This one goes out to all my Record of Ragnarok girliesss 🤩😍
Okay gang it’s like 1 in the morning and I literally cannot sleep until I speak this shit into the universe so pleaseeee I need a writer more talented than me to put this thought into a fic/HCs/ or a series.
So HEAR ME OUT YALL LET ME COOK.
A Goddess! Lady Luck! Reader who starts off by offering the champions innocent little ‘good luck kisses’. It’s harmless at first, until some begin to realize that anyone who received this favor of Lady Luck ends up winning their fight.
Hearing of this, more and more of the champions come to seek out her favor. Though as the stakes get higher, so does their desperation to please the Goddess of Luck.
And some of the Champions would do anything to win.
~
OKAY IM DONE NOW IMMA WAIT HERE TILL YALL WRITE THE MOST DELICIOUS TOE CURLING SMUT WITH THIS CONCEPT PLEASE AND THANK YOUUUUU 😩🙏🙏🧎♀️➡️
Beelzebub x sunshine reader <3
Slight NSFW/smut towards the end. You have been warned!
Sypnosis: As Nikola's apprentice, you go around hjelping him find materials--only to bump into a strange man on the way back, accidentally injuriing him in the process. After patching him up and informing him you're immune to curses due to actions in the past, you seem to pique his interest. As unforunate events unfold, you end up injuring yourself and waking up in the same stranger's...lab? In the process of your recovery, something like affection dangerously blooms in his heart and it doesn't take long for something more to develop between you two.
8.3k~wc
Spoilers for S3❗
Xreader, MOSTLY FLUFF, NO ANGST, slight smut, finger sucking idk, mentions of injury, reader is Nikola's apprentice, he vibrates his finger against your thumb idk, likely contains mischaracterization, you make out idk.
I decided to write a Beel fic in honor of season 3 and his fight being animated (I was tweaking out during the entire thing) There are huge inconsistencies and errors due to me rushing this during exam season, apologies beforehand!
Enjoy yay
Before you read ❗❗❗ There is most likely mischaracterization + I kept switching between present tense and past tense cus I kept forgetting which one I was writing with. Beware of inconsistences and mistakes, read at your own risk uwu
You’re hastily running through the hall, feet hurriedly hitting the ground as your hands clutch the box full of metal pieces and tools tightly—excitement evident when you continue to speed up your pace. After hours of searching and asking around, you were finally able to find the tools your dearest teacher had requested for an experiment. Eager to see the happy expression on Nikola’s face and spend as much time with him as his apprentice before he would be selected for a match, you swiftly make a sharp turn—
—and slam directly into someone.
Due to all that momentum you had built up, you run into the unidentified individual quite hard, the collision causing you to stumble back, trip over your own feet, and crash into him again.
In a measly and unsuccessful attempt to regain your balance, you cause the stranger to fall backwards before he can even recover from the earlier collision, ending with the two of you on the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. The box flies out of your grasp and overturns in the air, causing sharp metal pieces and tools to fall onto you both.
On instinct, you take a protective stance, closing your eyes and bringing your hands over your head to shield it from the rain of screws, bolts and the occasional screwdriver. The stranger lets out a strangled grunt as the sonorous sound of metal hitting the grounds echoes around you. You retract your hands when the onslaught finally comes to a stop, only moving to place your hands on the ground beneath when the feeling of your back being hammered by materials halts.
Slowly, you hesitantly open your eyes, dreading the embarrassment of having to face the stranger and excuse your clumsiness. With the apology already forming on your lips, you look down at the man underneath you, only to pause when your gaze landed on the pretty, caught off guard man underneath you.
A tall, lean, well built, beautiful young man with dark unkempt messy black hair and deep alluring reddish-brown eyes was currently sprawled on the ground beneath you, your hands caging him in on either side of his head. His expression radiated utter annoyance as he looked up at you, his eyes boring into yours while you did nothing but stare. The man at your mercy was currently quite aware of every point of contact between your bodies, extremely desperate for you to move the hell away and stop straddling him as he glared at you.
“Get off.”
“Oh! Right of course! I’m so sorry!” you splutter, flush crawling up your neck and face as realization punches you in the face. You quickly push yourself off from the floor and bolt several feet away from the individual, muttering more apologies and promises of giving him your firstborn when you see him holding a bloodied metal piece in his hand.
“I really, really didn’t mean to I promise,” you continue to blurt. “I’ll make sure to be more careful from now, I swear it on my left pinky toe.” The man only grunts in response, dusting off his robe before looking at you as if he was allergic to your sincerity.
You examine his face, and on further inspection, realize one of the pieces had split open his cheek, a thin line of red now visible on his cheek.
“Ooh, crap. Some of the metal pieces scratched you,” you say as you suddenly reach a hand towards his cheek with an expression of concern. “You’re injured, let us head to the infirmary, I know for certain there’s a first aid kit lying around there.”
“There’s no need,” the stranger mutters and brushes your hand away—his fingers coming up to brush against his cheek where a thin line of blood trickled down. “I have things to do.”
Your hand immediately darts out to grab his wrist, fingers curling tightly around his wrist to prevent him from leaving. “No, I insist, truly. I would hate for you to walk around with untreated wounds, it’s the least I can do.”
“That’s not—”
“Great! We shall head there now! Just, give me a moment,” you decide for him as you scramble to pick up the discarded tools and components. After taking a second to insure you picked up everything, you swiftly grab his hand and drag him along as you skipped off towards the infirmary.
The stranger stumbled behind into the infirmary, (much against his will) his movements stiff and reluctant. He hated how some foolish mortal was fussing over some minor scratch—especially when he had better things to do. If he wasn’t far too fazed by your intoxicating cheeriness, he would’ve made you regret your hands on him in the first place.
He sat on one of the chairs(which you had forced him into) as you rummaged for supplies, his eyes tracking your every movement—waiting to strike if you pulled any funny business.
“This is unnecessary,” he grumbles when you finally turn back to him with a bottle of antiseptic and bandages.
“Oh be quiet, we went through this like twenty times on the walk here,” you say as you pour the liquid onto a cotton pad.
The strange mans brows furrow together when you reach up to disinfect the minor injury. “I can do it myself. I don’t need your hands on me,” he mutters.
“How about you stop being so rude to someone’s who’s currently in the process of helping you? I offered to help and I’m going through with it. If you really have things to do, you would shut up so we can finish faster.”
The man blinks at your sharp tone and opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut at the last moment—gritting his teeth and grudgingly tilting his head slightly to give you better access to the scratch on his cheek. He stays silent as you work. The antiseptic looks like it stings, yet he doesn’t react—not even when you purposefully press harder than necessary out of annoyance.
It was stupid, he was the more experienced one here. He could patch up his own wounds better than you could ever dream of. Yet he couldn’t get the protests out of his mouth—your sickening insistence and the glowing…positivity radiating off of you.
“Hand.”
He blinks at your demand. His hand? Too busy being pissed off about the cut on his face—he hadn’t noticed the scratches on his fingers.
“Just give it here,” you scoff—grabbing his hand. “If I’m going to treat your face may as well treat your hand as well.”
He watches in silence as you carefully wrap the small wound on his finger, your hands gentle. His eyes remained fixed on your face—the way your brows furrowed in concentration, how you bit your bottom lip while you focused. It was a stupid little injury—barely even worth bandaging—but here you were, treating it like it mattered.
His throat suddenly felt tight for some reason that went beyond his control.
“All done!” you say after a minute, grinning at your work.
The man stares down at the bandage tied around his finger, blinking rapidly as if he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.
There, on his index finger—was a cute little bow.
You had wrapped up his finger and then finished it off with a little tied… bow—a method you deemed efficient for getting rid of the extra bandage without cutting it. His entire body went stiff—face a mix of emotions as he tugged on the bow. “…What is this?” he ground out, voice low and filled with pure baffled confusion.
