Karma

Hours pass and within your vivid dream, suddenly the scene changes and adapts with the careful intrusion into your sopping pussy, a tension building heavy in your lower stomach. Gradually, your eyes flutter open with a soft whine, instantly glancing over your shoulder at the culprit, teeth bared at the feeling of you clenching around him. He notices you’re awake, moving his harsh grip to your hips.

With every thrust, your body moves against Mydei and you glare, whispering, “You’re gonna wake—” A breathy moan interrupts you. “Wake him up.”

“Shh..” He mischievously grins down at you, biting the side of your curled index finger. “Just be quiet,” he groans, leaning down against your body. Drool drips from your finger, pooling onto Mydei’s chest. “Just like that, yeah.” Despite your teeth locked down against your flesh, noises pass through the gaps and his thrusts drag against your insides, slowing.

Fingers graze against your sides. Mydei is wide awake now as he brushes Phainon’s hands away from your hips, holding you in place tenderly. Now Phainon’s palms press against your upper back and shoulder, cock twitching at the sight of you at his mercy.

Removing your finger from your mouth, you gasp as his cock reaches deeper and his pace becomes ruthless. “Fuck,” he snarls as he pulls back slow. At the same moment, the tightness in your stomach snaps around him as he harshly thrusts into you, staying still for a few seconds. “How was that?” he gloats, cock popping your from your dripping pussy.

You let out a sigh, “Good.” And cuddle closer to Mydei. “You did wear protection, right?”

“I did.” He jumps off you both, tying the condom.

Mydei’s hands move away from your body and his shoulders move. “Clean up after yourself.”

His arms return to your body at the sound of retreating footsteps, and you hum, “Can you take my bracelet off?” Silently, he complies, sliding it off your wrist and leaning over to place it on the bedside table.

The mattress beside you dips, and a gentle hand rubs up your thigh, accompanied by a wet and dry cloth wiping away the wetness of your inner thigh.

Phainon grins, "I can clean up after myself." Though it doesn't last long, as he tosses the towels into the hallway and they land with a thud onto the wooden floor. All you can do is hope the dry one is on the bottom so the floor stays dry.

Mydei opens his arms to allow Phainon in, and he turns so his back is against both of your sides with Mydei's arm against his neck just below the pillow. “Night!” You can hear the grin on his face, obviously pleased with himself.

On your floor, Kafka unlocks the door for you both and watches as you jump onto the second double bed next to the window. Excited, you sit up and grin at them both, but it fades at their unreadable expressions.

Kafka sighs, “I need to make a call.” Whilst she leaves the room, Blade sets the bags down.

The phone rings for a few seconds before Silver Wolf groans, “I’m kind of busy.”

“We’re here and you booked the wrong room.”

“No, I didn’t,” she grumbled into the mic. “There’s three of you. What? Are there only two beds?”

Kafka shakes her head and responds, “I told you to book one.”

Silver wolf groans, “I’m not helping you flirt with the noobie! Figure it out!” Before Kafka can respond, the call abruptly ends.

Entering the room again, she glances between you splayed out on the bed with your eyes closed and cheek against the pillow and Blade sat in the chair across from the end of your bed in the corner. He’s preoccupied, reading what she can assume are Silver Wolf’s complaints on his phone.

Noticing her return, you pull your head from the bed and ask, “Is everything okay?”

She offers a smile and nods. “Two of us will need to share a bed.”

“I don’t mind!” You volunteer yourself.

Blade interjects, “I can sleep here. You can have the beds.”

“No.” Kafka narrows her eyes slightly at him. “You should sleep comfortably, Bladie.”

He crosses his arms. “I’ll share.”

Her brow twitches slightly when she replies, “I was going to suggest I share.”

“Uh…” You look at Blade, then at Kafka, then back at Blade. “I don’t think three people will fit,” you awkwardly chuckle.

“I’m sharing,” Kafka concludes, not allowing further argument.

— —

Leaving the bathroom in an oversized shirt and underwear, you jump into bed first; unsure about the situation, you face the wall with your back to Kafka when she gets under the covers. With the lights off, you listen to her breathing behind you until it evens out. Unable to sleep, you turn to face her and shift towards her warmth. Just as you’re about to succumb to the comfort, Blade crawls all over you both before slotting himself between you and the wall, waking Kafka.

“What the hell?” You quietly shriek.

Blade refuses to reply as he grabs you by the waist and pulls your back against his chest, getting himself comfortable. Kafka lets out a deep sigh before shuffling closer and placing her chin atop your head.

“Sh…” Kafka whispers.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your head moved.” Your muscles gradually loosen as you give in to the affection. “Get some sleep.”

Before you truly drift off, you feel one of Blade’s hands press against your chest as he holds you closer.

Ignoring Luffy’s protests, you salivate at the plate placed before you. “Enjoy,” Sanji whispers, pressing his lips against your cheek.

Zoro groans and looks away from the scene. Nami sighs, feeling impatient, and Luffy continues protesting about you being served first. Usopp is looking everywhere but at you, and Vivi is grinning at the display of affection.

Once everyone’s full and left off to their own activities, you lean against the counter, watching as Sanji washes the dishes. “Why don’t you make someone else do it?”

“I cooked. I clean, darling.”

Retrieving his hands from the water, he wipes away the stray droplets running down his arms with a towel as he approaches. One palm gently on the nape of your neck as he leans in to kiss your cheek again and moves his other hand to your hip; pulling away, he analyses your face before peppering kisses over your face.

Nami

“You’re pressing the pencil too hard,” Nami softly laughs, holding the pencil over your hand. “Try this.” She carefully pushes your hand up along the page. “Moving it up allows you more control. The lines come out softer.”

Processing, you stare up at her. “Makes sense… thank you, Nami!” you beam.

