#wearyeyebrow
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Worthy In Blue
Summary: You’ve been working on a little surprise project for Lucifer involving navy blue rope and a mahogany chair. You know Lucifer has a penchant for ropework, so what if you gave him an evening to put those skills, and your own, to good use?
Tags under the cut.
Tags: submissive lucifer, dominant MC, rope, restraints, MC is in rope, Lucifer is restrained, pegging, cunnilingus, gn MC, afab MC, mutual possessiveness, romance, established relationship, pre-nightbringer
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Tonight is the long awaited Grimte Banquet where all the noble houses gather. Relationships are maintained, new ones started, and it’s all Lucifer can do to keep his brothers in line. Luckily, he has you to keep Mammon by your side and Beel full of food.
The night drones on spent managing many noble advances. He spares you a weary glance and you wink at him from across the hall. He can’t help the quirk of his mouth, a slight smile amidst everything. You’re impossibly charming.
A few moments later and he hears your voice in his ear. “Meet me in the coat room, I have something to show you.”
You slip away and disappear somewhere in the crowd. Eventually he manages a moment alone, horribly curious as he finds his way to you.
You close the door behind him, nearly hidden amidst coats of all sizes. “Hi gorgeous,” you wrap your arms around his waist.
"A coat closet?" He muses.
“I won’t keep you. Pretty sure Beel is looking for me too… Here.” You hold up your phone, “What do you think?”
You’re showing him a picture of… rope? “This is what you wanted to show me?”
“I could hardly send it to your phone right now, what with the entire royal court surrounding you. Plus, I’d rather explain its implications in person.”
“Implications?”
“Mm. Are you free next Friday night? Around 10pm?”
“I…” he allows himself a small smile, “I might be able to spare you some time.”
“Oh might you?” You smirk, “Well, if you’re too busy I completely understand. I’m capable of appreciating my own hard work.”
He acts affronted, grabbing you by the waist and kissing your hand. “Would a willing participant not please you more?”
“Isn’t that why I asked you in the first place?” He’s captivated by the crinkle of your nose, by the warmth of your smile.
“You’ve caught me,” he chuckles, “I’m all yours.”
“Then it’s a date. Do you like the color?”
You show him your phone again and he hums appreciatively. "Did you get it from Cloven Boutique? I didn’t think they stocked colored rope."
“They don’t, I dyed it myself."
“Truly?” He looks closer, in want of his glasses. “It looks like a professional job."
"Well, I had to get the color just right - I love the look of you in blue."
"Oh?" His tone softens.
“Mhm…” You appreciatively sweep your eyes up his body, lingering the gold peacock tie-clip you got him last month. You reach out and adjust his collar, “I love seeing you in things I’ve bought.”
“You have good taste.”
“Do you really think so?”
He frowns. “I wouldn’t wear something if it didn’t suit me.”
You laugh, “I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“You’re horrible.”
“I’m charming.”
He fondly rolls his eyes. “I suppose both descriptors are accurate. I will look forward to it all week.”
“I think it’ll be worth the wait.” You lean up and brush your lips against his, “Don’t dance with too many nobles now.”
“Haven’t you noticed? All eyes are on you tonight. It’s taken everything in me not to whisk you away.”
“Likewise, darling.” You wink at him again and his heart certainly doesn’t flutter.
-
Lucifer knocks on your closed door, waiting for you to beckon him inside.
The first thing he notices is an old mahogany chair in the middle of your room, stolen from the hallway. It sits odd against your comfortable furniture.
You make a show of locking your door, brushing against his shoulder as you pass by. Then you cast a noise canceling spell - nothing but an emergency could disturb you now.
When you meet his eyes you're delighted by his wanting expression, unguarded and open in his desire. "I wonder…" you walk over to him, "how much you've thought about this night, curious about what I've planned?" You straighten his tie, close enough to see him swallow.
"It has been on my mind." He takes your hand in his own and kisses your knuckles, looking every part adoring.
You chuckle fondly, "Especially in the evenings, when you think of me?"
His cheeks heat up but his gaze is steady. “I won’t deny it."
“Honesty suits you." He goes in for a kiss just as you pull away. "I want to show you something."
He makes a curious sound and you leave him to open your dresser drawer. "Now, you knew I'd be using rope tonight, but for what exactly I didn't tell you." You gather the rope in your arms, "It might not seem like much of a deviation."
"Oh?" He eyes the rope you've picked.
"You still like it?"
He turns the rope over in his hands, "It’s richer than I remember. How did you do it?"
"Blue mangled beetles - kind of like carmine, but the process is simpler. When dried and crushed they make a beautiful dark navy dye that doesn’t bleed."
"You did your research."
You chuckle and take the rope from his hands. "Only the best for you. Gloves off."
He slips off his right leather glove, finger by finger - wait. “Blue?” You look at him inquisitively. His nails are a rich navy blue, perfectly manicured and glossy.
His eyes flicker behind you, cheeks dusting pink. “I painted them a few days ago.”
You're confused for a minute, then it hits you. “Wait - because of me?”
His voice drops, “You - you mentioned-" He clears his throat, "I thought you might like them.”
"I love them, Lucifer…" You kiss his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, before pulling him in for a proper kiss. His hand cups your jaw and he makes a small, plaintive sound. He really had been thinking about your words all this time.
You pull away with reluctance. "It's time I tell you what we’ll be doing tonight. Shall we start the scene?"
He clears his throat again and sweeps his own magic over your door. "Let us begin."
"Any titles are allowed tonight, you can address me however you’d like. Red to stop the act, yellow to pause, and green for all good. Fire if you want to stop the scene entirely."
"Understood.”
“Then…" the glint in your eyes makes him a little weak in the knees. "I know you have a penchant for ropework. And I know how much you enjoy earning my praise. So, I had a thought - tonight I’d like you to use your ropework skills and tie me up, but I want full range of motion, you know, a design strictly for aesthetics.” You pull the rope taught in your hands, “And then, if you do a good enough job, I may reward you with some rope of my own. What do you say?” You hold out the rope to him.
You smile and oblige, settling into the cold wooden seat. He eyes you and then the rope, contemplative, before loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. He circles you, and you admire the focused, pointed look on his face as he carefully plans an intricate design in his mind’s eye. He’s completely in his element and you love to watch him work.
“What an intriguing idea...” He takes the rope from your hands with soft reverence, feeling the rough texture between his fingers. “You really got such a nice shine to it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He breathes out slowly and gestures to the mahogany chair, “Please dear, relax.”
“Ah,’ you suddenly realize, “This might help.” You lift up your shirt and drop it next to the chair before shimmying out of your bottoms, leaving you bare before him.
“Yes…” he murmurs as his eyes roam your skin.
You feel a pleasant tingle up your spine when he brushes his fingers through your hair, gently gathering until he can put it up properly above your neckline. Your body relaxes under his touch.
The first knot is an anchor tie just below your bust, he uses four strands and divides them into two, slipping each half over your shoulders and back down to meet your back. The rough texture warms you from the outside in but his careful touch is cool against your skin.
You watch him as he works, loving the interplay of shadow that falls across his sharp features. He catches you staring.
“Am I pleasing to look at, Madam?”
“Yes, very much so.”
Your pact mark sings and you chuckle, bemused at the sensation. “You like it when I compliment you, don’t you, my little black bird?”
His cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrow, as he’s put off by the pet name, but the humming in your chest only continues. “I can feel it, you know? Honesty really does suit you best - your face is much prettier wearing it.”
The tips of his ears turn pink but he circles you, wrapping his arms around your midsection to finish fixing a knot in place. Suddenly his warm lips press into the crook of your shoulder. The deep undertones of his voice make you shiver as he whispers in your ear. “You will be the death of me.”
You turn to meet his eyes, coy mischief in your own. “I think you’ll survive.” He chuckles and you kiss him once, twice, just to make him simmer. He almost goes back in for a third but you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. “Not yet.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He kisses your shoulder once more.
Time passes in a lovely, hazy sort of way. Lucifer relaxes into the process as you'd hoped he would. It’s a gentle sort of focus where his mind is set on something, a place where nothing else can bother him or tear away his careful attention. He loves taking your direction, easing him out of his mind, constantly wound too tight.
