when heaven and hell meet

twenty seven

* Before we begin, I wanted to say that mental health is extremely important! If you are ever feeling sad, distraught, or having harmful thoughts, please reach out and talk to people, or call your local hotlines! I love you all so so much ♥️

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Luci

♫: comfort crowd- conan gray

♫: all the good girls go to hell-billie eilish

Sex was not a coping mechanism.

But would you rather have your thoughts racing a million times a second, or Saint Jones in between your thighs making you forget your name?

Personally, I'd choose the latter... I most definitely did anyway.

I was just sick of my thoughts. As I looked into the mirror in front of us, I couldn't even recognize myself. I barely had friends any more. Hell, I'd had sex with a guy who had been my worst enemy since the first year of high school.

My mood was becoming extremely unpredictable. I didn't know whether I wanted to cry again or burn every object in Saint's house. It was a numbing feeling. I was lacking control, especially when everyone else was making decisions for me.

I just wish someone would ask me what I wanted...

I felt terrible using Saint like this. Kate hadn't been completely wrong.

A part of me was still considering the plan.

I mean why was I allowed to be traumatized but not him? It just infuriated me how I was the one who had to suffer for so long. I just wanted the tiniest bit of revenge that I believed I deserved. Just to see him suffer a little bit. To see him doubt himself and his actions. I wanted him to break like he had broken me.

I wanted to see Saint cry.

I think he likes me. Which means 50% of Khalil's plan is complete.

I mean that bit was obvious, but sometimes it felt like too much at once. Every time he called me angel, my heart would flutter but my brain would overanalyze it and make me feel weird.

Obviously, I wasn't an angel, so my brain assumed Saint was trying to derive and change who I truly was by referring to me as an "angel". Like he wasn't truly ever going to accept the demon part of me.

I'm sick in the head. He's been trying so hard to earn my forgiveness. Why can't I just trust him completely?

I didn't feel like myself anymore. This last month had turned the world I knew completely upside down. There was something seriously wrong with me, but I didn't know what it was. Maybe if I had stayed dead when Japheth hit me, I might've been happier than I was now.

My thoughts were scrambled when I felt Saint lick a long stripe on my slit. He was too good at these kinds of things. I knew he had a lot of practice, and I grimaced when I realized I didn't even know how much practice he'd had.

He buried his face between my thighs and carefully spread them further apart. They were still sore but the pain was overtaken by the immense pleasure he was creating.

It was as if he was spelling out an apology with his tongue. I threw my head back when I felt him circle around my clit. Instinctively, I grabbed his hair and tried to push him away. I heard Saint growl and push my folds apart so his tongue could thrust deeper inside of me.

"Fuck, Saint," I moaned.

He quickly came back up and placed a quick kiss on my lips. Before he went back down, he placed a finger to his lips in hopes to make me quieter. He pushed my chest down onto the bed and pulled my legs closer to his face. My legs closed in defense, and he forcefully spread them open again.