Already close to your face, she moves only inches to place a kiss on your cheek, admiring your shocked face. “Keep at it,” she hums. Then she kisses your forehead, smiling at the warmth against her lips.

“If I do, can I get another kiss?” You lean your head back at the loss of contact.

She jokingly presses her finger to her chin. “Depends.”

“Okay.” With newfound motivation, you continue working on your masterpiece of a map.

Zoro

“We never get a moment,” you groan, following him around the ship. He’s silent as you continue your complaining, “It’s cold!” Shivering, you rub your hands against your arms and stare up at the night sky.

He stands beside the railing, holding a hand out to you. “You’re dramatic.”

“Am not,” you gasp, taking his hand. He raises a brow, pulling you into a hug and lightly swaying with the ship, silencing your arguments.

— —

Kafka was the first to make a somewhat obvious move. Nothing was going right. You were beyond upset, and she offered a kind ear; however, what truly drew you to a conclusion was when she kissed your cheek and pulled away with a mischievous look.

“What perfume is that?” she murmurs, holding onto your waist as she leans her face closer to your neck.

You’ve completely frozen, unsure of what to say or do. No one’s ever been so touchy with you, especially only after a month of knowing one another. The tears brimming in your eyes have dried from pure shock.

— —

Blade wasn’t talkative; in fact, you were terrified of him when you first moved into the flat. He wasn’t touchy either, just closed off and cold- though it hadn’t lasted long. Soon after Kafka’s bold move, he would place a firm hand on your hip whenever he needed to move past you. Even now, you still tense up every time he does it, and it’s been months.

— —

“Were you dreaming about us?”

The words alone have you jumping upwards from the couch, sitting upright. “What?” Eyes wide, you stare at her.

She chuckles, “You said our names in your sleep.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You did.”

Silence falls over you both and you finally notice Blade with his arms crossed near the hallway to your rooms. “I’m going to my room,” you mumble.

Kafka’s manicured hand lightly grabs your wrist before you can pass her. “Wouldn’t you prefer to sleep with me?” She’s aware of the sensual undertone, amusement whirling in her eyes at your flushed reaction.

There was always a signal amiss. You couldn’t agree to her proposal, as she would always back away. Claiming she’s messing. One plan brews in the back of your mind: if she’s allowed to play with your feelings, then you want to prove something. Jealousy always bleeds through, even when concealed.

— —

Twirling in front of your full-length mirror, you grin. Adorned in a short dress, low enough cut that someone taller than you could see everything, and a pair of thigh high-heeled boots (even spraying your favourite perfume). Nerves swirl in your stomach as you’ve never been on a date, and your first one is out of pure spite.

Hyping yourself up, you grab your jacket and phone, hesitating before opening your bedroom door. Nervous, you let out a shaky breath and walk into the hallway, entering the shared space with a deep inhale.

“Where are you going?” Kafka’s voice borders on harsh.

“Out?”

She shakes her head. “Where are you going?”

You look over at Blade, whose gaze settles on your upper thighs. “I’m meeting someone. Why? It’s just a blind date, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not like that,” Kafka warns.

You scoff, “Excuse me? We aren’t dating, nor are you my mother.” They both seem taken aback slightly whilst you storm off towards the front door. With a hint of courage, you spit, “You both just play with my feelings like it means nothing.” The second you slam the door behind you, the idea of a date sounds like a nightmare.

Mortified at your outburst, tears drip down from your chin; sprinting out from the building, your breathing quickens and a wooden bench appears in your sight. Sat, you attempt to steady your breath. Everything has blown up; you destroyed everything. How are you supposed to go back after that? Palm against your cheek, you swipe the tears from your skin, shaking your head in disbelief.

— —

Arms crossed, you shiver as you admire the view of the sun peeking; despite the gorgeous view, everything must end. It’s time to avoid or face whatever lies await at home.

“Kafka’s asleep,” Blade reassures you the moment your back hits the front door. He sits up from the couch.

You sit beside him, fiddling with your hands. “Why are you up?”

“I was concerned.”

Head turned to look at him, you smile, “Thank you.” Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck and let out a shaky breath. “I was harsh.” You can feel his hair move as he shakes his head. “I’m just so tired,” you admit.

His hands graze over your hips before he wraps his arms around you. “I want you,” he mutters.

Pulling away from his hold, you analyse his face for bluffing. “Okay… I want an apology first.” You back away fully at the sound of footsteps. “From both of you.”

Kafka leans over the back of the sofa. “I apologise for the way I made you feel.”

Now, you’re waiting expectantly for Blade. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Pleased, you wrap your arms around Kafka and pull her into a hug. “I forgive you!”

She chuckles at you before leaning back and tracing your jaw with her nail before pulling you in, lips against one another. Eyes tightly shut, your fingers scramble in her hair, and your body presses against the back of the sofa. Moving back, she presses a kiss to your forehead and tenderly moves your head to face Blade.

“Go on,” she urges.

Blade patiently waits for you to sit atop him, thighs parted by his legs, feeling the way your palms wander from his chest to his arms, finally tangling in his hair. He never makes the first move, hands entirely to himself. The chivalry ends when you harshly push yourself onto him, kissing his lips, his neck, shoulder, everywhere above the chest.

Kafka’s nails tickle your thigh as she pulls the skirt up to reveal your lacy panties. “You look gorgeous, darling.” Immediately, you feel a calloused hand squeeze your thigh, followed by Kafka’s nails pulling your panties down slightly.

On your knees, you push Blade’s chest and glance behind as she pulls them further. Blade’s gaze never breaks from Kafka’s middle finger dragging up and down your wet pussy before she adds her index and rubs your clit in a circular motion. A whine escapes your throat when she pulls her hand away.

“Whose bed?” She holds you by the wrist, helping you kick off your panties when you stand. “You can choose.”

“Yours.” She kisses your wrist and drags you into the hallway.

