Saturday, April 26, 2014

A Belphegor Lemon -- Fly Me High, Drag Me Down

Character: Belphegor

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Apparently I'm shit at writing knife-play :'<

Your missions happen to take you around the world.  The farther away, the better.  You like traveling to countries you've never even heard of for one simple fact: it gives you time.  Time to think, to consider the direction that your life has gone in.  Time to reflect upon him.  The no good idiot who somehow managed to make you love him even while you want to take one of those knives of his and shove it down his throat -
"Ushishishi~  Looks like you've gotten hurt again.  Do you like bleeding or something, [Name]?" Belphegor raises an eyebrow.  He watches you grimace, his lips twisting up into a sharp smirk.  He must have woken up from the ruckus you made while coming inside.  You aren't sorry.  Even if Xanxus had woken up you wouldn't be sorry.  You've had a ridiculous amount of trouble finding the target and ending him.  You're tired, wounded, and hungry.  And now you have to deal with the man who won't seem to leave you alone.
"Shut up," you tell him casually, as though you don't care.  You do, but you won't show it.  Your expression is slightly annoyed but mostly a blank canvas, as Bel knows it to be when you're trying your hardest to ignore someone.  Of course this amuses him.  Of course it does, but he doesn't say anything.  He just leans against the threshold of your bedroom door with his arms crossed, watching you like some spoiled royal cat.
You pull your shirt off and throw it onto the floor, glad to be rid of the bloody mess of fabric.  You have little to no modesty and you don't care that Bel is here.  He is in the back of your mind now, along with all the strange emotions and desires that he brings with him.  The pain that blossoms over your shoulder is what you focus on, with minute care.  A moment later, you are carefully unwrapping the hastily placed bandages you'd thrown on earlier.  You wince when the threads stick to the skin and pull at it, flashes of pain bursting like stars in your eyes.  And Belphegor watches, watches.
When the crisp night air catches the wound, it feels better.  You let it breathe and remain sitting, not wanting to get up just yet, cross the room to get more bandages, deal with the man in your doorway.  But to your surprise, Bel is the first one who moves.  You open your eyes when you hear his footsteps sound on the wooden floor, and you curiously watch him take the roll of bandages from your dresser.  When he turns back, his eyes are blown like diamonds glittering in a dark cave, like little hidden secrets waiting to be uncovered.  You stare.
He crosses the room in three long strides and grabs your wrist.  When he deposits the bandages into your hand, you think maybe he'll leave you in peace.  But of course Bel wouldn't leave unless he really wanted to, so it doesn't really surprise you when he just blinks down at you, waiting, watching.
You sigh and roll your eyes, jerking your wrist away from him and trying your best to look annoyed.  He probably sees right through you but you don't care.  You just undo the white fabric and try to wrap it around your shoulder.  But with one hand, it's hard to do and very messy, and you end up cursing heavily and trying to look more angry than embarrassed.  Being this helpless in front of someone like Bel is not exactly something you want to experience.
He chuckles out that strange, 'Shishishi,' laugh of his and takes your wrist again.  Then he slowly unravels the messy bandages and whispers in an oddly low, husky voice, "You're so pathetic, [Name]."  And he chuckles again, sinking onto the bed and hovering over you as he focuses on your shoulder.
You're about to retaliate.  You have a sharp tongue and you don't like being pushed around, especially by him.  But before you can so much as think up a response, you feel something wet and hot spread over your wound.  You gasp out in surprise and try to jerk away but you find that you can't move.  Belphegor has got you locked up, his hands tight chains around your arm and leg.  You close your eyes and grimace as pain shoots through you, trying not to think about how Bel is licking your wound.  His lips drag over the raw skin, and his hot breath makes the pain sear, drowning against you even as you feel the stirrings of desire race through your veins.  It is impossible, impossible to feel desire when you're like this.  But of course it isn't.  This is Bel, after all.  Bel, who always makes you feel two things at once, who always makes you surprised and unsure.  It is ridiculous, amazing.
"W-What are you doing?" you whisper, and curse yourself for the shaky sound of your voice.  Bel chuckles again, this time very, very lightly.  He moves his arm so that it skims over your other leg and then onto the mattress.  The hand on your arm moves to your back, splaying out over your bare skin, tracing the lines of your bra.  His tongue continues to take your breath away, again and again and again.
And then he pulls back suddenly.  He is hovering over your like he owns you, like he belongs there, and all you can do is stare up at him and wonder why he's stopped with his strangely intimate touch.  But then he opens his mouth to whisper and low, startling truth that has you shaking, quivering toward him.  "I can't help myself when you're bleeding," he tells you.  His eyes are flashing and his expression is serious and yet amused, always amused.  There is something hot, like fire, that touches the corners of his eyes and makes them explode.  It is strange and delicious and you swallow thickly and wait, wait, wait for the rest of his words, which hang in the air between you like unanswered wishes. 
Finally, he smirks and leans in.  His mouth grazes over yours, and against your lips he murmurs, "Seeing you bleed makes me want to fuck you hard."  And before you can stop to appreciate the renewed shivers the erupt over your body, his lips are crashing and burning suddenly against yours.  Not even giving you time to take a breath.  Your back hits the mattress and you moan, legs and arms curling around him as you take him closer.  The pain of your shoulder is barely a whisper now, and it ghosts over your passion, looking for a chink in the armor.
It is not the first time Belphegor has kissed you like this.  It isn't even the first time you've spent the night together as lovers.  But it feels like the first time.  When he presses you to the mattress and covers his body over yours.  When that tongue of his burns a path down from your lips to your neck to your chest, fingers easily jerking at your bra.  The emotions that tear through you, the twin desires that shatter against your skin like waves, they make you feel insane and crazy and completely unsure.  But then Bel kisses you again, harshly, angrily, and everything seems to fit back into place.  It's strange, but then again, so is Bel, and so is your relationship with him.  It's strange but also utterly delicious in a way you can't possibly explain.