Finally he kneels to finish the job, gingerly maneuvering one of your legs up and over his shoulder to wrap a strand around the back of your thigh. His eyes wander this time, following the line of your body until he lingers between your legs. As if he can’t help himself he kisses your skin, leaving a delicate trail up the inside of your thigh.
You cup his jaw in one hand and he kisses your palm, eyeing between your legs. “After you finish,” you murmur, “You’ll have to earn what you get tonight.” His eyes flicker to yours and he continues moving, finishing the tie he started.
“I believe I’m finished, will you stand?”
You do so, feeling the bend and flex of rope. Nothing feels too tight, everything is snug, hugging the curves of your body. You admire what lacing you can see, particularly the delicate design around your hands and wrists. He truly had taken his time, a glance at the clock proves that an hour has passed.
Finally you turn around and examine his work in the mirror. Your eyes light up at his intricate ropework. You’re beautiful, elegant, fully mobile and yet covered in faux restraints. You admire yourself, making a show of your appreciation. His chest puffs out and the pact mark on your chest rumbles. You gently circle your clit with one finger and enjoy how he shifts uncomfortably behind you.
You want more from him. Your body aches from an hour of foreplay.
You cup his jaw with one hand. “Kneel.”
“Yes Sir,” he murmurs, almost breathless.
His willing, almost eager demonstration of your power over him, of his own lack of control, further spurns you on, and you know he can hold your weight.
"Show me, then, devotion to your work." You prop one leg up on the hard mahogany seat, exposing yourself for him. Rope hugs your thighs, indenting and highlighting what he wants most.
His eyes flicker between your face and your clit. He licks his lips. "Thank you, Sir."
You run a hand through his hair and brace the other on the back of the chair. As soon as his tongue touches your clit you gasp, unable to help yourself. You’ve been on edge for so long now, throbbing at every new rope and delicate detail. You savor his mouth, rocking your hips into his face gently. "Yes…" he sucks and licks as you drip onto his tongue and he moans softly at the gentle tug of your hand in his hair.
You'll come quickly and you know it - you rock against him faster now and he wraps his fingers through the ropes on the back of your thigh before squeezing your ass and petting between your legs.
You look down at him, at his disheveled appearance, tousled hair, and too-tight pants. “Lucifer, darling, you - ah - you don’t have to say anything, no thoughts, no control, just take what I give you."
He groans and claws at the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward against his mouth.
You tilt your head back. "Good man, good job-" he whines and flicks his tongue with renewed vigor, "fffuck, right there…"
You fuck his face, shivering and shaking, chasing your orgasm. He holds you upright and supports your body, grasping at his own ropework. You moan and twitch. A glance at the mirror brings you closer still, “Look baby, look at you, making me feel so fucking good… shit-” Your grip on his hair tightens as you twist your hand, pulling him forward. He moans, high and breathy, harshly breathing through his nose.
His right hand supports your waist while his left squeezes your ass. Just a minute more, a second more, finally, finally his palpable desire sends you over the edge, and god how it fills the air. He takes it all and you don't fall, even as your legs lock and your grip falters. You shake and shiver in his tight grasp, palms holding tight to his shoulders. He keeps licking, just enough to keep you there until tension dissipates and you’re overstimulated. Only then does his grip loosen, following your body as you stand on your own, knees shaking.
There's an unspoken tenderness in his eyes - your baby takes pride in service.
You step away from him when you can, fixing his hair and cleaning your cum from his lips. "Sit on the chair, darling."
His knees crack when he gets up, stiff from his place on the hardwood floor. He sits, bulge straining against his trousers, watching you with rapt attention.
"I think…" you turn around, "You've more than earned your reward - as if there was any doubt in my mind."
“Oh?” He practically glows at your praise.
"And…” you walk over to your nightstand once more, "I'm not done with this yet." He swallows, gaze fixated on the rope in your hands. You smirk, "You like that idea?"
He shifts again. "Yes I - very much."
You reach into your nightstand and pull out a matte black silicone dildo, smaller, elegant even. You hold it up. “What about this? Are you up for it tonight?”
“Yes,” he nods, “I prepared myself for the possibility.”
“Perfect,“ you breathe, already excited. “Then…” your smile is nearly wicked as you regard him and his cock throbs in earnest. “Clothes off. Hands behind your back - hold your forearms.”
He acquiesces, knowing exactly what you want.
Soon he’s sitting naked on the chair, hands held behind his back, willingly at your mercy. Your ties aren’t nearly as elegant, but they restrict his movement and hug his body. You restrain his arms behind his back with a chest harness, carefully distributing the weight of the rope, adding just a touch of flourish. Even in such a simple design he looks lovely. Blue really is his color, you think, admiring him. He catches your eye.
“I was right,” you say, tilting his chin up for a chaste peck on the lips, “You look lovely in blue.” He groans and chases your lips this time. You let him, just once, and deepen the kiss yourself, before grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head up. “Not yet, darling.”
“As you wish.” He’s breathless and kiss bitten.
You leave him and stack two large pillows on top of each other. You motion for him to stand before grabbing him by the restraints. “I will help you get into position,” you chuckle darkly, “I want you face down.”
His cheeks feel hot but he nods, “Yes Sir.”
“Good man. Lie down.”
It takes a moment since he can’t move his arms but you finally have him exactly where you want him, chest pushed into the bed, hips and ass raised by the pillows beneath him.
He tilts his head to look at you with one eye, eyebrow raised as you appear with more rope.
‘Can’t have you squirming too much, now can I?” He groans into the pillow beneath him and nods.
“Tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable or need to readjust, this position might get tiring after awhile.”
“I’m sure I can take it.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m not asking. Tell me.”
He shivers. “Yes Ma’am.”
“Good.”
You uncap the lube on your nightstand and snap a glove on. He shivers at the cold feeling of your lubed finger rubbing against him, but as your hand warms so does his body and he slowly starts to meet your gentle thrusts as you enter him. You love this part. It’s incredibly intimate, almost more so that the ensuing sex, because anyone else would have been thrown out long ago - he has only ever done this with you.
Once you’re up to two fingers comfortably you withdraw your hand and replace it with your lubed up strap. “Ready?”
“I’ve been ready.” You smack his ass and he gasps.
“What was that?”
“I apologize, yes I - I’m ready.”
“That’s better. One more remark like that,” you murmur, pressing in slowly, “And I’ll rethink your reward.”
He hisses, wiggling his hips, “A-Apologies - it won’t happen again.”
‘I know it won’t,” you smile, “because you love this too much.” Finally, finally you move your hips, slow at first, until finding a gentle rhythm. You use his bound legs as leverage, pushing deep inside of him as his low, desperate moans fill the air.
As his body strains against the rope it holds tight, digging into his skin - this heat, this pleasure, your power over him is dizzying. For a few blissful moments he can’t think, all he can do is feel you surround him and hear your haunting voice in his ear.
It is easy to admire him, Lucifer Morningstar splayed out before you, rocking his ass into your hips, wanting more, more. You grab the rope holding his forearms tight against his back and pull, arching his back against the sheets. He cries out, and you lean down, pushing all your weight on top of him.
“That feel good, baby? Heh, you love it don’t you?” Your hips are slow and deep, grinding on his favorite spot, “You love being fucked like this. Wrapped in my rope, under my hand-” He moans, long and debauched. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you belong to me, don’t you?”
“Yes-!”
You’re breathless above him. “We belong to each other, right, love?”
His eyes open and he gazes at you in the adjacent mirror, “Yes…” You dip and kiss the back of his neck, soft and sweet, "Hnn…" he takes in a shuddering breath and lets his head fall forward.
“That's right, no one else deserves to touch you, no one else is good enough, worthy enough.” You whisper in his ear.
He gasps your name and pushes his ass against your hips, pathetically fucking himself on your strap. Every slap of your skin sears welts into his body. You grab his hair and jerk his body up.