“A bandage, silly,” you chirp proudly. “The bandage was too long so I tied the remaining length into a bow. It totally suits you.”
Suits him.
The stranger’s eye twitched at your response—you were calling it a bandage as if that stupid little bow wasn’t the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen. He wanted to rip it off immediately, wanted to crush the fabric in his fist and shove it down your throat…but for some goshfrosaken reason, he couldn’t. Instead, he just sat there stiffly with his wrapped finger—his jaw clenched so tight as you chuckled at him like this was all some big joke.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring down at the damn bow like it had personally offended him.
“This is ridiculous,“ he muttered under his breath—but still didn’t move to take it off. He told himself it was because it’d be too much of a hassle to re bandage it. He just sat there, letting you laugh at him with that stupid little ribbon on his finger like some pampered child instead of a god who’s hands were stained with blood.
You find the stranger’s aloof facade quite amusing and adorable, unable to resist the urge to bring your hand down and ruffle his hair, letting out a chuckle when he flinches violently—his entire body locking up in shock at the unexpected touch before giving you a baffled and disgusted expression.
His mind short-circuited when you just stayed there, ruffling his hair like he was some stray pet. His touch starved heart began to hammer against his ribs without his permission, fear creeping up on him at the thought of you possibly hearing it. “Stop…” he choked out weakly, swatting your hand out of his hair.
You let out a soft chuckle—coming to the conclusion that the pretty man was just shy. “Sorry again,” you say as you start gathering your items and prepare to leave. “I’ll be more careful next time, get well soon!”
He sits there bewildered as you scan over the items in your box.
No one ruffled his hair. No one dared to be that casual—that playful—that affectionate with the literal Lord of Flies. Yet you here you were, treating him like some damn puppy—completely unaware of who you were talking to.
“Wait.”
A hand shoots out and wraps around your wrist when you approach the door, stopping you from leaving. ‘He probably wants to thank me for helping him,’ you think confidently. You turn around smugly, already prepared to blurt out a: ‘of course’ or whatever.
“You’re wel—”
“Are you a half blood?”
His question catches you off guard, and for a moment you’re confused.
“What?” you ask slightly annoyed for not getting the thanks you deserve.
“Are you—”
“No what. Look, I’m running late. If it’s not a ‘thanks’ you’re giving me, I best get going. Careful on your wounds, see you around!” you interrupter after glancing at the clock. You quickly pry away from his grip and confusing question before making a run back to your original destination, leaving the stranger standing there blinking at your retreating figure.
You swiftly enter your teacher’s place, passing by a woman and a girl on the way in.
A few hours.
That was the amount of time your beloved teacher had before his upcoming match.
You had prepared yourself for this. Prepared to receive news on how he’d be chosen next to represent humanity. You had readied yourself to see him risk his life—or worse, the reality of never seeing him again.
Just not so soon.
You had been told his opponent was quite strong, and with no prior battle experience, you couldn’t help but doubt Nikola’s abilities. You tried to stay optimistic as usual, but without thinking, you had stormed out of his workspace with dread written all over your face, desperate to clear your thoughts. You knew you should cherish the last few hours with him, but your feet wouldn’t move back towards his lab.
As you leaned against the railing of some random balcony, praying for Nikola’s safety, you suddenly felt movement at your side.
“Praying to the gods isn’t so smart when they are your opponents,” you hear a familiar cold voice mutter.
“Thanks, mystery man, real helpful.”
“You have an odd, sickening…glow around you. One I have yet to see in a mortal,” he suddenly states.
Recognition sparks in your eyes as you look back at the horizon, eyes focusing on a passing bird. “The clan I come from once defeated a foul beast.” You explain. “My ancestors reclaimed its treasures—one of them being some holy golden wine that grants us immunity towards misfortune or curses. It’s been passed down through generations and blesses our line with good fortune and luck.” You flash him a halfhearted and partially smug smile. “I’m basically immune to curses and draw in good luck, isn’t that great?”
His eyes widen slightly at your explanation before fading into one of interest. “I see… You’re, immune to curses.” He seems to choke out the last part.
Realizing you don’t have his name, you turn to ask him. “Yeah. Anyways, who—” Only to speak towards air, the aloof individual no longer standing next to you.
“What a weirdo,” you mutter to yourself as you watch him walk away.
Immunity towards curses.
The stranger’s mind was still processing the information you gave him, his interest piqued. What experiments could he conduct on a mortal immune to misfortune? The ideas swirled inside his mind.
What would it be to acquaint himself with someone who would not be affected by his curse? Would he be able to be able to love freely without Satan getting in the way? Those thoughts made his heart hitch slightly.
You can’t help but fidget in your seat as you nervously await for the match to start, eyes glued anxiously to the arena as you prepare to possibly never see Nikola again.
You mentally prepare yourself as you wait for Heimdall to announce the opponent, your leg bouncing up and down in anticipation and fear.
And then—he enters.
The mystery stranger from before.
You watch him walk out—your little bow still tied around his finger and the bandage you put on him yourself still on his cheek. It was the same person from earlier who you had bumped into—no doubt.
That was the stranger you had patched up. He was the guy you had happily bandaged while telling him you were ‘blessed with good luck.’
‘Good luck my ass,’ you think. None of that fortune had come in clutch, you had literally sat down and helped up the enemy.
‘Beelzebub, the Lord of Flies, the one cursed by Satan.’
You sit frozen for seconds after hearing his name—then looking down at yourself, amazed at the fact you were still alive.
You had bumped into Beelzebub, injured the Lord of Flies, then teased him like he was a child—and still somehow survived.
As the round comes to an end, you watch your precious mentor speak his last inspirational words, and then take his last breath with a smile.
You feel like hurling, the sight of watching one of the only people who cared enough to take you under his wing die enough to send you into a panic attack, but you are unable move—much less shed any tears.
You stay there paralyzed in your seat even as the next round progresses and ends, a blank expression on your face during the entire time.
When the ninth round came to a close, you finally gained control of your body again, the grief and sorrow crashing over you in mighty waves. Feeling a strong need for fresh air, (or you’d end up vomiting on someone) you quickly run out of the stadium, your hand clasping over your mouth as hot tears streamed down your face.
Unable to see properly due to the tears fogging up your vision, you end up tripping down a flight of stairs, hitting your head in the process. Unconsciousness taking hold of you as your visions turns black.
You don’t recall much of what happened after—only the faint memory of bandaged arms carrying you off to somewhere.
When you wake, you’re lying on a small cot in some sort of lab, your head pounding in pain and your wrist wrapped in some sort of cast.
“You’re awake. Good,” you hear a voice say almost gently.
“Hey what. Where—hey its you!”
There, standing above you is none other than the Lord of Flies himself.
“You nearly cracked your skull, have a severe concussion, and your wrist is slightly broken,” he informs you motionlessly. “You will stay till you are recovered.”
“W—” you open your mouth to argue, but pause when a sharp pain pangs through your head, causing you to rethink. You were indeed injured, you had nowhere else to go now that Nikola was literally dead, and the stranger was giving you free healthcare. “Okay,” you comply.
Thinking he was just being kind, you agree without much of a second thought, oblivious to his reputation.
During the days of your recovery, you and Beelzebub slowly get more acquainted with each other with every passing day. After being in isolation for so long, your bubbly personality was quite a shift in routine.
At first he had found you annoying. You were just another nuisance, another being in his life who wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how much he scowled at your or mentioned boundaries. You were annoyingly persistent, always smiling at him, always touching his arm, or laughing too damn loud near his ears as if ‘distance’ wasn’t a word in your dictionary. He hated it at first, constantly thinking of ways to get rid of you and use you as the nominee for his next experiment. But as time passed, he slowly took a liking to you.
He hated it, hated how easily your cheerfulness rubbed off on him, hated that stupid little beam whenever he reluctantly acknowledged you. But you kept coming back anyways, and that—mixed with the hope you wouldn’t be affected by his curse, may have sparked something in him.