Kafka pushes you down on the bed until you fall backwards, and she gets down on her knees. A single lick up your pussy has you squirming, worsening when she sucks on your clit and pushes her tongue inside, humming at the groans passing your lips. As soon as she moves away, Blade’s joggers drop to the floor and you lean up on your elbows; terrified at the size of his cock that won’t fit.

Kafka tuts, “Ah, what do we do first?”

He kneels down to where Kafka was and drags his index finger down your folds before pushing two fingers inside and curling them; Kafka perches on the edge of the bed, removing her clothes. Your sighs grow louder, chest heaving as he pulls his fingers in and out. Stomach tightening, you attempt to pull your thighs together, unsuccessfully. Moments before you reach your high, he pulls his fingers out, using his hands to hold your thighs spread.

Kafka sits atop your stomach, blocking your view of Blade, not allowing you to be nervous; the help isn’t completely useful as the stretch of the head of his cock causes you to whine, “I don’t think—“

“You’re okay,” Kafka coos. “You’re doing so well.”

Your thighs wrap around his waist and his grip is bruising against your hips as he pushes inch by inch, enjoying the view of Kafka grinding against your body. It’s a never-ending stretch and you moan, relieved when you feel his balls against your ass. Kafka crawls forward, boobs above your head, that you nip at, as Blade drags his cock out, agonisingly slow. Slamming back inside, your back jolts upwards and he repeats it again and again, relishing your reaction. The roughness has you breathing heavily as you attempt to move away from his brutal pace, clenching around him.

Kafka crawls until her pussy lays bare inches from your face. You stick your tongue out, catching her clit, and she arches towards you, hands in your hair. Sitting on your hungry mouth, she grinds against your nose, cunt fluttering around your tongue until her pussy gushes with jagged breaths. Lapping up her sweetness, you continue sucking at her clit despite the pushing against your head.

Blade’s cock continues to bully your pussy, even after he paints your insides white; he continues at an aggressive pace, white forming at the base of his cock despite your overstimulated whining. Kafka lets out a breathy chuckle as she watches your eyelids struggle to stay open, waiting patiently for him to pull out before pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder.

“Tired?” She helps you sit up. “We can pick up at another time,” she reassures, rubbing circles into your lower back.

Blade follows her lead, holding you on your feet. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His voice quiet as you both enter the bathroom.

“No.” You push yourself against his side and smile, “I’m just tired. I regret staying up.”

Kafka peeks her head into the bathroom. “No need to regret anything. We’ll make up for the lost time.”

She leans comfortable against the doorframe. Blade ensures you’re comfortable before kissing you like delicate glass. Everything worked out.

— —

Mammon flops onto your bed and crushes you against the wall- making you wheeze and push him away. After a few minutes, he’s comfortably snug beside you watching the TV. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you scrunch your eyebrows at the smell of floral perfume.

“Were you with Asmo?”

“Huh?” He turns to look at you.

You push your nose into the crook of his neck, and he waves his arms around, panicking before gradually allowing it to happen. “You smell like him.” When you push your head away, he looks visibly confused.

“I was with Asmo this morning.” It’s been hours since they were last in contact. “Wait, how are you smellin’ that?” You shrug, but he doesn’t let go of the topic. “I don’t smell like him.” He sniffs his shirt before adding, “I think.”

You tangle your legs with his and hum, “Just ignore me.”

Realistically, he was not letting that go and spent the rest of the evening analysing every little thing. A few hours pass, and the TV has long been off, and he can’t help but blurt, “You ain’t human.” He turns fully, so he’s facing you.

“I don’t like talking about it.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t push further and holds your head into his neck. “Don’t change nothing.”

— —

Leviathan barges into your room unannounced, and you’re glad that despite having a sick day off RAD, you got dressed. Admittedly, you aren’t actually sick, just played it up and used your natural warmer temperature to act like you’ve got a cold.

“I need help! It’s quick, I promise!” It’s not like you have much choice when he’s dragging you out of bed.

Stumbling, you almost fall down the stairs and chuckle, “What is it?”

“This.”

At the front door, there’s a mountain of boxes with what you can assume is merch.

“I’ll be careful.” You instantly worry him by picking up a stack of boxes that blocks your vision. Placing them in his room, you return with a smile but falter when you see he hasn’t moved and his jaw is slack.

“What.” He blinks a few times before gushing, “That was so cool! How did you do that? You’re so strong!”

Scratching the back of your neck, you glance at the boxes. “Thanks. Just don’t tell anyone, please.” You’re supposed to be sick after all.

He enthusiastically nods. “Secret’s safe with me!”

You’re grateful that he doesn’t expect an explanation; he’ll most likely figure it out.

— —

Asmodeus’ hands rub lotion up your wrists and down your hands, catching his skin on your nails. “When did you last cut your nails?”

“Um.” You think for a few minutes before answering, “I did it last week.” He turns your hand to look at the underside of your nails.

“Are you sure? They grow well,” he compliments. “I can cut them again if they bother you.”

You nod. “Please.”

Not letting go of your hand, he grabs his file and nail clippers, placing the clippers above the desired length and attempts to clip them; however, your claws end up breaking them and his eyes widen when he notices the small indent. “Oh.” He glances up at you before using his glass file.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he reassures. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. I think I understand.” Of course he does. He’s likely met a few werewolves and is intimately educated on them.

You quietly mumble, “It’s embarrassing.”

“Nonsense!” He places his file down and holds your hands in his own. “You are gorgeous! I’m jealous that your nails can withstand so much!”

Avoiding meeting his gaze, you smile, “Thank you.”

— —

Satan feels the rage oozing from your body as you force the door open to the library, listening to your heavy steps and deep breaths. You need a quiet place to calm down, but the eyes on the side of your head are causing further discomfort.

“What?” You can’t stop yourself from snapping as you stare at him.

