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#satan x you
dollwrites · 5 months
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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!human!reader, from behind, rough sex, use of sex toys ( cockrings ), don’t ever wear or allow someone to wear a ring for longer than 30 minutes pls, noncon ( reader asks to stop, satan doesn’t ), all characters featured are aged 18+
𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3
𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹’𝘀 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ poll winner [ satan + cockrings ]
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this had been a terrible idea.
but you’d only started to realize it now, when Satan wouldn’t slow down or ease up. it was the same, loud PLAP, PLAP, PLAP! over and over. heavy balls slapping against your swollen clit as he fucks you relentlessly.
“I— need—“ you were panting, trying to clench your fists, but the devil king had a tight grip on both of your elbows, keeping your arms jerked back towards him, using them like levers to wrench your body back into his rough thrusting of hips. “B—break!!”
a low growl vibrates from deep within his chest, the muscles in his arms tightening, veins bulging. he holds you in a vice as soon as you utter the word, as if solidifying the fact that he’s not going to let you go anywhere until he’s done. “Not so fast, hng, you’re the one that wanted me to wear this fucking thing in the first place, weren’t you?”
it was almost a taunt.
but it was the truth. you’d talked him into securing the tight, shiny gold ring around the thick base of his cock. watching in awe when he hissed through his teeth as the sensation of being forced to stay hard, even when he wanted so desperately to cum. the pressure of the ring, squeezing him, didn’t allow him to.
and this was your punishment for denying him.
“And now you’re bitching about it?”
your eyes cross as his pounding seems to find a new speed and velocity, and you choke out a pleading cry. “It’s b—been hours—! You can take it o—off!!”
Satan chuckles, and releases your arms. “Oh, no, I don’t think so.” he grunts, watching you collapse forward against the bed and slump into the mattress, but the second you reach your arms forward, as if to pull yourself out from under him, he presses all of his weight down on your back, his knees jabbing into the backs of yours, pinning you in place and keeping your trembling legs spread open so you have nowhere to go. you feel the solid ring like a hard bumper, hitting your cunt as he buries himself as deep as he could possibly go. “You see, I like this. Tenderizing your poor, little pussy. Making sure you walk funny after this. And now that I can do it for hours with this little toy of yours?” a raspy, breathy chuckle tickles the shell of your ear that you can hear even your own, loud cries that it’s too much, before he nips at your lobe roughly with his teeth. “I’m not done yet. Not even close,” he hisses the threat through grit teeth, his pace settling back into the usual quick-fire pounding that turns your mind to mush. his moans and growls that would usually lead to his climax hypnotizes you, and before long your whimpers of protest had melted back into moans for him to keep going. to fuck you stupid and break your fragile, human body with his cock. “That’s more like it,” he groans, grasping your hips to hold you down so he could plow, “I’m fucking you senseless, little girl. Gonna break ya, and it’s all your fault for showing me this handy, little toy.”
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leviathans-watching · 8 months
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seeing you shirtless pt 2
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includes: levi, satan, diavolo, solomon x/& gn!reader (no pronouns/body type mentioned/described)
wc: .4k | rated t | m.list | pt 1
a/n: this is for @high-tech-heathen, who wanted satan's reaction! my inbox is open to chat, req, or leave feedback, so come say hi!
warnings: minorly suggestive (thirsty chars)
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➳ levi blushes wildly, looking everywhere but at you. he manages to not mention it, stuttering and struggling through his question as his cheeks grow redder and redder. he can barely think. the person he likes–the only 3D person he likes!–is standing in front of him like something out of a–no, nevermind, he’s not going there–and he just doesn’t know what to do! unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, for him, you pick up on his nerves and decide to make it your mission to tease him more. as you grow closer, levi wonders if he’s going to go to an early grave.
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➳ satan raises his eyebrows, shutting his book softly. “is it hot in here?” he asks innocently, and you nod. he nods too, drinking you in as you go back to your own tasks, unaware of his gaze, and wonders what the merits of stealing you away all for himself would be. probably more trouble than it’s worth, he decides, then immediately takes back that decision when you finally notice him staring and give him a warm smile, cocking your head inquisitively.
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➳ diavolo wastes no time, stripping out of his own shirt. you laugh at his antics while he flexes overtly, making sure to show off all of his good angles as he reaches over to help you. you don’t need the help, but that’s not going to stop him, especially when it allows him to lean in close, starting deep into your eyes. you continue to laugh, but he’s not oblivious to the hitching in your breath, the way your eyes track the ripples in his muscles, and pride swells inside his chest as he ‘accidentally’ brushes his hand across your arm, making your cheeks heat.
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➳ solomon is at full attention, swallowing hard as you move around the room. he can only be grateful that you’re with him, and not the demon brothers, as there’s no doubt that they’d swallow you up. not that he’s planning to do any different, but hey, at least now he’s got the first chance before they can swoop in and steal you away like they always manage to. but unfortunately for him, you’re oblivious to his attention, and carry right on with your chores, leaving the room before he has a chance to enact any of his plans.
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leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own
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osachiyo · 8 months
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☆ I'd love me a man who.......who'd be fucking brutal in the sheets. Pinning you down by your wrists or shoving your face down and ass up, manhandling you into any position he desires to fuck you stupid on his length. He'd snarl at the way you struggle to keep up with him, calling you a dumb slut who's only good for taking his cock. The most embarrassing part is, he'd make you say it right back to him.
"Say what you are, little slut. Say the only thing you're good for is taking my cock in that cute cunt of yours, say it." He'd grin maniacally, laughing out loud when your eyes cross, not being able to focus on anything from the way his cock bullies into your gooey cunt, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He slapped your cheek with little force, growling at you to fucking focus. "I- please fuck! It's too much- I-I can't!" You'd sob, fat teardrops falling from your eyes, your mascara ruined and running down your cheeks as you struggle to form coherent sentences- or thoughts. A low rumble forms in his chest, his hand comes down harshly to your ass, still red from previous hits. You jolt up when his hand makes contact with your skin, pleas falling from your glossy lips as you beg him to take mercy. He'd only smirk at your begging, demanding you to repeat what he told you. Surely you could do such a simple task, right? Don't tell him that you're so fucking stupid for his cock that you can't even do such an easy request? God, he's so disappointed- "I-I'll say it- oh- 'm your little s-slut! The only good th-thing-" He tsks, pinching your hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger, making you jolt and sniffle. "Poor dumb little baby, can't even remember what I said? It's okay, I'll repeat it for you since I'm such a good person, yeah? Oh fuck yes, squeeze me like that- Okay, this is your last fucking chance so listen up, okay? Say the only thing you're good for is taking my cock in that cute cunt of yours." His hips slow down, making you whimper in protest but a piercing glare from him shuts you up. "C'mon baby, you can do it, can't you? Aren't you my big girl?" His hand reaches down to play with your clit, rubbing circles onto the small bud, while moans slip from your mouth. "I-I'm your little slut..mm.. the only thing I'm good for is-" your cheeks burn in embarrassment, your teary eyes meeting his own. You receive a pinch on your clit at your pause, making your legs shake. "The only thing I'm good for is taking your..cock in my...-" he scoffs, slapping your inner thigh as a warning. "Don't have all day, doll." You nod, "taking your cock in my cute cunt.." You look away in shame, your ears burning. He resumes his thrusts, grunting out a 'good fuckin' girl' while he rearranges your insides. ☆
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NIKOLAI, chuuya, dazai, JOUNO, LUCIFER, solomon, SATAN, belphie when he's not being a lazy prick, AYATO, KAEYA, CHILDEEE, scaraboobs, ALHAITHAM, cyno, BLADIEEE, jing yuan on a bad day, ATSUMU, iwaizumi, kuroo idk I need to rewatch haikyuu, GOJOO, GETO, TOJIII, I don't know who else so any of your faves!
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©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡
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lost-in-lamentation · 9 months
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you're not his. but he hopes that with this, you'll finally see how much he wants you.
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content: the brothers give you their purest form of affection. what do they do?
warnings: if you don't like physical affection, this may not be for you (⇀‸↼‶)
part two with the sides here.
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belphegor; he bites you.
he watches you flip through your homework, his gaze following your pen as you scribble across the page. it's not long before he decides he can't hold back anymore, and eventually makes his way over to you. he places his hands on your shoulders, letting you know he's there, before he nips lightly at the base of your neck.
"wha- belphie! what was that for?!" you cry out, your face beginning to flush.
belphegor smiles at you, his eyes soft yet mischievous. "figure it out yourself."
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beelzebub; he gives you bunny kisses.
after a hard fought fangol game, beelzebub can't help but look for you in the crowd. when he finally sees you, arms waving excitedly and all, he runs harder than he did the whole game. the demon slows to a stop in front of you, your grin inviting him closer. his hands move faster than he thinks, cupping your face as he leans in to rub his nose with yours. when he pulls back, his hands are replaced by a light blush.
"beel, you..."
beelzebub takes your hand in his. "let's go get something to eat."
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asmodeus; he pampers you.
a long day leaves you too tired to properly freshen up at the end of it. but asmodeus decides that if anyone gets to share his special beauty products, it's you. he tugs you into his private bathroom with the utmost care, handing you bottles of who knows what that he says will help you. when you've finished, asmodeus has you lay down on his bed, his hands slowly working the knots out of your back.
you release a relaxed sigh under his touch. "thanks, asmo," you murmur.
asmodeus delights in the way you start to melt. "anything for you, darling."
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satan; he touches foreheads with you.
the sight of you reading a book he recommended while sitting in his favourite chair was simply too much. he stares at you a while longer before he decides he's had enough. the blonde makes his way towards you, his lips pouting, but his eyes loving. he waits for you to look up at him, and when you do, he leans down, pressing his forehead onto yours. his eyes flutter shut, and he is internally thanking the stars that you haven't pulled away.
"are you okay?" you whisper ever so softly.
satan reaches to rub a thumb over your cheek. "i am now."
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leviathan; he links your arms together.
he spends at least fifteen minutes debating if he's allowed to even touch you. you're so close to him; if you were sitting any nearer, you'd be brushing elbows. was it so bad of him to want that? the game he's playing with you takes second priority for a brief second, causing leviathan to slip up and nearly die in game. when you look at him, concern written across your face, he can't stop himself. his arm snakes around yours, linking together.
"levi? you're okay with this?"
"i-if it's you... yeah. i think am," he stutters, trying to ignore the way you shift closer to him.
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mammon; he gives you a back hug.
when he comes home, the last thing he expects is to overhear you arguing with lucifer about him. but when mammon listens to you defending his name, he nearly breaks down then and there. he waits for you to leave lucifer's study, waits for you to pad down the hallway down to your room. when he finally catches a glimpse of you, he's throwing himself around you, arms wrapping your waist and his face burying into your hair.
"what's this about, mammon?"
"... nothin'." mammon sighs against your neck, his fingers tapping on your stomach one time, then four times, then three times. he hopes you'll understand.