Slowly—so slow even he, himself didn’t realize what was happening until it was already too late, something inside him began to shift towards warmth instead of coldness around you. His irritation softened slightly whenever your laugh reached his ears, his meals suddenly less bland when eaten with you, his interest piqued every time you face lit up over simple flavors.
When he had realized his feelings may have been slowly begun to morph into affection, he began to fear he may lose you.
After being alone for so long, he couldn’t help but bask in that light you emitted.
He began to notice your absence more, caught himself memorizing trivial details—and most importantly, he began to act how he used to before he had figured out he was Satan. The younger him who had laughed with Lucifer began to slowly unbury itself from his heart.
When he realized he truly admired you, yearned from a distance for so long, yet you were still alive and well, things escalated quickly.
It didn’t take long for your heartfelt confession to be reciprocated.
He’s currently laying on his back with his head on your lap, sulking about something as you played with his hair. He was trying to play it cool, but every time he felt you run your fingers through his hair, his mind went blank for a second.
He was trying to keep his expression even—not show how much he was loving the feel of your hand in his hair—but the way his breathing was coming out a little too ragged gave him away—he was touch starved after so much isolation.
“You were complaining about something earlier, want to talk about it?” you ask.
Beelzebub’s entire body stiffened at the question—his breath hitching as his eyes snapped up to yours. The way your fingers were still tangled in his hair made it damn near impossible for him to form a coherent thought, let alone respond properly. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he finally managed to mutter up something. “Nothing.”
An obvious lie. Earlier, while passing by some minor gods, he overheard them calling him ‘Baalsack’, ‘Beelzeboob’ and some other ridiculous blasphemy. He had been unable to do anything about it besides sulk. He could still see their stupid smirks, hear their stupid voices—just the thought of any of them having the guts to say such things about him made his eye twitch in annoyance.
Though Beelzebub’s heart clenched when he saw the look on your face. He hated that look. He hated that you were concerned, that you were getting all worried over some stupid Beelzeballs bullshit he didn’t want to speak of.
He took another deep breath before looking away with an almost pained expression. “It’s really nothing important,” he insists. “Just some idiots running their mouths.”
“You never tell me anything,” you say frowning.
His breath hitched. Beelzebub knew damn well he was being closed-off, keeping you at a distance when what he wanted to do was just… tell you everything. His hands clenched into fists in the blankets—anything to distract himself from the desire to just give in for a minute. “It’s not like it’s any of your concern,” he finally mutters gruffly.
You go quiet, his words hitting you hard and causing your hand to still in his hair. What an asshole, here you thought you were making progress.
Beelzebub’s gut twisted the moment you went quiet, and he was damn near cursing himself out mentally. He knew it was his damn fault, knew it was his words that had gotten to you—the way your hand had stilled in his hair only made him feel worse.
He wanted to apologize—to say something, anything to bring that gentle smile back onto your face. But that would mean admitting weakness—admitting that he actually cared about all this stuff between you two, and he couldn’t help but fear it would result in your death.
Beelzebub’s hands twitched with the desire to reach out—to grab your hand and… he didn’t even know what he would do. “…Don’t be like that. I just I don’t see a reason to bother you with it.”
“I don’t see a reason to tell you anything either,” you retort, crossing your arms and turning your head to look at anything but him.
His chest clenched—sharp and painful. The way you threw his words back at him made him feel like he’d just been stabbed in the damn heart. You were so damn stubborn, so damn difficult, and—he loved it. He loved the way you pushed back at him like that. He loved the way you never backed down even a single goddamn inch when it came to him. Sometimes he’d still contemplate the experiments he could conduct on you. He had to suppress the urge to just beg you to not shut down like that—to not go cold and distant on him. He wanted nothing more but to pull you against him, to wrap you up in his arms and not let go until you were smiling again.
“Are you mad at me?” he suddenly asks a few minutes later.
“Yes.”
He slowly sits up and blinks at you—unsure of what to do. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like you being pissed at him—he wanted to just… fix it. His hands twitched again before finally giving in, his fingers brushing against your arm lightly, trying to get you to look at him, though you did nothing but turn away.
He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, couldn’t stop his fingers from gently grasping your chin. “…Look at me.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, his grip on your chin almost desperate as he tried to make you look at him. He hated this distance between you—hated the fact that he was the reason for your pissed-off expression.
“Stop this,” he muttered gruffly. “Look at me.” He sounded almost like he was begging at that last part, his voice too soft to sound like his usual aloof distant tone.
“No, I don’t want to,” you say, turning your head away again. “You don’t want to tell me anything, I don’t want to look at you.”
Beelzebub wanted to argue, wanted to force you into looking at him—into listening. Wanted to let you know that he could just snap your neck here and now, but he pushed that thought away.
His hands dropped away completely now, leaving them hovering uselessly between you two before clenching into fists again as if punishing himself for even trying. He was conflicted. Having never experienced these emotions before, he was unsure of what to do.
His fingers twitched again before finally giving in—his voice coming out too soft. “There were just idiots talking shit about me,” he finally admitted.
You turn back to finally look at him, a victorious smile plastering on your face. “See, was that so hard?”
Beelzebub’s chest clenches at the sight of your smile—his entire body going rigid like he’d been caught doing something wrong. His face burning too hot now, his pride warring with the way his heart was near pounding out of his ribs.
He scowled down at you, too gruff to cover up how flustered he was. “Whatever” he mutters under his breath—but there was no real bite to it this time. Just a quiet admission that yeah, maybe telling you things wasn’t so impossible after all.
Beelzebub’s scowl deepens when you dared to laugh at him—a slight pink dusting his ears as he tried (and failed) to look like he wasn’t flustered. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you off this bed right now—” before being cut off by the feeling of your lips on his.
His breath caught—every muscle going tense the second your lips touch his own, though he doesn’t even hesitate before kissing you back—his hand burying itself in your hair as the other grabbed your leg, yanking it over his hip to drag you even closer. His entire body trembles when you wrap your legs around his torso—a ragged, guttural groan slipping from between his lips as he ground you even closer against him. His hands were everywhere—in your hair, on your hips, your waist, your thighs.
Beelzebub suddenly pulled away when he felt you giggle against his lips—his grip on you tightening like he was two seconds away from just flipping you onto your back and pinning you there. His voice came out too rough when he spoke. “You’re enjoying this too damn much.” His hands slide down to squeeze the backs of your thighs, pulling them tighter around his waist as if daring you to laugh again.
He was loving the way you looked right now, with your legs wrapped around him like that—your lips curling into your signature teasing smile. “You think it’d be so goddamn funny if I just… took you right here, hm?”
You watch as he lifts his thumb up your bottom lip, gently pulling it down so you would open your mouth for him, his breathing hitching the second you obeyed. His eyes widen slightly as he stares down at you like he can’t believe you’re real. He continues to look at you with a mixture of lust and something too close to worship.
Beelzebub doesn’t hesitate to slide his fingers into your mouth once it’s fully open. His eyes flickering down to watch the way he did it, a groan slipping out against his will. When you didn’t protest, he let his fingers slide deeper into your mouth, his breathing ragged like he was near suffocating. He was watching the way you took them so easily, holding back the urge to moan at the way your tongue continued to wrap around his fingers—how you sucked on them like that, like you were doing it on purpose just to get a reaction.
Beelzebub’s fingers curled against your tongue, the tip slipping almost into your throat. His eyes closed for a second, like he was trying to hold onto some thread of self control. Beelzebub’s chest was heaving, his breathing too rough as he keeps watching you. His fingers were still curling in your mouth, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight of them disappearing between your lips. Still, the crippling fear that he would hurt you weighed heavy on his mind, the hesitance in his actions quite noticeable. He was without a doubt inexperienced—yet still eager to please.
Beelzebub groaned at the way you whimpered—his entire body shuddering as he felt your tongue swirling around his fingers. He pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, not stopping until he could feel them brush against the back of your throat.