He takes a moment to look you up and down, finally noticing the blood on your hands. “What happened?” Just as he stands, you step back, and he stays in his place.

Holding their hands together, they attempt to push the anger down. “A demon on the way home was being rude. I know I shouldn’t fall for it, but it just—I couldn’t stop it.” You let out a long exhale. “I feel so stupid. Now I’m just angry at myself.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes his head. “You did what you had to do. I understand.” As he approaches, you don’t fall back, allowing him to hold your wrists and inspect the blood under your long nails. “Must’ve really deserved it,” he mumbles, amused.

For the first time, you cock your head and question, “Why aren’t you questioning me?”

“I already know.” He smirks, “Not to stereotype, but werewolves are easy for me to notice.”

“Oh.” You pause for a few seconds. “That… makes sense.”

“Let’s get you washed up.”

— —

“I’m done,” you announce and push your plate to Beel on your left.

Shockingly, he glances between you and the plate for a few minutes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“But you only ate the steak,” he murmurs with furrowed brows. Humans need a balanced diet, but you don’t eat many vegetables, if any at all. “Are you still hungry?”

You shrug. “A little, but I’ll just eat something later.”

“Why?”

“Hmm?” You turn fully to face him.

“I thought humans needed a good diet.”

Looking around the table at the others in their own conversations, you think for a moment. “Vegetables make me feel bad, so I eat what I can.” Usually Beel isn’t so concerned with your habits, and your explanation doesn’t quell his concern.

He leans in closer. “But humans need them to help digestion.”

“Really?” Feeling cornered, you awkwardly chuckle.

Once he seems satisfied, he leans back and beams, “I trust you.”

— —

Sleeping has become messy since being in the Devildom, as the dim sky doesn’t allow you to guess the time; back in the human realm, you would sleep during the day and stay up at night, having done the night shift. Stuck beneath your covers, you huff as you turn over for the millionth time.

“This is so stupid…” you whisper to no one and sit up.

In the hallways, you stare at portraits you have seen thousands of times- hoping to bore yourself to sleep. Nothing is working.

“Can’t sleep?” Belphegor stands beside you, viewing the portraits with you.

You yawn, “Yep.” This isn’t the first time he’s found you roaming in the middle of the night, and it certainly won’t be the last. “I’m so thrown off whilst being down here.”

“Thought you humans were adaptable,” he teases. “Want to come to the attic?” Wordlessly, you hold his hand and allow him to lead the way.

Warmth envelopes you as he places a blanket over you both, and you softly breathe into his neck. “In the human realm, I would sleep during the day and stay up at night.”

“Night owl?”

You shake your head against his skin. “I struggle to sleep during the night. It’s why I’m sometimes out cold in classes.”

Amused, his chest vibrates. “Lucifer hates it.” Fingers lightly graze your neck as he plays with the tips of your hair.

“Can you help me sleep? Just keep my dreams to yourself.”

How long has it been since this conversation started? The class began on track as planned, until it eventually turned into show and tell for the professor and your classmates; pets, games, homes, traumatic experiences- all of it. Most of which you are disinterested in hearing about. Your only saving grace is that the hands on the clock are gradually lining up for the end of the day. Almost slamming your laptop shut, conversation halts and everyone stares at you.

"Alright," your professor sighs. "It's time for you to get out of my hair. Remember, tomorrow we have a mock exam."

Immediately outside the lecture hall, you slam into someone's body when you turn right and groan, "Shit…" You look up at Phainon's joyful face and shake your head. "Hello? You never wait for me outside class, where's Mydei?"

"I'm inviting you to a sleepover. Mydei is already on the way there," he explains.

"Huh?" A sleepover? "As long as you're cooking."

He gasps, "What do you take me for? I'll always cook for you, Your Majesty." Lightly, you slap his arm and chuckle at his dramatics.

The weather is unstable; one second, it's freezing, and the next the sun shines down on everyone. Phainon's clothes aren't suitable for the current winds, occasionally asking to steal your jumper, and it would likely fit. His bottom half seems comfortable and warmer compared to your thin tights. Perhaps you can steal a pair of sweatpants when you leave tomorrow.

It doesn't take long to reach his front door, though there's a lack of Mydei. Until you open the door and see him splayed on the couch as if he pays rent. If he got in before you… there's only one explanation. Phainon gave him a spare key, yet didn't offer it to you? Miffed, you slip your shoes off and force Mydei to move his legs before sitting. He places his legs on your lap, and you use them as a hand rest to scroll through your phone. He has known you for a few years longer than Phainon, so he crosses the physical boundaries you have for most without repercussions.

"They wouldn't give me their jumper to protect me from the cold," Phainon whines as he passes the couch to the kitchen.

Mydei absentmindedly replies, "Yeah?" You're both two peas in a pod with your phones in hand, ignoring outside stimuli.

"It won't fit," you snicker.

Phainon suggests, "I can always try it on." Voice quiet from him being in the kitchen.

"Try it on then." Mydei strains his neck to peek over the side of the sofa at him.

"No." You place your phone down and scowl at Mydei's unnecessary encouragement.

Phainon appears over the top of you from behind the sofa. "Why?" He cocks his head when you crane your neck and scowl at him too.

"Why?" You scoff. "I'm not wearing anything underneath."

They both speak at the same time. "So?" Raising a brow, you glance between them, and Mydei holds his hand out.

With a deep exhale, you lean forward and pull the jumper off your body and chuck it at him without a glance, and he throws it at Phainon. You adjust your bra straps and pull them back onto your shoulder before shifting your body to face Phainon and watch as he puts your jumper on- though your mind can't stop focusing on Mydei in your peripheral. He's not watching Phainon. He's staring at you. Diverting your attention, you sit on your legs and place your hands on the back of the sofa, barely stifling your laughter at how short it is on Phainon.

He flexes his arms, and you can't hold back your giggles anymore. "How does it look?"

