right then and there. Or get pneumonia and die a little bit later. Does the Emperor care? No, not at all! Baby!Awu isn't that good of a liar, but even if she was, perhaps it would behoove him to actually investigate. Not from any kind of fatherly feeling, let's not expect miracles, but perhaps from political expediency? Yeah, no. And I doubt that was the only incident of this kind. Potato must have known even this early on that his father doesn't care for him, not even like an Emperor should for his eldest male scion. Moreover, there is no way Mommy Dearest wouldn't harp on about the Emperor's negligence in private, further affirming this awful truth in Potato's mind.

Mommy Dearest might care, but her care is no less toxic than Daddy Emperor's open negligence. Potato is her key to power, her only way to win the game of thrones and make all her sacrifices worthwhile... and this is exactly how she treats him. Oh, she loves him well enough as her son, clings to him in his role as Crown Prince and then Emperor, but she doesn't actually like him as a person. And oh boy, does it show! I get it, he's not this perfect shining prince that would justify her long years of suffering, but then I have this feeling she gave up on him the moment he showed himself to be perfectly average. Sure, she offers him (toxic) love and (conditional) support like nobody's business, but there's always this nasty undertone in their relationship. Mommy knows best, don't even try to think on your own, listen to me and only me. It's no wonder that Potato thinks he's perfectly useless and doesn't bother to try and better himself, if he knows that even his own mother sees him as a perfect nincompoop. Uncle Wang's open derision isn't helpful either!

And yet Potato is, deep down, a decent enough man. Better than the average Ma, I'd say. I mean, he has some scruples! They might be really, really tiny, but they're there, even as he's being subjected to a barrage of mental attacks from both his mother and his wife. Why, given proper support and a competent cabinet, he'd make a somewhat ineffective, but decent enough ruler, his handling of the flood crisis shows us this much. Potato's best quality is that he really tries. Oh, he fails, but he's no Zitan, content to sit in his room and mope while the country goes to hell. When it's important, he can make actual decisions! Which he may then go back on (or not), but it still counts. Also, he's not petty. Like, at all. He'd like nothing better than for everybody to get along and have lots and lots of plump babies. Even his decision to do away with Xiao Qi is not motivated by jealousy, no matter how hard Wanru and Mommy Dearest keep pressing on that particular button.

Is he childish? Yes. But then, he's never been given any real responsibility and for years and years languished under the care of a helicopter parent who never forced him to man up nor face actual reality, hence his disillusionment with Wanru, once she stops being this perfect smiling automaton. Is he selfish? Oh yes and it shows nowhere better than in his last will. But even so, such selfishness is pretty much par for the course when it comes to the Mas and at least Potato didn't wreck a country for the sake of personal spite, which puts him way ahead of his father, uncle Jianning and bro Zitan. And perhaps even cousin Zilu, who cared less for the country than for Huanmi.

At the end of the day, our humble root vegetable is a tragic figure. I can't help but pity him every time we see him bloom under somebody's attention. Give that man some respect and he'll pay you back with the same, weird comments about killing you nothwithstanding. And he did give us Miracle Baby, Our Lord and Saviour!

Our beloved Groomzilla, Ma Zilu

Daddy Emperor must have been stupid, high, blind or all of those in order to let Zilu and his beautiful brain slip through his fingers. He was right there, that defenseless, motherless boy and ripe for the taking too! If after years and years of being neglected and treated as an afterthought, after suffering an obvious slight of losing his love on Daddy Wang's say-so, after being allowed to supposedly run wild with no attempt at parental intervention... If after all this Zilu still craved his father's approval in whatever form he could get it, craved it so much that he allowed himself to be led into an obvious trap, then what kind of loyalty might he have offered, had somebody bothered to nurture him properly?