“Eyes open, look at yourself.” He didn’t think he could get any redder, but the sight of you behind him, fucking his ass with slow purposeful thrusts, restraining him while tied in his own ropework, it's too much, he can’t - he’ll -
You wrench his head up, “Keep looking,” you pant, “look at the face you make when you come for me.”
He can’t help it, he comes fast and hot, hips stuttering, mouth open and gasping. You slow but you don’t stop. He whimpers but dutifully stays, taking it all.
“Good man,” you praise him, “So. Fucking. Good-” you punctuate your words by digging your nails into his back. You slowly drag them downward and tiny specks of blood bubble to the surface. He hisses but his cock jumps beneath him. “You like a little pain, don’t you?” You slap his ass with an open palm. “Answer me.”
“Yes, yes Ma’am -”
“Yes what?”
"Fuck - more, please-!”
“Filthy.” You bite, before indulging him with another slap on the ass.
You run your nails gently over the welts and he sighs in bliss. In this moment of calm you use all your strength to hoist him upward again, until his back is flush against your chest. You wrap a hand around his throat and start to bounce him on your cock. His eyes roll back and he groans, reaching around to grab your hip as he rocks back into you.
“When I cut you loose,” you pant, “I want you to lie down on your back, legs spread, waiting and ready for me again. Do you understand me?”
He swallows breathlessly and nods.
You lean him forward and gently pull out. You untie his legs, and then his arms before dropping the rope next to the bed. His body is tinged red with slight rope burn, just how he likes.
He rolls over onto his back, finally making eye contact with you. You smile at him, gentle, and his pupils pin. “Spread your legs for me.”
Lucifer grabs his own knees, and spreads his legs while you refuse to let him lose eye contact. His red flush is delicious, and so is his twitching cock, clearly enjoying this.
You grab more lube from the nightstand and quickly reapply before holding one of his legs to your chest and slipping back inside. He groans and rocks his hips forward, savoring the feeling.
You slowly snap your hips forward, reaching deep inside him, you keep repositioning until he gasps and then you hold there. Little thrusts of your hips grinding against his ass. He gasps low, moaning sweetly in his deep voice as sweat trickles down his temple.
“Kiss me-” he croaks, reaching for you. You melt into him and grind against him as his hands roam your body. He doesn’t realize he’s whimpering and shuddering, or if he does he doesn’t care.
You continue like this for a while, enjoying his gasping deep moans in your ear, his lips and teeth on your neck. Finally, at your mercy, you gently trace your fingers over the head of his cock. The noise he makes is agonizing, and you have half a mind to continue neglecting him. But he has your heart as you keep up that gentle, light contact, and he doesn’t ask for more. His head is spinning, filled with thoughts of you, you, just you.
You speed up your hand as your hips get tired and he grips your back, rocking into you. Finally you feel him tense, feel his blunt nails dig into your back.
“There you go, my pretty bird,”
He gasps, light and beautiful, shuddering as he comes, keening as each slow, deep thrust of your hips milks another dribble of cum out of him.
You kiss again and again, covered in sweat, cum, and specks of blood, ignoring the passage of time.
-
Darkness blankets your bedroom, barely lit in deep navy shadow. Your fingernails fall up and down rhythmically over the rope burn on Lucifer’s back.
“I heard you were approached last week.” He murmurs.
“At the Banquet…? Oh, did Asmo say something?”
Lucifer chuckles, "He said something akin to "Everyone here is itching for their chance, don't let them out of your sight."
You feign exasperation. "And what did you do, you let me out of your sight. Now I'm in bed with a demon."
Lucifer snorts, "The very same demon you propositioned in a coat closet."
"What can I say? I know who I want," you kiss his temple.
Lucifer leans into you further, draped across your body. "Don't you have plans early tomorrow morning?"
“You yawn again, “Solomon said he has something important to talk to me about. What exactly, I’m not sure… he can wait until I've had breakfast.”
“That sorcerer…”
“He wants you so bad,” you chuckle, “I mean, it isn’t up to me, but I enjoy acting as if it is.”
“Rest assured,” he kisses your shoulder, “he’ll never have me, not like you do.”
Your smile is gentle. “I love you, Luci.”
“And I you.”
Lucifer closes his eyes and relaxes his sore body, satisfied and calm. He resolves to make you breakfast in the morning before seeing you off to Solomon.
Truly, he thinks, there's nothing he can’t face as long as you’re there when he wakes.
#lucifer obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me smut#sub lucifer#dom mc#my writing#wearyeyebrow#teeny tiny bit of nightbringer angst at the end#dom!reader#sub!lucifer#sub obey me
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OKOK SO I JUST FOUND YOU TODAY AND UHHHH,,,, FELL BOY ICON?? I'M NOT SURE IF YOU LIKE HIM AS MUCH AS I DO BUT HHHHHH
ayyy welcome to my page!!
he’s actually an old version of fell!sans that i used to rp with a friend way back when who i nicknamed Cinny! he went through a looot of changes. started out with a personality like a Cherry bittybones that evolved into more of a tsundere, then into the spunky cuddlebug he is now (he also turned human somewhere in there...so he’s just an OC by this point lmao) his original backstory is still my main headcanon for how underfell, or at least my version of it, came to be.
i’ve actually kinda fell off from most fanon fell!sans- too possessive, too aggressive, too overbearingly flirty, etc. but it just depends on how he’s written or portrayed.
ut!sans has been where my hearts at nowadays (love me that lil smol sub gremlin) along with my very particularly headcanoned fell!papyrus who’s still based on the underfell from cinny’s backstory
i’ll probably change my icon to my BNHA OC once i make one i like, but for now it’ll still be the skele boi uwu~ kinda feels like if i change it it’ll be like changing a company logo or somethin since i’ve had this icon for so long haha
#shoutout to wearyeyebrow on Ao3 for the best sub sans smuts out there#weary if you see this ill give you my left tit for more of your sub sans n dom reader#man i havent thought of cinny in a hot minute#hope he and grim are doin good in the back of my mind#havin a good time with big fellah n sycel#this ask answer got rlly long#....i should make a lil pixel natsuki icon....#askatllas#yeehowdy-2-point-0
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Hi because of DL ive been on swapfell sans binge because i cant get enough of the bastard man (tm). Can you recommend any swapfell sans x read stuff? If not, can anyone in the comments of this ask? Its noT AN OBSESSION I SWEAR I JUST LOVE HIM VERY MUCH OKAY??
Ah damn, here’s the rub-- one of the biggest reasons I decided to write DL (aka My Swapfell Fic) was that, uh... there weren’t very many written depictions of both brothers and their characters/dynamic that I personally liked and that whole, y’know, Be the Change You Want to See in the World thing?
So... there’s not all that much I could point you to! There was one fic I really liked, which was a SF!Sans/Reader/SF!Papyrus, but the skeles were ladies and it was really cute and wholesome but it looks like the author got out of the fandom for awhile and happened to delete it, and I personally don’t have a copy saved or anything, so... pfft. =P
wearyeyebrow on AO3 wrote a fem!SF!Sans piece that was pretty damn good, but also smutty, so I won’t outright link it just in case (if you’re an adult looking for adult content though, totally go check it out! ;3), and uh... god, who else.
@skelezbian has a couple one-shots, iirc, on her AO3, and she also happens to be the author of Bones, Picked Clean which is a fantastic fiction and also has some of my favorite depictions of the Horrortale and Swapfell brothers-- which inspired me to try and create my own!-- so that’s guaranteed quality over there.