Beelzebub was still staring down at you, his eyes fixed on your face like he was trying to memorize every damn detail—but his eyes kept dropping to your mouth, to his fingers slowly sliding in and out. He sounded like he was having a hard time concentrating right now. He could feel your tongue sliding around his fingers—feel the warmth and wetness as you sucked on them—and it was like pure torture. His entire body was taut like a damn bowstring, all his muscles clenching so hard as his fingers curl against your tongue again.
Then, without thinking, he pressed his thumb onto the center of your tongue and began sending tiny vibrations through his thumb, his finger pad vibrating teasingly soft against your mouth appendage.
You felt the sensation through your whole body, nearly choking as his finger continued to vibrate deeper and faster against your taste buds. (Idk how to describe how this feels stop pls js use your imagination)
Beelzebub watched the way you took his thumb—watched the way your eyes fluttered at the tremors on your tongue, the way your lips close over them, and he damn near whimpered. He almost didn’t know what he wanted more, to kiss you, or to just watch you like this.
His fingers twitched against your tongue, his throat bobbing like he was swallowing back a moan. He couldn’t stop staring at your mouth—at the way your lips wrapped around him so perfectly. It was driving him insane in the best possible fucking way.
His free hand reached down to grip your thigh again, needing to touch you somewhere else to ground him and keep him tied to reality. He whimpered when you sucked harder on his fingers—his entire body tensing up like a live wire about to snap.
“You’re going to kill me,” you hear him choke out hoarsely.
Beelzebub’s fingers pulled out of your mouth, his other hand squeezing your thigh like he was holding onto the last shred of sanity. His breathing had gone completely erratic—short, sharp gasps rather than his usual composed stable ones.
His fingers were slick with your saliva, hovering uselessly in the air where they’d just been inside your mouth for a second before his tongue slides out to lick at them—not breaking eye contact for a second.
He’d give you anything. Anything, if you kept looking at him like that.
His hand suddenly slid from his mouth to grip the back of your neck—yanking you forward until his lips crashed into yours. Beelzebub kissed you like he was starving, like he needed you to breathe—his tongue slipping past your lips in a way that was damn near filthy. His hands grabbing you and pulling you flush against his chest like he wanted to fuse your bodies together. He was practically devouring you, claiming every inch of your mouth like it was his for the taking.
Beelzebub’s entire body shudders when you tangle your tongue with his, his hands roaming a path across your thighs before grabbing the underside of your ass and lifting you against him.
His hands tangle in your hair, holding you in place—not that you needed it, not with how eager you were being. He let out a sharp, rough groan as if you were doing something downright sinful—and maybe you were. What was a mortal and Satan himself doing?
Beelzebub whined—a high, desperate sound that he didn’t even recognize as his own—when you pulled away. His fingers twitched at his sides, still slightly moist with your spit, before he finally forced out a shaky words. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, just need air,” you answer before moving your hands up to ruffle and card through his hair.
Beelzebub flinched at the sudden touch—his entire body tensing before melting into it like a damn cat. His breathing was still too ragged, his chest rising and falling unevenly as your fingers carded through his hair. All the tension drained out of him at once—his shoulders slumping forward as he let out a shaky exhale. He leaned into your hand almost desperately now, chasing the contact like he’d been starved for it.
His hands clenched into fists on the bed beside your hips as if to stop himself from doing something embarrassing like begging for praise or whimpering like a pathetic little mutt.
Beelzebub stayed like that for a long moment—his face pressing against your shoulder, his breathing uneven as he tried to process what the hell just happened. His fingers slowly uncurled from the sheets, one trembling hand lifting hesitantly to brush against your arm… testing if you were still there. Still real.
Noticing the action, you can’t help but lean down and press a few kisses to his face, fingers still softly soothing his tangled locks. When they touch his cheek—his entire body tenses like he wasn’t sure how to react—his face staying buried against you. He still wouldn’t lift his head… too embarrassed by how soft this was making him feel, but his face remained half-buried against you—a quiet hum of peace escaping him. His body had gone slack with contentment, leaning into every stroke like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Beelzebub stayed like that for a long, quiet moment—his breathing slow and steady now, his body pliant under your touch. The tension had bled out of him entirely, replaced by something warm and heavy in his chest… something dangerously close to joy.
For once—for the first time in what felt like centuries—he didn’t feel restless. Didn’t feel like he needed to die or fear or repent.
His breathing slows even further, his lashes fluttering as he practically drowns in the warmth of your affection. His fingers uncurl from their death grip on your arm and instead settle limply at his sides, completely boneless against you as he buried himself fully against you.
Beelzebub didn’t say another word. Didn’t need to. The way his body curls around you—the way his arms lock tight—his face nestling against your skin like he was trying to absorb every bit of warmth—said everything for him.
For once in his miserable existence, Beelzebub wasn’t worried about his bloodstained hands or experiments. He was just… here. Holding onto you like if he let go, the world would collapse beneath him all over again.
Seeing how clingy he had suddenly become, you let out a laugh, eyes crinkling with pure amusement and adoration as you relaxed further into his desperate embrace.
That quiet sound you let out made something in his chest loosen, and after a beat, he huffs quietly against your neck—almost like he was trying to laugh too, but didn’t know how. It came out as more of an awkward exhale than anything, but it was there. A tiny, stifled attempt he’d hone to perfection if you asked.
Beelzebub let himself just be. No experiments. No bloodshed. Just this: your laughter, his arms around you, and the quiet understanding that he’d never trade it for anything. His arms squeeze you again—like even if words failed him entirely, it could convey every word he wanted to say.
“I’m so happy,” he whispers.
You make me so happy.
And then his eyes closed.
When Beelzebub’s eyes reopened, the sight that greeted him filled him with nothing but dread.
You were slumped on the ground.
His hands were covered in blood
Your blood was pooling out from a wound in an area that seemed too dangerously similar to the places where vital organs would be—your face white as a sheet and scrunched up in bewilderment.
His hands were covered in blood, the sticky red substance coating over his fingers and arms as he slowly processed what had happened.
You were pressing down on the wound in your abdomen, trying to stop the blood even though it was useless, you could already feel your heart slowing as your breaths became more labored. You look up at Beelzebub(who was still petrified) weakly, your mind still conflicted with surprise—but your eyes were soft, as if you were expecting this to happening long ago.
With your mind hazy and unable to think properly, you did the only thing you felt like doing—providing comfort. “It’s alright,” you choke out while letting out a teary, strangled laugh. You knew it was practically useless and would not reach deaf ears, but the look on his face made you feel as if you were complied to.
Then he finally processed the scene in front of him.
“No…”
The word tore out of him raw and guttural as he immediately fell to his knees beside your dying body. His hand flew to your face immediately, thumbs brushing frantically at the blood as if he could wipe it away like some bad dream. The other fell onto your hand, helping you press down on the wound hard.
“No, no, no. I thought—” His voice cracked on every syllable—panicked in a way that was foreign even to himself.
Beelzebub’s hands shook violently as he frantically wiped the blood from your mouth—face—hands—his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—this can’t be happening, you were supposed to be immune,” he choked out helplessly.
But the proof was already there—smeared across his fingers and dripping onto the ground beneath you—the glow that usually hugged your frame had also gone.
“Tell me what to do,” he begged—voice breaking like a child’s. He’d kill gods for this if it meant saving you right now. He’d rip apart heaven and hell with his bare hands just to fix this, but all he could do was hold you tighter between choked words. “I’ll fix you up, you’ll live, you’ll stay,” he stated shakily.
His words were so sincere, and for a moment, you almost believed him.
“It’s alright,” you say again, this time with a more solemn smile. “Don’t hold it against yourself, ’kay?”
Beelzebub froze—his entire body going rigid as he stared down at you, your words not computing for one horrifying second. His breath continued to come out quick—his entire body still shaking with the aftershocks of panic. The blood was still fresh on his fingers, and this image of you wasn’t leaving his skull anytime soon.
