#omlucifer

“What an amusing, little human you are…”

She flinches out of terror, eyes perilously searching for the source of the sinister voice. Sister Destiny gasps unexpectedly when she spots movement in her peripheral vision, the contour of an outrageously tall man catching her attention as he grimly steps through the abyss of darkness to enter the hazy light.

The dull vermilion glow of the various candles wavers around the outline of the stranger’s supernatural body. Defining his sharp, triangular jawline, the crisp rims of his mesmerizingly dark wings, and shimmering off of his curled horns that emerge from the sides of his dark-haired head. Standing before Sister Destiny is a fearsome man possessing four, raven-colored, feathered wings and menacing horns that sprout from his head and curl forward; a prominent, black, diamond mark plastered on the center of his forehead.

Naturally, Sister Destiny stumbles back, putting distance between herself and this unearthly stranger—no—entity. She gulps and instinctively swats her hand down to the rosary beads that hang off her rope belt. The nun stares in horror, hurriedly inspecting this supernatural being only for her gaze to glue itself to the two pairs of wings he owns, watching as they flutter the moment she focuses on them. She’s seen this man before amongst pages out of a traditional exorcists’ book, the illustration of his wicked, four wings—that were previously six—and his elliptical horns glued in her mind as it displayed the image of this entity gruesomely pulling a soul from his victim’s body.

Lucifer was the name written in unmistakably bold letters.

As this realization dawns on Sister Destiny, her hand falters over the rosary beads that tenderly rattle from the subtle movement.

“I’m glad you, at least, recognize who I am,” he speaks up, black-garnet eyes gleaming with a malevolent shine.

“Y-You-… You can’t be…” breathes out the nun who trembles while stepping back.

“Oh, but I am, little lamb,” uttering out the words with a wicked grin, Lucifer starts to tread further out from the shadows, making it apparent that he intends to stalk her down.

Sister Destiny sharply inhales, desperately turning around and hoping to flee from the apse of the cathedral. Her faith in escaping is easily crushed when a painfully strong grip wraps around her bare wrist, restraining her from leaving the apse. The strength in his mere fingers as they curl around her wrist is enough to make Sister Destiny whimper fearfully, her pulse rising.

“I can’t have you leaving just yet. I haven’t even gotten to the part where I devour your soul,” his menacing voice taunts her, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“M-My soul?”

“Indeed. Your soul,” he answers, eyes darkening upon meeting with her terror-stricken ones. “It’s—by far—one of the purest I’ve ever come across.”

Sister Destiny pathetically tugs at her seized arm, her voice slipping past her lips in a thread of frightened whines and whimpers.

“N-No, please! You can’t-!” Laments the small woman, her auroral eyes glistening with a layer of tears that tease the borders of her eyelids.

Lucifer’s gloved hold on her delicate wrist tightens, pulling her closer to him despite her struggle against him. He stares down at the teary-eyed woman, amused by her pleads and desperate cries of resistance. It’s been ages since he’s found a soul worth tormenting before devouring it, always disappointed by the performances his previous victims exhibited: unintelligible babbling, continuous wet pleadings, repeated ‘Nos’ or ‘Pleases’ that would only aggravate him, and the rare occasions of his victims fainting the second they spotted him—those were rather entertaining.

Still, the current performance he’s been blessed to witness keeps him enthralled; having this fragile, pure, and unintentionally bewitching woman right in his hands enticing him even further. Even so, it’s been awhile since…

“Oh? Why not, little lamb?” he inquires, leaning down to nearly invade her personal space.

Sister Destiny’s breath hitches, not expecting the demon to get so close to her without warning her—regardless, she doubts he would’ve. Her eyelids flutter, glossy, wet lashes batting against her cheeks as she looks up at his intimidating face.

“I-… I’m still a novitiate! I haven’t finished my journey in becoming a-a full-fledged nun! Please, don’t hurt me!” she begs Lucifer, a tear slipping down her porcelain cheek and shining in the dim glow of the surrounding candles.

His grip scarcely loosens.

“A novitiate, you say?” Lucifer’s naturally bitter eyes shine, either from the intrigue or the hazy flames swaying in all the lit candles, it remains unclear. “How stirring,” he teases her, wickedly grinning.

Lucifer takes a deep breath, sighing as if it’s second-nature to him—which it, ironically, is after living in a household full of six troublesome brothers—and fixes his gaze back onto the woman whose cheeks are stained with one or two salty, wet trails. His red, leather gloved hand that does not tightly clasp Sister Destiny’s wrist reaches out to her porcelain face, ignoring the way she flinches upon meeting her supple cheek with his palm. As he caresses her cheek with an uncharacteristic softness, he swipes the broadness of his thumb across her skin, effectively wiping her tears and neglecting the way she gawks up at him with bewilderment.

