🔞 make me feel (like you're still) alive - belphegor x reader
has ;
DUBCON, (not intentional), (belphie agrees to do something he doesn't want to do), Asphyxiation, Choking, Crying, (but not dacryphilia), Ruined Orgasm, (but also not in the sexy way), Angst, Hurt Not Much Comfort, Guilt, Disassociation
notes;
seriously please heed my tags above on this one. I did my best to warn appropriately but please lmk if I need to add anything. ❗minors DNI!❗
His reaction wasn't what you expected.
"No." The harshness to his words, the firm set of his jaw - there was no arguing with his decision.
"Aww, why not?" You pouted, tilting your head and sticking out your bottom lip in what you hoped was a cute display. "Don't you want to make me feel good?"
"Not like that." You pouted again, harder, and Belphegor avoided your gaze. Everybody knew the brothers had a soft spot for you, and you knew just how to use it.
"Please?" You asked one more time. "If you don't like it, you can stop immediately. But who knows? Maybe it'll be fun."
Belphegor knew. He knew it would not be fun, not for him. He had his hands around your neck once, and the sickening crack of your neck still haunted his dreams at night. Yet here you were, begging him to do it again, thinking he could derive some sort of sick pleasure from it.
But it seemed that you could, and you wanted him to put his hands around your neck once more. Didn't he owe you that, after all, for killing you once?
"Okay," he conceded. "But...we have to go over the safety rules, and you have to swear you'll use them."
"Of course!" You answered, immediately shrugging the jacket off your shoulders. Belphegor chuckled nervously, reaching out to grab your wrist with the utmost care. He could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips - unsure if the thought was comforting or terrifying, Belphie pushed it out of his mind.
"You're rather eager," he commented, reaching up to undo the buttons on your shirt. Certainly his imagination was running wild, because the moment your chest was exposed Belphegor swore he could hear your heartbeat pounding in his ears. Like predator and prey, a dark part of him mused. He had to fight the grimace.
"Of course I am. I'm always happy to be with you." Belpehgor felt like he was going to be sick, yet he kissed you anyways.
When you were completely exposed beneath him, Belphegor put one hand around your neck experimentally. Your head pressed deep into the pillow - the gasp he drew from you should've been sweet, but it dripped like sour lemon. He squeezed a little tighter, nowhere near hard enough to actually do anything for you. You smiled at him.
"Come on, I can take it," You encouraged, your voice only a little strained. Belphegor gritted his teeth and constricted his grip, watching as emotionless as he could while you struggled against his hands. Most of his efforts went into reminding himself that this was controlled, that he could stop at any time. You brought one hand up and wrapped around it around his own wrist. Your hand were warm, your nails were sharp. You could claw at him if you needed, right?
Belphegor let go before you told him to, watching in relief as your chest rose and fell. He could hear your deep breathing plainly and fought the urge to put his head on your chest. You looked absolutely euphoric, and he hadn't even done much to you yet. Belphegor wished he could enjoy it.
You asked him if he was ready, and he was not. Still, he let you guide his movements, leading him gently into what you wanted him to do until he could tell that he was inside of you. He couldn't quite feel it, his body gone too numb for that, but you were making it clear in your own ways. Belphegor tested out the roll of his hips, not wanting to hurt you when he felt so disconnected from his body. You hummed your enjoyment, then, with that sickly sweet smile, asked him to do the unthinkable.
His hand didn't shake when he put it around your throat, but his heart quickened all the same when he closed of your windpipe. You let out a few choked noises, and Belphegor furrowed his brows. He just wanted to hear you say the word. He wanted to let you go.
When you finally did, he visibly relaxed and pressed kisses to your collarbone. Your chest was rising. Your chest was falling. Rise, fall, rise, fall. You were alive. You were alright.
You asked him to do it again, and Belphegor could never really say no to you.
He could feel your pulse quicken the longer he gripped your neck. Your strangled moans grated on his ears, all but forcing him to back away from you. Belphegor wanted to be close to you, impossibly so - is this what he deserved? To be reminded of his mistakes so cruelly when all he wanted was to love and be loved by you? He knew there was no malice here, no blame, that this was love; but why did it have to hurt so bad? Why did he have to curse the both of you to tear the other apart just so you could kiss the scars you left?
There was a feeling pooling in his gut, but it wasn't the one he wanted. No, this one was sharper, heavier, and threatened to swallow him whole like a persistent shadow. Guilt swam through his veins, fear clawed at his heart, and his hand clenched tighter. You choked at the force, and he did too, barely holding back a sob as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Belphegor wanted to scream, to beg you to say the word, to come back to him, and maybe he did because a moment later you have him permission to release his hold on you.
The moment you took your first gulp of air, Belphie could feel you tighten around him, as if your entire body was reminding him that you were alive. You came; he did not, but he was too preoccupied with other thoughts to care much about that. Not minding the mess, Belphegor slowly sank down until his forehead was resting on your bare shoulder trembling despite his best efforts not to. After a moment, your breaths evened out with only the slightest rasp to them, and your fingers carded carefully through his hair. That was when Belphegor gave in and put all his weight on you.
"I didn't like that," He finally murmured into your skin, arms wrapping around you tightly. You had the sinking feeling that you severely misread his previous refusal, and your hand stilled.
"Belphie..." You trailed off, trying to ignore the way your own voice quivered. "Belphie, I didn't- I'm so sorry-"
"Stop." He had spent enough time feeling sorry for himself, feeling sorry towards you, feeling sorry for you. There was no need to go down a path well traveled by him. "It's okay. I just didn't like it."
Betraying his words, he held you tighter still and nuzzled into your neck. Here, in the bed you shared, as closely intertwined with you as he could bare to get, with your sweat still sticking to your skin, you were the most alive. There wasn't a single place that didn't smell like you. He could hear your heart pumping, feel the warmth of your flushed skin, hear the blood rushing through your veins. You were OK.
"How can I..." Your sentence fell off as you realized you didn't know what to say. How could you make it up to him? What could you possibly do to fix this?
"Don't leave me," Belphie pleaded. You weren't sure if he meant just now, or if he was actually concerned about you dying in his arms at any moment. His tone was too breathy, too desperate for you to dare to ask. "Stay with me, please."