He began gathering you up in his arms, ready to make a break for his lab—when you stopped him.
“A minute at most,” you whisper. “That’s how long I have left, I know it. Just stop, I don’t want that minute to be on your operating table while you conjure up something that’ll fail.”
Beelzebub stared at you for a long, silent moment—his expression caught somewhere between devastation and reluctant realization. Then, slowly… his hands curled into fists beside your hips. A muscle in his jaw twitched violently as he swallowed back whatever damning emotion was threatening to spill over. Though he knew one thing was clear.
He couldn’t save you.
He couldn’t cut you open and rearrange your organs.
He couldn’t put you on his operating table and fix whatever pain he caused.
Beelzebub was described to be a very calm and collected yet cunning and apathetic individual, as he would treat other beings as experiments without any remorse or guilt.
But currently, the thought of even touching you made him sick.
For one endless second, he didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Just stared at you with eyes that had gone terrifyingly hollow… like the realization had carved something vital out of him and left nothing behind but a gaping wound where his soul used to be.
Then—his fingers dug into your shoulders hard enough to bruise as he shook you once—just once, his voice raw with something too broken for anger. “Liar.” A sob clawed up his throat next, tearing free before he could choke it back down.
Beelzebub collapsed over you—his forehead pressing hard against your collarbone as his entire body shuddered with silent, violent sobs. He didn’t even try to hide it now; the dam had burst, and all that was left was the ugly, gasping wreck of a man who’d just been handed a death sentence for someone he loved more than life itself.
His arms locked around you like iron bands—not restraining, but anchoring, as if letting go would mean watching you slip away right then and there—though you quite literally were.
“Please,” he begged into your skin between shuddering breaths “I’m sorry. I should’ve never even touched you—should’ve scolded you and patched up my own cut that day.”
He let out a strangled sound when you began to disintegrate and fade. A sob ripped from his throat—ugly and guttural—as he crushed you against him so tightly it probably hurt. His entire body trembled with the force of holding back a scream, his face buried in your hair as if he could breathe life into you through sheer proximity alone. His hands were shaking where they gripped your back—one sliding up to cradle the base of your skull like something precious while the other pressed flat between your shoulder blades… anchoring. Desperate. Begging silently—but not praying. He knew none of those gods would ever respond to him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” he mutters the mantra over, and over, and over again as tears continued to spill down his bloodstained cheeks.
“Stop,” you command, using the last of your strength to raise your hand and wipe the salty droplets off his cheeks. “It’s okay, really. Just listen to me.”
He looks up at you slowly, lifting his head out of your neck as his eyes bore into yours with desperation.
“I love you, heh.”
Four words.
Those were the last four words you said while flashing him one of those familiar, warm smiles he loves
Those were the last four words you said while the remaining essence of you faded away and was swept off in the rain.
Those were the last four words that escaped your mouth as he watched you disappear in his arms.
Those were the last four words he’d ever hear you say.
Heh
Beelzebub didn’t scream.
He couldn’t. The sound got lodged somewhere between his ribs and throat, strangling itself into silence as he stared at the bloodstained floor—your scent still clinging to him like a ghost.
He collapsed, not in grief—not yet—he hadn’t come to believe you were gone. You were still here, just in another room, ready to kiss away his sorrow and calm his aching heart.
His had legs simply gave out beneath him, the weight of what he’d done crashing down all at once. He hit the floor hard, knees hitting marble with a sound that should’ve hurt, but he didn’t feel it.
Nothing could hurt like this did.
His hands clawed at his own hair instead—yanking until strands ripped free from their roots—a broken noise tore from his throat, half-snarl, half-sob… something too wounded for words.
You were gone.
Beelzebub stayed there for hours—curled on the cold floor, his forehead pressed to the ground like a man in prayer. But he wasn’t praying—none of those selfish deities would ever respond.
He was begging.
Begging some unseen force to undo this, to rewrite reality where you hadn’t left him…where you were still breathing beside him instead of gone. His tears pooled beneath him—salty and endless—as silence swallowed.
Then.
Beelzebub didn’t notice you at first—too lost in his own shattered thoughts, still half-sprawled on the floor like a broken thing.
But the faintest rustle of fabric made his head jerk up.
His breath caught so hard it hurt—his entire body freezing mid-motion as if moving might make this blessing of an illusion disappear.
There you were. Standing by the balcony doors, bathed in golden light from the setting sun… alive. Here.
For one agonizing second, he just stared—his red-rimmed eyes wide and disbelieving, taking in the way the sunset painted your skin gold, how you looked so fragile yet real.
Then his entire body lurched forward like a puppet yanked by its strings—stumbling to his feet with unsteady legs before practically launching himself toward you.
He didn’t know how this was possible—didn’t care. Something had happened, something had brought you back. Maybe something rewound time for him. Maybe nothing had ever happened and he had just woken up from a nightmare. Nonetheless, none of it mattered in the moment.
Beelzebub didn’t stop running.
He crashed into you the second he reached the balcony—arms wrapping around your waist with enough force to bruise(breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t feel any blood), his face burying itself in your neck like a man starved for air. His breath came in ragged, desperate gulps against your skin—his entire body trembling from sheer disbelief that you were here and alive and real.
He pressed his forehead hard against yours and sobbed. Ugly, guttural cries tore from him as if every second of pain he’d suffered since waking up alone could finally pour out now that you were here again.
His whole body curling tighter around you like a child seeking comfort—pressing himself against your chest so tight anyone would’ve thought he would dig a hole in your chest and stay tucked in your heart. He didn’t even try to stop the tears now; they flowed freely, soaking into your clothes as he clung to you with both hands fisted in your shirt.
His lips found yours then—not in passion but desperation, kissing you over and over like he needed proof this was real. Beelzebub kissed you like he was trying to rewrite the past—each press of his lips a silent plea.
Stay.
Don’t leave again.
Let me keep you.
His hands cradled your face with unbearable gentleness, thumbs wiping away his own tears that had dripped onto your skin… until finally, breathlessly, he rested his forehead against yours and just breathed. In sync with you. Alive together.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered so quietly it was almost lost in the wind.
His arms slid around your waist again—not tight enough to hurt this time, just holding, anchoring himself to you as if he could fuse your ribs together so nothing would ever tear you apart again. His hands then slid up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair as he tilted his face down to meet yours properly this time, kissing you with something painfully close to reverence.
It wasn’t hungry or desperate anymore—just slow and aching, pouring every unsaid apology into it.
The kiss deepened—soft, lingering, the kind that felt like a vow. Beelzebub’s hands cradled your face with near worship now, his thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail all over again. When he finally pulled back, just enough to see your eyes—his own were still wet but steadier than before.
Then, he did something so unexpected even he seemed surprised by it.
He kissed you on the forehead next. A gesture tender and simple, one he’d never given anyone else in his long existence. Beelzebub’s lips lingered on your forehead—a silent prayer against your skin, his breath warm and uneven. When he straightened again, there was something new in his gaze, beneath his lingering grief, because you were here. You’d come back.
But when you didn’t speak a word after—infact you hadn’t uttered a word at all, he began to panic.
“Stop that,” he choked out, closing his eyes and swiping roughly at his own tears with the back of one hand while the other stayed curled possessively around you. “Say something,” he quietly pleaded. Yet his request was only met with your soft unmoving expression.
When he reopened his eyes and removed his hands, he was back on the bloodstained ground.
It was just a dream.
The world as he’d known it, the future he’d dared to believe in…all of it was gone now, snuffed out like a candle in the wind. He didn’t get up from the floor. Didn’t move, didn’t speak. The only sign that he was even still alive was the ragged, shaking breaths he took occasionally and the silent tear tracks trailing down his otherwise expressionless face.
Whether your immunity to curses wore off or you just never had it, there was one truth he was now sure of:
As long as Satan is within him, he will forever harm those he comes to love.
He will drown in self loathing and guilt for the rest of his existence.