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lucifer; he kisses you.
the eldest of seven nearly has a heart attack when he awakes on his bed. he remembers falling asleep at his desk, not his bed. lucifer snaps his head around and is greeted by you, sitting at the desk he thought he had never left. he barely registers the words that leave your mouth as he begins to walk towards you. for once, lucifer acts without thinking, and he finds himself gravitating towards you to place a gentle kiss on your lips. he practically shudders with joy when you return the sentiment.
"good morning," you say as you separate, breath fanning against his lips.
"good morning," lucifer returns, chasing you for one more kiss.
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a/n: asmo is so hard to write for me... i'm sorry asmo fans. (also, should i do a part 2 for purgatory hall and royalty crew?)
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anintrovertedechoe · 8 months
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satan: i hate stupidity
MC: do you think god approves of tampons
satan, taking his shirt off: you fucking idiot
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angelltheninth · 4 months
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Being Satan's Stress Doll
Pairing: Satan x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, angry sex, marking, biting, jealousy
A/N: I love one angry devil boi!
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People told you he was trouble, it was dangerous to love him, to let him so close but neither of them knew Satan like you did. He could blow up on anyone yes, but he also kept a very good lid on his anger most of the time. It was kind of why he was in his current situation. All that anger and nowhere for it to go.
You were the perfect candidate, the perfect stress reliever, the perfect fuck toy for his release. Satan hesitated at first. He wanted to stay away, he wanted to punch, destroy, curse everyone and everything but you. Instead there you were with your legs around him and body half-lifted off the bed, held up by his hands.
"Why won't you stop visiting him? He can do his student council work himself. Bet that bastard doesn't even need you. He just asked for you to piss me off!" Satan growled at no one in particular, the person who his anger was currently directed towards wasn't even in the room. But the person who took the brunt of it was. You always took it without complaint no matter how hard he slammed his cock into you, it was never painful exactly, he always made sure he had his mouth o you first.
Seeing him looming over you with your cum still dripping down was quite an arousing sight all of it's own. "He didn't. He actually needed help, there's a lot to do." It didn't matter, no excuse would calm him now. He was boiling with all the pent up emotions, the jealousy, the fear that you'd leave him for Lucifer.
"He can't have you. I don't care what he says, you're mine. You got that? He can't make you feel as good as I can." He pulls you over to him, the loss of his hands making you wrap your legs around him instead. You knew he was close, he couldn't even talk anymore, too lost in his anger, the need to reclaim you. As the sharp fangs sunk into your neck and his cock buried deep in your pussy you felt the full extent of his emotions.
They split you open, the filled you up, they made you clench around him, pulling him in as deep as he can go. You hear the fabric tear, his need for destruction fulfilled, as was his need to claim you, his bite on the outside, his cum on the inside, his tail coiled possessively around your thigh.
As he falls next to you he pushes against your sweet spot, triggering your orgasm and extending his own. His lips kissed over the bite he left as his tail and horns vanished, fading just like his anger, the only thing left was the handsome blonde man you were head over heels in love with.
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stupidlovergirl · 11 months
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Picture Perfect
They catch the fact that your lockscreen is a picture of them. Feat. Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor Dev Notes: I think its really cute when friends and couples have each other as home screens.
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Lucifer doesn't like when people take photos, so imagine his surprise when he sees a picture of himself on a factory tour you two had taken a few weeks ago, smiling softly. he wonders when you took it, but he can't be mad, though. Not at you. When you come in looking for phone, Lucifer pretends he hasn't seen anything, but he knows when you unlock your phone and smile, your smiling at him.
When you asked Mammon to get your phone and tell Luke you'd be a minute or two late for your grocery trip, he'd didn't think he'd see a photo of him from a recent photo shoot. It was for a sneaker ad, with the camera closer to the ground, but still catching all of him. He was smiling cockily at the camera, sharp teeth on display. He knew you had liked it, but not this much. He's blushing, and it takes him a few moments to remember why he even had your phone. Quickly sending the text and giving you the phone, you knew he had seen with the red that covered his face. You just smiled and shook your head.
Leviathan changes his lock screen a lot. Every week, it changes to a different anime character he has became obsessed with. So imagine his surprise when instead of you having something similar, or just a pretty picture, it was him. It was from a con a few weeks ago. It was a photo of him and you in a group cosplay you two had done. He's smiling big, and so are you. Your looking more at him than the camera, with love in your eyes. It makes him flustered even thinking about it. Levi goes on to do what you had asked him. You didn't have the time to do your dailies, so you gave Levi your phone and just do whatever he wanted. You knew must have taken it to heart when the next time you have Levi's phone, you see a picture of yourself looking back.
Satan doesn't really change his lock screen, currently it's just a picture of a cat he has recently seen on the street that he has been feeding. Yet when he opened to look at your phone, he was surprised to see a picture of himself from a recent visit to a cat cafe. He was surrounded by the cats, smiling ear to ear. It makes him happy, thinking about the experience, and it makes him feel sentimental just seeing that you wanted to see him so much that you had set it to your home screen. You ask him was got his attention, and he turns to you and brings you into a hug. "Nothing, just thinking about how cute you are". It doesn't make sense until you see over his shoulder the photo of you kissing a kitty.
Asmodeus had just asked to see the photos you had taken of him from a event you two had attended the night before. When you gave him your phone, he unlocked it a couldn't help but gasp. "Oh! Your so cute!!" he squeals, going to hug you. You laughed at him.
"Asmo! What's this about!" you laugh, feeling his the kisses quickly pressed against your face and neck.
"A picture of me as your home screen! Just from the night before! You just love seeing me that much?" he teases, looking you with a smile
"Of course! Why wouldn't I want to see the most attractive demon in the Devildom every chance I got?" Asmo squeals and goes into another kiss attack
Beelzebub's phone was dead, so you had just given him yours to order his meal on AkUber on. "Just make sure to change the payment! I don't think I have enough to pay for your food on my card, love" is all you had told him. So when he had opened your phone and hit the app, he was satisfied with ordering he closed it. It was only then did he realize your home screen. It was a picture of him from a recent date night you two had. He was eating a pudding, smiling and a sparkle in his eye. It makes him smile. When he hands you your phone back, he places a kiss on your forehead and makes a mental note to change his to one of you so your matching.
Belphegor didn't even change his background from the basic one you get when you buy the phone. So he felt kind of bad when he saw a picture of him, sleeping in your bed, and even wearing your clothes. It makes him blush, and even feel a little shy. It is the simple things that make him feel your love,and the fact that you want to see him enough that you changed your lock screen to him it makes him feel giddy. He will never tell you, and you'll only figure it out if you have his phone yourself, but he also changes his lock screen to you also. He understands why you did it after, because seeing you never fails to make him smile.
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hopeluna-archived · 11 months
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For @satanmorningstarsimp ∧_∧
♡ Whenever you happen to fall asleep near Satan, he will literally glare daggers at any of his brothers if they do so much as whisper. Levi and Mammon fighting? Take it outside. Lucifer scolding any of the brothers? Outside. He will growl at anyone making noise 'cause he knows you need the sleep after an entire day of taking care of everyone and running around RAD.
Relationship headcanon ask game
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yandere-daydreams · 5 months
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Title: Domesticated.
Commissioned by the very lovely, very inspired @elsecrytt.
Pairing: Yandere!Satan x Reader (Obey Me).
Word Count: 7.0k.
TW: Dub/Con & Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Reader Is Straight Up A Bad Person In This One, Toxic Relationships, Semi-Public Sex, Bondage, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Coercion, Prolonged Grooming, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Slight Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
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You were the first one to find Satan.
It wasn’t difficult. You’d been around long enough at that point to know that the birth of a demon was a strange, spontaneous thing; loud and wild, often accompanied by pillars of flame and always violent enough to leave the earth scarred in its wake. While his brothers fell from paradise like stars displaced from their heavens, you followed the cloud of smoke rising from the wasteland that made up the Devildom’s outskirts, tracked the scent of cedar and ivy and sulfur until you found him, seething in a crater of his own creation, freshly charred feathers still littered around him as he lashed out blindly, his aggression without a target but no less volatile for its aimlessness. He was bare save for the ash smeared across his pale skin, and you could make out a lashing tail behind him, a pair of curling horns sprouting from his waist-length hair, a pair of cat-like pawed feet he’d grow out of in a few weeks – all the same shade of black as the obsidian that surrounded him and tipped with a green you could only compare to the color of toxic waste, to the kind of emerald shine an insect might wear to let you know it was venomous. Every part of him practically glowed with rage. If you’d been aware of which throne he would take after he and his brothers found their footing in their new realm in that moment, you would’ve thought it was fitting.
In short, he was beautiful. Awe-inspiringly, breath-takingly beautiful.
And you were never the kind of person who could resist beautiful things.
Carefully, with dampened footsteps and a preference for the shadows, you edged closer to him, never letting Satan leave your peripheral. You were still a hundred or so feet away when he snapped toward you, pointed teeth already bared and curved talons poised to attack. You couldn’t be sure how lucid he was, but whatever happened to be running through that empty mind of his, it wasn’t enough to stop him from snarling at you, from hunching his back and digging his claws into the ground and charging, intent on tearing anything he saw apart before his anger could cool. Elation overwhelmed you. You felt the corners of your lips curl upward as he lunged, your heart practically beating through your chest as his lithe body streaked through the flame-tinged moonlight, as you took in the rabid creature that would be your end. There were sixty feet between you, then forty, and then—
And then, something dark and terrible descended from the clouded sky, tackling Satan and pinning him to the ground. Lucifer, you discovered, once the dust cleared and you could make out his face, his wings (lesser by two and painted the color of impurity, you noted with a not inconsiderable sense of satisfaction). You didn’t wait for him to notice you. Slipping back into the shadows of the wasteland, you stole one more glance toward Satan only to find his attention still fixed on you, unwavering despite his new guardian. Your eyes met his, and without hesitation, you spared him a smile. Of course, he didn’t return the gesture, but you didn’t mind.
You slipped into the night, already dreaming of the day you’d see him again.
~
By the second time you got so close to Satan, he’d already gained a reputation of his own.
You couldn’t say you weren’t proud. His anger cooled in the months after his conception, and he found a place among his brothers who, in turn, established themselves in the Devildom’s admittedly lax hierarchy of power and pleasure and all the many things that thrived when given reprieve from the harsh light of the sun. You kept your distance. As greedy as you were, you knew better than to get involved with people who knew better than to get involved with you.
Instead, you watched from the crowd as Satan grew into his rank, as the more untamed parts of his demonic nature fell away and he came to resemble something… cleaner, something less animalistic. You didn’t care for the change, but still, you kept track of him. What could you say? Even polished, he was still a gem worth keeping an eye on.
Your dutifulness was rewarded, too. Or, that was what you told yourself, at least, as you picked the lock on the door of the lecture hall where he’d thrown his latest fit, where it’d taken Mammon and Beelzebub’s joint strength to restrain him. You let your fingertips graze past overturned tables and side-stepped the shattered remains of shattered chalkboards and wooden chairs, taking in the proof of his untamed rage as you approached him. He’d been restrained, left to fester in his wrath until he was calm enough to deal with properly. Silver chains adorned with hundreds upon thousands of archaic runes kept him bound to a marble pillar near the center of the classroom, his arms trapped against his side and his more demonic features still on full display, much to your delight.
