Chapter Text
It had been a long time since Asta left the village of Hage, heading toward the capital of the kingdom with the dream of becoming a Magic Knight. Alongside Yuno, his adoptive brother and eternal rival for the title of Wizard King, Asta had taken the first step toward his goal by joining one of the Clover Kingdom's Magic Knight squads: the Black Bulls.
There he was, Asta, in his room at the Black Bulls' headquarters, holding in his left hand a photo frame with a picture taken several years ago, sometime after he had joined the squad along with Noelle and the rest of the members.
Asta felt nostalgic, lying on his bed after a long battle. To think that back then, he didn’t even know anyone from his squad—people he would now do anything to protect. Just a few days ago, all of the Clover Kingdom's squads had launched an assault on the Dark Triad's base to rescue Captain Yami and Captain Vangeance, who had been kidnapped by the villains. After the rescue mission, they were finally able to enjoy the peace of a new day, relieved that the threat from the Spade Kingdom had ended without any casualties on the heroes’ side.
Well, at least Asta felt that way, even though he had lost his right arm in the battle—because in return, he had gained a new companion: the devil who had been trapped inside his grimoire, Liebe.
“Hey, Liebe, are you awake?” Asta asked, giving a friendly punch to his right shoulder, now completely blackened by his friend's magic.
“Huh? Yeah, what is it?” grumbled a raspy voice in Asta’s head.
“It’s been a long time since we joined the Black Bulls, don’t you think?” the boy said wistfully. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“I guess,” Liebe replied after a few seconds of silence. “How’s your arm? Sorry it’s like that now.”
“Oh, this?” Asta said, flexing his bicep. “Ah, don’t worry about it! Mimosa and Vanessa-neesan told me they’re looking into how to restore it to normal, but I don’t really mind. I think I’ll buy a glove or something to cover the whole arm. That way, it won’t freak out the civilians.”
“Yeah, covering it will definitely be enough,” Liebe replied sarcastically.
Asta had already grown used to the hustle and bustle of the capital, but even so, the central market was on another level, with people constantly coming and going. As they passed by various shops, people kept staring at the Magic Knight, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of his conspicuous black arm or simply because he was a Magic Knight.
“So, what exactly are we looking for at the market, Asta?” asked Finral, who had accompanied his companion on this shopping trip.
The boy pulled a scroll with the shopping list from his pocket and made sure not to forget anything:
“We need to buy supplies for Charmy, a… strange plant for Gordon-senpai, more wine for Vanessa-neesan, and something to cover my arm.”
“You’re going to cover it?” asked Finral, a smile forming on his face that revealed a hint of relief.
“Huh? Yeah, why?”
“Well… we felt bad telling you, but I think it’s something you should know,” said Finral, a bit evasively. “It’s normal that you don’t feel it since you don’t have magic, but that arm of yours gives off a rather strange aura.”
“What?! I had no idea!” Asta exclaimed in surprise.
Asta could tell Finral felt awkward and a little guilty, as if he had spoiled a surprise birthday party.
“The thing is, we didn’t want to say anything,” he added. “We know it was a sacrifice for the captain, and we should all see it as a noble war wound. And don’t get me wrong, we do see it that way,” Finral quickly added, “it’s just that… it makes people a bit uneasy to be around it.”
“I think I understand…” said Asta, a bit downcast. “Sorry, I didn’t know I was making you all uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay, Asta, don’t worry,” said Finral, comforting the young warrior by placing a hand on his right shoulder. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad, but so you’d be aware. I’m sure that sooner or later, we’ll find a solution for it.”
The Black Bulls’ base had been restless for some time now. Nothing had been the same since the mission to rescue Captain Yami—but it wasn’t because of that or the wounds that still needed to heal. No, it was due to something much more foolish and far less important: Asta.
Magna was in a terrible mood, pacing back and forth on the base’s ground floor, in the lounge. He might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed most of the time, but there was something he, and seemingly only he, wasn’t missing.