And if you’re already on a SF!Sans binge, I’m gonna go ahead and assume you’ve already rifled through my oneshots that feature him, so no need to bring myself up lmao
I dunno, sadly I think that’s about it for what I can think of! Guess it’s up to people in the comments if they can come up with anything else, good luck! ^^
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any san fanfics u might recommend? I share your same likes so anything is cool :3
I don’t rly read them anymore (think I got an ask about this before and mentioned this), but I’ve been thinking about how in the time that I did, I bookmarked a lot, so here are some from me looking through my bookmarks on AO3 and going “OH I remember that one, it was awesome!”- Bones and Drabbles by KateMcHughGorman. My first bookmark on AO3. It’s a collection of Sans/reader drabbles. It doesn’t really seem to be updating anymore, either here or on Tumblr, but I have really fond memories of watching the new chapters pop up and reading them. Not the place you want to go if you’re expecting sub Sans, though. This was before I got all turned off by dom Sans, lol.- You’d Be Goo Where You Stand by officaldaelight. This one is just cute as hell and I wish this writer would do more oneshots like it. It’s based on one of the cutest and most wholesome viral videos ever, it’s about Sans and reader as a married couple, and it’s filled with Sans being a sweet, loving goofball of a husband. Doesn’t get much better than that.- Kinesis by echoflowertea. I’m gonna be honest-- this one appeals to me and sticks in my mind because I actually do have a thing for robots and Sans actually would probably have to worry/be jealous about me having a robot assistant because I would be DEE. TEE. EFF with that thing.- Cock To Me by wearyeyebrow. Okay, getting into the bone zone now. I distinctly remember reading this one on a drive back from a beach trip and being a) fucking turned on as fuck, and b) FILLED with feelings over Sans’ dialogue. It does the needy sub Sans/caring dom reader dynamic so well. THIS is a great example of the way I view the Sans/reader relationship.- Train Ride by lambkind. No ecto-cock? No problem. This hot little piece is another amazing bit about Sub Sans/dom reader with some public play thrown in for good measure.
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Red Winged Black Bird
Summary: Lucifer's molting. Such an ordinary, simple bodily process shouldn't faze him, but it's wrapped up in so many memories. Maybe your gentle touch and patience can see him through.
Tags: Lucifer x MC, non-sexual safeword use, non-sexual intimacy, vulnerability, romance
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Lucifer wakes up with a start.
He itches.
Old feathers surround his bed, torn at the edges, and he itches. Damn to all hell he itches.
Lucifer glances to his left, relieved you’re still sleeping peacefully. He has so many things to do, appearances to keep and appointments to make, he doesn’t have time to deal with this right now. So he grits his teeth and leaves before you wake, not trusting his short temper today.
He doesn’t avoid you outright. You still see him during meetings and fleeting moments between classes. Even still, you notice his agitation, his restlessness. You resolve to check on him when he skips dinner and soon you find yourself outside of his bedroom door. One knock, then two, it’s only when he hears your voice that he lets you inside.
You’re surprised to see him in demon form already, then you notice the feathers just behind him. Quite a few are in a waste bin and others are strewn about his white leather couch. What you assume is Lucifer’s work lies haphazardly on the coffee table next to his usual fountain pen.
You slowly reach out to touch his arm. “You know you don’t have to tell me what’s going on if you don’t want to, right? I’m just worried, you’ve been on edge all day.”
“You so often see through me. It is unnerving, although… not always unwelcome.”
“What about this time?”
His adam’s apple bobs. “...I am not sure.”
“May I keep you company? I’ve brought some of my own things to work on, no pressure to talk. Or I can leave if you want.”
He looks torn for a moment, before he sighs and runs an errant hand through his hair. “No, you - you may stay.”
“Okay.” You slowly lean up and place a gentle kiss on his temple, “Let me know if you want me to leave though. I won’t take it personally.”
His voice is relatively subdued and “Thank you,” is all he offers.
You sit in the armchair diagonal to the coffee table and open a textbook. You turn on the light next to you and dim it to a comfortable glow.
Lucifer sits next to you and picks up what looks like a notarized form. Typically he leaves his work in his office unless he truly wants privacy. But this is the first time you’ve seen him so immediately distracted. He fidgets. He twitches against the cushions, ruffling his wings, bouncing his leg. He lasts maybe two minutes before sighing and muttering “I can hardly take it anymore.”
You close your book and look at him quizzically. His wings are quivering and his eyes are obscured by his hand, elbows resting on his knees, slightly bent over. He almost sounds pained.
“I’m not sure why I let you in tonight.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“That’s-”
“But I should. I -” he sighs, “May I discuss something with you?”
“Always, Lucifer.” You shift in your chair and lean toward him, both curious and concerned.
He sighs again but it sounds more like a grimace.
“I’m molting.”
“...Forgive me for the comparison, but like a bird might?”
“While that is an unfortunately apt comparison, I have the sense to get it over with quickly.” You almost snicker at that, but the air still feels heavy so you restrain yourself.
“Are you okay?” You ask, genuine in your concern.
“Of course. This is nothing I haven’t experienced before.”
“But… something about it bothers you.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Lucifer…”
He sighs. “My apologies. I realize I am being… difficult.”
“May I sit next to you?”
“If it pleases you.”
“Do you want me to sit next to you?”
“...Yes.”
So you move. The sofa dips slightly with your weight and you lower your voice, understanding and intimate. “Lucifer, what’s going on? What’s eating you?”
He can’t look at you, not yet. Something in him desperately wants to talk to you. Something else is fighting against it, like usual, that vulnerability is humiliating and unbecoming. He should be better.
But he trusts you. After everything you’ve been through, this is nothing. It should be nothing. The fact that he’s so torn up over it, whether to tell you or not, whether he’s feeling things correctly, embarasses him further. Your gentle hand on his arm grounds him some. The racing thoughts in his head aren’t quite so loud. His heart is pounding and he doesn’t know why. His throat feels tight but he doesn’t know why.
“If you want to tell me about it, would you rather I just listen?”
“...No, you can ask questions and comment on it. A conversation might be better than a monologue.”
“Okay.” You wait for him to begin.
“...As far as I’m aware, most beings with feathers molt from time to time. Angels and demons are no different. Back in the celestial realm social grooming was common, even encouraged, especially during molting season. Even angels without wings participated.
After the fall, those of us who had wings lost their feathers, and those who didn’t grew tails. I know it was a difficult transition, and subsequently they no longer molt. If I had not… removed mine, maybe I would be featherless as well. Regardless, they grew back feathered, so I still molt every few decades.”
He pauses a moment and you wait for him to collect his thoughts.
He sighs. “Mammon used to preen the pin feathers I can’t reach. I put a stop to it once I caught him selling my feathers online.”
You can’t help the chiding click of your tongue. You love Mammon, truly, and he often gets the short end of the stick, especially when he means well. But, just like any of them, sometimes he’s in the grip of his sin and he can hurt the people around him.
“I am well aware that he sells anything that will make him money, such is his nature. I realize holding that against him solves nothing, and yet…” He trails off.
“Now, I take care of it on my own. It is a process but nothing that I can’t handle. Still, it is… uncomfortable, and I apologize if I was unusually abrasive earlier. That is no excuse, but hopefully an explanation.”
“Well, it makes sense, it sounds awful.” He grins wryly, “What I’m also hearing is that preening is an intimate thing for you. Knowing that, I still… Is there anything I can do to help?”
“To help?” He murmurs.
“May I try and get the feathers you can’t reach?”
“I…”
“It’s okay to say no.”
“I’m aware. I was both hoping you’d offer and also hoping you wouldn’t. I like the idea of your assistance, but I’m… not quite sure how I’ll feel in the moment.”
“Hm… we could safeword it?”
He scoffs, “This isn’t that kind of intimacy.”
“I know, but it’s a system we’re both familiar with, isn’t it? And we trust each other with it, or I like to think that you trust me to respect your safeword.”
“I do.” He says without hesitation.
“Then even if this situation isn’t sexual, a safeword might help you feel a little more in control? You don’t have to explain why you safeword either, you just have to know that I’ll respect it.”
It makes sense. It makes sense and he suddenly feels a little more at ease. “I am unopposed to that idea. Our usual word is fire - shall we use the same?”
“That sounds good to me.”
“Then it’s settled.” He breathes out slowly. In the meantime you’ve already tried to conceptualize how best to access his wings. Folded against the couch doesn’t work, and they’re entirely too big to completely unfurl here. He seems to be on the same page. “It’s easiest if I lay on my back, although sitting on my bed is also an option.”
“Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”
He sighs again, a nervous habit. “You’re less likely to get a face full of feathers if I lay down.”
You chuckle just a bit and see a hint of a strained smile flash across his face, gone as quickly as it appeared.
He keeps his wings folded against his back, lips tight in a line, and settles against the bedspread, head facing the end of the bed. You sit next to him, waiting for him to spread his wings, but they stay tightly folded against his body.