And it's not like his talents were easy to sweep under the rug. It's not until after he's an adult that Zilu takes up the pretense of being a never-do-well; during his adolescence he was still giving it his all, hoping in vain that his father might notice and offer him some sweet, sweet parental validation. Alas. The lack of powerful backing from his maternal family is an obstacle, but not if one actively tries to fight against consort kin clans and their influence. Or is it only the Wangs who are the enemy? Must be so, otherwise why the hell would one not see Zilu's relative independence as his greatest asset? You don't even have to make him Crown Prince to use him; just instill some sense of pride and validation, feed his need for attention and put him behind Zitan's throne. Okay, maybe don't do that last thing, deadly brotherly competition being a whole thing in palace environments, but still, use him! But no, Huanmi remained the only person to actually see and appreciate Zilu for what he was. Is it any wonder he was so absolutely loyal to her that even when it looked like she had attacked him with lethal intent, he still cared about her safety most of all?

And is it any wonder that he expedited his considerable will and brainpower solely for her benefit? I was absolutely floored when I realized that becoming an Emperor wasn't actually his ultimate goal - marrying Huanmi in the biggest, reddest wedding possible was! Even if he needed to drag the more august guests in at swordpoint. Not to say he didn't want to take the throne for his own sake; he absolutely did, but only as far as it served as a big fat fuck you to every person who kept dismissing him out of hand, so basically every person other than Huanmi. Taking the crown was a power fantasy, an idee-fixe of sorts, but for all that keeping a throne in one's basement can be seen as somewhat peculiar, there are very few - if any - signs of actual delusion in Zilu's actions. The throne is not a goal in itself, merely a way to achieve his primary goal, which is to marry the woman he loves, take revenge for Huanmi's sake as much as his own and build a life worthy of her. She's his Empress and by gods, she's going to be the real deal soon enough, no more cosplaying in private villas, however nice it might be!

Ma Zitan, the one and only Master of Mope

With every Ma Prince I become more and more convinced that there was something seriously wrong with Daddy Emperor's brain. Neglecting Potato makes some sense within the greater political picture, letting Zilu lie fallow is the height of foolishness, yet it's more a matter of criminal inaction than actively doing something wrong, but Zitan? Oh, there is no excuse for the way Daddy Emperor chose to deal with Zitan. If the Third Prince was truly his intended heir from the start and there is little reason to believe otherwise - if Wangs are to go then Potato is done for, Zilu was never even considered and Zitan remains the favourite long after showing his complete uselessness - why not try to prepare him for his future role? True, doing so openly might provoke the Wangs, but it's not like there aren't any ways to present such ruler lessons as something else, even a punishment. But no, let's just hope he turns out okay all by himself!

Now, logically reasoning, if Zitan was Daddy Emperor’s favourite and the prince he originally wanted as his heir, then Zitan should be given all possible help, right? So why wasn’t he taught any actual skills, whether in governance or in military matters? The thing is… they might have tried. In episode 61, when Zitan asks his faithful pair of retainers if he would be able to best Xiao Qi, their first answer is not that he’s the Emperor so it’s a given. Well, that too, but the first, immediate response? You studied the art of war. Which, okay, might be a reasonable guess when it comes to any prince, but those retainers are rather young and only recently-promoted. Before their soujourn at the Imperial Mausoleum they probably served somewhere within the wider imperial household, but not close enough to any great personage to be knowledgeable about what the princes might or might not have studied. Also, that answer, should Zitan’s lessons be limited to his early childhood, would make them look like idiots or bootlickers of the worst sort. But let’s say that Zitan actually studied the art of war and did so longer than his brothers. Or, alternatively, with more famous masters. That would naturally be a subject of some talk, if only within the imperial household itself. If so, then the female retainer, who seems rather astute in general, gave the best answer she could give.

Okay, so maybe somebody actually tried to help Zitan along. It still failed. Zitan at twenty or so is singularily useless and strangely unambitious, and no, calligraphy doesn't count as useful, not if one is an imperial prince and Emperor-to-be!