A/N: help did yall fr think there was gonna be a good ending
anyways reqs are open and apologies again for mischarztation n mistakes! with exam season here ion have time to throughly edit and i was hella sleep deprived while writing ts 🧍♂️ low-key I'm js realising how many unnecessary em dashes I used but can we ignore that pls i had some obsession with em dashes or sum
there will probs be another beel fic but it might be angst idk oops
edit: BRO SOME OF Y'ALL NEED TO STOP ACCUSING ME OF USING AI IDK WHAT IN THIS FIC SCREAMED AI EXCEPT MAYBE THE EXCESSIVE AMOUNT OF EM DASHES BUT I JUST DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO USE THEM BACK THEN😿.
I DON'T USE AI OMG 🧍♂️🧍♂️🧍♂️"y-y-y-y-you AI generated this 🥺" I'M NOT GONNA ASK SOME AI TO "WRITE A FIC ABOUT BEELZEBUB FROM ROR SHOVING HIS FINGER DOWN YOUR THROAT " ALL MY FICS ARE AI FREE I SWEAR BRO I JUST LIKED EM DASHES BACK THEN STOPSPSPPSOSPPSPPSP NWOWOWNWO🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬❌❌❌🤬🤬❌🤬❌🤬
warnings : spoilers of s3/chap 66, improper use of palmyra, overstimulation, vibrating hands, takes place after round 8, multiple orgasms, probably ooc a bit, overstimulation
divider: @saradika-graphics
Round 8 was over, Nikola Tesla was defeated and Beelzebub continued to live. You were a human but while watching round six… You were kind of rooting for Beelzebub. He was insanely handsome, he was tall, lean, his dark unkept messy hair and maroon eyes. He had your attention the entire round. Round 9 was starting soon but you wanted to see him again. So what did you do? Obviously you went to try and find him!
Walking around the empty hallways of the Valhalla arena was a bit scary, you didn’t know who you could run into! What if you ran into Jack the Ripper? That’d be terrifying. You weren’t even expecting to see Beelzebub around, assuming he had run off into a room or something like that. So you were caught by surprise when you saw him exit a room and glance at you.
“Hi-!” You said giddily and walked over to him. He looked down at you, with his dead maroon eyes, seeming to have no interest in whatever you had to say.
“I just I wanted to say that— Wait uh- Congratulations! You did really well.” You spoke shyly, feeling nervous under his intense gaze.
“It’s not really a thing to celebrate, but thank you.” He replied in a monotone voice. He didn’t even look at you, as his gaze turned away.
“How come?” You asked in confusion. He didn’t die… Is it because he feels bad for Tesla?
“It’s not really your business to know.” He spoke, not trying to be rude. Just trying to be straightforward with you.
“Sorry…” You replied and awkwardly looked up at him, rubbing the back of your neck. Should you compliment is palmyra…?
“Your technique is cool… The vibrating one.” You mumbled awkwardly. Glancing at him to see if he gave any reaction.
“Palmyra? It’s not very fun, I’d describe it as more of a burden. I respect it though, it’s efficient sometimes.” He replied, showing a bit of vulnerability underneath his hard shell. It was cute.
“Could you show me? I just think it’s- It’s interesting!” You asked, coming up with a lie on the spot making you stutter a little. He glanced at you when you stuttered and he just decided to show you. You were just a curious human. He used his left hand to show you, his right hand was used for offense.
“My left hand is used for defense, it creates a vibration barrier.” He explained, trying to make it as simple as possible. You watched his hand vibrate in awe. You gulped as you tried to push away the lewd thoughts inside your head.
“That’s cool- Can I touch your hand? If that’s okay with you-!” You asked out of impulsivity. You were embarrassed now.
“…It’s fine with me.” He replied, lowering his hand slightly for you to touch it. You touched his finger tip and it felt so weird, it felt really fast.
“Do you have like different modes or… Whatever?” You asked for your own lewd thoughts. He just nodded as a reply, indicating he did have different modes.
“That’s cool…” You mumbled and couldn’t take your eyes off his vibrating hand, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together slightly. He obviously took notice and stopped the vibrations.
“Is that why you asked me?” He asked in confusion. You were- bold? Dumb?
“Huh-?” You snapped out of your dirty thoughts and looked up at him to realize your thighs were together. He just stared at your thighs then made eye contact with you. He gently grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room he was in before, it was just a random room with books and a few seating spaces around.
“Do you want me to show you what it can do?” He whispered as he had you sit down in one of the chairs. As he crouched down in front of you.
“What-? Like…” You reply in surprise and a bit of shock, a god, THE BEELZEBUB! THE Beelzebub was asking you if he could use his vibration technique on you-?! Maybe you were just misreading the situation- but why would he crouch in front of you??
“I can use it on you. It won’t hurt you if I use my left hand. I can use the lowest setting.” He ensured you while resting his hand on your knee. You were a bit embarrassed by this whole situation but you weren’t gonna pass it up! You nodded your head and he lifted your long skirt. You looked to your right, feeling embarrassed but you can literally hear when the vibrations sort of turned on. Due to the high frequency of vibrations it was a pretty loud buzzing sound that was hard to ignore.
“That sounds intense…” You whispered, feeling nervous.
“This is the lowest setting.” He replied back, looking up at you as he pulled your panties to the side.
“I’m gonna start okay? Just tell me if you want me to stop.” He says and gently rubs your clit with his right hand and spreads it to get a better angle once he used his left. He used his thumb on his left hand and gently rubbed circles on your clit. The feeling was intense- how was this the lowest setting? It felt strong and your legs immediately closed shut. He used his forearms to spread your legs again and keep them spread.
“Is this too much for you?” He asked, making sure that you were okay and that he wasn’t hurting you at all.
“It’s okay-! It’s just really intense!!” You gasped and covered your mouth. You could feel your soaking pussy dripping juices all over the cushioned chair beneath you. It was embarrassing! You could feel your orgasm approaching.
“Are you close?” He asked, holding back a small smile. It was amusing to him. Seeing you get so overwhelmed just by his thumb. You nodded in response and immediately came as your legs shook violently. You had expected him to stop after you came but to your surprise, he didn’t. He kept his thumb in place and pressed down harder on your clit. More overflowing juices flowed out of your hole and soaked the cushion.
“I can’t! I can’t-!” You whimpered as you tried shutting your legs and grabbing his wrist to try and stop him.
“You can take it, I know you can.” He reassured you. Your hips kept bucking and you were practically humping his thumb with how much your hips were bucking.
“Are you close again? So soon?” He asked in a quiet voice. You nodded in response and threw your head back in pleasure before squirting and covering your mouth. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure that you squirted. Mind you, squirted on a god. The god of flies to be specific! THE Beelzebub!
If it's okay can I please ask for a yandere Poseidon with a female darling that he kidnaps but she is obedient and quiet because she knows escaping is not an option so she might as well accept it and she tries not to make him angry
If any of you saw this one it means that I'm starting to take request randomly from my inbox so congratulations to the one who requested this you got this first~ probably because I got an idea on what to write~
ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕚𝕕𝕠𝕟 𝕩 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣
It all happened at 'love at first sight'. You were a human. Just a normal human. You like to study about the sea. You love the animals there.
You even have a fish tank at home for some of the aquatic animals. While you were on a vacation near a beach wearing your sundress and a cute hat. You were looking at the ocean like it's where you truly belongs.
"y/n! We're going to swim around you coming?" Ask one of your friend. "Wait for me! I go fetch my sunscreen!" Your friends nodded and quickly run to the water.
As for Poseidon, someone reported to him that they saw some humans trying to have fun at his 'house'. He was furious because he knows they will polluted his dear ocean/sea.
Thus, while you were applying your sunscreen you didn't notice the very big wave that came towards you and your friends. They were so focused on what they were doing until it was too late.
Screaming here and there from your friends as you try to save them but fail. Sadly the wave hits you and you hits your head on a rock. Typical love story.