“I just had a thought,” he murmurs, head tilted against the mattress, looking away from you. “Molting isn’t a… it can be an unsightly process. I know you aren’t squeamish, but I will understand if you decide to rescind your offer.”
“I’m not worried about that, but noted.” He grunts. You lean back, “Go ahead, I’m out of the way.”
Slowly he unfurls his massive wings. You scoot in closer until the upper right one lays over your lap, thick and feathery, both too heavy and too light to feel real. You sweep up his wing to where it meets with the muscle of his back. It is here that you are always starkly reminded of his inhumanity. Your back does not have twisting muscle for a set of wings, but his does.
Now that you truly take him in, his feathers are a sight. Usually they’d be thick, neatly woven together and optimized for flight. Now they’re strangely sparse and overlap oddly, filing in gaps. The edges are tattered on some, while others are shiny and new but entirely too short, still growing to their full length. The most noticeable spot is right above where his back ends and his wings begin. Instead of black feathers he’s covered in little spikes - some are short and close to the skin, others are longer but pulled taught and white around the edges.
.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you murmur.
“You won’t.”
You try a different approach. “Teach me.”
“Do you see the pin feathers at the base of my wings?”
“I think so. Some are shorter than others.”
“The ones that are really short and close to the skin are still blood feathers. True to their name, they’ll bleed if you touch them. The longer ones should be covered in a casing. Do you see those?”
“Yes, I see quite a few of them.”
“Those ones are ready to be preened. Use your fingers to rub away the casing. It’s made of keratin, but it will probably turn to dust. Unless you want to sneeze, don’t get too close. I’ll try not to move.”
“Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t, truly.”
“I’m going to start now.” He grunts an affirmative.
You gently reach between his feathers, most of them shiny and new, and start by
rubbing off one casing. It does exactly as he says it will and crumbles to dust pretty easily. You go for another, and then another. Soon his rigid posture starts to relax, and then he’s melting. His brow finally smoothes and his breathing slows. The silence eases into something comfortable and intimate. You take your time, gingerly maneuvering around the smaller blood feathers, working your way up his wing. He’s managed to reach most of it without issue, surprisingly flexible for a centuries-old demon. You get a little lost in the repetition of your task and almost start to tell him about your day when you hear it.
“Fire.”
You remove your hands carefully and shift away from his wing giving him the space to fold it back into his body.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” His voice is thick, rough with something you rarely hear but definitely recognize.
"How do you feel?"
"I am unsure." His voice cracks and he clears his throat.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No."
"Did it feel good?"
"Yes."
"Too good?"
"No - I started to remember." He murmurs, "I wasn't sure, but I thought I might."
"Did you want to?"
"Not particularly."
"Are they… are they good memories? Bad?"
"...Both. I dislike feeling far away and I dislike lingering there. I dislike wanting to linger."
"There's no wrong way to feel."
"I'd rather not dwell in it tonight."
If you see unshed tears in his eyelashes you elect to ignore them. He sits up and slumps next to you, wings folded behind him. He looks more exhausted than usual. You can't force him to sit with what he feels, but you can be there for him.
"It may not have seemed like it, but I really enjoyed that. Thank you, I - this usually lasts a few weeks.” He breathes in deeply, fists clenching and unclenching against his thighs in your periphery. “If you are willing and if it wouldn't put you out, I'd be grateful if you’d do this again."
"I'd like to. Tomorrow night, same time?"
"If you'd like."
"I would." You clasp his hand in yours and bring his knuckles to your lips. "I love you, you know? I enjoyed tonight. I like helping you relax even if it's only for a little while."
His eyes search your face as his expression softens. He is incredibly fond; there's a tenderness in his eyes with a slight edge of vulnerability.
"You are too good to me." He says, low and hushed, in the scant space between the two of you. His wings unfold and gently wrap around you, encasing you in a comforting black veil. His arms wrap around your body and he rests his forehead in the crook of your shoulder. You find purchase in his hair and you nuzzle against his temple.
Pride objects to vulnerability, and yet it feels so freeing, so warm to just be with you. His true self is a continuum of sorts, both this man and the one by Diavolo’s side are one and the same.
He gently pulls you until you follow him into his lap, straddling his waist so your head remains above him. His wings still engulf you. He presses you impossibly close, but still gentle, open - it is your choice to be here, to hold him like this.
You kiss the crown of his head and feel him kiss your chest in return. "Your work can wait until morning. Join me in bed? Please?”
"I suppose I can make an exception, just this once."
You kiss his cheek, “I’m sure it was a tough decision.”
He snickers and you both roll out of bed to dress down. Suddenly his feathers are gone and you're left with his human form.
"How do you feel in that form?" You ask, brow furrowed.
"I assumed this form would make it a little easier to lie together."
Your gentle smile warms his soul. "Come here then, my little black bird."
He huffs but the adoration in his eyes gives him away as he turns his back to you. You know he'll extract himself after you've fallen asleep so he can shift back into his demon form. But in the meantime you just want to hold him, and with the way he relaxes in your arms, you’re pretty sure he’d like to be held just as much.
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Demon Brothers: General Kink Headcanons
Tags: various kinks mentioned, NotSFW, powerplay, dom/sub dynamics, relationship discussions, demon brothers, gn MC
Belphegor's pretty versatile and enjoys both sub/dom roles but he's a pillow prince. Either way MC has to do most of the work. Very bratty when subbing and very mean when domming, Belphie likes power play and some of his favorite kinks are a little extreme, like knifeplay. He's not super into giving in general and things like oral don't do much for him. He gets off on giving orders and/or defying orders. This doesn't mean he can't enjoy softer kinds of intimacy like sleepy morning sex or mutual masturbation. He's just very good at performing meaner, more demanding roles (as long as he doesn't have to lift a finger). Generally prefers monogamy but wouldn't mind being in a hinge with Beel. Anyone else generally icks him out, and even suggesting Lucifer would actually upset him. He can be a little too possessive sometimes, a glare here and there at other potential suitors or outright threats, but he generally mellows if you confront him. Average to low libido.
Beelzebub is the least likely person on this list to enjoy dom/sub dynamics. However, if his MC is really into it, he's willing to sub for them on occassion. Domming is one of his hard no's - he's not a fan of being in absolute control and much prefers a recipricol experience. Food play is one of his only true kinks. Loves giving and receiving, very gentle and sweet but also very forward - he's good at communicating. He's suprisingly not very good at oral because he gets lost in taste and forgets to focus on pleasure, but he is great with his hands. He loves when his partner rides him or approaches him from above because he likes feeling small and/or manhandled. He's only comfortable with a polyamourus situation if Belphie is the other hinge. He's protective in appropriate situations but otherwise respects MC's independence and trusts their judgement. Average to low libido.
Asmo loves domming and subbing in equal measure, if MC is into it Asmo is into it. He has tried every kink under the sun and has his personal preferences but he rarely shares them with casual partners. He actually loves intimacy and tenderness without power dynamics, something raw and real, a no-makeup-on kind of sex, but that requires vulnerability on his part. He's capable of that vulnerability with MC because they aren't affected by his glamour. This simultaneously thrills him and intimidates him. A sexual relationship between Asmo and MC starts slow. He's great at giving and receiving, truly one of the best at reading body language. Even with MC Asmo is still very into casual sex, including group sex and sex dungeons. He would prefer an open relationship where he always ends up in MC's arms at the end of the night regardless of who he was with in the afternoon. MC will always be his favorite but he has urges they may not be able to fulfill. He's fine with MC exploring other people too, his brothers included. As long as you're each others favorites, he's happy and satisfied. He'll activately cheer you on for a date with someone else. Extremely high libido, completely unmatched. But Asmo is also good at respecting boundaries/differing libidos as long as his needs are met elsewhere.