It's not Zitan's uselessness or even his refusal to feel any kind of reponsibility for his own people (as shown in the Huizhou arc) I have the most issue with. Although the latter is simply disgusting. And... really, really short-sighted. If Huizhou falls, as it surely must, Jianning and Co. get a clear way to the capital, leaving Xiao Qi to play deadly catch-up. Which means that Zitan's family is pretty much done for. Now, he might not care about Potato and Zilu, but surely he should feel something towards his father? Some filial piety, if not actual love? But no, screw the people of Huizhou and screw Daddy Emperor. Still, does he think that Jianning wouldn't pursue him to the ends of the earth in order to eradicate a potential claimant?

No, what really angers me is the way Zitan treats the women he claims to hold dear. And I'm not even speaking of Awu, although it's rather obvious that he cares little for her internality and rather more than is healthy for his idealized image of her. Xie Guifei dies for him, which is not his fault in the least... or is it? See, I'm pretty sure that Zitan's insistence on marrying Awu despite his mother's reservations was what provoked the Wangs to take certain... steps. Provoking a power struggle is all fine and good, if you're at least somewhat prepared for the consequences. Zitan is no fifteen year old well-bred young lady, he's an imperial prince right in the middle of a delicate balance of power, how the hell does he not know or care about possible ramifications? Naivety is theoretically not a crime, but that surely is criminal naivety. Which begs the question - how hard was that boy coddled by his mother? My guess is a lot. But Xie Guifei is but a trifle compared to the elephant in the room.

Xie Wanru. Xie Wanru, who supported Zitan as much as she could while being in a precarious situation herself. And whom he had no problems with asking for further support, going as far as to aim for the throne, disregarding her own and her children's potential interests. Xie Wanru, who didn't make the first move, even knowing Zitan to be a potential threat to her and hers. Xie Wanru, whose baby got a full portion of avuncular love in form of actual torture and was lucky to get away with his life. Xie Wanru, his sister, whose ghost must have screeched with fury upon hearing Zitan laud himself as this paragon of brotherly feelings in comparison to the well-intentioned Turnip.

Oh, and he just sat there like an offended child while the country kept sliding into chaos, simply because some evil old men didn't let him kill Cheng's entire army with his sheer incompetence. Those dastardly old bastards! Let them scramble around and let the people in the provinces keep dying; they all deserve this for not recognizing Zitan's awesomeness! I'm not saying he should have fixed everything. I'm saying he should have done the bare minimum. He killed a brother for that throne, now he should actually do something with it. Other than purposefully provoking the only guy who actually restored peace and stability simply because the man happens to be married to Zitan's first love.

I'm sorry, I cannot with Zitan. There's a lot more to be said about that twerp, much of which has already been said, but at this point refraining from plowing on it's a matter of mental hygiene.

#ask and answer #the rebel princess #no but seriously how come there are no other Ma scions in the main line #is Daddy Emperor overly careful after his own experiences with his brothers?#could be could be #Zitan oh so pretty and oh so useless #and that was the last ask in my inbox!#I can hardly believe it

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sopewriters · 7 years

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Superbia.

Seven Steps to Hell: The Seventh Step.

Genre: Smut, honestly; 7 Cardinal Sins! AU

Word Count: 3.3K

Notes: Kinky shit happening. Slight D/S undertones, kind of dubious consent, erotic asphyxiation, among others. Don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with anything I’ve just listed. Otherwise, please enjoy^^

Edit: Moodboard below submitted by @saf0607

“It was Pride that changed angels into devils…”

- St. Augustine

It’s finally time to face the last one, the darkest and most cynical of the Sins. You aren’t sure how well this will go, since you know that he’s the one who holds the most grievances—that his power stems through the rest of the Seven.

You dare to enter regardless, taking a deep breath as you approach a door that’s carved with runes. The ancient language is littered all over the entrance, incidentally drawn into concentric circles, as a protective measure. The rest of the Sins don’t have protection like this, which is what makes him so much more difficult to absolve.

You lay your palm against the center of the circle, breathing slowly as the symbols glow bright red for mere seconds, before the door swings open.