Such pliant flesh… His previously rounded eyelids lower themselves, drawing a line across his iris.

Sister Destiny stands in front of Lucifer with agape eyes, staring up at him as if he is God Himself in the flesh. However, she finds herself progressively relaxing in his tender hold as peculiar as it may be. She feels him wipe away her tears, stretching her unblemished skin ever so lightly until the leather of his glove withdraws itself from her. Part of her aches for him to keep it there, but the thought quickly vanishes.

“What else do you have to offer, then, little lamb? Something as valuable as that priceless soul of yours.”

“M-Mmh?” Sister Destiny blinks, not expecting him to speak out of the blue.

Lucifer chuckles in an almost bitter tone, “I can’t just let you go without getting something offered in return. If not your soul, then any other valuable of yours can suffice for now,” he suggests, black-garnet eyes reflecting the vermilion hue of the candles around them.

“I-… I don’t have any money, o-or-”

“Your body should meet the requirement.”

She stutters for a moment, cheeks uncontrollably flushing, “Exc-Excuse me?”

Lucifer, unlike the flustered novitiate, solemnly gazes down at her, eyebrows remaining neutral while his grip is firm around her wrist. His appearance alludes sternness, but his mind is clouded with a raging hunger that could rival his second youngest brother’s gluttony. 

Typically a prideful one—as his title suggests—Lucifer could never find himself succumbing to lust, especially for an inferior human as they all were relatively the same—both in habit and in spirit. This certain human, however, is unmistakably different, and he knew it the instant he saw her entering the cathedral. From her virtuous soul that gleams like the brightest and most polished of jewels—which would most certainly catch the eye of his excessively greedy, sixth youngest brother—to her intoxicatingly innocent eyes that practically beg to be tainted with sin, it is clear to Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, that this human isn’t like the other dull ones he’s come across in his devastatingly long life.

His gaze darkens lustfully, fingers that tightly wrap themselves around Sister Destiny’s wrist massaging her exposed skin by firmly pressing into it.

“You’re still a virgin, correct?” the demon inquires.

“W-Wait, you’re going to-”

“Take it, yes,” he interjects, pulling her closer while listening to her yelp in a helpless tone.

Sister Destiny, even if she uses all of the strength she can muster, stands no chance against resisting Lucifer’s firm grasp that tugs her toward him. She yelps, albeit feebly, discovering herself to be pressed stiffly against Lucifer’s chest, eyes batting up at him in brief awe. The petite woman, who stands at a devastatingly short height compared to the demon of pride, feels a warm and strong hand settling on the back of her waist, breath cutting off when his thumb massages a firm circle near the front of her gut.

Wh-What’s he doing? He’s touching me! He-… He shouldn’t be touching me!

Sister Destiny squirms in his hold, tenderly mewling while she presses her liberated palm against his chest, pushing on his ribs that are covered by a layer of black fabric with golden buttons, keeping his waistcoat closed.

“Wait! P-Please, let me go! I can’t do this!” pleads the novitiate, squirming and resisting against the undoubtedly more powerful demon who merely gazes down at her with amusement.

No, no, no, no! I-I’m unmarried! I can’t go through with this! Sister Destiny’s tanzanite eyes begin tearing up once again, the fear of having her purity stripped from her by this foul being mortifying her.

“I’m afraid you only have two options, little lamb. Your body, or your soul,” Lucifer utters precariously, leaning over Sister Destiny with his black-garnet eyes darkening. He stares down at the frightful woman like she’s inferior to him—red, leather gloved hand tense around her quivering wrist. “It’s your choice.”

“But… But I-… I’ve never… ha-had intercourse,” Sister Destiny hesitantly confesses in a tame voice. 

Her cheeks involuntarily turn crimson, heat rushing to her ears covered by the black veil. Never has she declared such words so openly before, and it regards the subject that’s flustered her many times in the past. Oftentimes, Sister Destiny would hear the other novices at the academy speak about their personal experiences with sexual intimacy, brought to bashfulness when asked of her chastity. She always felt a hint of humiliation for not being able to relate to what the other women spoke about, but also wondered if they were truly pursuing a passage that led to becoming a full-fledged nun.

“Oh, he always struggles to fit in, at first, but the orgasm he gives me makes it worth it,” as one of the nuns-in-training said ever so blatantly. The woman was grinning when the other novices hummed or chuckled, hints of sympathy detected in their voices.

“My lover hardly spends time on foreplay. Always insists that he’ll last more than ten minutes, too, but he can hardly make it to five,” another woman groaned, shaking her head in disapproval.

“F-Foreplay?” Destiny spoke out, facial expression altering into one of curiosity.