Despite having been on his own for a few hours, now, his rage had yet to die down. His fangs were still bared, his claws still biting into his own palms, his thorned tail still lashing back and forth behind his back like that of some starving wildcat, agitated that its quarry had been taken away. He only had a fraction of the wild radiance you’d been so captivated by during your first encounter, but still, you found yourself grinning. Even diluted, he was still beautiful.
This time, you didn’t have to mind your distance. You came to a stop less than a full arm’s length in front of him, ducking slightly when the point of his tail made a jab at your throat. “It’s alright, princess,” you started, keeping your voice low, your tone light. Like you were trying to soothe a wild animal – which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly not what you were doing. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to see that pretty face again.”
He really was so unlike he had been, the first time you’d met. There was a flicker of recognition in those burning eyes, a slight change to his posture. He pressed his back against the pillar, squaring his shoulders as his rabid snarl dulled into a thin scowl. His tail continued to thrash and writhe, but he didn’t try to go for your throat again. “I don’t need your help.”
“I wasn’t going to make an offer.” His eyes narrowed, and you held his piercing gaze for a second, then another, before allowing your attention to drift lower. Surprisingly, his uniform hadn’t been damaged during his rampage, only displaced; his shirt missing a few buttons where he’d torn at the collar, the jacket he always let hang open pushed so far back, it now threatened to fall from his shoulders altogether. What you were looking for lied lower, though – in the unnatural creases and unusual tautness of his pants. It was a common (albeit, no less embarrassing) side-effect of supernatural creatures giving into their true nature, especially for younger demons who never learned how to control their more primal instincts. He probably knew that, but you doubted he knew how to take care of it, just yet. Especially with his older brothers still learning how to handle their own sinful impulses. “I mean, I would be willing to give you a hand, if you need one,” you went on, nodding to his painfully hard cock. “But, if you’d rather seethe and growl in an empty classroom until one of your brothers comes back for you…”
You held up your hands, moving to turn on your heel and leave him alone with his anger, but Satan’s eyes widened, straining against his bondage as he lurched forward, practically drooling at the first hint of fresh blood. “You… you can do something about that?”
The muted excitement in his voice gave away his eagerness, his desperation. You let out a breath of a laugh, taking half a step closer, testing the boundaries before trying to catch such an active spark in your hands. When he didn’t immediately lunge at you, you brought a hand up, cupping his cheek and running your thumb over his jaw. “Of course,” you said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if he was the foolish one for being stupid enough to doubt you. “But only if you ask me to. I’m not going out of my way to help someone who’s going to tear my throat out as soon as I’m done.”
And, even then, you could’ve been persuaded to lay back and let him have his way with you if he begged prettily enough. Luckily, he was already distracted, already leaning into your touch and staring up at you with a new kind of reverence. He couldn’t have known he was doing it – his pride wouldn’t have allowed him to. As far as you could tell, this was all instinct. “Do it.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “You’ll have to do better than that, princess.”
He was quiet for a moment, then another. “Please,” he spat, finally, as if the word burnt his tongue. “Please, help me get rid of it.”
“No one’s going to want to do anything with you if you use that tone.” And yet, you stepped forward, resting one hand on his shoulder while the other dropped to the tent in his pants, to his cock. You ground your palm against his shaft through the thick material, and Satan grit his teeth. He didn’t know much, but he knew enough not to debase himself so willingly in front of you. “You’re lucky I’m such a bleeding heart. Otherwise, I would’ve left you here to suffer minutes ago.”
You watched him try to fight it, clenching his eyes shut as he braced himself, putting more effort into limiting his reactions now than he’d ever spared for his temper tantrums. With deft hands and saliva already pooling below your tongue, you shifted his pants down just far enough to free his cock – hard enough to press into his stomach. Like everything else about him, it was beautiful – pale but not ghastly, visibly veined but not overly defined, the head tinted a deep shade of pink you didn’t know you’d held such a fondness for, before you saw it on him. It was already leaking, too – pearls of precum dripping down his length and smearing against your skin as you wrapped your fist around the shaft and pumped lazily, playing indifferent to the way he bucked and writhed underneath you. “This,” you started, slowly, “is called a handjob. You can do it yourself, too, but it’s not as good. You’ll probably just end up making it worse.”
You swiped your thumb over his leaking tip, and he gasped, pressing himself flush against the marble pillar. You heard his restraints rattle and tightened your grip just enough to distract him, to give him something better to think about than getting away. “Pay attention, ‘cause you’re going to have to return the favor. That’s how this kind of thing works – I help you, then you help me.”
He nodded, sucking in a shaky breath. He wasn’t the brightest thing you’d ever come across, but he still might’ve proven himself to be a dutiful-enough student. “A h-handjob.”
“Good boy.” You teased the head of his cock by way of reward, then ground the heel of your palm into his base as a punishment for making you wait. When you were sure the lesson had sunk in, you took to jerking him off in earnest, taking on a pace just on the brink of satisfying and drinking in the little, stuttering moans that dripped past his lips in response. When his legs started to buckle, you worked a knee between his thighs and slotted your chest against his, staring up at him with as much adoration as someone like you could lend to something like him. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, heard his breathing turn raspy and shallow, and without warning, you pulled away, removing yourself from him completely.
He let out a desperate whine, the embodiment of pitiful. With an airy chuckle, you lowered yourself onto your knees, letting your hands fall to his waist. “This one’s a blowjob,” you muttered, just barely loud enough to be audible. He might’ve been a mediocre student, but you were an excellent teacher – always striving to fill curious minds with as much applicable knowledge as you could. “Some people call it oral sex, too. You’ll like it even more.”
His voice was so weak, so prone to cracking and breaking that in another world, it could’ve been cute. “…sex?”
“We’ll get to that later.” You pressed a fleeting kiss into his hip. “Just pay attention to me, for now.”
He really was lucky to have you. Anyone else might not have been able to handle how roughly he thrust into your mouth as soon as you’d taken the leaking head onto your tongue, might not have been willing to put up with his insatiable desire to bury himself in your throat – unaware or uncaring of your desire to breathe. You were patient, though, and strict, eager to swallow him down as deeply as you were able to before pulling back, pinning his hips down, and running the flat of your tongue up the sensitive underside of his cock. Whatever well of self-control he’d been using to bite back his pathetic little noises had clearly run dry. He moaned unabashedly, throwing his head forward and shuddering. His tail lashed out, his body determined to protect itself where his mind was unable to, but you didn’t pull away as it curled around your arm, didn’t waver as its curved thorns shredded your sleeve and sunk into your skin. Rather, you groaned around him, savoring the pure heat dripping down your arm, the way his agony seemed to drive itself under your flesh and make a home there. It was an overdue paradise, one that paled in comparison to what you could’ve had if Lucifer hadn’t interrupted you on that first night. You tried to treasure it all the same.
You fell into a steady rhythm quickly, no longer in the mood to tease him. You kept your eyes open as you bobbed your head, fixed to his flushed cheeks, his pained expression, the way he couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to shrink into himself or struggle against his restraints. “Stop, I—” He cut himself off with another moan, a quick jerk of his head to the side. As if there was anything he could do to hide from you, in a state like this. “There’s something wrong with—”
“You’re going to cum,” you corrected, pulling off of him just far enough to speak. With your lips still pressed against the head of his cock, you added, “That means you want me to keep going.”
If he had any mind to protest, he wasn’t able to put his complaints into words. Instead, all he managed to spit out was a fractured sob as you felt him throb against your tongue, as he came undone in your mouth. You milked him for all you had, pumping a fist over his shaft as he clumsily fucked your throat, his inexperience shining through once his inhibitions had been thoroughly pushed to the wayside. When you were sure you’d gotten everything out of him that you could, when your senses had been overwhelmed by the heady taste of him and the proof of your labor sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, you drew back, pushing yourself to your feet and taking in what you’d done to him. He was a mess, his face red and damp with sweat, emerald scales visible just underneath the collar of his shirt. With a slight smile, you fished something out of your pocket – a small, silver cage that you’d liberated from a succubus’ locker about an hour prior, when you heard Satan had lost his temper yet again. It fit the base of his cock as if it’d been made for him – pressing flush against his skin as it snapped into place with a satisfying click. When you were done, you pushed a kiss into the corner of his lips before stepping back.
 “When that starts to get uncomfortable,” you started, grinning. “Come and find me.”
You didn’t give him a chance to protest before slipping away, leaving him panting and half-dressed for someone more tender-hearted to take care of.
~
He made it three weeks before seeking you out. An impressive lapse, considering he’d been hard again by the time you left that classroom.
This time, you made an effort to keep your distance. No more trailing behind him as he walked with his brothers or standing on the outskirts of the crowd as he picked a fight with yet another low-ranking demon – no, what he needed from you now was separation, the time it would take for him to think to look for you in his peripheral and then, later on, to convince himself the pleasure you could give him was worth the blow it’d deal to his ego. You’d started to lose hope by the time bridged the gap at one of Lord Diavolo’s frequent balls, thrown to celebrate Satan and his brothers ascending to the rank of Avatar. No one could seem to remember there ever being a rank by that name before their arrival, but legislation was for the Celestial Realm. Citizens of the Devildom were always more than happy to sample their prince’s generosity, regardless of the occasion.
You’d just finished slipping a stunning silver ring off of a witch’s finger and onto your own when he found you, red-faced and visibly out of breath, as if he’d just run from one side of the castle to the other. You grinned, moving to speak, but he clearly didn’t have an interest in whatever you might’ve said; taking hold of your arm and dragging you out of the main ballroom by way of greeting. You made no effort to resist. Struggling was for people who wanted to run, people who’d lost control and needed to be somewhere else. You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here.
You let haul you down a dimly lit hallway and through a simple wooden door – almost meager, by the prince’s standards. It was a storage closet, as far as you could tell, the shelves stocked with miscellaneous supplies and the light limited to what little could flood through the gaps between the doorframe after Satan slammed it behind him. You didn’t mind it, but you would’ve preferred something a little brighter. You would’ve preferred to have him on a podium, underneath a spotlight, where you could see every last inch of his perfect body. You would’ve preferred to have him on a stage, posed to your preference for the approval of an eager audience. You’d always been charitable, like that.
But, you couldn’t linger on how you would’ve liked him when you already had him right in front of you. As soon as he’d ensured you were alone, he was scrambling to find your hand in the darkness, to press your palm into the outline of his throbbing cock and whine ­– a sound it’d taken him minutes to make, the first time you were alone together. “I can’t take it off, and—and it hurts.” His speech was frantic, disjointed, prone to slipping and tripping over itself between coherent words. You couldn’t imagine how he’d spent the past few weeks. Even his brothers would’ve noticed something was wrong, if he was always this worked up. “The cage burns when I touch it, and it won’t stop leaking—”
“Ah, ah, that’s enough.” The saint that you were, you chose to put him out of his misery sooner rather than later. “Why don’t you show me the problem?”