It’s time.

You walk inside the dimly lit room, projecting a calm that you certainly don’t feel. You know, more than anyone, how important it is that you preserve your image and appearance in front of this particular man, that you need to make sure he doesn’t see any weakness.

“Creator.” His voice, high and fair, cuts through the air, and you don’t let your expression flicker in the slightest as you turn to face him, taking in his regal features with a practiced eye.

He is prostate on the floor, arms twisted back and shackled to the floor in a painful arrangement; despite which he shows no such expression on his impassive face, which is carved to an imperial perfection.

You say nothing, knowing that this needs to be the first move in the game which you’ve stepped into. To acknowledge the man would only serve to tilt the odds in his favor.

If there is anything he would hate, it’d be to not be acknowledged. And that is what you aim to play at. Superbia is the deadliest of the sins, yes, hence why it is essential that you approach him with care and caution.

“What’s the matter?” His voice is dry, rough from a lack of use. He’s been here the longest of all of them, being the first to fall in the mortal realm, so it makes sense, really, that his voice is in a state of disuse.

“Too high and mighty to talk to me, Creator?”

You continue to ignore him, waving your hand so that a chair materializes in the corner—set so that you may observe him, but so he cannot do the same—and pull out an Old text, a story that you’ve particularly favored, about the fate of Civilization.

You can sense his frustration at being ignored so much, and while you would love to speak to him, you know that you can’t take the risk and let the pride run rampant, else the entire cycle could get jeopardized.

You take out the book, flipping to the page designated with a bookmark, mindful of your robes as you slump disinterestedly against the chair.

With each page, the silence grows more unbearable, even more so when you flip each page as obnoxiously as you can, the sound of paper tearing through the air.

“You are, aren’t you?” His voice is spiteful, which is to be expected, but he says after certainly isn’t, “Too good for the rest of us? That’s why you let us go to Earth every time, let us get killed fruitlessly for a crime we’ve never committed.”

You grit your teeth at the words, his voice grating on your nerves as you fight to remain ignorant to him.

“Oh, the High and Mighty Creator, revered by all for being Good and Virtuous, but for one tiny detail that everyone neglects.” His eyes, a deep violet, glint maliciously, “That you’ve condemned seven oh so poor souls to an eternity of misery, caused by your mistakes.”

Your grip grows tighter on the book, almost squeezing it beyond comprehension as he continues to spew unbearable words that dig deep.

“That’s right. It’s all your fault. It’s not ours, yet we’re suffering for it, while you get to prance around punishing us.” He growls out, and you taste a metallic flavor in your mouth—blood, from biting your lip so hard—as he spits out those vengeful words, “You like it, enjoy it, don’t you? You like having us agonize like this!”

“Jinyoung!” You snap out finally, breaking the rules but entirely too irate to care, “Watch what you say—”

“Why, in the name of Azazel, should I?” He yells back, straining uselessly against his bonds, though you can see fury dancing in his cold features, “You’ve suppressed us for so long that I ought to let you know about it!”

“Do you think I honestly do not know?” You demand, rising from your seat, book disappearing as it is dropped, “Do you not think that I recall every second of that dreadful mistake I made, the terrible desire to make the world balanced?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” His voice is warm enough to freeze the entirety of the room, “Not when you can’t even fix your own mistakes.”

“Lucifer is unyielding.” You say firmly, “There is nothing that I may do about that. So I ask—no, demand—of you to simply keep the hope burning alive in your chest. The younger ones look up to you, Jinyoung, as do the elders, and do not forget that.”

“I don’t care.” Amethyst eyes flash in anger, as he flails some more, “Those idiots are worth nothing to me; they’re only a heavier burden on my shoulders. I only try so hard so that I don’t need to be in the presence of ingrates like them.”

“You don’t mean that.” You reason, even as your vision tints red, “Let go of your pride, for once, Jinyoung, and do what is right.”