"Stupid," you wheeze.

"Hey!" he shouts. "We should swap wardrobes."

Your head jumps up at that. "I'd take your clothes, but I don't know how mine will fare." He chuckles as he pulls your jumper off his head.

"If you're uncomfortable, you can get changed in my room," he suggests and walks back into the kitchen, adding, "Snoop. If you want." Jumping off the couch, you throw your jumper on Mydei.

His room is dark until you turn the light on. It's unbelievably clean, but there's a slight mess on his desk with pens and papers everywhere, and you see your target: the wardrobe. On your knees, you rummage through his sweatpants and find an extremely comfortable pair that are fleece lined and awkwardly prop yourself up off the floor as you take your tights and skirt off before putting them on. Fortunately, you wore socks under your tights for warmth. His carpet is plush against your palms as you push yourself onto your feet and pull the waistband up and fiddle with the string, tightening it until you feel as though they won't fall. For maximum comfort, you bend over and grab your jumper off the floor- removing your bra before putting it back on.

Mydei leans his head back, watching you enter the room with a lopsided smile. "I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Oh, I'm sure you will," you reply sarcastically, lifting his legs up to sit back down.

— —

Mydei's hands are in the sink, searching for the cutlery to clean in the sloshing water whilst you and Phainon unhelpfully add more to his task. "Would you quit it?" Mydei glares at you both, knowing that you're causing more splashes than necessary.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Phainon beams, just for Mydei to flick his wet fingers at you both.

You shake your head. "You got a free meal, and this is how you treat our charitable—" Mydei lunges towards you, making you jump back and squeak, "Wait!" They both snicker at you.

Phainon shakes his head. "I cooked, so you can dry." As he leaves the kitchen, he pats your shoulder and hands you a dishcloth.

Winding the cloth up, you hit Mydei's backside with it once Phainon is completely out of sight. "Chop, chop!"

"Do you want to get soaked?" He shakes his head, jokingly disappointed.

Cheekily, you shrug. "Already am." And bump your hip into his as he exhales harshly through his nose with a smirk. "Oh, forgot to mention. Aglae totally knows," you giggle.

He shakes his head and passes you a dish. "I know she showed me the messages."

"She told you already? It was so embarrassing! I didn't realise I had messaged her until I woke up, and the hangover was terrifying." Shuddering as you put the dishes away. "I was so drunk I don't even remember it… at least I didn't send her anything too bad."

"She deleted them from her side." He glances at you, clearly struggling to swallow his laughter.

"Deleted what?" Phainon's voice makes you screech and jump out of your own skin.

Cautious, you spin around. How long has he been there? The worst part is he's in nothing but a towel, and your eyes are darting to every corner of the room; Mydei dries his hands off with the towel in your hands as he knowingly smirks at your face.

"Aglae got sent some very drunk texts," he explains, basking in your horrified expression.

Phainon leans against the doorway, arms crossing his chest, and your gaze unwillingly sticks to the contracting muscles. "What did they say?" He seems equally amused by your reaction.

Just as Mydei's lips part, you smack your palm over his mouth. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on," Phainon encourages, leaning forward. "It can't be that bad. I can read them if you don't want to say."

Mydei holds your wrist and pulls you away from his mouth. "He's right. They aren't that bad," he teases.

Aglae's intelligence is no joke. She could have deciphered the text with minimal detail; however, it's so detailed, they include his red tattoos and his habits in bed… which she is now privy to. Waking up hungover was akin to a nightmare, and it worsened when your phone rang. Aglae was rightfully confused, but her tone of voice was so unforgettably smug. She sprinkled in some teasing about how he treats you like royalty, and your face ran so hot, you thought it was going to evolve into a fever.

"It is that bad!" You place your face into your palm, but peering through your fingers, Phainon jokingly places his hand out and Mydei to your side is sliding his hand down to your phone in your pocket. "Fine," you concede and slap Mydei's hand away.

Phainon grabs your phone from your hand and furrows his brow at the screen asking for a code. "What is it?"

"My birthday."

He hesitates as you tap your foot on the ground as he should know your birthday. "Right… um." Carefully, he taps the screen and lets out a relieved sigh when it's correct. Swiping, he eventually finds your messages with her and scrolls until Mydei reaches over as he's watching over his shoulder to stop him from scrolling away from the messages.

You turn your back to them both and place your palms on the kitchen counter. "This is a humiliation ritual and a half." Phainon's snickering dies down as he gets further down in the chat.

"Wait—" he glances between you both. "You're both? How long?" Intrigue encourages every word.

Mydei lowers his voice. "Interested?"

"What?" Phainon sidesteps away, eyes wide as his gaze darts between you. "You're joking… right?"

You turn so your lower back is against the counter. "He isn't. We kind of spoke about it." Tapping your fingers against the frigid surface, your head lowers and your face burns. "We aren't exactly dating. It's complicated." Your voice is hushed. Without sparing a glance, you can feel their eyes on your figure.

Phainon grins, "I couldn't possibly waste such an opportunity."

"Hmm?" You hum, forcing your gaze off the floor, taken aback at his sudden closeness. His steps were completely silent.

He's impatient when he grabs your jaw, fingers cold against your burning embarrassment, pulling your mouth against his as he presses his chest against yours; stunned, your hands lag even when you're internally screaming to pull him impossibly closer. His hair is so soft against your fingers. Wait… your fogged mind clears the moment your hands travel down his neck to his bare chest. Pulling away, your eyes snap open to the sight of his smug face- it takes a moment for you to pull your hands away from his body and even longer to avert your eyes. Mydei is watching you like a hawk, and he's swift to stop Phainon from pushing.

"We can finish the movie from last time." Mydei pulls lightly on Phainon's wrist, forcing him to go to his room and get dressed.