His hand reaches under your thigh and he heaves it around his waist.  He is rough, as usual, and he doesn't stop to consider your own needs.  But that is okay.  You live in a sort of induced world whenever he's around, where he is in charge of your every move.  In this world, you are able to discover an odd kind of passion that fervently spreads over the atmosphere like wildfire.  It is a passion that only grows from the harsh dominance of Bel's movements, his hands, his kisses that drag over you and drown you, burn you.  It is a feeling like no other, being trapped beneath him.  You desire it just as bizarrely as you loathe it.  But then again, that is the essence of your relationship with Bel.  Love and hate, all mingled up into one tight bundle.
By now, you've all but mastered the imperfect way Bel makes love.  That love and hatred, that gentleness and discomfort.  It goes to your head and makes you feel alive.  You fall back and Bel follows you, pushing needy lips over yours.  His kiss makes your body feel like it is combusting, like chemicals.  You don't realize you feel lost in your waking hours until Bel has got you squeezed between him and a mattress.  And then, in the midst of all that love and hated, you finally feel at ease.  At home.
Bel snickers against your neck and rocks his hips into yours.  The heat and hardness that assaults your lower body makes you moan breathlessly, a short, pitiful sound.  You know Bel likes hearing it because he rewards you with a kiss, a gentler one that skims over your jaw before his mouth swoops back up to yours.  His fingertips are calloused and rough, and every time he touches your bare skin you think you might die from anticipation.  What will those fingers feel like against your core?  How far will he go until you snap, shatter, beg for the rest of him?  Because you will beg.  This is Bel, after all, who likes nothing more than seeing you at your weakest and exploiting you in the most foul, delicious way he can think of.
Your lips tremble.  You so want to tell him to hurry up, to not wait any longer.  You aren't as wet as you should be but you don't care if he hurts you.  The pain will last for a few minutes but then it will disappear, vanish.  But you keep your mouth shut because you know Bel doesn't like being told what to do, and he'll probably prolong it even more if you try. 
"Ushishishi~" he chuckles.  His hot tongue flickers out over your ear and you flinch, trying hard not to moan or give into the intense feelings that have your shivering into him.  He chuckles against at your expression, as though you are the most amusing person he's ever known, and tips his head away to study you closer.  His eyes blink owlishly down at you, as though he is curiously studying an artifact in a museum.  That he thinks of you in such a lowly fashion doesn't even register in your brain.  You don't care, don't care, don't care.  All you could possibly want is pressing down on you now, rubbing tantalizingly over you, boldly peering at you through maliciously passionate eyes.
Belphegor sneers.  Your legs are spread wide open, tucked around his waist, and you're suddenly aware of how slutty you're acting.  The thought goes right to your head and you glare, trying to wrestle your legs away from him.  He doesn't let you.  It isn't very hard to subdue you since you're injured, and Bel always knows the most foul ways of controlling you.  He lightly presses down on your wound but it's enough to make you whine and close your eyes from the intense pain.  All at once you're a shaking mess beneath him and he's chuckling now, laughing that laugh that makes you want to rip his chest open to see if he even has a heart.
"Naughty~" he snickers, nestling himself right back in between your legs.  He circles his hips against yours just a little, rubbing his hardened cock over you and watching your expression turn molten.  "I love it when you fight back.  It makes me want to hurt you~"  he says this almost cheerfully, like it's not totally messed up.  You're about to growl a retort but he doesn't let you.  His mouth is forcing yours back into a deep kiss and his hands are freely touching you, molding against your skin and digging into your clothes and God, it's such a terrible touch but you can't get enough of him.
That subtle shift of love and hate drifts right through you and leaves you gasping, inhaling the scent of his power, which hangs around you like a thick musk.  When his mouth burns back to yours, you grip the front of his shirt and hiss pleasurably against his lips.  Then, when he rolls his hips into yours and forces you to feel him, you think you're lying in some surreal landscape of high color.
"Take that stupid thing off," Bel mutters at you, and nudges the edge of your bra silently.  You toss him a halfhearted glare that only makes him laugh that sickening laugh of him.  But you can't deny him, not now, not when your body has already betrayed you.  So you glare and scowl and huff but you take your bra off anyway, and you're so glad you do because the way Bel immediately touches you has you gasping out in that elusive lurch of pleasure and pain.
His touch is far from gentle.  He leaves you feeling suspended between bodies, like your soul is arching up into the air.  And you gasp and tremble, but you don't try to stop him or the way he touches you.  His hand roughly traps a breast and his mouth descends upon it, all teeth and bites and scraping and pain.  And you're waiting for the blood but it doesn't come, not yet.
"Shishishi," he chuckles against your breast.  His tongue circles your nipple, then he kisses a path across your chest to nip and kiss your other breast.  You blink down at him warily, like he's some sort of feral animal you aren't sure you can trust.  Then, Bel suddenly lifts himself up, rolling his weight onto his arms near your head.  His eyes flicker over your body, eyeing the bandages at your shoulder and the way your legs are tucked around his waist.  Then he smirks that evil devil-like smirk and pushes back onto his heels.  A moment later, he's jerking his shirt over his head and then going for his pants.
The room is dimly light, so it makes the muscles of Bel's chest ripple together with shadows.  You stare at his body, watch the way he shuffles out of his pants fluidly, because he's done this sort of thing many times in the past, with you or someone else.  Then when he's got nothing else to remove, Bel shifts his hands to you and forces your pants down your legs with a couple of firm tugs.  You let him. 