“You’re asking me to let go of my pride?” He tilts his head back and laughs bitterly, the sound echoing around the chamber, “I am Pride! There’s nothing to be let go of!”

And herein lies the problem: Jinyoung has always been the most susceptible to his Sin, so is always the most difficult to absolve. You worry that, one day, you might run out of ways to do that but, for now, you must take him to task.

“I don’t want to do this the hard way.” You warn, “I am giving you one last chance to surrender your Sin, Jinyoung.”

It’s a useless sentiment, and you know it, even when he spits furiously at the ground near your feet, thankfully missing your person. Still, the disrespect cannot go unpunished and you sigh, trying to keep your frayed nerves under control.

“Very well.” You acquiesce, walking toward him, “I will do as you wish…though I really wish I didn’t have to.”

With a wave of your hand, the fabric clinging to his body begins to melt off, disappearing into the void. His eyes widen, as he clearly hasn’t expected this, but Jinyoung gives no other outward reaction to your move. You wouldn’t expect any less from him, of course: he is prideful, if nothing else.

“Do you think you’re above me?” You raise an eyebrow as you tower over him, forcing him to look up at you.

“Of course.” He hisses out, “I know I am above you. Just being in your presence alone is bothersome.”

“Is that so….” You drawl out, though a twinge of hurt sounds in your heart, before doing what you’ve never dared to do to Jinyoung before, pushing him down on his back with your foot.

As expected, his reaction is violent, though it does not come to fruition as the chains continue to hold him well.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He snaps out, eyes blazing as he tries, and fails, to push you away, “Especially not with your feet!”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, “And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re disgusting.” He spits out the hurtful words, eyes a dark purple, “And clearly not worth an ounce of me.”

“Tell me, Jinyoung.” You change tactics, choosing not to respond to the verbal jibe, “You’ve always liked being on top of things, haven’t you? I wonder how you’ll react now, since what I’m about to do is…well, it’s very unexpected.”

“You’re forgetting something,” He sneers, kitten lips curling in disgust, “I still have eyes, Creator and…you’ve always been easy to read.”

“Is that so?” You hum thoughtfully, before snapping your fingers, resulting in a sharp intake of breath from the male, “How is this, then?”

There’s no answer, though you don’t expect one. Secured around his eyes is a satin cloth. You’ve made it so he cannot see, only hear and feel.

“Fuck. You.” He spits out, and you roll your eyes at how stubborn he is, since you know the job would be much easier if he were a little more cooperative. Well, you might as well have some fun while you do this, right?

“I plan to.” You smirk at his mouth, parted in surprise, as you sink to the ground so that you’re eye level with him, though he doesn’t know that.

You drag your hand gently through his silky black locks, smirking as he shudders with revulsion. You know Jinyoung usually wouldn’t mind, but right now, he’s under the complete influence of Superbia: and there’s no fighting it.

“Something wrong, Jinyoungie?” You question cheekily, smirking when he growls angrily, wrists undoubtedly getting chaffed from all his struggling, “I’d advise you to stop moving so much, so you don’t hurt yourself any more than you already have.”

“Shut up.” He snarls pathetically, mouth set in a frown, “I’ll do what I want!”

“That is adorable,” You confess, making his mouth part in silent surprise, “But, unfortunately, untrue. You see, Jinyoung, you can’t do what you want.”

Your mouth sets into a firm line. “You do what I want.”

“What—” He begins to say, but a flick to his exposed nipple has him shuddering in pleasure, undoubtedly sensitive there.

“What was that?” You ask, hands daring to further tweak the rosy buds, rolling them between your finger. He gasps and arches into your touch, biting his lip to prevent himself from making any more noise than he already has. You can see his face scrunched up in turmoil, and something in you crows with delight, because this is what’s necessary, and he’s falling right into the trap.

“D-Don’t touch me there, you filthy—!” He can’t even stutter out a complete sentence as his body is toyed with relentlessly, and you see that his member is hardening, slowly but surely.