At that, he froze up, his neediness momentarily overwhelmed by pure, unadulterated shame. His fangs caught on his bottom lip as he looked away from you and towards himself, his hands shaking ever-so-slightly as he brought them to the button of his adorably uncharacteristic dress pants. His brothers must’ve picked out his clothes – partially, at least. You didn’t know whether to be amused or endeared by the fact that he wasn’t quite ready to make decisions for himself, just yet.
Under your instruction, he stripped quickly, the pieces of his suit falling away until he was left exposed in front of you, dressed only in your last gift to him. Speaking of – his cage was… stranger than you’d remembered it bring, the silver bars pulsing with a dull violet glow. A lasting enchantment, you figured. You should’ve expected as much from something you’d snagged from a succubus, those freaks.
You ran a finger over the curved spine, taking a long moment to appreciate the craftsmanship before you turned your attention back to the source of Satan’s suffering: his cock, already hard and, like he’d said, already leaking. You probably should’ve been more selective when it came to how you restrained him. The flesh of his shaft strained painfully against the bars of his cage, the tip already drooling enough pre-cum to smear on your palm and pool on the floor in between his legs. The poor thing looked nearly suffocated – pale and ever so slightly discolored, sensitive enough to twitch and send a rough shudder up the length of Satan’s spine as you ran your thumb over what little of the underside remained exposed. He only had himself to blame, really. If he’d only swallowed his pride and come to you earlier, he wouldn’t need your help so badly now.
He wouldn’t need to prove that he deserved your help, after ignoring you for so many weeks.
“Poor baby,” you half-cooed, taking his face in your hands and pressing a lingering kiss into his forehead. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to take something so difficult so soon. I’m sorry for making you suffer, like this.”
Immediately, you felt him stiffen. You could only hope it was a habit he’d never grow out of. You couldn’t imagine a version of Satan who was driven by anything other than the ongoing, everlasting need to prove himself and, when that failed, tear down everything that could claim he hadn’t. “I’m fine,” he said, as if he hadn’t been on the verge of tears only a second ago. “I could take this and more, if I needed to. It’s just— you said I would need to find you, eventually, and I wanted to get it over with before—”
“That’s enough.” You were sure he would’ve gone on for the next century if you let him, but you weren’t really interested in what he had to say. Not while he was so put-together, at least. “Do you want my help or not?”
He might’ve been a bad liar, but to his credit, he wasn’t delusional. Shakily, he nodded, keeping his lips pursed and his eyes pleading.
“Is that all you’re going to give me to work with?”
“…please.” He was more hesitant than he’d been the first time, but not quite so acidic, not quite so aggressive. He was begging, now, and you could never seem to turn away those in-need. “I’ll do anything.”
You sighed, the gesture airy and drawn-out. Eventually, when it seemed like his already-tenuous patience was starting to thin, you let your touch fall away from him altogether. “Why don’t you get on your knees?”
His expression fell – not so much disappointed as he was confused. “How will that—”
“I have other things to do tonight.” An expectant smile, a nod towards the floor. “I can’t help me if you don’t help me too, Satan.”
The weight of his given name seemed to do the trick. Slowly, his movements stilted and reluctant, he lowered himself onto his knees, his eyes quickly falling away from yours and find a home in his lap. You were glad you’d chosen to wear what you had – making quick work of the sashing binding your robes together and discarding your panties while Satan watched out of the corner of his eye, too embarrassed to stare but too curious not to look. You were tempted to take him by the hair, to find something to wrap around his neck and pull it tighter and tighter until he was exactly where you wanted him to be, but you couldn’t let yourself be so selfish. You couldn’t let yourself forget to take care of him – even if you could justify putting it off until he’d taken care of you.
With little warning, you brought up a foot and ground the toe of your heeled shoe into the shaft of his caged cock. He hissed, throwing his head forward and shrinking into himself, shrinking against you; his chest pressing into your thigh as he bucked mindlessly against your foot, the lewd act coming to him more naturally than you ever could’ve dreamed. Now, you raked your fingers through his hair, jerking him upward and guiding his mouth to your cunt. His eyes widened, a surprised grunt slipping out of some vulnerable pocket of his chest, but you held him in place. “Remember what I showed you last time?”
He hesitated, but not for very long. There was a slight lapse, a pause as he tried to bridge the gap between your anatomy and his, but after a moment of scraping your dull nails over his scalp, of grinning down at him with as much love and patience as you could muster, he let his eyes fall shut and opened his mouth, his tongue darting part his lips and lapping tentatively over your slit. His next swipe was a touch more confident, and the same went for the one after that, and the one after that. A slight groan bubbled up from the base of his throat, his hands coming to rest on your thighs – his curved talons biting shallowly into your skin. You embraced the spark of pain without complaint. As if you had the heart to interrupt such a valuable learning moment.
It was slow work – as sloppy as it was messy, his enthusiasm barely managing to overshadow his inexperience. You couldn’t tell how much of it was on purpose, if he meant to grind the bridge of his nose against your clit, if there was any rhyme or rhythm to how he drew his tongue over your entrance, but it was savage enough, animalistic enough to draw a shallow moan from your lips, to earn the flattened edge of your heel ground against his cock. It took ages for his tongue to slip into you, the tapered point curling and probing against the walls of your cunt. He was lucky to have been born such a rabid creature, to have been gifted such a pretty face. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be worth a minute of your time.
It was a good effort, but it wasn’t enough. With a sharp jerk to his hair, you pulled him away from you and threw him to the ground, his pointed talons leaving a row of raised skin in their wake. With a startled expression and a fog over his eyes, he blinked up at you, barely bothering to try and push himself up before you brought your heel down on his chest and pushed him flush against the floor. “Stay down.” You flashed him a smile, trying to pretend you meant for it to be comforting. “Don’t you trust me?”
He didn’t answer. You didn’t wait for him to, shedding your robes completely and straddling his waist. His prep work had been… minimalistic, to put it kindly, but you’d never been one to back down from a challenge. You met his eyes, holding his half-lidded gaze as you wrapped your hand around his cock and pulled his cage away as easily as if it’d never been there at all.
You took slow, agonizing seconds to line him up with your entrance, rolling your hips to spread his precum over your slit. He let out a slight whimper, then managed to find his voice. “What… what are doing?”
“I think I’ve already told you about this one,” you said, your smile now genuine. “We’re going to make love, princess.”
In your own defense, you gave him a chance to protest, to complain, to throw you off of him and rejoin his brothers in the prince’s ballroom. You waited a second, then another, and when he failed to do anything more than stare up at you with that pleading expression, you lowered yourself onto him, only stopping when you were sure he’d bottomed out.
You were able to bite back your voice, but Satan wasn’t so skilled when it came to hiding his reactions. His body went stiff underneath yours, his eyes falling shut as a sinful moan trickled past his lips. You heard his breath hitch, felt his cock twitch, and then he was coming undone inside of you, likely marking the first time he’d cum inside of anyone, because of anything but your mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh, drinking in his fractured whines as you started moving, rolling your hips and grinding against him, riding him properly – not that he’d know the difference. “S-stop,” he managed, though little pained noises and blissful gasps. “It— It hurts—”
Overstimulation, clearly. It was amazing, how sensitive a demon so ferocious could be. “You’ll like it once you calm down. Just try to tough it out for me, alright?” With one hand on his chest, you let the other slip between your legs and to your clit, sorely neglected by his earlier guesswork. “I’ve made you cum… how many times now? Twice? I think I get to take a little something for myself.”
If he was capable of responding, he didn’t seem to think it was worth the effort. Instead, he only collapsed underneath you, his talons scraping against the stone floor and his point fangs biting at his own lips while you used his cock as your own, personal toy; as something to be played with but otherwise left on the outskirts of your consideration. While he might’ve been willing to fuck anything you put in front of him, you held yourself to higher standards, seeking out whatever made heat pool in your core and that aching knot in the pit of your stomach draw itself that much tighter with a refined sense of determination. You’d known how pretty he was, but there was a different kind of beauty to the way he looked writhing below you, to the pitiful sounds he made every time you clenched around him or moved in a way that threatened to milk his cock – still hard, despite his whining, still needy – dry. It was clumsy, little more than reflex winning over dower rationality, but he tried to move his hips in time with yours, to seek out the heat of your cunt whenever you threatened to pull away and abandon him completely. Not that you were going to. As pathetic as his sensitivity was, you weren’t much better – the anticipation you’d built up in his absence more than enough to make up for his inexperience. Your climax rolled over you in thick, lethargic waves, dimming the edges of your vision and pulling a raspy, vaguely humored gasp from somewhere deep in your chest. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You’d make him keep going until he gave you something better, next time.
Tonight, though, you had better things to do than babysit. With a shallow inhale and a moment taken to compose yourself, you pulled away from him and pushed yourself to your feet. Satan let out a displeased growl, loud enough and deep enough to rattle off the walls of the storage closet, but you shut him up quickly, pressing the sole of your boot into his shaft and rocking with just enough force to leave him spilling ropes of thick, ivory cum on his stomach, the evidence of his depravity left splattered against the pale skin of his midriff and the dark leather of your shoes. He moved to grab your ankle, to keep you that much closer to him for that much longer, but you pulled back, straightening yourself and shrugging your robes back on while Satan watched you, his eyes glassy and his fangs bared. “Maybe, next time, you’ll be able to take the lead,” you wondered aloud, then laughed. “Wouldn’t count on it, though. I think you’re cuter when you don’t have to think for yourself.”
You could still feel his eyes burning into you as you slipped back into the castle.
~
He started asking you to meet him in the House of Lamentation, after that. You told him you didn’t have a problem with empty classrooms and storage closets, but he insisted. You weren’t surprised. Just as he was learning that he would have to be well-behaved for you, you were starting to realize that you’d have to be gentler than anticipated with him.
That’s what you were doing now – being gentle. The collar wrapped around his neck was loose and lightweight, the leash that connected his throat to your hand allowed to fall lax for the moment, at least until the next time he did something that you would need to. You’d even let him take charge, laying back while he buried his face between your thighs, a skill he was eager to hone after you admitted his natural talent left more than a little to be desired. He was making progress, too. He’d learned to bite back his pride while he lapped over your cunt and pushed aimless patterns into your clit, spurred on by every twitch and moan he could draw out of you. There was a pillow between his legs, something soft and pliable he could grind against while he took care of you, but the thin golden ring sitting at the base of his cock made sure he wouldn’t have his fun before you had yours. This one wasn’t enchanted (you’d been tempted, but magic could be fickle and you didn’t want to bring an arcane locksmith into your time with him), but it worked well enough, and he’d never really gotten the hang of taking care of himself. To be fair, that was something he didn’t have to learn. He had you to dote on him, and you weren’t going anywhere. Not for a few hours, at least.