What you don't expect is for him to immediately nestle back against you.  What you don't expect is the cold, icy grip of metal against your skin.  You hadn't even seen him reach for the knife, but suddenly it's in his hand.  You're filled with a strange kind of excitement-fear feeling that makes you feel as though you're drowning in a shallow pond, and you mutter, "Can't you just forgo the knives for once in your life, Bel?"  To which you receive a glower that makes your would-be lover look like some petulant child.
The pout doesn't last, though.  After a moment, Bel chuckles and leans down to kiss you again.  Before your lips meet, he murmurs, "I thought you liked that sort of thing."  And you're about to tell him to go fuck off but then he kisses you, and you can't remember why you'd say something like that when he should just fuck you, instead.
Apparently your both on the same wavelengths as far as the fucking goes.  Bel rolls his hips into yours again, and without the barrier of clothing it feels amazing and utterly satisfying.  But the feeling is immediately drown out when Bel's knife zips across your chest in a shallow cut, just barely deep enough to draw blood.
You hiss in pain, but then his mouth is lowering to the shallow cut and sucking at it.  And even though it should make you feel pain you can only feel pleasure, intense and crawling, like the slow drag of a cigarette beneath stars.  "God…" you moan, tangling your fingers into his hair.  He rolls his hips into yours again and the pleasure doubles, heightens to a frightening extent.  You start to wonder that question you can never figure out during moments like these, which is how being with Bel can be so crudely fulfilling.  But you've got little time to think because you're too busy watching that tongue of his lap up your blood.
The aching reaction of your body to this sight is a little betraying to you.  But it's not really anything new so you just brush it away for now.  You'll come back to this moment later on, to berate yourself for falling into this mess yet again.  But you're sure that you'll continue to fall for him, even as the rest of you repels the thought. 
Bel hums into the cut, rolls his tongue almost painfully against the edge of it, then lifts his head to face you.  He's got red stains around his mouth and you're struck with the crazy desire to kiss them off his skin.  You idle for half a second before deciding that you've already fallen the farthest you could possibly fall.  So you lift yourself onto your elbows and brush your mouth over the corner of Bel's.  And he watches you curiously, kissing you back just a little and enjoying the feel of your tongue brushing against his skin.
"Lay back down," he says after a moment.  You pause, look at his expression, and then do so.  Your arms swing up above your head and you look altogether casual, like laying beneath Bel all bloody and aroused is a completely normal thing to do.  In a way it is.
His hand comes down to stroke his member for a moment, and you watch him with half lidded eyes the burn with anticipation.  Then, when he pushes forward and slowly starts to enter you, your gaze shoots to the ceiling and you just lay there motionless, feeling terribly fulfilled.
These movements, as well, are not gentle.  But then you hadn't expected they would be.  Bel hilts himself into you with a harsh snap of his hips.  He watches the discomfort color your expression and grins a crooked, prideful grin.  Then he starts off at a pace that leaves you hanging between those shades of discomfort, and you can no longer breathe or gasp or moan.
But you can see, and hear, and touch.  You're surprised at how easily you're able to utterly lose yourself in the physical sensations of sex.  You're body is hyper stimulated.  You're aware of things you hadn't been before, like the soft almost-groans that edge along Bel's voice, the way his hands are clenching up the sheets by your head and occasionally brushing against your cheek.  You sigh out and tighten your legs around his waist.  Your hand splays out against the muscles in his back.  You look up into his eyes.
He's not looking at you.  His eyes are glazed and studying the welted red cut that is painted across your upper chest.  After a moment, he seems to realize that you're staring at him and he looks up.  His eyes smolder into yours like the ashy remains of a fire.
He grins, roughly thrusts into you with enough force to lift your hips from the mattress, and soaks up the pained moaned that pushes past your lips.  "Ushishi," he laughs, "does that hurt?"  You think he's the devil masquerading as a human.  Another quick, powerful thrust lurches your hips upward and makes you see stars.  "Mmm…it hurts," you admit, a whine in your voice.  It hurts but for some reason it makes you aroused at the same time.  You've long stopped questioning this defiant action and just accept it.  Accept the diluted fact that you're apparently a masochist, at least when it comes to him.
"But you like it…?" he grumbles into your ear, hovering above you, thrusting faster, harder.  You've likely got bruises forming on your hips but you don't care.  You're flying high and you feel like you're about to come.  All you can do is moan and whine out, "Yeah…I…ah!  I like it…"  And your face burns with embarrassment even as the rest of you sings out in release.
And what a release it is.  You shudder, tremble into the mattress.  Bel pushes you down and watches you come with intuitive, erotic eyes.  He groans a little as you clamp down hard on his shaft, and the look in his eyes makes it obvious that he is moments away from his own release, too.  When it does overpower him, it makes him seem more like an angel instead of a devil.  But the image fades as soon as he has regained himself once more, and the hard sheen on his eyes return to him.
"You came without my permission," is the first thing he says, all raw and ragged because of his orgasm.  You blink up at him and scowl, "Tch.  So did you."  And he raises his eyebrows at you for your impertinence.  But you don't care because the sex is over and Bel is annoying you again, and you don't like that strange mix of love and hate that cascades through you even now, especially since you know for a fact that it's one-sided.
"How naughty of you," Bel mutters, though he doesn't sound angry.  He stares at you for a long moment, then pushes onto his back and tucks his head into his arms.  You roll over to look at him, frowning.
"What are you doing?" you ask, raising yourself up on your elbow.  He usually leaves immediately after, so for him to linger is highly out of character.  But Bel merely scoffs and closes his eyes.  He mutters, "The Prince is trying to sleep, wench."  And you gape at him because sleeping together is one thing, but sleeping together is quite another.
When you don't do anything, Bel sighs in annoyance, opens his eyes, and glowers at you.  He grabs your shoulder and drags you down, mutters something about 'unruly subjects', and closes his eyes once more.  And all you can do is stare and try not to admit to the giddy feelings that rise unbidden in your slashed, scarred chest.