“You’re already aroused for me?” You tease, seeing his cheeks heat in perhaps, anger or embarrassment, “I haven’t even touched you there!”

“N-Ngh, I don’t want your hands on me, you impertinent bitch!” He snaps out, and ouch, that is a painful blow to handle, but you have done it before, with him.

“Too bad,” You let your hands linger, brushing against his angry, leaking cock, “I thought you might have wanted to find your release.”

“Well, I don’t need help,” He hisses, biting his lip, “Especially from the likes of you.”

“Are you sure?” You thumb across his leaking slit, collecting drop of precome even as he groans, “I don’t mind leaving you like this…”

Hands ghosting along his cock, you bite your lip, gauging his reaction; you’re rewarded with a choked moan and wet lips opened wide in slack-jawed pleasure.

“You want me to touch your properly?” You press, applying a slightly firmer touch and rewarded with the bucking of his hips, “Do you, Jinyoung?”

“N-No,” He huffs out, though he cuts himself off with a louder moan at your insistent touches, skin flushing red, “O-Oh God.”

“You and Bammie seem to have similar interests.” You note in fascination, though you give an experimental squeeze, causing his breath to stutter, “So I’ll tell you exactly what I told him: God can’t hear you. Not down here.”

“F-Fuck you!” He glowers at being compared to someone else, someone that Pride deems unworthy of him, “Go to hell!”

“We’re already here.” You smile serenely as you take his cock in your hand, fondling it with hard, measured strokes, “So it’s a bit too late for that, Jinyoungie.”

“D-Don’t t-touch me!” He protests, though it begins to lack conviction, even to his own ears, “I-I h-hate you, damn it!”

“No, you don’t.” You tell him seriously, straddling his hips despite his complaints and, pulling your underwear aside, sink down onto him, “But, after this, you just might.”

A choked moan breaks through the air, as he twitches desperately, cock encased by your tight, inviting heat. Your core throbs with want, lubing his length with its juices in a parody of a caress; the two of you are joined, for a mere moment, before you lift yourself up and slam back down onto him, a mewl ripping from your throat.

“S-So tight!” His lips glisten as he cries brokenly into the dim light, and you don’t think much as you lean forward, planting yours against his. To his credit, he doesn’t reject you immediately, allowing you to coax his mouth into submission, letting you taste him and hesitantly doing the same back.

“D-Does it feel good?” You pant in exertion, rolling your hips against him in chase of that spike of pleasure, “Tell m-me, Jinyoung.”

“I-It does,” He whimpers, kitten lips still parted obediently from after you’ve leaned back, “P-Please!”

“What happened to your pride?” You challenge, breath stuttering when you angle your hips just right, and yes, it feels so good, “I-I thought you…you didn’t want me to fuck you?”

“I…” You can’t see his eyes, so you wave your hand, removing the blindfold, and are rewarded with the sight of his eyes flickering rapidly between purple and their normal, genteel brown, “D-Don’t…know…”

“Admit that you like it.” You tighten his bonds slightly, making his eyes widen and they look pretty like that, flitting rapidly, “You like being tied down, don’t you? Like it when you have no power, when you’re forced to lie on the ground that you say is beneath you?”

“Shut up!” His cheeks flush a pretty pink as he eyes you angrily, though it doesn’t hold much of an effect as you continue to gyrate against him, pleasure beginning to peak like you’ve been aching for, “N-No…”

“D-Deny all you want.” You tell him, thrusts getting sloppier the closer you make it to the towering white, waiting for the lust to bleed from your body, “But the truth always holds!”

Your vision begins to spin as your legs twitch, orgasm ricocheting in you as you throw your head back in bliss, still doing your best to continue your lewd movements, pulling tiny whimpers of pleasure from him, even as your eyes begin to readjust to the dim lighting.

“You want to come, don’t you?” You slip off him, smirking tiredly at his whine of loss, “Admit it.”