All the men in the Black Bulls squad had been acting really strange around Asta, and Magna was sure of it—because he felt the same urges himself. It had been years since he last saw Asta, ever since he left for the Heart Kingdom to train with the queen. When he saw him again for the first time, he was shocked by how much his friend had grown—there was nothing small about him anymore. That muscular back, that sincere smile that could melt even ice magic, that sensual scent he carried… it was as if the boy was no longer the same, and standing in front of him made the fire mage’s body heat spike like never before.
As the days passed, he realized he wasn’t the only one affected: Luck would get very close to Asta and never even asked to fight him anymore, Finral practically harassed him with all kinds of tasks just to make those sexy muscles stand out, and Captain Yami trained with him constantly, never missing a chance to grope those sexy arms, those dreamlike pecs, or those incredible abs. And everyone seemed to focus (Magna didn’t know if they did it consciously or not) excessively on that sexy, muscular black arm.
Magna felt incredibly frustrated, because he seemed to be the only soul in this damned place who wasn’t taking advantage of Asta’s innocence to drool behind his back. Because he did drool behind his back—but he didn’t take advantage of the boy, quite the opposite. The Magic Knight couldn’t get out of his head what had happened a couple of days ago. While he was in the steam sauna trying to forget everything about the problem, Asta had entered and the room was suddenly filled with an intense and strange scent. It was as if only Asta gave off a smell that strong—like a locker room full of sweaty athletes changing—and that made Magna, and everyone else who caught a whiff of it, go wild.
Thinking back on it, Magna couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care that he was in the lounge; his pants were way too tight. So, like all the other men in the Black Bulls that day, he laid down wherever he could, pulled down his pants, freeing his confined erection, and began to pleasure himself while moaning Asta’s name and reliving their sexual encounter.
An hour later, Asta was carrying bags full of all sorts of things while Finral was enjoying the sight of his kohai being so sexy under the weight, sweat dripping down his body, glistening in the sunlight. Definitely, Finral relished the view, and Asta’s incredible scent only made things better.
“Are we missing anything from the list, Finral-senpai?” Asta asked, not seeming very tired despite all the weight he carried.
“Eh? Ah, sorry! I got distracted,” Finral stammered, checking the list Asta had given him. “I think we’ve got everything.”
“Great, then all that's left is protection for my arm!” Asta exclaimed. “I know an armorer’s shop where I swear I saw arm guards.”
“Hey, Asta. Have you thought about not covering it?” Finral blurted out.
“Huh? But you told me it was bothering others and that I should cover it.”
“Well, maybe bother was too strong a word,” Finral mumbled, eyes locked on that beautiful, muscular arm. For some reason, the idea of covering it suddenly felt like a real shame. “Would you let me examine it for a moment?”
“Again?” Asta thought, surprised. “This is the third time today you’ve inspected it.”
“One can never be too sure without a third opinion,” Finral drooled, extremely nervous.
He noticed that the closer he got to Asta, the stronger that tempting scent became.
“No, I think it’s better if you don’t,” the boy replied, a bit uncomfortable. “You’re acting weird, Finral-senpai.”
“Weird? Me?” Finral sputtered, desperately trying to hide the impulses he felt toward his kohai. “Maybe you’re right. Must be the sun… I feel a bit dizzy.”
“I see…” Asta said, relieved by the answer but still suspicious of Finral’s behavior. “Are you okay? Do you need me to take you somewhere?”
“Ahh… I don’t think I can walk well. Maybe you could help me walk.”
“Of course! Lean on my shoulder!” Asta exclaimed, shifting all the bags to his black arm to free up space for Finral.
“Couldn’t I… maybe hold on to your other shoulder?” Finral asked with a foolish smile. He wanted to touch that arm.
“No, I think it’s better if you don’t.”
After several minutes of helping Finral, Asta became more aware of his surroundings. People were definitely staring (no surprise, given he was carrying dozens of bags and Finral himself), but he noticed that the men they passed seemed to sniff the air, like they were picking up a scent he couldn’t detect. In one of those moments, Asta noticed Finral leaning forward, sniffing deeply.
“Finral-senpai!”
“Huh?! W-What’s wrong?” the mage exclaimed.
“Were you sniffing my armpit ?!” Asta shouted.