As you were in and out of your own consciousness. A group of dolphins swim to you and circle you before guiding you to Poseidon.
As they arrive he was mad at the dolphins but not forever.
"why did you bring a mortal here?" He ask them.
They just swim to him happily and swim away. Thus, he took you in while smirking. No one knows what the dolphins said to him.
𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳
You wake up with a headache. Then realize that your head was bandaged and you were wearing some kind of nightgown.
Then when you try to sit a hand quickly pull you back down. You were shocked. You slowly turn around and behold you saw the most beautiful man who has blonde hair with a beautiful face. You were blushing.
Then, the man open his eye and damn!! You are melting! That deep blue eyes. 'I think I just fall in love' you thought.
He caresses your cheeks and smiles yes smiles. 'goddamn it!! It just make me fall harder!!' your heart is beating fast.
"who are you?" You ask him after collecting some courage. "Your husband" he replied.
"eh--"
As quickly as you said that. As quickly as you guys got married. And when you realize you. It's your first night together with him as newlyweds. You are still in dazed. (Who wouldn't)
"a-ah I never got your name?" He carries you towards the bathroom. "Poseidon that's my name" you nodded as you let him carry you to the bathroom. (What you guys did in there is up to u 🤨 sus moment)
𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳
You notice how some of the male workers has gone missing. Yes you're not stupid to realize that it was Poseidon doing. How you know?
Simple you were talking to the butler the other days and then just now a maid reported to you that the butler had resigned. Coincidence?
Here's another situation. You were talking to the chef about your craving as you were talking and laughing Poseidon walked past both of you and the chef trembled. He quickly excused himself. That's not all the next day you heard the chef got eaten by a shark!! How cruel is that!! Coincidence? I THINK NO!
So thus, you test this theory. You ask a certain 'someone' to pretend as a male worker and talk to you happily. As Poseidon notices your eyes widen. You were getting touchy with that workers.
Then, the butler lean closer to you from his point of view it looks like he's kissing you.
His face darkens and he quickly throws his trident towards the male. What shocked him the most is that the male manages to capture the trident even before it can hit him. "Now now lord Poseidon~" the male chuckle. He recognized that voice.
"Hermes...what are you doing here.." he walk towards him. "Aunty here was wondering about the Olympus"
"absolutely no! She won't go there I forbid her from going!" Hermes just shook his head.
"uncle...if you keep aunty in the dark it only worsen her mental health. I'm speaking from experience." Hermes reply (hint ii 🫣)
"you know nothi--"
"I still regret it uncle... it's because of me she's crazy. All because of obsession." He add and walk away disappearing into the shadows. You just tilt your head. "Poseidon?"
You call to him softly catching his attention.
He lead you away while still glaring at nothing.
You pout and jump to hug his neck. He quickly catches you. "What is it" he ask.
"sorry I promise I won't do it again..." You hug him. "....why don't you run away from me" the sudden question freeze you.
"well you see no matter where I run you always find me right? So what's the point" he was shock.
"is that why you never intended to run away?" You nodded at his answer.
He softly kisses you and smiles genuinely. "Thank you for accepting me....y/n" you smile and hug him again happily.
"you remember my name! Yay"
He just shook his head and carry you to the dining room.
“You really can be so aggravating. But I’ll tell you something, that’s just what I like about you. Go on then, take this… This Divine Treasure is called the Staff of Apomyius. And with this, perhaps you won’t die too easily.
Featuring: Beelzebub, Cu Chulainn, Apollo, Okita ( part 1 )
Ight lads we onto a new series. Dunno why Okita feels out of place in this line up. First time doing Beel and Cu. If you guys want a specific character in part 2 you’ll have to request it or else imma just rng it.
Part 2 and Part 3
No warnings.
Beelzebub
You knew of the risks of trying to get close to the Lord of the Flies. You may have been pestering him around too lately or tried to get him to soften up around you.
All your efforts were for nothing but you still tried. He tells you to leave him alone most of the time while he studies in his own research room. You continued to pout as your advances were rejected yet again.
Beelzebub never tried to get to know you or why you even wanted to befriend him. Ever since Lilith and his three friends died because of him, he doesn’t want the same to happen to anyone else. Other gods feared him and he liked to live in solitude.
You still tried to get close to him. It was pissing him off and so he snapped without thinking one day. He called you the worst things a person shouldn’t ever hear. Bottom-feeder gods were better than you. You were more annoying than a fly buzzing in his ear. If it wasn’t for his desire to die so badly, he’d rather your piercing voice kill him instead.
You probably were more hurt than ever and couldn’t even bring yourself to leave your house for days. You were so annoying that he would rather die than be near you? No, he always wanted to die and you tried to change that.
Instead, you had tried to move on. Maybe it was for the better? Even no matter how hard you tried to be friendly to him, it was no use and the weeks that have gone by without passing a word to him. He probably doesn’t even care enough to look in your direction.
You found your way to the garden of Eve despite the weird creatures that lurk around the forbidden tree. You just wanted to break free from the reality you were in for a moment— “why are you here?” His voice sounded like venom. You couldn’t even move, yet he was here.
“Fine then I’ll leave, sorry for even coming here.” You pouted and turned your head to see him giving you an amused look. You were confused, didn’t he want you not to be around him?
“Actually, I liked it better when you were annoying. It fits you more,” he huffed. He wanted you to pester him around? You didn’t want to feel that heartache again that he gave you.
“Huh?! If you’re here to insult me again then go away!” You huffed pointing your finger at him.
He grabbed your arm pulling you to him with a smirk plastering his face. “No. I actually would rather risk killing you than you avoid me again.” He pushed you against the tree with one hand close to your head. Your mind was running wild with thoughts. Kill you?
“Fine then, only if you let me get to know the real you instead of pushing me away!” You glared back at him which he stepped forward towards you. He was surprised Satan hasn’t tried to kill you. His heart was growing more fonder of you by the day and it killed him more when you stopped pestering him around because of his cruel behaviour towards you.
At last he would have you here and now.
Cu Chulainn
Knowing Cu was probably a nightmare. He was rude and complained about the gods a lot. What were you even? A human brought to Valhalla and met Cu Chulainn along the way. You weren’t exactly the closest to him but you grew jealous of how much he paid attention to his dog more than you sometimes. However, he had a different side to him whenever he was with his dog Geis.
You sometimes wish you were the dog but you concealed your feelings for him knowing what had happened to other women who tried to confess to him. Morrigan… you were there when she demanded him to marry her and the two fought. Morrigan tried to kill you out of revenge for Cu rejecting her. Yet, something snapped in him and somehow he defeated her within seconds.
Your mind was brought back to you watching Cu with his dog. He even allowed you to pet his dog where as nobody else was allowed to. He trusted you enough to pet him. “He’s not bad when he gets to know someone first.” Cu smiled genuinely watching Geis brush against your side.
“He’s cute! Is he fine with cats?” You looked at Cu who gave you even more of an annoyed look. Cats? What?
“I don’t know?” He was having doubts about where this was going.
“Can he meet my cats?” You clasped your hands together. His dog around a bunch of felines?!
“Hell no, Geis doesn’t need to be around a bunch of annoying cats. Heck, even I don’t want them around me.” Cu turned his head but you didn’t say anything. You accepted Cu’s dog but he wouldn’t even trust a few cats? You had thought because he liked animals, maybe he wouldn’t mind the stray cats you take care of.
“It’s fine! Sorry, I asked. I uh– I have to go back home now anyway!” You didn’t even give him a chance to say anything before leaving.
Cu was rude most days, and you put up with him a lot. You watched him train and talked nonstop in his ear. Even when he was busy, he always found time to check up on you. You didn’t want to admit to him about your feelings for him incase he’d reject you.
So why were you hurt now? Cu would probably kill your cats anyway so it’s better that he wasn’t around them. He can’t even accept one part of you?