His hand curled around your hips, spreading you open further as the tapered end of his tongue lavished your clit, his drool mixing with your slick and staining the inside of your thighs. You let your eyes fall shut, using your legs to pull him closer as you bucked into his mouth and used his tongue to nurse yourself through your climax, only letting him go when the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. Even without your encouragement, he didn’t go far. You felt the mattress shift, sensed his body on top of yours, and then, his mouth was crashing into your own, his kiss all teeth and tongue and violent lust. Within seconds, you could taste your blood on his lips, make out the little, airy noises only partially muffled by your connection. You could—
Your fist was crashing into his cheek before you had time to think, to stop yourself. Your knuckles caught his jaw with enough force to pry him off of you and leave him on the floor, still sitting up but visibly folded into himself. You cursed under your breath, your eyes only flitting to the door once before you lowered yourself to the ground beside him. There was a half-hearted snarl, but it died in his throat as soon as you were close enough to cup his cheek. You let out a softened coo as you pulled him close, pressing a fleeting kiss into his forehead. “Ah, I know, I know.” Another kiss, this one to the bruise forming along his jaw. Your remorse, although left mostly unspoken, was genuine. Anyone would’ve mourned leaving a mark on such a beautiful face. “Are you hurt?”
“As if something like that would affect an Avatar.”
As sharp-tongued as he was defensive. You were thankful for his ego-serving tendencies in this moment more than most. With an airy laugh, you strung your arms over his shoulders and let him bury his face in the dip of your shoulder. “Just don’t surprise me like that again, alright?” And then, after he managed to nod, “I know you’re strong enough to take it, but it’d break my heart to see you get hurt. Because of something so trivial, especially.”
When he didn’t pull away, didn’t respond at all, you sighed. “Do you have anything to say to me?”
It was little more than a mumble, spoke just under his breath. “Thank you,” he paused, melted that much further into you, “for taking care of me.”
“Good boy.”
You left a few minutes later, dressed in one of his shirts and little else. For your own peace of mind, you decided not to think about how long it’d been since you’d seen him bury his teeth in anything aside from you.
~
Honestly, it’d been weeks since you’d seen his fangs at all.
You’d had this problem before. Ever the romantic, your idle mind tended to linger on what couldn’t be reclaimed, to drive you towards the pursuit of wild beauty despite knowing that truly untamed things couldn’t be found twice, let alone a few times a week, whenever the careful surveillance of his brothers lapsed and Satan could seek you out like some mangy, prowling predator, spurred on by the promise of relief. Really, you would’ve given up on him after that first encounter, after he failed to sink his claws into your neck, or—
A ragged grunt drew you out of your thoughts and back into the present moment, back to Satan where he hovered above you. You were in some shadowed tunnel of the catacombs underneath the House of Lamentation, tonight, and you’d been kind enough to let him take charge, to keep your thighs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you like a trained mutt, rather than the wild animal you were looking for. The stone of the altar he’d laid you over was cool against your skin, his horns pleasantly calloused where your hands were wrapped around them, and yet, your mind still wandered, the feeling of his cock beating against the walls of your cunt numbed by your lack of interest. Satan was less unaffected, his eyes clenching shut as he buckled against you, burying his face in your chest as he pushed open-mouthed kisses into whatever he could reach. It was sickening, the thought that he might’ve wanted you to return such tender affection. It was sickening, the thought that he could be capable of being so banal.
His hips crashed into yours, and you felt his lips turn upward, his cock twitch inside of you. “I think—” A pitchy whine, a half-swallowed whimper. “I think I’m in love with you.”
God. You might’ve been starting to hate him.
You let your hands fall to his shoulders. “Down, boy.”
He shook his head, too lost in his own bliss to listen to you. You scowled, shoving lightly at his chest, attempting more to get his attention than to force him off of you. “Down. Unless you want me to assume you’ve forgotten how to be obedient.”
“I—I love you,” he repeated, and then again, “I love you.” One of your legs was forced over his shoulder, his chest pressed almost flush to yours – bending you in half in a way that would’ve been painful, if you’d been anyone else. You let out a throaty growl, marking the first time you’d stopped to his level, but Satan didn’t hesitate, didn’t relent, only bowing his head and letting his rhythm deteriorate into something less calculated, less taught. You would’ve been pleased, if you hadn’t been so angry with him. “We— We’re going to be together, and you’re going to be mine, and I’m going to be—”
You could see tears running down his cheeks, hear his voice shake from something entirely separate from pleasure or desperation. You cursed under your breath, dragging your nails down the length of his spine and clawing at his back with enough force to break the skin, but he didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to mind, to care, to notice.“I’ll be yours.” He sounded so pathetically determined, as he thought it would come true if he only spoke loudly enough, if he only fucked you desperately enough. He probably did. You’d never taught him any better, and you weren’t sure he had anyone else who would even know to try. “I’ll only be yours.”
You were struggling, now, thrashing underneath him, but he was still an Avatar, still ranks above any station you would ever be able to reach. He held you in a bone-crushing, heart-wrenching embrace; close enough for you to feel his heart beating through his chest, to pick up on the half-muffled sobs catching in his throat. He only pulled away to bring one of his hands up to your jaw, to hold you in place while he pressed his lips against yours in a kiss so soft and so gentle, you would’ve been tempted to call it loving had it not been so vile.
By the time he drew back, he was smiling, and you couldn’t seem to remember why you’d ever thought he could be anything but hideous.
“And you’ll never have to leave again.”
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another-lost-mc · 1 year
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Weather the Storm
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When Satan gets angry, you have your own way of helping him blow off steam.
SATAN x afab!Reader 3.1k words | NSFW | Smut | Hurt/Comfort Content warnings: Dom/sub undertones, rough sex including marking/biting, jealousy and possessiveness, brief discussions of safeword usage and boundary limits.
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Loving Satan is like being wrapped in the softest blanket on a cold winter’s day. His sweet words and gestures are like a soothing balm for your soul, and his whispers and promises against your skin warm you from the inside-out. 
The inevitable part of being with Satan is coping with his sin. His anger is a monstrous thing. He becomes a single-minded entity that delights in causing havoc and pain for others. It scared you when you first knew him. Sometimes it still does.
There are times when he desperately wants to hurt someone, to feel their bones crunch in his fist and to taste their blood on his tongue when he rips out their throat with his teeth. Satan doesn’t want to be that way all the time anymore. Not when he has family and friends to help keep him grounded. Not when he has you. 
Those that don’t know Satan very well might think you’ve tempered him a bit. He seems more relaxed, he’s happier, he’s less dangerous. What they don’t realize is that his anger is never gone, not completely. He tries so hard to keep it buried, but it’s an inevitability.
When, not if, the rage inside him bursts open like a dam, he tries to warn you before it’s too late.
School ended nearly four hours ago, and you’ve been stuck at RAD helping Lucifer and Barbatos in the student council chambers. Lucifer insisted the task was too important and it just couldn’t wait.
You had to excuse yourself so you could call Satan and let him know you weren’t going to make it for the date he had planned for you. He acknowledged your message with a single monotonous word and hung up.
You haven’t heard from him since. His silence is your warning to stay away.
By the time you get home, you’re irritable from everything going so wrong.
Maybe if you weren’t struggling with your own conflicting emotions that make your heart ache, you’d stop yourself from walking towards his room.
If you weren’t as frustrated and disappointed as he is, you’d stop yourself from knocking on Satan’s door when you know what to expect.
At least, you think you know what to expect.
He doesn’t answer, and it’s your final warning.
You let yourself inside and close the door behind you.
His room is dark, lacking the light and warmth of the lanterns and candles he likes to use when he reads. Without them, his room feels like a dungeon, cold and empty and hopeless.
You can navigate the stacks of books easily and you slowly walk towards the middle of his room. You haven’t seen a trace of Satan yet. You haven’t heard him yet either, but you know he’s here. He’s luring you into his trap, a tantalizing torture to show you that you shouldn’t have come, that it’s too late now. 
Behind you, there’s a faint metallic click of the lock on his door sliding into place.
He doesn’t use the lock to keep out would-be interrupters. The lock is meant to keep you in, to delay your escape should you try to run. It’s another reminder of your foolish choice to come here tonight.
His bed should be in front of you, just a few more steps and—
You freeze when you feel a hot breath on the back of your neck. 
You didn’t sense him approaching you, but now you feel him all around. You’re suffocated by his presence, like he’s a black hole determined to pull you down into the abyss with him.
His aura thrums with power the same way that air crackles with heat before a storm. The storm that rages inside him threatens to destroy you both.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice is low and rough, gritty. The words are coarse with bitterness and disappointment. It’s not a warning, it’s a mockery. He’s a monster gloating to his prey, warning you that your foolish human emotions led you down this dark path.
Maybe it’s not too late?
“Satan—“ you plead quietly, your voice a hushed whisper is the eerie quiet of his room. The only thing you can hear louder than the rumbling growl in his chest is the sound of your own frantic heartbeat.
But he’s not going to be merciful tonight. When you try to turn around and face him, he grips your arms and holds you in place. You wince when his fingers dig uncomfortably into your skin.
“You had your chance,” he reminds you, and you can hear the sneer in his voice. “You made your choice.”
He shoves you forward and you grunt when you land on his bed. You manage to roll onto your back before the mattress dips under his weight. His knees bracket your hips and his hands fist the sheets above your shoulders, effectively trapping you in place.
The demon straddling your waist and baring his teeth above you is beautiful in his anger. You love him, and you know he loves you. He’s staring at you like you’re the most scrumptious morsel, and you know he likes to play with his food. 
You offer your body to him to use, a conduit to channel his rage into something a bit more pleasurable. Will he use his claws on you tonight, or his teeth? Will he murmur his praise for you against your ear while his fingers take you apart, or will he roar when his cock fills you so full that you’re left dripping after? You don’t know. 
He’s close enough so you can see your face reflected in the inky green-black of his eyes, and he bends even lower as his weight pushes you deeper into the mattress.
“Tell me your word,” he growls into your ear. It’s not a suggestion, it’s a demand - he knows how serious this is for both of you.
You swallow around the lump in your throat. “Whiskers.” His chest rumbles against yours, and he acknowledges your choice  by licking the shell of your ear and pulling at the lobe with his teeth.
Satan’s not the first lover you’ve had, but he’s the first one who insisted you needed a safeword if you were going to be intimate together. He was concerned about his anger issues putting you at risk when you’re most vulnerable. It’s for your protection, something that will draw him back from the ledge before he goes over.
You’ve never had to use your safeword with him before. But when Satan drags his teeth along your jaw and moves further down so he can sniff at your neck and lick over your pulse point, you wonder if that might change.
The warm puff of air on your neck when he exhales is the only warning you have before the tethers snap and he begins. 
It feels like you’re floating in space, teetering on the line between pleasure and pain. Satan shreds the clothes away from your body with his hands and his teeth, exposing inch after inch of skin for him to claim as his own. The sounds he makes are animalistic as he drags his lips across your body, sucking marks into your skin while he groans with primal satisfaction. 