Satan loves powerplay and loves being a dominant. He actually likes the idea of lowkey nonsexual domming where MC occasionally defers to his judgment or asks him for things outside of the bedroom, nothing too obvious, but he loves being in control. Even still he does have a weakness for petplay and will sub as a kitten, but it's quite rare and usually at MC's request. He likes being an authority and protector. He's also into experimentation, he'll try most things once and is always combing his private book collection for new, creative ideas. Some of his kinks are more extreme like predator/prey, but others are quite tame like lacy lingerie or teacher roleplay. Aside from petplay he isn't interested in subbing but he doesn't hate the idea, he just gets a lot more out of domming. He'll give and receive in equal measure, but he really loves witholding and outlasting. Will not share MC with anyone. Suggesting Lucifer will be the end of your relationship, point blank. He isn't posessive or overprotective and he's very mindful of your time. Sometimes he'll posture around Lucifer but even then it's shortlived. Average to high libido, spikes when he discovers something new or unusual to try.
Leviathan has a lot of kinks and powerplay is one of them. He very much prefers subbing because domming intimidates him - he has a problem with being too in his own head. Sex in general excites him and causes him a lot of anxiety. He can be so worried about messing up that he'll struggle to get started or stay focused. A lot of his kinks are hentai inspired, but he's most embarrassed of his mommy/daddy kink. He's actually embarrassed by most of his kinks and most sex acts, but with patience and reassurance he's very receptive to learning. He takes direction very well so he's an excellent sub and he picks up new techniques quickly. He prefers giving because the attention isn't on him. He could never share MC, his self esteem is too low and his sin immediately shuts it down. He is lowkey posessive and needs frequent reassurance from MC which he does take to heart. Just knowing MC chose him has him over the moon. Libido changes based on mood and how much alone time he needs.
Mammon is suprisingly versatile but approaches domming and subbing in different ways. He's actually a capable gentle dom - he really likes taking care of MC and being able to give them pleasure, proving himself to them. But he also likes subbing and having his control taken away, especially if MC goes back and forth between being a little mean and very sweet. He prefers a gentle hand and he desperately wants to please. He'll give and receive with equal gusto and equal volume - he's loud and open about how he feels once he's gotten past his insecure posturing. Romance and sweet nothings really get him going. Praising him is the fastest way to his heart. Sometimes he's a bit of a brat, just a little, but he breaks easily and willingly. Mammon would really prefer monogamy but he might be willing to share MC with his brothers if he's the clear favorite. Mammon is faux possessive where he postures a lot to anyone and everyone but a single look from MC will make him stop. He's clingy and always trying to look his best for MC. However, he's also very reliable and great at sensing actual danger. Pretty high libido.
Lucifer is techically versatile and very into dom/sub dynamics. He has plenty of prior experience domming, and while he's good at it, he gets a lot more out of sex as a submissive. He's always in control of everyone and everything - MC is the first partner he's trusted enough to let go of that control. Subbing is a very vulnerable experience for him and also very freeing. When he subs he enjoys both giving and receiving. He specifically loves being praised and perfect for MC. While he does have some harder kinks, like whips and bondage, his favorite type of sex is late night intimacy with soft music and mutual pleasure. Even though it's not his preference he can be a very good dominant, even if he is quite clinical - it's more about power than sexual gratification for him. Suprisingly, he might share MC with his brothers but it's definitely not his preference. Anyone else is a hard no, especially Diavolo. Lucifer is very private about his sex life, a word from MC to anyone else will completely break all trust he has in them. He can be a tad overprotective but not at all possessive. He trusts MC completely and respects them too much to belittle their judgment, but his fear for their safety sometimes gets the best of him. Libido waxes and wanes depending on how stressed he is.
#obey me#obey me headcanons#obey me smut#lucifer obey me#mammon obey me#leviathan obey me#asmodeus obey me#satan obey me#belphegor obey me#beelzebub obey me#demon brothers#obey me mc#wearyeyebrow#here have some kink headcanons spilling from my pockets
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Pride and Shame
Summary: Beel tells you of an afternoon yelling match between Belphegor and Lucifer. While Belphie plans his revenge, you notice that Lucifer has skipped dinner.
Tags: Hurt/comfort, Lucifer x MC, SFW
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Lucifer stands just outside your bedroom door, poised to knock, but even still he hesitates.
He almost turns on his heel just as the door creaks open. There you are, dressed down for the evening, in comfy clothes, looking surprised to see him.
“If you’re busy I can come back another time.” He isn’t about to make a nuisance of himself.
“No, no I was just about to come to you - I didn’t see you at dinner.” You frown, and he’s torn between the feelings of ease and discomfort.
“I had work to finish.”
“That may be so, but you should at least have something to eat. Come in - please.” You open the door wide for him and yet he hesitates.
“Lucifer?”
Before he can think too hard about it he crosses the threshold, immediately warmed by the atmosphere of your room.
He eyes your textbooks sprawled all over the floor. “Were you studying?”
“Something like that,” you sigh. “Solomon has me on a wild goose chase, all for a special ingredient. I know he knows what I’m supposed to be looking for, but all he’ll give me are cryptic hints. I’ll probably be here all night…” You plop down on the plush carpet, sitting cross legged. You pat the ground beside you and motion for him to sit.
“Would you like some help?”
“I mean yes, I would, but I shouldn’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “I would love a break though - tell me about your day.”
“My day?” Lucifer settles in, resting his back against the frame of your bed. He straightens the crease of his pant leg. “It’s all very boring, really. My next week is booked solid so I’m trying to finish as much groundwork as I can now. Most of the day was spent signing my name.”
‘Mm, how delightful.” You drawl.
“Indeed.”
He’s quiet, as if that’s all he came for. He can feel your expectant stare and it irks him.
“So I… I may have heard about something that happened from Beel.”
Lucifer sighs, “Yes, what of it?”
“What happened?”
“Didn’t Beel tell you?”
“He told me parts of it, yes… I’m unfamiliar with the other layers of hell. Why did Belphie want to go to the sixth?”
“Because he’s an imbecile, that’s why.” Lucifer rolls his eyes, “Because he has no regard for his or Beel’s safety, because he lives to give me trouble. I had to reason their lives out of the Hands of Ill Temper. I just barely managed by the skin of my teeth.”
“What was Belphie after?”
“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care to know. He shouldn’t have gone in the first place. He has no excuse, leaving me to clean up their messes, putting Beel’s life in danger. Again.” Lucifer needs to move, to pace, something - everything in him itches. He settles on adjusting his socks.
“You really chewed them out, huh.”
“Naturally,” he huffs, “How else will they learn?”
“...Belphie said something else, didn’t he?”
Lucifer stiffens. “It doesn’t matter.”
‘Are you sure?”
Lucifer would rather forget it. He would rather skip dinner and continue working, pen scratching on paper, waiting for the memory to subside. But it never does, it just replays over and over again.
“Belphie, that’s not true, Lucifer doesn’t-”
“Why are you so upset anyway? I assumed you’d want us dead, since we cause you so much trouble. I’d be doing you a favor-”
“Oh doesn’t he? Look - he won’t even deny it, and now he’s just walking away - fucking evil bastard.”
With a click Lucifer had closed the door to his study, put on a cursed record, and refilled his inkwell. Hours of ruminating did nothing. Hours of work did nothing. Now he’s here. What is he doing here? Why did he stop by your door on his way to look for table scraps like a dog? What is wrong with him?
“It… doesn’t matter.” He should leave.
“I think it’s eating you.” He says nothing. “I think that talking about it might help.”
“What is there to talk about?” He bites.“They were reckless. This is nothing new. I reminded them of their own stupidity and Belphie retaliated. Again, nothing new.”
“But… something still bothers you.”
Lucifer clears his throat. “Belphie put both himself and Beel in danger chasing some whim. They could have been imprisoned, they could have been killed for their transgressions - that’s what bothered me, and now it’s finished.”
“I assumed you’d want us dead, since we cause you so much trouble.”
“Is that all that bothers you?” When did you get so close to him? He can feel your softness resting against his side.
“What else would?” Your gentle hand tugs at his glove, taking one off and then the other. This perplexes him but he can’t find it in him to stop you.
“What he said, you know, about you wanting him dead?”
“Nonsense. He was angry.”
“Beel was worried.” Beel was? Lucifer turns to look at you. “That’s why he told me about what Belphie said.”