“Hmmm?” a woman turned her head to Destiny, eyebrows rising and lips slightly parting in realization. “Wait, Calyx, are you a virgin?”

The woman whose hair is a white to blue-gradient color flinched and immediately felt a surge of heat dusting her cheeks—ignorant to the way her ears also flared a bright red hue. Humility stirred within Destiny yet she saves face by gently puckering her lips and wrinkling her eyebrows together.

“M-Maybe I am! Is that… a-an issue?”

The young nuns-in-training simply cackled in entertainment, reveling in the fact one of the youngest women in there was a virgin.

“No, no! It’s not an issue at all! Just that we expected someone as strangely innocent as you to be keeping your fantastical sex life a secret, but I suppose you can’t keep that a secret if you don’t even have one!”

More spurts of laughter broke out. The women eventually returned to their odd conversation concerning their pleasures and sexual habits, leaving Destiny struck with humiliation as she turned away.

“That shouldn’t be too big of a problem,” Lucifer’s voice speaks up, briefly startling the short woman whose eyelids flutter repeatedly.

He watches as Sister Destiny returns to reality and anxiously looks up at him with those compelling, tanzanite eyes. The demon feels as though if he gazes into them long enough, he’ll see all of her memories, expose all of her secrets, read all the thoughts that run rampant in her opulent mind, maybe even witness her fantasies and darkest desires. Merely envisioning what kind of sinful desires that the novitiate is forcing herself to hide further ignites the raging fire within Lucifer’s chest, his heart squeezing tightly and his breath coming in sharply.

I have to taint her. I have to.

Sister Destiny subconsciously mewls at the feeling of Lucifer’s palm gradually sliding down her waist until the side of his pinky brushes over her golden rope belt. She trembles as the weight of his fingers slither over the rope belt, eventually grazing against the knot keeping the accessory in place around her waist. Her eyelids close themselves shut, timidly exhaling through her nose the moment his gloved hand dexterously works the knot to loosen, successful in releasing it and tenderly pulling it away from her waist. Sensing the tightness of her rope belt withdraw from her waist, Sister Destiny opens her eyes again to fix her gaze on Lucifer who holds up the belt, spotting her rosary beads in his clasp.

“How charming,” he mocks with a spiteful chuckle escaping his lips.

As if to display the irony of the sacred object in his hand, Lucifer manipulates the beads with his fingers to easily slide it on his wrist, now wearing it as a bracelet.

Before Sister Destiny can object to his actions, Lucifer drops the belt with a thunk—echoing loudly, no doubt—and seizes her face, fingers sternly pressing into the plushness of her fair-skinned cheeks with his palm settled on the underside of her chin. Her pulse accelerates madly the moment she feels his lips clash with hers, her softness in sync with pride in the flesh. With eyes that remain wide out of the abruptness she’s unable to foresee, Sister Destiny feels enchanted by the compelling sensation of this horned man’s lips against hers, slowly shutting her eyes and unconsciously leaning in.

Lucifer keeps his grasp on Sister Destiny’s face firm and unmoving, appeased by her leaning closer to him. He can sense the hesitation she has in her attempt to kiss him in return, his very own limbs shuddering with a hunger that rages like a destructive fire, burning his skin and igniting the arousal that surges through his toned body.

She feels like a delicate flower against him, her pulse beating quickly—from the rush of excitement for her first kiss, no doubt. Holding such a fragile, angelic, and small human against himself feels both exhilarating and shameful in of itself; His very nature is to be an immoral demon of pride, meant to terrorize humans and angels alike only to mercilessly devour their souls. In spite of this fact, however, Lucifer can’t find it in himself to deny just how deeply infatuated he is by her. 

He originally intended to terrorize the novitiate when he first caught sight of her entering the cathedral, automatically noticing the genuine and unblemished soul she possessed. As he had watched her fulfill her duties, he could never help but focus so attentively on her positively intoxicating body—aching for the moment he’d be able to get his hands on her.

When the distinctly tall demon pulls himself away, Sister Destiny tenderly gasps for air, her porcelain cheeks evidently flushed a hot red pigment. Because of Lucifer’s tight grasp on her cheeks, Sister Destiny is unable to open her jaw all the way, simply left leaning against his broad chest in a state of disorientation. She has never kissed anyone before, and, now, the Avatar of Pride stands before her having stolen it from her only seconds ago. The memory of feeling his slightly rough lips against hers brings out an emotion Sister Destiny is not familiar with, her legs quivering beneath the dress. Her heart rate increases the more she dwells on the kiss.

She can hear Lucifer attempt to stifle his heavy breathing, only coming out as a shudder which grabs her attention.

“I need you to get on your knees, little lamb,” in a naturally intimidating and sincere voice, Lucifer instructs Sister Destiny on her next move.