Several days had passed without hearing anything from Cu. You were fairly certain this must’ve been the longest you haven’t heard from him. You were too sad to even leave the house, why were men so stubborn? Did he expect you to chase him? You refused to do that as you were stronger than that.
You almost didn’t hear the front door open and you immediately jumped thinking someone entered your home. “Woah, relax.” Cu showed himself from around the corner. He looked more annoyed than you.
“What are you doing here?” Your voice croaked which gave away how upset you were with him. You weren’t only upset about what he thought of your cats but his rude attitude also puts you down at times.
“Heh? You didn’t come by for a few days, so I wanted to see if you’re alive. And Geis too was worried,” he called his dog over who nearly tackled you to the ground and was licking you all over. You were happy but at the same time, this changes nothing.
“Well, I’m alive so you can leave.” You gave him a murderous stare indicating you were mad at him. Cu was irritated with you. Now you’re matching his mood? He was stubborn but he never thought you’d be the same.
“Nah, bring your felines out.” Cu brought an arm up to his forehead to hint at the imaginary headache you were causing him. Would you stop being mad at him if he petted one of your cats?
You perked your head up at him, “not if you’re forcing yourself to meet them.” You pouted.
“I’m asking to,“ he didn’t want to admit that it was indeed to make you stop being mad at him. He missed you.
“Fine, but could you be more nicer to me from now on?” You stood up and gave him a sly smile.
“Whatever, Princess.”
Apollo
Being Apollo’s wife came with both pros and cons. He would either suffocate you with his love and continuously talk nonstop to you about his passion for beauty or he would disappear for days. The disappearing part was recent. He used to stay in the Olympus palace with you most times. This was making you worry whether he was going back to his old ways.
Was he seeing someone new? Was he bored of you now? The unsettling feeling wouldn’t go away. Maybe you shouldn’t wait for him anymore.
“My lady, it’s urgent.” One of the maids opened into your shared room. You looked at her to continue.
“Ah, my apologies. Apollo is severely injured and is asking for you.” Severely?! What? You weren’t even mad anymore. Your worries were filled with intrusive thoughts of him being in a critical condition that may be fatal. You could also be worrying too much.
You rushed out of the room as you heard of the news. Why was he severely hurt? You were going to scold him but as soon as you reached the infirmary where there were many injured Olympus guards, deities and you found Apollo in his own room.
“Agh, what happened?!” You busted open the door and you could see that he was wrapped in bandages. His force went from wide shock to giving you a small smile.
“It’s nothing too major darling—"
“Nothing too major? You’re covered from the chest down in bandages?! I’m hurt, yes. You would go off and disappear for days! I know you’re not telling me things.” You lowered your head and sat next to his bedside.
“I’m sorry for being in such a disgusting unsightly position right now.” He changed the topic back to his beauty which even hurt you even more. Did he only care about his looks?
“Can you take this seriously for once? Agh, maybe I should leave.” You stood up but Apollo sighed and needed to explain why he was gone for days at a time. However, you spoke up again turning to face him.
“I thought you were seeing someone else! And then I hear this, I— I don’t even know.” You covered your mouth with one hand. Apollo was offended you lacked faith in him. In all honestly, it shocked him. However, it was his fault for not telling you the Titan issue so you wouldn’t worry. Yet, he knew he messed up.
“The Titans broke into heaven and Zeus needed all of us.” He grabbed your hands to stop your shaking. You were immensely scared and your worries wouldn’t stop.
Hey, hey, everything is fine.” Apollo pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. You were starting to feel a bit more at ease. You lowered your head on his chest without trying to hurt him. His arms wrapped around your waist. You were calming down and hoping he would recover from this.
Even the titans may return later but you wanted him to be more truthful. “I’m sorry, I overreacted and thought you would hurt me…” you were feeling bad but Apollo still placed one of his hands to his forehead.
“Hmm, no I have no reason to commit infidelity as you’re the only beautiful woman I need to comfort me.” He was so obsessed with beauty even to the point that only you were the most beautiful gem in his eyes.
Okita
Every time you tried to practice your swings and techniques alone, Okita would always make his comments about how you were almost as bad as Hijikata as a joke. You envy him for being a prodigy and that he was right. Souji was the best swordsman in Kondo’s Shieikan training hall. Nothing hurts more than hearing his negative thoughts about your swordplay.
Hijikata was unbothered by the comments hurled at him for being the worst swordsman, and for some reason, you didn’t want to show how bothered you were. Okita-san liked to play around with them and that was what men did. It was a weakness to show your emotional side. You tried to keep your distance from the demon child. For many years you had known Souji, he was incredibly kind to you but that was up until recently when you wanted to learn how to use a sword.
You asked Saitou and Nagakura to help you, but they still won against you every single time. Yet, they never gave you a ton of criticism like how Souji had. They even said you had the potential to be as good as them. It was only Souji who said even if you trained for a hundred years, you wouldn’t ever be as good as him. Maybe he was right, but you weren’t trying to be as good as him. You wondered what changed? Why was he like this towards you?
Even when Kondo took him in, you were just a kid at the time who was also raised by Kondo’s adoptive father and lived at the Shieikan dojo. You even helped Kondo-san take care of Souji and he became incredibly attached and protective of you two. You had wondered if he had thought of you more than someone who just took care of him when he had no one. His sister abandoned him and you reassured him he wasn’t a monster as others saw him as.
When you saw him talking to Saitou and smiling, you felt a bit sad. Why did he act differently around them compared to you? You missed his nice and caring side. You were bothered but you pushed yourself to move on. As you walked away you saw Kondo in another room. “Everything okay?” he had asked which your mind stopped for a moment. You nodded but said nothing.
“You’ve been acting strange these past few days,” he patted you to sit next to him and you couldn’t help but break down your emotions. You couldn’t hold them in any longer. You told Kondo that it was becoming unbearable to be around Souji.
“I don’t think he means it like that, I think he is worried that you’ll get hurt." Kondo took another sip of his tea. You wondered what he meant by that. Get hurt? After some time talking to the boss of the dojo, you started to understand where Souji was coming from. He never spoke to Kondo about his concerns either since men tend to not show their emotions or like to express themselves.
You decided the comments hurt too much and went back to cleaning the dojo and after them. Your friendship felt worse with Souji now. You decided that whatever you thought there was with him before was completely gone now. You saw Yamanami and Saitou practicing inside and they wanted to help you train but you politely declined.
You saw Souji outside sitting at the cherry blossom tree and that was when you walked over to him to confront him with the way he behaved towards you. “You going to explain yourself?” You were standing in front of him and he didn’t look up at you nor spoke for a moment.
“Huh? What?” He gave you an innocent reaction and it irritated you. It was like a sting to your heart and you were just bothering him at this point.
“Seriously? You’re going to play dumb? Never mind, this was a mistake.” You were about to walk away and go back to cleaning but Souji grabbed your sleeved arm so you wouldn’t leave him. Ever since you helped Kondo take care of him, he was afraid you would leave him one day.
“I’m sorry.” He still wouldn’t let go of your arm.
“Huh?” You sat next to him.
“I’m sorry for the way I treated you.” His lips curled up into a smile. His knees were still up to his chest while you knew he meant it.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to practice swordplay anymore with Saitou or Nagakura-san.” You shrugged.
“Why haven't you asked me?”
“I— I don’t know. I don’t want to bother you with trivial things…” This made you fidget with your long sleeves.
“But you’re fine with bothering Hajime-san?” You understood where he was coming from. He was annoyed you never asked him for help and relied on others. Jealous? You didn’t want to make a joke about him being jealous. It was obvious and it makes sense that he wanted to be the one to train you and even protect you.
“So you would help train me without being a prick this time?” You couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked at you and noticed how flustered you looked.
He nodded, “ya I can do that.” He smiled at you and leaned his body against yours like old times. After all, maybe your friendship could be something else with him.
Note: I really want to write a ton of bs one shots with Cu all of a sudden. Anyway, that’s all for now!