“N-no!” Finral hurriedly replied, turning red as a tomato.
Asta pulled away from him and stepped a meter back from his companion. He was definitely acting strange. What was wrong with people? Did he really smell that bad after training?
“Young men, young men, don’t fight,” said a man from one of the stalls in the market.
“No sir, you’re mistaken. My partner and I weren’t fighting, right Asta?” Finral jumped in quickly, hiding his blush poorly.
“Right… we weren’t fighting, don’t worry,” Asta responded, suspiciously eyeing Finral.
“Well, don’t be alarmed, my friends. Tell me, are you Magic Knights?” the man asked.
“Yes, we are. Why do you ask?” Asta replied.
“I saw your matching outfits and guessed. My name is Johanes, by the way, pleased to meet you,” the man said, extending his hand to Asta.
“I’m Asta, and this is my senpai, Finral.”
“Hello,” greeted the Magic Knight.
Johanes reminded Asta somewhat of Captain Yami. His hair was black and looked like he didn’t put much effort into grooming, as was his beard, which seemed a few weeks old. He wore humble clothes, like any commoner, and smoked a large cigar that gave off a familiar scent to Asta.
“Oh, I see you have a rather special arm,” Johanes commented as he shook Asta’s hand.
Quickly, the boy noticed another man staring curiously and made a swift movement to hide his arm behind his back.
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Johanes, raising his hands. “I say it because I’ve met people with something like yours.”
“Really?” Asta asked, perplexed. “I was looking for something to cover it.”
“Cover it? That won’t help much, kid,” the man said. “Usually, something like that portends bad luck. Covering it might serve as a placebo, but it won’t actually do anything. What you need is to control it, and reduce it using other methods.”
“Is that possible, Mr. Johanes?!” Asta exclaimed. At hearing this, Finral looked a bit disappointed.
“Of course. Imagine it’s like… say, a wound. Covering it doesn’t do much. You need to heal it, and gradually it heals on its own. Luckily, I have a solution right here.”
Johanes stepped into his shop for a moment to check the chest where he stored his merchandise and returned with a box of cigars like the one he was smoking.
“Cigars?”
“Yes, though these are special. They’re made from a series of moguro leaves that help accelerate metabolism and thus heal your arm faster.”
“Oh! Moguro leaves?! I’ve drunk tons of moguro leaf juice to build muscle!” Asta exclaimed, excited.
“Yes, I can see that,” said Johanes, appraising the handsome specimen before him. “Try them for a week. If they don’t work, I’ll refund your money, and if they do, you can always come back for more. I’ll give you the whole box for 100 coins.
Asta’s eyes lit up when he heard that. He knew how effective those leaves were, even if they tasted horrible—maybe not the same when smoked. After all, he’d never smoked before, but Captain Yami had plenty of experience, and he guessed Magna did too, so he could always ask for advice.
“And also, only if you want, for an additional fifty coins I can give you this leather guard that will fit your arm like a glove.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Johanes!” Asta said, pulling out a leather pouch containing all his savings and bought the entire box. “Finral-senpai! Let’s head back to the base! I can’t wait to try this!”
“Okay…,” Finral replied, unable to hide his disappointment at the thought that Asta’s magnificent scent might soon be gone.
Asta had had a very strange day. When he returned to the Black Bulls headquarters, he ran into Charmy and Vanessa. Apparently, they hadn't seen any men all day, and when they went to investigate what had happened, they realized everyone was in their rooms.
"According to Magna, he was 'sleeping,' but I'm no fool," Vanessa commented.
The boy didn't know why they were so secretive. After Finral's strange behavior, Asta tried to keep his distance, even if it was just for today, because something strange was definitely happening to him.
Night finally fell, and the base remained as quiet as it had been all day. Asta was exhausted, which also surprised him. He usually had sky-high energy, but that wasn't what bothered him; what made him feel this way was the fact that there was no one by his side to vent all that energy on. He felt so frustrated...
"Ugh! It's all because of this arm," he exclaimed, resigned. Liebe? Liebe, are you there?