“I…I do.” He acquiesces, though his expression shutters, “I don’t need you to do it though.”

“You don’t?” You frown in mock disappointment, hand sliding smoothly up and down his shaft, your juices functioning as lube, “I think I know what you need.”

A low curl of excitement festers in your stomach as you straddle him, a move he clearly doesn’t expect going by his low moan. Amethyst eyes snap open in shock when he realizes that he can’t breathe, eyes watering as they meet yours, before landing on your delicate hands wrapped firmly around his throat.

“You like this?” You smile in amusement as you quickly release your hold, watching as he sputters for breath, hips rolling smoothly against his cock, so close, but never letting yourself sink onto his throbbing cock, “Like being this helpless?”

“No.” He insists, though his cheeks flush red, “It might be your interest, but not m-mine—”

He’s cut off when you press your hands back onto his throat, making his eyes flutter shut, dick twitching actively in interest, mouth parted lewdly for breath.

“I think I can make you come just like this.” You note in delight as he struggles to catch his breath again, “But, to think that someone so above everyone like you indulges in such…frivolous activities is certainly interesting.”

Knowing Jinyoung can’t possibly answer yet, you roll your eyes, hand coming to stroke him off, to help him reach his release.

“You want to come?” You ask again, for the umpteenth time as his hips follow your hand stutteringly, “Then I want you to beg.”

“Please,” He blurts out, tears dribbling from the corner of his eyes, “Please let me come!”

You only smile at him while furthering your pace, bringing him to the edge of release before you let go, at his disappointed moan, only to close your slick hands around his neck, squeezing lightly once, twice, thrice, before pressing down even harder.

“Look at you,” You drawl as impassively as you can, “Mouth going off about how you’re so above everyone else, yet here you are. You like being humiliated, you like it when you’re entirely helpless, aren’t you?”

His body twitches and his hands jerk furtively against their bonds as his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he cries out, painting his thighs white with his release. You let go of your hold on him only when he wheezes and, though you’ve been careful, you still worry a bit; the concern dissipates when his breathing calms, though his body still shutters through his release.

The chains disappear with a wave of your hand, and Jinyoung wastes no time diving into your arms, head burrowing into the crook of your neck, as he hiccups through his orgasm, tears wetting your collar bone.

“Are you alright?” You ask quietly, knowing Jinyoung’s the one in control again, that Superbia’s been driven out temporarily, and are rewarded with a small nod from the man, “Good.”

You stay like that for a little while, hand still running through his hair, until he’s recovered his wits about him enough to pull away from you and wipe himself clean the best he can.

“Y-You…” He croaks out, wincing at the pressure on his throat, but hurries to explain at your crestfallen expression (you didn’t realize it’ll hurt for him to speak now), “Got a lot more c-creative.”

“Thanks.” You smile softly, clothing him again easily, making him blink in surprise, before smiling fondly.

“S-Sorry for what I-I said.” He apologizes needlessly, because you know it wasn’t him in control, “D-Didn’t mean it.”

“Do not worry about it.” You assure him, helping him get to his feet after materializing your clothes, “I understand. Whenever you’re ready, you can go on ahead for rebirth.”

You motion to the door that appeared right after he was absolved, and he looks at it in understanding.

“Good luck, Jinyoung.” You wish sincerely, arms wrapping around his body in a gentle hug, rewarded with the warmth of his hands in return, “Take care of everyone for me.”

“I w-will.” He smiles sadly at you, eyes crinkling cutely in the corners as he nods, “And th-thank you.”

And, with that, you leave to the main hall, to take your leave from the place that’s tormented you, above all others. When you arrive, you take a deep breath, relaxing your mind, anticipating your warm chambers and comfortable bed, waiting to be whisked home…though nothing happens.

Your eyes fly open at the mad cackle that filters through the air, expression one of alarm.

“Lucifer,” You breathe shakily, as you realize you can’t leave, “What have you done?!”

Written By: Midnight :)

Seven Steps to Hell: The Conclusion.

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