Once Phainon has left, you suddenly jump into Mydei's arms and hug him around his shoulders before moving your head back and kissing him. "I wonder if he has any snacks," you whisper against his lips.

He, in fact, didn't. Mydei always has an abundance of fruit, but Phainon's fridge and cupboards are almost bare. What does this guy eat? On the couch, you cross your arms and huff at the fact that you will have to watch a movie without a single snack; however, Phainon is taking his sweet time returning to the living room.

"Could he take any longer?" You lean your head on the back of the sofa and stare at the ceiling.

Mydei chuckles at you before responding, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh." You return your gaze to the TV screen and nod. "Right… okay."

"What do you want? And don't say You're lonely." In your peripheral view, his head leans back, and his lips don't part in a response. "Is something bothering you, Satoru?" No response. Yet his subtle and familiar shuffling softens your gaze. "You're thinking about him, aren't you? About Suguru."

"And you."

You can't restrain the facetious remark, "When don't you?"

"You ran away," he hums.

"I did, but you dragged me back."

Moving his head to search your face, he slyly slithers his hand into yours. "I could find you anywhere," he admits.

"You're impossible to beat."

He smirks, "Obviously. I'm the strongest."

"What an ego," you complain. "I don't understand how I ever dealt with you." Absentmindedly, you squeeze his hand.

Faintly, he whispers. "You never did."

"Don't rub it in… Suguru always knew how to get you to shut up." You delicately remove your hand from his, grazing his wrist with your thumb as you pull him.

His chin connects with your shoulder, and his lips graze your ear. "I've always known how to push you." Scowling at the floor, you release his wrist from your grip.

"Your presence is annoying enough."

"Yeah?"

Oh, how you detest his sultry voice and the calculated kisses on your jaw; his faultless pursuit consistently gets him his way. Straining your neck, you pull away and press your palm against his chest as you shift so your lower back is against the armrest, with your right leg nestled between his body and the cushions with his arms caging you from both sides. Hand behind his head, you press a tender kiss to his forehead before sliding your index finger under his blindfold. It could be your millionth time seeing his heavenly eyes still, your breath hitches.

"Satoru, I—" The words melt on your tongue, caught in his lascivious gaze.

"Mhm?"

Without hesitation, you grab his collar and force him onto his back, legs on each side of his hips as his left knee lightly prods your back, and the right falls off the sofa. Taunting, you gradually lean forward and brush your lips against his, observing his expression before crashing your lips into his exposed teeth. His grin widens as he glides his hands up and down your body, drawing you closer. Your kisses travel from the corner of his mouth, down his jaw until you bite at his neck.

"You're so pretty," you hum against his throat, lips feeling his Adam's apple jump. "Satoru, can I—"

"Do whatever you want," he begs, hands roaming every inch of your body.

Chuckling, you run your fingers down his chest before undoing his jacket. His hands rest on your hips, grip tight as you unbutton the top half of his shirt and press your right palm against his lean chest. Impatience gnaws at him, and his head lifts off the armrest, using his strength to push your body. Thighs at his sides, you hold his shoulder.

"Oi!" you squeal as your head hits the cushion. "Have some patience." A scowl etches itself on your face at his keenness.

Ignoring you, he buries his face in your shoulder and harshly nips at your skin as your right hand grips the cushion on the sofa. Fingers glide beneath your shirt until they reach below your chest, pressing your squirming body down. The fabric scrunches above your chest as he bites at your stomach.

"Satoru…" you whine as your free hand messes with his hair.

He cocks his head to the side and watches your coy reaction to his hands snapping the waistband of your shorts before leaning back to appreciate the view, tongue wiping across his upper teeth as he drags the fabric down your pelvis. Excitement bubbles in your chest, heart hammering at his intense stare. Your lacy black underwear peak out, and he leans back, gradually pulling your shorts from your legs, then off your feet before tossing them in a random corner.

"We've barely done anything," he teases in a low tone, thumb grazing the wet patch on your underwear.

Wetness grazes his fingertips as he pushes your underwear to the side; with his other hand unoccupied, he drags his fingers down your cunt, grinning when your back arches at one finger pushing inside. He curls his finger as you unintentionally clench around it. Back and forth at a gentle pace, another finger joins and your breaths grow heavier until he pulls them away and places a kiss against your pelvis.

His breath fans against your clit, and your words come out scrambled. "You should…" you whisper, "your clothes…" His tongue glides up from the bottom to your clit, and you whine, "off." With his hands on your thighs, he harshly pushes them away from the side of his head and pokes his tongue into your cunt before cruelly sucking at your clit with kisses in between. "Satoru," you groan and lift your back further off the sofa, hands above your head, pushing against the armrest. Just as your whines heighten in pitch, he pulls away and you huff, "Seriously?" Propping yourself on your elbows, you glare at the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt.

He tugs his belt off and cocks his head at you with faux innocence, replying, "What? You told me to." It earns him an unimpressed stare.

"Smartass." You sit up, gaze travelling up and down his body. Enjoying the show, he removes the last of his clothes before grabbing your jaw.

Teeth nip at your ears, and his hands roam your body. "Floor, now." He breathes into your ear, leaving a single kiss on your neck as you move away, sliding off the sofa onto the floor. Expectantly, he spreads his legs, eyeing you from between his thighs.

Familiar with his display, you snicker, "You're being demanding." Experience backs your movement- you leisurely run your fingers up his legs before wrapping your right hand around his cock, thumb rubbing his tip. Your eyes flicker to his fists, and between eyelashes, you look up at him. "You can touch me," you chuckle before licking a stripe up his cock. After a few playful kisses to the tip, his hands finally grab your hair.

His palms help push your head down, abruptly halting when you hollow your cheeks, lips pressing against his pelvis. "Please…" A pathetic whine prompts a buck from his hips, driving the head of his cock to hit the back of your throat as you move back; you gag before reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, using your mouth like a toy. "Fuck… Yeah," he murmurs, thighs shaking against your body. His grip tightens for a second, then loosens as cum flows down your throat. Sliding away from him, you lazily grin and pump his cock for whatever's left as his release drips down your chin.