There was no response to the knock Asta gave himself on his black shoulder. That gave him an idea. Like a criminal, Asta looked around the stone room and, trying not to make any sudden movements so as not to wake Liebe, went to the door and bolted the lock.
"I don't know if I have much time for this," Asta said to himself as he lay down on his bed and opened the box Johanes had sold him. There was at least a ten-day supply of cigars. "Although the truth is... I'm really horny..."
Asta thought for a moment about what he should do. It was true that it had been quite some time since he had paid attention to his needs. During his training in the Heart Kingdom, he had virtually no privacy, and he devoted himself to training with great consistency. And then, when he met Liebe, he felt like he couldn't get a minute alone, and although Liebe didn't care what he did, Asta refused to do anything with the devil watching. Now that he was finally alone, locked within the four walls of his room, he could enjoy pleasuring himself for a change.
He didn't have much time to act, so he had to take advantage of every moment of privacy he had. So he went to his desk and grabbed the box of cigars and a small box of matches he had left beside it. Asta never had too many clothes on, so it was practically effortless for him to unbuckle his belt and let his pants fall to the floor.
Asta felt very sexy that night. He bit his lower lip in excitement and flexed his biceps as he observed how much they had grown over the past few months. He felt strong, powerful, and he liked the feeling. Maybe if he smoked, he'd feel stronger; after all, Captain Yami smoked all the time, and he was a role model for young Asta. He knew these things were addictive (at least that's what everyone told him), but the more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea of lighting one of the cigars and experiencing what it felt like became. Again, he thought, "If Captain Yami did it, then it must be great."
Enjoying the delay, Asta opened the matchbox and struck one with the distinctive click of friction against sandpaper. His heart was pounding because deep down, he had the feeling that what he did next would be of great importance from now on.
Asta swallowed and lit the cigar.
The boy took his time making sure the flame wasn't extinguished before blowing out the match. Asta looked at the smoke coming out of the cigar and saw that it wasn't normal, but rather a violet color that caught his attention. At first, he was suspicious and thought that perhaps it wasn't a good idea to give in to the impulses he was feeling and that he should put out the cigar. However, subtly, the cigar smoke filled Asta's room and entered his lungs through his nose, clouding his mind.
That cigar smelled so good... surely there was nothing wrong with trying it. Driven by a feeling of lust like he'd never felt before, Asta finally brought the cigar to his lips and inhaled the purple smoke.
The smoke filled his mouth and left a lingering, peculiar, sensual, and addictive flavor when Asta exhaled. When he did, he felt all his worries disappear, and a tickling sensation on the roof of his mouth intensified. Asta smiled foolishly at the new experience that clouded his judgment and inhaled another deep lungful of smoke, exhaling again and allowing the nicotine to affect his brain, making the tingling sensation intensify and his hard cock begin to spurt.
Asta hadn't been able to shower that day, and the scent of sweat that had accumulated under the sunny day at the market appeared before him as if he hadn't seen it coming. Asta was surprised that he had noticed his scent at that very moment. Curiously and tentatively, he raised his right arm (his black arm) and tried to sniff the scent coming from his shaved armpit.
"Oh, god! I reek like I haven't showered in a week!" the boy exclaimed. Maybe he should take a shower before bed.
But his own member betrayed him. Asta looked down; it was rock hard and throbbing. Hesitantly, he slowly moved his hand to his crotch until his palm brushed against his juicy cock, which made him moan, making his legs buckle, and falling to his knees on the cold stone floor. He stared at his penis with wide eyes, as if he had just discovered something wonderful.
Without thinking, Asta inhaled the purple smoke again, and by the time he realized it, he had already dropped ash onto his sheets since he didn’t have an ashtray nearby.
“Shit, shit!” the boy exclaimed when he noticed some of the ash falling onto him. But for some reason, he didn’t care— in fact, he liked feeling the stinging sensation of the hot ash on his abdomen.
It was the stimulus he needed for the tip of his urethra to start leaking even more. He hadn’t known until now, but the demonic part inside Asta was a bit sadomasochistic, and the boy couldn’t help but let out a moan that seemed to come from deep within his throat as a reddish gleam took over his eyes.