  1. I think you're pretty swell at writing knife-play, tbh

  2. This is one of my favorites XD you should write a Ken one

  3. Gosh, simply wonderful!!!

  4. Okay so I've been following this blog for a solid year and a half to two years now, and I absolutely adore everything you write. It's honestly some of the best work I've ever read.

    So I have a fun story. I actually remember when this story was new, and even though I'd never read Katekyo Hitman Reborn, I decided to check it out. And oh my gosh, it was wonderful. So much so, that I ended up reading what KHR was about. Then I checked Belphegor's wiki page. Then I watched a random episode with him in it, so I could hear his laugh and see what you were talking about. (It was the one during the Varia Arc, where Belphegor and Gokudera fought) I decided I liked it, so I gave the series a shot. I have now seen all 203 episodes, and have read all 409 chapters. (I ended up starting and finishing it last summer) I have invested many, many hours of my life into the series. I am completely in love with it. It makes me so, so happy and I love the characters, the action, and most of the plot. It's my second favorite manga that I've ever read, and my favorite anime.

    And I'm not sure if it's weird or anything, but I just wanted to thank you. The series means a lot to me, and I never would have gotten into it if you hadn't written this. So thank you very much. I really appreciate that you keep writing for everyone.

    Also! You can now brag that your writing is so good that if convinced someone to spend an entire summer reading and watching the source material. I'm not sure how many people can say that.

    Anyway, sorry that this is so long and random, I just wanted you to know, I guess. Anyway, I hope you have a lovely day! Thanks again!

    1. :)

      This comment absolutely made my day. Thank you so much :D I can't believe I actually got you interested in Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Isn't it an epic anime?? It's probably my favorite after D. Gray-Man. I'm so glad you like my writing, it means the world to me. Thank you again for all your lovely words and I hope you keep reading! <3