Your own sighs and moans are quiet compared to his, but you don’t hide them - he wants to hear you. You keep your hands raised above your head and grip the blanket so you’re not tempted to touch him; that’s not what he wants, and he’ll restrain you if you try. You want to be good for him tonight and give him what he needs. You know your own needs will be satisfied later.
One of his hands curls around your shoulder and his nails are digging into your skin so he can hold you still beneath him. Your shirt is in tatters and his lips are latched onto one of your nipples, sucking the hardened bud between his teeth and biting with the slightest bit of pressure. His other hand slides down the valley between your breasts, dragging his nails across your skin so pink streaks mark the path of his greedy fingers.
You arch into his touch when he smooths his hand over the sensitive skin of your soft belly, and you jolt when he doesn’t hesitate, going under the waistband of your pants and into your underwear. His fingers cup your soft mound possessively and then his fingers creep even lower–
“You’re so wet already,” he murmurs when he lifts his head from your breast, but you freeze at the tone of his voice because something is wrong. 
He’s not praising your readiness for him - he’s furious, but you don’t know why.
Before you even realize what’s happening, he’s prying your legs wide apart so he can kneel between them. You raise your head but all you can see is a messy tuft of blonde hair. You hear a growl that’s so close to your skin it almost vibrates inside you. Your mind goes blank and a pained scream rips from your throat when he bites the soft, meaty flesh of your inner thigh.
He’s muttering to himself when he finally unhinges his jaw and he lets your leg fall back onto the mattress. You tilt your head back and blink rapidly, but you can’t stop the tears leaking from your eyes. You whimper when the painful throbbing makes your body twitch all over.
You don’t think you can move right now, but he doesn’t need you to. He tears your pants away so he has better access, and he grabs your hips and rolls you onto your belly. He drags you back and raises you to your knees, and the only thing holding you up are his hands keeping you where he wants you.
He doesn’t give you warning when he plunges his cock deep inside you and it leaves you gasping against the sheets. You tilt your head to the side and breathe while your body relaxes around him. The rough glide of his cock isn’t painful, but you can’t come like this - and he knows that. The angle’s not quite right and the pace is too fast; you anticipate having some difficulty walking when this is over.
“Does my brother try to seduce you with that silver tongue of his when he keeps you to himself all night?” The words are punctuated by his powerful thrusts. You don’t answer because you know he doesn’t really expect you to - he’s seething, venting his frustrations to you and exposing the cause of his anger tonight.
He’ll talk to you properly after this, and you’ll work it out together like you always do. Right now, he’s using every ounce of his strength to reclaim your body and your love for himself.
“I see the way he looks at you, but he can’t give you what you need,” he snarls over your shoulder. “You’re mine.” He buries his cock as deep as he can, and you choke on air when he fills you in the most perfectly agonizing way.
Tonight’s not the first time you’ve seen him rage with jealousy before, but he doesn’t usually bite you like that. You consider using your safeword because it feels like your thigh is on fire, and the rough movements of his cock splitting you open while his hips grind against you is starting to take its toll.
The word sits on the tip of your tongue, but you recognize the telltale signs that he’s close: his pace is faltering and the rhythm is sloppy, and the noises he makes are getting louder, breathier, and even more desperate.
You think you can bear a little more.
It only takes a few more greedy thrusts before he grunts from the force of his release and he whispers your name like a mantra. You gasp when he pulls out unexpectedly and he coats your folds and the tops of your thighs with his cum. It’s sticky and warm when it dribbles down the inside of your legs. He lets go of the bruising grip on your hips and you finally collapse onto the bed, exhaling shakily with relief.
When Satan slumps over onto the bed beside you, his demonic horns and tail have gone and his naked body glistens with sweat. His eyes are bright and clear now, and they’re shining with love and warmth and concern rather than the anger from before. He puts his hand between your bodies and you lace your fingers together.
He rolls on his side towards you and nuzzles his face against your shoulder. He peppers a few quick, soft kisses on whatever skin his lips can reach before he whispers an incantation that fills the dark room with light. Your eyes sting and you groan dramatically when you hide your face in the blanket.
He chuckles and leans forward to kiss your shoulder again. “I’m sorry, love, but I need to make sure you’re alright.”
His hands glide over the smooth skin of your back, pausing over lingering scratches or hints of bruising he left behind. You can feel his lips brush over the marks he made. He murmurs to himself and you know he’s making a list of potions or healing spells he thinks might help.
He nudges your side gently and helps you roll onto your back. You throw your arm over your eyes - the light is still too bright for your liking - and you hear his breath hitch. Most of his marks were left on the front of your body, but he seems surprised by his own enthusiasm. When his hand lingers on your leg, you know what he’s looking at.
“I don’t remember biting you this hard,” he says quietly while he inspects the mark gently with his fingertips. His voice is sad, and you lower your arm so you can meet his gaze. There’s regret lingering in his emerald eyes.
“It’s the only one that really hurts,” you tell him, kindly but honestly.
He gets up from the bed and looks for his clothes. There’s a healing potion in another room that he says will help heal your bite wound and dull the pain.
He picks up some of your clothes by accident - what’s left of them, anyway - and his mouth drops open in shock. “Oh, I think I owe you a new pair of pants.” He holds them up for you to see, and he sticks his fingers through the holes his teeth made in the fabric. You both laugh when he wiggles his fingers towards you.
“That pair was getting worn out anyway,” you say with a lazy grin. “All I ask is that the replacements you buy me have pockets.” 
“I’ll buy you whatever you want,” he promises. He tosses the ruined clothes aside and slips out the door to fetch the supplies he needs to treat your leg.
Only seconds after he’s left, a muffled buzzing noise on the floor distracts you from Satan’s absence. You lean over the edge of the bed while you look for your D.D.D., hissing at the pain when you accidentally put too much pressure on your leg. 
Lucifer: I don’t need the details, but do let me know whether or not you’re alright. I heard you earlier.
He must’ve been waiting for Satan to leave the room so he could check on you discreetly.
You: We’re both fine.
You: But you owe him an apology tomorrow.
Lucifer: Very well.
You drop your phone back on the floor, and Satan returns a few minutes later with a bundle under his arm. He hands you a potion to drink and a bottle of water. He even brought your private stash of human world painkillers, though he’s not convinced they’re very helpful. Within minutes, the ache in your leg is barely noticeable and he assures you there should only be a small bruise left by morning.
He sits on the edge of the bed and starts washing you with a warm, damp towel. His touches are gentle and he takes his time. By the time he’s finished wiping away the mix of slick and cum that stained your folds and thighs, you’re sleepy and in desperate need of cuddles. He must feel the same because he dims the lights and crawls onto the bed to rejoin you.
“You didn’t come tonight,” he mentions off-handedly. He rests his head on your chest so you can play with his hair. Your legs are tangled together, and every once in a while his arms around your chest hug you just a bit tighter.
Even though you’re not usually in the mood for more once he’s done, he always makes sure that he’s not leaving you wanting. “I’d rather stay like this right now. Surprise me with something sweet tomorrow.”
You’re both too tired and emotionally drained to have a longer conversation about what happened. For now, you do tell him that you’re sorry you had to cancel plans with him and you’d like to make it up to him later. He apologizes for the disappointment and jealousy that set him off and caused tonight's outburst.
“I nearly used the safeword,” you admit quietly after a few minutes of silence. He tilts his head up so he can see your expression more clearly.
“The bite?” he guesses knowingly. Your pants are what probably kept him from drawing blood, but he startled himself with the viciousness of it.
“It was tolerable at first but it hurt more the longer it went on.” You smile and brush his hair back. “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me on purpose.”
He sighs quietly and doesn’t speak for a moment. “No, even during the worst of it, I never want to hurt you that badly. In the haze of it all, it’s easy to underestimate the power I use but I try not to get carried away.” He squeezes you tightly. “I love you. Please stop me if I do something like that again. I don’t want you to suffer with that sort of pain.”
After a few minutes of whispered conversation and featherlight kisses, you nudge him off you and roll onto your side. He clings to your back and puts his arm around you so he can hold you close and nuzzle into your neck.
“Maybe we should get you a mouth guard?” you ask him with a hint of amusement, stifling a yawn as you close your eyes.
“I’ll add it to the list along with your new pants,” he quips, chuckling into your hair. You don’t respond, but he smiles when he hears you snore not long after.
He lays awake and holds you close, pressing his ear to your back so he can listen to your heartbeat until he falls asleep.
➤➤ Obey Me! Masterlist
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hwascripts · 11 months
Text
A Yandere Love Letter From Satan
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Warning: Brief mention of violence, toxic behaviour, dark themes. This is simply a work of fiction, I in no way support or condone yandere behaviour.
Check out my directory if you want to see more
Hello, my darling.
I hope this letter finds you well. At the moment I am writing this, it has been exactly three days, 17 hours and 56 minutes since you “escaped” from me. Yes, darling, I’ve even counted until the very last minute. Your absence has been absolute torture, my sweet one.
Tell me, my beloved, did you honestly believe you could escape that easily from me? Did you sincerely think you could hide from the Avatar of Wrath? How silly of you to believe you could run from a demon you have a pact with; how silly indeed.
I know you've run off to the human world, my beloved. I know exactly where you are, and I can't say I’m amused. I’m furious with your decision to run away from me, your soul mate, to foolishly frolic around with your...” real boyfriend.”
The mere thought of a lowly, worthless, filthy HUMAN laying his hands on you, filling your pretty little head with ridiculous ideas, makes me want to rip out his heart. How dare such a disgusting, vile creature taint you with his impurities.
I am not a patient demon, my darling. My patience has been stretched thin over the last three excruciatingly painful days. You have one day to return to your rightful home, here in my arms. Fail to return, and I shall take matters into my own hands. I sincerely hope that wretched beast isn't too fond of his limbs because I’ll tear them apart slowly if you don’t take my warning seriously, my beloved.
And I do hope you don't think you won't be punished for this outrageous behaviour, darling. I hate punishing you, sweet one, but you must repent for betraying me, your only true love.
But for now, my beloved, I hope you like chains because you’ll be chained to my side forever.
Eternally yours,
Satan.
837 notes · View notes
imk1ra · 2 years
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Y/n, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him
Lucifer: You did WHAT–
Satan: William Snakepeare
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Note
can I request a gn mc asking the brothers (and maybe dateables too if you want) to play with their wings/tail? I’ve always had the urge to just mess with Mammons wings and Levi’s tail especially
it’s okay if you don’t want to do it tho! Thank you :) 💙
touching the brothers' tails/horns/etc.
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includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
wc: .7k | rated t | m.list | pt 2
a/n: wow i almost want to explore lucifer's a lot further </3 anyway i hope you enjoy and ty for requesting! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, or req so come stop by!!
reblogs are greatly appreciated!