“Ahh! Ahhh! Yes, don’t stop!” a voice inside Asta screamed.
It seemed his right hand was moving on its own. The boy began to sweat more from the tension of the moment, and with every second his hand got closer to his juicy cock, he kept taking drags from the cigar until he finally grabbed it and began pumping it up and down.
The sensation of pleasure that the massive cigar brought him (completely ignoring the ash falling onto his chest) was accompanied by a moan that escaped from deep inside Asta, a moan so loud that surely everyone in the base heard it.
When a green gleam returned to Asta’s eyes and he came back to himself, he found that he had already finished and tossed the first cigar, and by the look of the cooled ash, it seemed it had been a while. However, it took him longer to notice his hand’s movement, still practically glued to his now wet and rigid shaft.
“Huh? How long…?”
Asta realized that his mouth was dry, that speaking was difficult. He looked at the clock on his bedroom desk and… it couldn’t be. There was no way he’d been masturbating for eight hours! The first rays of sunlight were starting to come through the window. No, it couldn’t be!
Asta tried to get out of bed, and when he put a foot on the floor he stepped on something: the ashes of a cigar on the ground. But there wasn’t just one—there were many. Asta quickly got up and went to look at the box he had bought from the merchant and saw that it was completely empty.
“What!? There’s no way I finished them already! No way, Asta; think! What the hell happened to you these past eight hours?”
The birds were already starting to sing with the first rays of the sun. No, no! Asta needed to sleep. He was supposed to have been sleeping, not enjoying his dripping dick, that tempting forbidden pleasure that kept throbbing in his crotch.
Slowly, Asta looked back down at his shaft and a look of panic twisted his face when he saw that his cock had grown several centimeters and was much thicker. It was throbbing and dripping, calling to him. He knew he hadn’t cum all night, despite not remembering anything, and he could feel his balls fuller than ever. Asta freaked out even more when he noticed that the corruption in his right arm seemed to have worsened instead of improved—at least until that red gleam returned to the boy’s eyes and his blackened hand found its way back to the base of his dick to jerk off again.
“AGHHHH! That feels so good!” said the red-eyed boy with a wicked smile on his face. “In the end, I think it’s a good idea to leave him on the edge, so he gets even more lost. Asta, soon I’ll make you completely addicted to me.”
Liebe, thanks to that purple smoke, now had control of Asta’s body—at least while the boy’s body stayed aroused. He’d just confirmed that as soon as the level of sexual tension and desire dropped, Asta regained control. Lucky for him, he’d kept the body on the edge for so many hours, just in case.
“Though I must admit it’s a waste. I need to empty these balls. Sorry, Asta, but it doesn’t look like you’re going to enjoy the pleasure of releasing a load that’s been building up for eight hours.”
With a leap, Liebe got back onto the bed and, without waiting another moment, grabbed the last cigar he’d hidden under the pillow. His demonic arm was strong enough that when he snapped his fingers hard enough, sparks flew—perfect for lighting a devil’s herb cigar just by bringing it close to his thumb.
Without further delay, he grabbed Asta’s cock with his black hand and started jerking it off again, faster and harder than before. The pressure at the base of his dick grew stronger and stronger, and his moans were loud, uncensored. Liebe was sure Asta was in for a very amusing situation when everyone in the base asked him the next day why he’d been screaming all night.
The more the boy in Asta’s body moaned, the greater the pleasure, the more his legs trembled, and the louder the sound of his hand slapping against his pelvis grew.
“AGHH! FUCK YEAHHHHHH!”
Putting his hands behind his head, moving only his hips, Liebe came, shooting spurt after spurt of cum through Asta’s cock, which grew bigger with every jet of human milk that left his body, becoming even thicker and more swollen until it was a 19-centimeter masterpiece.
With his tongue out and exhausted after that night of stolen pleasure, the red gleam faded from the boy’s eyes, returning Asta’s natural green color. But the boy was too tired to do anything, too spent to even clean up or move a muscle. He fell asleep instantly, completely ignoring the fact that Liebe had had the audacity to leave a note next to the empty cigar box that read: “Buy more, bitch.”