"That's not fair," you complain, using your hands against his thighs to stand.

He sighs, "I get what I want."

"Right…" you scoff. "Of course, you do—" Your attitude makes him grab you by the waist, eliciting a squeal from you, and he sits you on his lap, knees on either side of him. Tip against your stomach.

Teasing, he bites at your jaw. "You make it so easy."

"Shut up." With a scowl, you grab him by the throat and push his back against the sofa.

Your free hand wraps around the head of his cock, and your thumb swipes across the tip; simultaneously, you kiss the side of his neck and nibble at the skin on his shoulders, reducing his breaths to increasingly needy whines. Warm hands settle on your hips before his fingers dig into your skin and hold you upward, causing you to grab his shoulders to steady yourself. Eyes wide, you glance down at the feeling of his cock against your cunt.

His thumbs rub your skin as he smugly asks, "You ready?" The tone catches your attention with a glare.

"Really?" You can't stifle the scoff that escapes your throat as you remove one hand from his shoulder and guide his dick as you slowly descend. A soft sigh passes your lips at the stretch. "Fuck…" Forehead against his shoulder, you exhale against his skin. Just before you reach the base, he bucks his hips. Hand moving on its own, you slap his arm with a hiss, "Fucking impatient."

Against your ear, he laughs, "You take too—" This time, you cut him off when you push yourself upwards and slam back down, giggling into his shoulder at his groan.

Immediately, your heart drops when he harshly holds you up and slams you down. "Satoru, slow slow— down…" Your pleas fall on deaf ears as his pace quickens, relishing in your ragged breaths. Connecting your lips to his, he catches each moan with a mischievous grin.

He rears his head back. "Close?"

"Yeah," you murmur before fervently smashing your lips against his. "I want—" Unable to form a coherent sentence, your back arches and the ever-building knot snaps.

Forcing you past your limit, he hunts for his own release and firmly keeps your body in place despite the glossiness of your eyes. Eventually, his pace slows until you feel the warmth of his release.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand before the realisation sets in. "Uh… shit," you grumble and lift one leg up, allowing his cock to drag against your walls before sluggishly falling back onto the sofa with your legs bent and cramped beside him.

He seems somewhat panicked when he asks, "Something wrong?"

"No condom, dumbass," you chuckle, though your laughter halts when he pushes one leg aside so he can take in the view. Raising a brow, you sneer, "You can't be—" One finger pushes inside and his gaze never strays from the sight. "Satoru," you warn. Sitting up, his fingers retreat, but his attention can't divert. It's like depriving a poor hungry man of food, so you eventually give in. "My bed." He doesn't need to be told twice.

Thrown onto the bed, you laugh as he crawls over and holds your legs apart. He dips his head until you can feel his tongue flat against your pussy, and he laps up and down, pulling away with a spark in his eyes and tongue dripping with a mixture of your orgasm and his. Your lips part at the scene, and before you can think of a clear sentence, his nose hits your clit and his tongue pokes its way into your cunt; non-stop your legs tense, attempting to clamp shut but his hands are in the way.

Just as your back jumps from the mattress, he sits up. "I'm bored."

Your brows furrow as you complain, "You have to be joking."

"Hands and knees, go on." Despite muttering under your breath, you follow his command.

Back arched, you accidentally clench around nothing when his cock slaps against your ass and he drags it down to your pussy. Comfortable, you lay your head in your forearms and deeply inhale when his cock slams inside, all the way to the base; enjoying the way you jolt forward, he tightens his grip on your hips with a deep exhale, keeping you in place.

"Fuck… Satoru," you mewl, grinding against him. Rolling his hips, he continues at a teasingly steady pace. Unsatisfied, you whine into the covers. "More… please, Satoru." Without further encouragement, you know he's going to leave bruises with his hands as his pace quickens. Ragged breaths pass his lips alongside the filthy sounds of your pussy squelching with every thrust, balls slapping against your clit.

Breaths hit your back as his thrusts drag. "You're so…" he groans, "Fuck." Both of you are close, only taking a single thrust before the pressure in your stomach snaps and his cum overflows, encasing the base of his cock before he pulls out. "Look at you," he praises, watching his cum leak down your clit onto the bedsheets. The view is only for mere moments; he stuffs your cunt with his fingers, and you jump forward, overstimulated. "Had enough?" He's smug as he watches you roll over onto your back.

Driving through Los Santos Airport, Ryuji calls out Akira, “You’ve been in my car for an hour!”

“Can’t be assed to drive,” Akira’s smile can be heard.

Approaching the hanger, they both notice two planes, “I’m getting the good one!” Ryuji shouts. Braking in front of them both they both are quiet for a second before Ryuji bursts out laughing, “Is that a spunk plane?”

“What did you say?” Akira’s voice heightens from shock, and he turns his camera around from his plane to stare.

“Spunk plane,” Ryuji’s character points towards the plane.

Akira’s character stands in place as he holds his breathe, letting out slight noise into his mic trying not to chuckle. Ryuji gets into the plane as Akira grabs the other one, following him as he takes off.

Ryuji does a barrel roll in the air, “Imagine dying from the spunk.”

“Shut up,” Akira’s voice weakens as he holds in his laugh. “Wait, Ryuji. You know how Americans say spunk? Ya got a lot of spunk in you.” His voice mimics an american accent.

Ryuji chuckles, “Out of every word.”

Moving his camera to look behind him, he notices Akira fly straight into a building and they both cackle.

Feeling tears in his eyes Akira runs back to the hanger.

Following Akira’s icon on the map Ryuji comes back to the airport with teary eyes, but Akira blows up his plane, “Not my spunk!”