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➳ lucifer stiffens as he feels your hands gently running through the feathers of his wings. you slow, but when he reminds silent, pick up the action again, every movement intentional and soft. it feels so good. lucifer cannot remember the last time someone other than himself had touched his wings. after he became a devil, they were something he was ashamed of for a long time and his brothers quickly learned they were no longer to touch them, and by the time he’d be okay with it, it was too late. but your touch feels like heaven, and lucifer’s afraid to look at your face out of fear of revulsion, he can’t find himself to pull away either.
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➳ mammon yelps when he feels a touch on his wings, turning quickly. you yank your hand back, apologetic. “you’re good to touch them,” he says, “i was just surprised.” taking his invitation, you stroke the bones, following them from the bottom up, moving to the skin on his back. he shivers as you trace your way across his veins, feeling oddly exposed. but it also feels kind of nice, like you’re scratching an itch he hadn’t realized he had.
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➳ levi flushes when his tail lashes, bumping against your leg. “sorry, it has a mind of its own,” he says, and you laugh. without asking, you run a hand down the scales, scratching your fingernails carefully over the smooth surface. “that feels good,” levi whispers, and you smile, continuing to run your hand up and down and up and down. honestly, the touch is more soothing that he’d have thought, and before he knows it, he’s half asleep, leaning against your side.
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➳ satan wakes up with his head in your lap. he must have fallen asleep reading. as he gets his thoughts in order, he realizes he’s in his demon form, and you’re gently scratching his head, running your hands across his horns in a slow, repetitive motion. nobody’s ever touched his horns like that before. with his brothers, they were merely a place to grab onto when they scuffled, and he himself had never paid much attention to them, simply accepting them as part of his appearance, but your touch is making him reevaluate everything. content to stay where and as he is, he lets his eyes slip shut once more but doesn't sleep, simply reveling in your touch.
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➳ asmo giggles as he feels you stroke his wing. “that tickles!” you chuckle, smearing lotion across the course skin, making sure to get every wrinkle and fold. asmo’d never been able to reach all of his wings himself, and only was able to convince one of his brothers to help once in a blue moon, so hanging out around to help him groom and moisturize was truly amazing. especially since you were so gentle and careful, your attention to detail showing in every movement. your hands felt nothing like his brothers’, and for that, asmo was immensely grateful.
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➳ beel shivers as your fingers follow the striped birthmarks that go down his neck and collarbone. your fingers are slightly cold, especially considering he runs warm, and the touch feels almost ghostly with how light your touch is. it’s amazing, really, as you make every part of him feel special, including the parts he'd never cared about before, like his markings. your hands dips lower for a brief moment, to his chest, and he inhales slightly, but it doesn’t linger, moving back up before he knows it. his heart pounds behind his ribs and he’s sure that if your fingers were to explore the area over it, you’d be able to tell.
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➳ belphie flinches as you touch his tail. “i know it looks soft but there are thorns in there,” he says, striving for casualness. “so don’t complain if you get pricked.” your hands slow down slightly, but you don’t pull away, combing out the hair at the end of it. it’s frightfully tangled but you’re patient and belphie knows that when you finish it will be fully untangled and neat. your administrations feel kind of nice, actually, but he wouldn’t dare admit it. (something in him tells him you know that already anyway, so what’s the point?)
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deviljesterlamb · 4 months
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If MC got turned into a cat, Satan won't let them change back so fast if he can prevent it. Yes he loves them very much, but THEY'RE A CAT NOW. IT'S A DREAM COME TRUE TO HIM IN A WAY.
Anyway cue the brothers trying to free cat!MC from Satan's grasp, but he's just holding onto them tightly while hissing in defense.
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lost-in-lamentation · 5 months
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sharing a bed was a fleeting thought in his mind; who would have thought it'd have to happen so soon?
content: when there’s only one bed, what will the demon brothers do?
no warnings, really; just a lot of fluff. non-established relationships and some subtle confessions.
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after being sent back to the human world, you spent some time gathering research materials and inspiration for diavolo's upcoming RAD event. the excursion left you tired enough that you were dragging your feet to your hotel with your paired exploration partner just behind you. you checked into the hotel with ease, tension finally leaving your shoulders at the thought of going to bed. but the hotel seemed to have forgotten to tell the both of you about the sleeping arrangements of the room you were booked into. when you got to your room, you hesitated to enter, but when he asked you what was wrong, the words slipped out. “there’s only one bed.”
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belphegor. ═  ˎˊ˗
“oh, really?” belphie slips around you, tired eyes surveying the room in front of him. he shrugs a few moments later, sliding his bag off his shoulder and onto the ground. “i’m fine with it if you are,” the demon hums. 
you raise an eyebrow at him, shuffling to the other side of the room to place your own belongings down. “you don’t seem very concerned about this situation.”
“would you rather i be excited?”
“wh- no!” pouting, you turn away from belphie, rummaging through your bag as an excuse to not face him. “just go shower already. i’ll probably take longer than you, so i’ll go after.” he hums again in return, and you hear him enter the washroom not long after. with him out of earshot, you sigh quietly to yourself, pretending that you don’t feel the tips of your ears burning
by the time you finish your shower, you half expect belphie to be knocked out. instead, you find him lying on top of the covers, eyes fixated on the ceiling before they flicker over to look at you. “you’re still awake?”
he shoots you a smile, and your heart skips a beat. “didn’t feel like sleeping.”
“that’s rich, coming from sloth himself.” you stifle a laugh at his excuse, throwing your daytime clothes onto your bag before hopping up onto the other side of the bed. the pillow belphie had set in the middle of the bed as a border felt more like an obstruction rather than a guidance. “so what? couldn’t sleep without me around?” you croon, strangely delighted at the blush that spreads across the youngest’s face. 
but belphie is quick to control his expression, and he’s smirking not more than a few seconds later. “didn’t want to sleep without you,” he says, parroting the tone that you had just used. your jaw drops as belphie laughs, and when you finally decide to say something, he beats you to it. “sweet dreams, MC,” belphie murmurs, features soft under the light before he flicks the bedside lamp off.
“g-goodnight,” you manage to stutter out, turning away from belphie to face the other wall. a subconscious habit of yours, you begin to clench and unclench your fists, making rustling noises under the blankets. you continue for a while, until you feel a hand on your back and hear a gentle voice calling to slumber, eyes falling closed as belphie strokes you softly.
beelzebub. ═  ˎˊ˗
ever the considerate demon of the bunch, beel gives you the most steadfast look he is capable of. “i can take the floor, MC.” 
you quickly shake your head in response. “beel, i don’t want you doing that here.”
“i sleep on levi’s floor whenever i fall asleep while watching him play games. it’s okay.”
a grimace forms on your face at his reasoning. “that… doesn’t exactly make me feel better about it.” you give the demon one more look, but when you see how determined beel is, you back down. “fine. but you’re taking the comforter.”
seemingly happy with the exchange, beel grins at you, his eyes nearly sparkling with victory. you sigh at him, but with his famous puppy-dog look, you can’t stay mad. with a hand on his wrist, you pull him into the room, unaware of the way his eyes widen at your touch. eventually, the blush on his face dies, and the two of you get all your things sorted before freshening up for bed. as beel walks out of the washroom, towel draped around his neck, you tug the comforter free from the mattress, placing it at the foot of the bed. 
the sixth born frowns at the comforter, and then at you. “you’ll get cold at night.”
you wave your hand at beel, smiling at him despite feeling the chill settle into your bones already. “don’t worry, i never get cold,” you say, hoping he buys your act. 
the demon is reluctant, but nods and takes the comforter in the end. you watch as he sits down and spreads the fabric across himself, waiting until he finishes. when he does, you bid him goodnight, reaching over to turn off the light before curling into yourself underneath the bed sheet. it doesn’t take long for you to start shivering, and you internally curse at yourself when your shaking makes the bed frame groan. silently, you pray that beel has already fallen asleep, but he does not possess the same aptitude for it as his twin. your hear him stand up, and he softly taps your shoulder before saying anything. “actually… can we share the bed?” 
you swallow your chattering, turning your head to face him, even if you can’t see in the dark. “floor isn’t comfy enough?”
“it’s fine, but you’re really cold, aren’t you? you’ll be warmer if you have the comforter. and if i’m there too.” 
your heart warms at his sincerity, and you flip yourself over to wave him closer to yourself. 
the dark serves well to hide beel’s burning face from you, and he’s glad that the lights are off right now. he swiftly throws the covers over the both of you, settling into the bed close enough that you feel his warmth, but aren’t touching.
you’re confused when you hear him holding his breath, so your hand feels around the bed until you can find his.
beel nearly flies out of the bed when he feels your fingers lock with his, but it’s his hunger for you that keeps him still. “goodnight MC.” 
you want to say goodnight back, but you feel lips brush over your knuckles in the dark, and you no longer have the courage to say it. instead, you tighten your grip, relaxing further until you fell asleep.
asmodeus. ═  ˎˊ˗
asmo practically squeals in delight, and you immediately slap a hand over his mouth to quiet him down. “there are people in the other rooms!” you hiss, taking your hand away from his face and dragging him inside the room instead. with a sigh, you dig your fingers into your temples; but you suppose that asmo not being picky about sharing a bed is a nice surprise. “just- go get ready for bed,” you grumble, throwing your bag into a corner before flopping down on the nearby chair. 
“we’re gonna do skincare together after, okay MC?” you haphazardly throw a thumbs-up at asmo, waiting for him to disappear into the washroom before you gather your things. 
surprisingly, asmo finishes his regular routine in record time, and a part of you wonders if it’s because of the fact that you’re sharing a bed. you shake the idea away, trudging into the washroom to clean yourself up. when you finish, asmo is laying all his different products out onto the desk next to the bed. you can only stare at the sight, and find a seat next to him on the bed as he debates what brand of toner to use. as soon as his decision is made, asmo places one bottle onto the desk, and the other gets thrown into his luggage. finally, he turns to you, eyes sparkling with excitement. 
“first, we wash our faces with this!” 
you blink at the bottle in his hand. “i just washed my face with the bar of soap they gave us.” 
asmo looks at you incredulously, stuck feeling something between disgust and amazement at the lack of effort. “well, you’re going to wash your face again!” 
the avatar of lust lives up to his name; you spend over an hour going through the perfect skin care routine until asmo finally gives the word that you’re done. 
“that was a lot,” you breathe out, flopping onto the bed with a relieved sigh. “you do that every night?” 
the demon laughs at your question, but his answer catches you further off guard, “of course not! my routine at home is much longer. we just didn’t have enough time to do all of it today. i still need my beauty sleep, MC.” you do your best to hold your expression, but you can’t help the slip of shock that flickers across your face. “you know, i’ve never done this with anyone,” asmo begins. “my brothers all run away either halfway or even before we start.”
“really?” you turn onto your side to look at him, and asmo smiles at the gesture.
“really. so, thanks for doing this with me.” he ruffles his hair into place as he walks to the light, switching it off before climbing onto the bed next to you. “good night MC.” he doesn’t wait for your response before pulling the blankets up to his chin. “i hope i can spend more nights like this with you,” he whispers to himself, part of him hoping you heard it, and part of him praying you didn’t.
satan. ═  ˎˊ˗
the avatar of wrath immediately turns on his heel and walks away, stalking towards the elevator with a determined look on his face. panicked at what he might do, you snatch his wrist and yank him back towards you, matching his glare with one of your own.