He sighs. “If… If Belphegor is angry with me, let him be angry. It doesn’t change how I think about the situation.”
“Lucifer.” Suddenly your too steady gaze is fixated on him. “You can deny it all you want, but I… it’s clearly still eating you.” Lucifer’s brow furrows - how dare you assume? As if you’ve read his mind, you clarify. “I know I’m being presumptuous, I know, but please - it hurts you, doesn’t it?”
“Let it.” What is he saying? “Let it hurt. Whatever it takes. He can’t go down there again.”
“But doesn’t it matter that it hurts you?”
“Why should it?” He’s of two minds, one that desperately wants to talk to you, the other screaming at him, a cacophony of voices, pushing it down, down.
“It’s just me, Lucifer.” He feels the comforting warmth of your human hands in his, of your body just barely touching his side. Your room smells like you. The door is locked. It’s after midnight, and the house is quiet.
“I think…” Lucifer swallows, “I think I…
If he could crawl inside you he would. If he could speak directly to your mind he would, spilling his innermost thoughts and feelings without having to say them out loud. He gags on the words, as if once he starts they won’t stop.
This is what it means to be your friend, to be your partner, his mind desperately reasons. How can he fit vulnerability into an acceptable narrative?
He still can’t look at you. "I think I... I was afraid. If they aren't - if I can't be there, if I can't keep them in line, what's stopping the world from-" his eyes water and he blinks rapidly, head tilted back staring at the ceiling. "If he needs to assume that I hate him, if that's what it will take, then so be it."
"Lucifer, sweetheart-"
He sucks in a rattled breath. You can’t speak to him like that, not when he’s at his lowest. He doesn’t need your saccharine tone because he’s better than this, better than comfort or mistakes. Yet here you are, on the floor at midnight, speaking with such kindness and understanding. It’s because you’re an exception to his inner monologue of rules that his brain finally quiets like an oil lamp snuffed out.
"Is that what you want?"
"Of course not, but-"
"I know you’re willing to play the villain if it’ll keep them safe. I mean, you've done it before, for entirely too long. But remember what happened when you were honest? Things got better. Belphie came around and I finally understood you."
He scoffs. "It was a catastrophic failure - any good that came of it was all your doing-"
“Don’t I?”
"We've all come a long way together. It doesn't have to be this way. I truly believe it doesn't, things have already changed.” You plead with him. “Habits are hard to break. I know that Belphie was hurting when he said that, but you don't deserve to hurt like this either, Lucifer." He can't look you in the eye. "Hey," you continue gently, softly, "you don't, truly."
“No. They don’t and you don’t.”
He looks up at the ceiling again.
"I'm here because you don’t have to handle it alone." You murmur. “Because I care about you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Too late.” You lean over him and place a gentle kiss on his cheek.
He swallows, blinking rapidly, and gathers you in his arms to place a fierce kiss to your temple. He wraps himself around you, all at once too separate from everything you are. The noise quiets when you move to hold him instead. Your arms wrap around him, and after everything he’s done to you, he doesn’t deserve you in his life like this, in love with what little good remains in him. But, he supposes, his pride as a demon will make space for you, and for that he is grateful.
"Thank you," he croaks, "for choosing to speak with me."
"That’s what I’m here for, dummy.”
“You’re meant for so much more than that.”
“I just think…” you kiss the crown of his head, “that I’m meant for whatever I want, and I want to figure this out with you.”
Lucifer closes his eyes in the quiet darkness of your arms. You are a gentle reprieve to whatever remains of his soul.
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Concrete
You determine that Lucifer needs a few moments of relaxation. What better way than a back massage and some comfortable conversation?
Tags: SFW, established relationship, suggestive language, back massage, back scratching, scars mentioned, gn mc
"You've never had a massage?" You look at him incredulously.
He folds his hands. "I've given them-"
"But you've never actually gotten one?"
"If I have it was too long ago to remember."
You sigh. "Well... let's fix that. Lay down." You gesture to his bed.
"That isn't necessary-"
"You're tired, you're stressed, and your back hurts - I wanna give you a massage. Lay down."
His eyes flicker toward your outstretched hand. "I'm quite busy."
"Noted," you gesture again, "Lay down."
"You're not going to give this up, are you?"
"I'm making a strongly worded request on official letterhead."
He smirks. "Meaning I could decline, but the implication is that I shouldn't."
"Correct," Your smile is triumphant. "Come," you pat the bed, "Lay down, shirt off or lifted up."
He sighs with good humor and starts to loosen his tie. You grab some of your lotion from his nightstand which has become a collection of both your things and his.
When you turn around he's only in an undershirt and slightly bemused. "How do you want me?"
The urge to request him 'face down ass up' is almost irresistible. "On your front."
He complies, stiff as a board, arms folded underneath his head. You lift his shirt up, exposing scars and twisting muscle. He tenses when you run a gentle hand down his back. "Sorry, my hands are cold."
The bed dips with your weight when you straddle his back.
You can almost hear his smirk, "So this is how you want me."
You lean down and kiss the back of his neck. "I always want you." A slight shiver rolls down his spine. "But right now I want you to relax. I know, I know, it's a lot to ask, but I think you're up for it."
His voice is muffled. "...Do your worst."
You think about how best to start before another thought dawns on you. If he's never had a massage then he's definitely never had his back scratched. How awful, how horrible - the world is truly cruel and unjust.
You rub your hands together to warm them up. "I'm going to start with something that's not quite a massage, but it feels amazing. Just relax into it."
He makes an inquisitive noise but you've already started with one fingernail, slowly tracing a serpentine line down his back. He shudders and you keep going, adding another finger into your tracing.
His back is a rough and textured patchwork of healthy skin and healed gashes; you are reminded again of how much he trusts you. You also wonder whether his initial reluctance had something to do with them. Your blunt nails soothe his nerves as you trace up and down and back again, rhythmic and gentle. You pause and rub some lotion in your hands and start working on his muscles.
Goddamn is he tight. You tell him so and he shrugs. You knew he would be, but his back feels like setting concrete, just barely pliable. You work into a rhythm, massage and then scratch, masage, scratch, gentle soothing motions beneath your strong hands. You take a peek and his eyes are half lidded, focused on nothing.
You lower your voice to a soft murmur, "How has your day been?"
"...Tiring."
"Yeah?"
"No more so than usual. Truthfully I'd tather hear about your day."
"Hm. Well... I cleaned the kitchen this morning with Beel's help. As long as he's allowed to snack he's great help. Belphie, uh, "supervised."
"Meaning he didn't lift a finger."
"Maybe not, but he did provide fun commentary."
"Tch." You can feel tension ripple beneath your fingertips.
"Hey now, relax, remember? Besides, if you can believe it, Mammon saved the day." You giggle and Lucifer makes a noise of disbelief. "He joined us even though it wasn't his turn. There were so many dishes, you know? Heh, he pretends he does things for his own sake but he's actually very kind."
"Hm..." You push through a particularly stubborn knot and feel him relenquish more of his weight. Slowly but surely tension fades from his body.
"But when we were done I told Mammon I was gonna do some homework and he bounced," you chuckle, "it was for Solomon anyway. He's having me work on advanced summoning with runes, so I needed to spend more time than usual memorizing stroke order."
"...For what purpose?"
"So I can summon you all at once. Even he needs runes to summon more than one demon."
"...Practical."
"I think so..." you work on another stubborn knot near his right shoulder blade, "Then, I got a call from Luke. He asked me if I had a favorite flavor but wouldn't tell me why he asked." You sigh, "Sometimes I just wanna squeeze his cute little chihuahua cheeks."
Lucifer snorts, "Chihuahuas are quite fragile - a good squeeze might kill him."
"Say whatever you want, if you could openly dote on him, you would."
"Is that what you think?"
"Mhm. I think you wanna add him to your collection of little lost boys."
Lucifer tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "How dare you."
"Tell me I'm wrong. You can't."
In all of your loveliness, who else would speak with him like this? He truly laughs and it feels like relief. You snicker right along with him. Eventually he relaxes again and he turns his head to the side. "...He's doing just fine in Simeon's care. I have no need to step in, nor do I particularly want to. Mammon alone needs all of my attention."