“Stop!” Akira’s crying as he chokes on his own laugh.

Ryuji runs backs to the hanger hysterically laughing but Akira hunts him down and he hides behind the hanger, as his screen shakes from explosions, “Akira! Please, let me have my spunk in peace!”

“No!” Akira finds him behind the hanger and watches as his body flies from the explosives, taking a deep breathe in hoping to stop the assault of laughter.

Ryuji respawns outside of the airport and calls his car, using it to drive to the planes and Akira tries to stop him to get the spunk plane first, but Ryuji rams into him and his body flies.  

Laughing, Ryuji gets into the spunk plane, immediately taking off before he can be shot down, “Imagine not having spunk, couldn’t be me.”

“I want the spunk-” Akira’s laugh cuts him off before he can finish, getting into a plane himself and following Ryuji.

In the air, Ryuji is being surrounded by Akira and they almost crash into each other multiple times, “You don’t deserve the spunk plane!” Ryuji tries to be serious but loses it. Eventually, Ryuji and Akira hit each other head on and Ryuji snorts, “Explosive spunk.”

“Explo-” crying Akira can’t continue as he removes his hands from his controller, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

Simeon’s hand brushes the door before it’s pulled open. Asmodeus stands in the doorway. “Come in! You should be excited. I made the desserts all myself! They look exactly like my face, too beautiful to eat now that I think about it...” His voice trails off into his own world.

Pushing the doors open to the dining room, Asmodeus shows you there are cards dictating where you sit. “Quickly find yours and we will start!”

Skipping off into the kitchen, you're all forced to look over the table, realising Luke and Simeon are together whilst they split Solomon and you up.

“Mc, who are you sat next to?” Simeon can’t help but question the seating arrangements.

Picking up the cards to your left and right, they read: Lucifer and Satan.

Mumbling to yourself, you place them back down. “You’re joking…” Looking up at Simeon, you answer, “Lucifer and Satan, what about you?”

“Leviathan,” Luke shows Simeon the card next to him, “and Luke is next to Beelzebub.”

Watching the others sit, you follow in suit, noticing the table has been set by Asmodeus from the astoundingly obnoxious amount of pink and flair.

After silently berating the tablecloths and other pink objects lying on the table, the brothers come out with trays and plates holding fresh foods, placing them in front of you all and swiftly sitting down. Beelzebub was a fountain of drool, quick to get into everything (you’re glad he’s not sitting next to you).

You listen in on the countless conversations happening all around you, refusing to join in on any and eating everything on your plate. You notice Simeon and Luke joining in, unintentionally staring at them: slightly jealous they can be so carefree.

Besides you, Lucifer, like you, is quiet and uninterested in the conversations. However, unlike you, he’s been interested in you. Watching your behaviour and how you react to things, seeing the disgust and displeasure on your face. Simeon had only told him bits and pieces of your story, but that alone caught his attention.

Noticing eyes on you, your head slightly turns, making you and Lucifer hold eye contact, with neither of you willing to look away. His reasons were interest, yours were to challenge his authority.

Michael created something powerful with you, something that could exterminate threats. He made you loathe demons, yet made you sinful: he knew challenging a demon without sin results in catastrophe. Pure childlike innocence and love are simple to corrupt and manipulated.

Someone clearing their throat makes you both look over at the noise. Simeon was nervously smiling at you. “Do you want dessert?”

Shaking your head, you stand, “No.” Passing the table, you barge through the doors into the main room.

Asmodeus is quick to complain, “Wait! But I worked so hard on them!”

Head in hand, you stare down at the floor whilst sitting on the couch in the living room, frustrated by the current situation. You didn’t want to be here, but you couldn’t leave without the others.

Footsteps go unheard until they’re directly in front of you. Wary your eyes promptly peer up, staring at the intrusion. Lucifer towers over you, looking down at you.

“If you truly want silence, my study is always available.” Lucifer slightly bends down, getting closer to you.

Despite the proximity, you don’t move. “Depends. Will you be there?” Narrowing your eyes at him, he smiles slightly.

“I have some work to do, but I won’t be a nuisance.” Standing back to his full height, he accompanies you to his study.

Dark wooden drawers and bookshelves lining the walls complement the wooden floors. His desk sits in the middle, facing away from the window, only dimly lit by the sparse lights.

Taking off his gloves and sitting down, he studies you. “I thought you wouldn’t have wanted me here. You’re not going soft, are you?”

“For you?” Venom spits from your mouth, “Not in a million years.”

“You are still here, Angel.” A sly smile appears on his face, awaiting your reaction.

Letting out a breath of vexation, you regain composure. “I followed you because you promised silence.”

Opening the drawers to his paperwork, he acknowledges you, “I never promised. I gave you a suggestion.” A pen scratching on paper stops you from formulating a response, leaving you silent, observing him.

After a few minutes, you notice him get out a group of files, seeing the little you can from your position you can only read out: Exchange students. Without noticing, you get closer, curious about what the files are about, especially if there’s one on you.

“Michael finds you difficult to accept, doesn’t he?” Lucifer’s sudden and hard-hitting question left you speechless, but his head is down, staring at the documents with your face plastered on them.

Confused at the sudden personal question, you answer harshly, “If he truly found me difficult, I’d be exactly like you.”

Putting the pen down, he rises, ambling towards you, “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

His sacrilegious tone made your body tense, he backs you into a bookshelf. Some books fall from the impact. Despite being taught to deal with demons, you knew your limits, and Lucifer was beyond your strength.

“That’s truly surprising... usually angels like you would try to kill me,” his voice lowers as he whispers in your ears, “but you already know you can’t take me.”

Knock! Knock! You’re thankful someone’s interrupted as you watch Lucifer open the door. To your surprise, it’s Simeon looking for you. Asking for a minute, Lucifer closes the door, grabbing his gloves.