“where do you think you’re going?”
“front desk. i’m going to get this fixed.” 
you wince at the idea of satan yelling at the hotel receptionist and getting yourselves kicked out. “what you’re going to do, is take a shower and calm down. i’ll head down and see if they can do anything, but i’m not risking you lashing out at them. got it?”
satan twitches uncomfortably at your scolding tone, but nods nonetheless. wordlessly, he marches into the room, leaving you to venture downstairs to the front desk. 
much to your dismay, and not so much surprise, there were no more rooms with two beds available. the receptionist confirms that there was an error during the information transfer between booking sites, so you say your thanks before asking for an extra blanket and heading upstairs. when you return, satan says nothing, only giving you an inquisitive look. you shake your head in response, also remaining silent as you grab what you need to freshen up. you finish quickly, exhaustion too prominent as you realise you don’t have the energy to be mad at anything. on one side of the bed, satan sits against the headboard, legs straight in front of him as he reads through a book he had bought yesterday. as you come out, his gaze follows you, eyes narrowing in confusion when he sees you grab the extra fleece blanket you got earlier and sit down on the floor. 
“oi, what are you doing?” satan’s curiosity always has the better of him, asking questions before he can even think about it.
“you seemed very adamant about not sharing a bed,” you reply curtly, draping the blanket over your shoulders. “so i decided i’ll sleep on the floor.” 
“th-that’s not…” you glance up at the blonde, lips itching to smile as a blush spreads across his face. “i thought two beds would be better because i like to stay up reading, and if we share a bed, i might keep you up. that’s all.”
you feel your heart swell, even if you know the excuse is made up on the spot to cover up his embarrassment. “i’ll fall asleep easy, satan. you don’t have to worry about that.”
“is that so…” satan mutters to himself, weighing his options briefly before extending a hand to you. “just get up here. my brothers would kill me if they found out i almost let you sleep on the floor.” 
you place your hand in his, fingers curling around his palm as he pulls you up to join him. “thanks satan,” you beam, squeezing his hand tightly before rounding the corner of the bed to the other side. he mutters something you can’t hear, placing his attention back on his novel. “goodnight,” you hum quietly, turning away from him and pulling the covers over yourself.
a few minutes later, on the verge of sleep, you feel fingers threading through your hair and hear a gentle “goodnight, i love you,” before losing yourself to sweet dreams.
leviathan. ═  ˎˊ˗
“i can sleep in the bathtub.” 
you whip your head around to stare at levi, who is uncharacteristically serious. “come again?” 
he throws his hands up in defence, against what, you’re not really sure. “it’s not like it’s different from back home.” with your jaw hanging open, you continue to stare at him. “stop making that face! what’s wrong with sleeping in the bathtub?!”
you drag your hand down your face now, unsure if this idea is smart or stupid. “levi, this is a hotel bathtub. you don’t know who or what has been in it!” 
“i’ll clean it with soap before i sleep,” he protests.
“that’s besides the point!” you sigh in defeat, thinking that you’re too tired to argue about this right now. “fine, fine. but i’m casting a cleaning spell.” you see levi’s shoulders relax immediately, and you wonder why he refuses to share a bed with you in the first place. 
the both of you finish your nightly routines rather quickly, and once you determine that the bathtub is dry enough for levi, you cast your spell on it. you watch with a frown as he clambers over the side, still mostly against the idea of sleeping in the hotel bathtub. somehow, levi catches your discomfort, and quickly slides in against the walls of the tub before saluting to you. 
“feels good in here,” the water demon declares, trying his best to get you to relax. 
although it doesn’t exactly work, you resign anyway, telling levi you’ll be right outside if he needs you. with that, you bid him goodnight, leaving the door to the washroom ajar just in case. in the dead of the night, you last only around 15 minutes, before the guilt gets the better of you. angrily, you throw covers away from yourself, stomping towards the washroom and jerking the door open. you can only hear levi’s splutters of confusion as he flails around. you inhale sharply, flicking the light switch before locking eyes with levi and saying, “bed. now.”
levi flushes immediately, his face scarlet red with confusion and embarrassment. “y-you won’t be able to sleep if i’m there!”
“i’ll fall asleep faster with you next to me instead of in this godforsaken bathtub!”
he freezes at the statement; of course, initially he wanted to share the bed, but he was too afraid of being seen as weird for wanting to do so. levi swallows his fear, pulling himself out of the bathtub just slightly. “... you mean it?” 
you sigh again for the nth time that night, but reach your hand out to him as you do so. “yes, levi. now please, just come to bed.” 
levi is reluctant, but he takes your hand in the end, allowing you to pull him away from the washroom and towards a proper sleeping surface. when you feel him sink into the mattress, you feel relief flooding your body, tiredness making its appearance now that levi is next to you. “sleep well,” you murmur, knocking out as soon as your head hits the pillow. 
unbeknownst to you, levi does not fall asleep until at least 2 hours later, but he takes comfort in the fact that you’d rather have him by your side than far away. he’ll have the courage to hold you while you sleep another day.
mammon. ═  ˎˊ˗
mammon peeks into the room, his face unreadable for a fleeting moment.
"guess there's no helping it. we're sharing." 
the white haired demon spins to look at you, disbelief written across his features. "sharing?!" 
"what about it?" you ask, exasperated. lightly, you push against one of his shoulders, turning him back around so that you can escort him into the room. the door shuts behind you with a click, and despite the room being dimly lit, you quickly notice the red dusting mammon's ears. "mammon? you don't want to share a bed with me?" 
mammon trips on his words, fumbles with his sentences. eventually, he manages to get out an "i'll just sleep on the chair." he moves in full speed, suddenly grabbing his sleeping clothes from his bag and rushing into the washroom a second later. 
too tired to press him about it, you let the matter go, scrolling your phone while you wait for your turn in the washroom. when mammon steps out, refreshed for the night, he pulls the chair out from under the desk, dropping himself onto it rather gracefully. you give him a look, but mammon has his eyes on everywhere except you. sighing, you give up for the second time that night. but as you head into the washroom, you tell yourself that the third time's the charm. mammon won't feel comfortable in that chair, and you don't feel great about letting him sleep there either. 
your mind is made up, and by the time you're ready to sleep, mammon is now tucked into himself on the chair, knees pressed up against his chest as he attempts to make use of the tiny space. you wait for him to look at you, but when he does, he tears his gaze away and hides his face in the crook of his elbow. you grow soft at the sight, seeing the way his blush reaches just to where you catch it. stifling a giggle to yourself, you switch the light off, hopping up onto the bed just after. once you get comfortable, you burrow into your side of the bed, flipping over to be able to see mammon's figure in the dark.
"goodnight mammon," you call out.
it takes him a second, but he brings his face up so that he isn't muffled. "... g'night, human." 
you smile to yourself, forgetting that mammon can see even without the light. luckily for him, you can't see the way his blush deepens, and how his gaze looks over you with such stark affection. meanwhile, you wait 15 minutes, listening to the way mammon shifts on the chair, and when you think he's also had enough of pretending to be okay with it, you call out to him again.
"mammon?"
"oh, you're awake?"
"come join me." you hear him inhale sharply, so you push yourself up onto an elbow. "i don't want you sleeping in that chair." 
mammon feels his sin surge up, greed entering his nerves and pulling him to join you under the covers. he wants to hold back, but then he sees the way you hold the blanket up, inviting him closer with no strings attached. finally, he gives in, crawling in so that you face each other while lying down. the space between you and him is infinite, and yet, so short at the same time. mammon feels his heart jump into his throat when you cross the boundary first, your hand reaching up to scratch his chin. he relaxes instantly, and before he knows it, he's murmuring out an apology before his arms wrap around your back and tug you into his chest. to his delight, you don't pull away, instead tucking yourself closer. 
perhaps he can be greedy for you just this once.
lucifer. ═  ˎˊ˗
"will you be alright by yourself?"
you blink in surprise at the question. "eh? i mean, yes, but, where are you going?" 
lucifer places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside the room while he stays outside the doorway. "i'll go around the city and find a hotel with another room. after all, it would be impolite to have to force you to share a bed." 
"wait- huh?" you squawk in confusion, turning on your heel to face the avatar of pride. you have a feeling that being impolite is just an excuse. 
"i will text you when i've found a hotel. for now, go and clean yourself up. it's been a long day, and-"
"and that's exactly why you're staying here." you reach for the cuff of his sleeve, fingers holding tightly despite the glare you receive from lucifer. 
the demon makes no move to tear his hand away, and instead sighs into his other one instead. "MC, really." 
"lucifer, it's almost past midnight," you hiss, now trying to tug him into the hotel room. "you won't be finding any hotel rooms at this time, and i'll be too worried about you out there that i won't get any sleep anyway." keeping your grip steady, you pull on his sleeve again, waiting for lucifer's next move with bated breath. 
between the look on your face and the iron grip you have him in, lucifer can only give up, begrudgingly following you into the room. to his surprise, your eyes light up when he finally agrees, and he thinks that maybe he made the right choice if you were this happy. he doesn't say much else, instead hurrying you into the washroom to wash up. once you're inside, he groans to himself; lucifer can't deny the fact that he's also somewhat elated at the situation, and yet, he can't help but feel nervous about it. the mere fact that a human like yourself has such a big impact on him has him wondering if he should have agreed to this trip in the first place. but when you come out of the washroom, ready for the night, lucifer also can't help but think that he's glad that this side of you is reserved for him on this trip. 
you send lucifer a smile, tilting your head towards the shower to tell him it's his turn. a gentle hum makes its way towards your ears, and before lucifer disappears from sight, you see a ghost of a smile gracing his features. 
by the time he finishes, you're already tucked into one side of the bed, scrolling your phone for text messages that you missed during the day. lucifer watches you with careful eyes; his pride is too great to admit to himself that he loves to see you so relaxed around him, but his racing heart speaks a different story. carefully, he climbs into bed next to you, waiting until your gaze matches his to speak. 
"if you are uncomfortable at any time, please let me know." 
"oh, please. if i'm going to be stuck in this situation, i'm glad that it's you here." you set your phone down, turning onto your side to face him. as you roll over, you reach up to brush away the hairs that have fallen onto his forehead, giggling at the way lucifer stiffens at your touch. "goodnight, lucifer," you practically sing, turning away again to leave your back exposed to the demon.
lucifer, now that you're facing away, allows himself to smile. just as you feel yourself falling asleep, he drapes an arm over your waist, pulling you close. his chest rumbles as he says his goodnight, and you fall asleep immediately in the safety of his arms.
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a/n: i really wanna do a 500 follower thing but uh... what do people do for those-
reblogs are really appreciated (´ω`) ♡
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anintrovertedechoe · 11 months
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satan: im an intellectual
cat:
satan: meow meow meow X3 ? meow meow :3
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