"Heh, Mammon, and Levi, and Satan, and Asmo, and Beel, and Belphie."
Lucifer chuckles and you smile, shifting over to scratch his back again. Your hands are tired but spending this time together is more than worth it. He finally seems well and truly relaxed leaving you very satisfied. You slide off his back and sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
He rolls onto his side and looks up at you with hazy eyes. His left cheek is flushed red from pressing into the mattress and his hair is slightly askew. He opens his arms and reaches for you - Lucifer Morningstar making grabby hands is too precious and practically illegal. Satan and Belphie shall never find out. You accept his embrace and kiss him gently as he weasels you into his arms. "That was wonderful, thank you."
You smooth down his hair. "I told you so."
Lucifers deep laugh reverberates through your body. "I suppose you did, in fact, tell me."
"Maybe you should try listening to me more often."
He takes your hand and kisses your open palm. "Maybe I should."
#obey me#obey me lucifer#wearyeyebrow#lucifer x mc#my writing#lucifer obey me#i noticed a mistake and fixed it but apparently that counts as reblogging#sorry that this is in ya'lls feeds again
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Candid
Another task, another spreadsheet, another picture taken without his consent - Lucifer is wound tight. As the evening drones on he can't help but glance at the clock anticipating a night alone with you, preferably spent on his knees. NSFW. Tags under the cut.
Tags: Established relationship, Sub Lucifer, Dom MC, 2nd person perspective, they/them MC, AFAB MC, Transman Lucifer, edging, multiple orgasms, tribadism, oral sex, d/s dynamics, hurt/comfort, scene negotiation, porn with plot - do let me know if I've forgotten anything significant.
-
The student council room is quiet in the late afternoon and a great place to study. You’re sprawled out on a giant oak table cursing Solomon's illegible handwriting when footsteps echo down the corridor. You recognize the crisp click of Lucifer’s stride alongside Lord Diavolo’s heavier footfall, their voices too far away to pick up. You try not to eavesdrop, really, but they stop just outside the door left ajar.
Diavolo’s voice booms. “So the deadline snuck up on me - I’ve just been so busy with staff interviews. It’s a budgeting matter and you’re good with numbers so bringing it to your attention felt like the best place to start.”
Lucifer is quiet while scanning the papers in his hand, shuffling a few back and forth. Diavolo is childlike next to him, shifting from foot to foot.
“It’s doable but I’ll need to get started tonight if we’re going to get this in on time. The entire thing needs to be reworked…” he trails off and furrows his brow, holding the paper away from his face. You’re fondly reminded of how often he neglects to wear his glasses.
“Thank goodness! I knew I could leave it up to you.”
Lucifer only hums in acknowledgement, still squinting. The afternoon sun catches against the door and he’s set alight, beautifully framed in the archway. It’s easy to spare a drop of envy for one of God’s greatest creations, but his two-ton frown keeps most people at arm's length.
You blink at an unexpected flash, watching as Lucifer flinches at the sound of a shutter. He twists to glare at the guilty party.
“Lord Diavolo, I request you delete that immediately.”
“But it’s so rare I get a candid photo of you - it came out so well too, see - you look beautiful!”
Diavolo tries to hold up his phone but Lucifer looks just past it. “Delete it.”
“Come on Lucifer, it’s just one-"
“I’ll delete it for you if necessary.”
“But Lucifer-”
Suddenly, a third voice joins them. When or how Barbatos got there, you aren't sure, and you've long stopped asking.
“My Lord - pardon the intrusion, but your next meeting starts in ten minutes.”
“Is it that time already? Well, we’ll just have to table this conversation!”
“Lord Diav-”
“Thank you, Lucifer, for auditing the extracurricular budget, I appreciate your hard work! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Diavolo pockets his phone and takes off with Barbatos close behind.
Lucifer’s jaw is set in stone as he watches them go. Their animated chatter echoes down the hallway until they turn a corner and disappear. He clears his throat and turns to address the room.
“Good afternoon.”
You snort. “You know, I bet I could accidentally delete Lord Diavolo’s entire photo gallery and he'd be none the wiser.”
"You needn't intervene on my behalf.”
“Of course I don't need to, but…” you sigh, “Do let me know, the offer’s always on the table.” You motion for him to sit and he does, closing the door behind him. He taps the documents in his hand on the tabletop, straightening the edges. Everything is in order until he thumbs through them again.
“What’s Diavolo put you up to this time?”
He doesn't look up. “I'm sure you heard enough to piece it together."
"Mm. When's it due?"
"Next Saturday."
"Don't you have a bunch of other shit to work on?"
Lucifer sighs. "It can't be helped. I'll manage." The setting sun catches against the metal rim of the window and he squints, massaging his temples.
Asking if he wants help is another way to say you don't think he can do it. His sin twists any offer of assistance into something to be ashamed of, and you know this. He also knows you know this.
You sigh, a little exasperated. "I realize that I'm talking to a brick wall here-”
“And yet you persist.”
“May I still come by tonight?”
“I…” he pauses, bowing his head in the fading afternoon sun, “I will hardly be at my best."
“I know.”
His eyes flicker to yours, softening at your gentle expression. He brushes his fingertips against your hand. "...I’ll be in my room by eleven."
-
Lucifer admonishes himself for almost nodding off again. So many numbers, so many Excel spreadsheets. He cracks his neck and continues typing, trying to make something of money the school doesn’t have.
His body is exhausted but his mind is wide awake, thoughts racing in the background, droning and cacophonous, itching and alive. He's moved to his bedroom for the evening and taken his work with him - his office is accessible, his bedroom is not. He’s kept his gloves on to avoid picking at his cuticles but he can’t help drumming them on the table, annoying himself with the sound.
He breathes a sigh of relief the second he hears a knock at his door and unlocks it with a wave of his hand, deactivating a few dozen curses.
You poke your head inside and see him at his desk, looking exactly as he did that afternoon.
"Hey.” Your voice is soft in the late hour, "How are you holding up?"
He manages a sardonic smile.
"Figures. Worse than you thought?"
"I’m surprised Excel isn’t a domestic export.”
“But it's supposed to be so much easier than doing it by hand.”
“Yes,” he drawls, “Easier. I just love redoing my work when it crashes - I love everything about it.”
You lean against the doorframe. “I dunno, you say that you love it, but your tone makes it sound like an anathema to all that is good in this world.”
His shoulders loosen a little when he laughs, lips curling into a slight smile. “How was your evening?"
"Not bad." You keep talking and wander over to his desk. "It was Satan's turn to cook dinner so the food was great, and Levi joined us too - oh! Mammon got a present from Luke in the mail."
"What was the occasion?"
"To hear Mammon tell it, he saved Luke from great peril," you chuckle, "Of course, that’s not how Luke puts it. Mammon managed to get his hands on some Ursa Major Honey for Luke’s entry in the Devilsfood contest. Only the witches know how. Beel may have eaten most of his gift, though…"
"Mm, typical on all fronts." His tone is incredibly fond.
"We missed you at dinner."
"Since it was Satan's turn to cook, I doubt that."
You snort, "I saved you a plate. It's in the fridge when you want it… or until Beel eats it, I guess."
"Thank you." He sighs and sits back in his chair. “I... I’ve missed you. Solomon’s kept you busy and I’ve had so much to do - I hope you'll tell me if you ever feel neglected."
"Not neglected, just worried. When's the last time you slept properly, sweetheart?"
His face warms and he clears his throat. "I'd rather not worry you further."
"Humor me."
"...Five days, give or take."
"Lucifer…" You maneuver around to the front of his desk and lean on the edge. "I know you don't need as much sleep as I do, but you can still get sick, and your headaches won't get any better."
"Sometimes sleep is a necessary sacrifice."
"I'm well aware, doesn't mean I have to like it."
He only hums, distracted by your hand on his arm, straightening the creases of his shirt.
"I'll be forthright," you murmur, "I know how I’d like this night to go. You up for it?”
"...I was hoping you'd ask."
"You sure?" There's your hand again, this time in his hair, nails just grazing his scalp, sending pleasant tingles down his back. You're close enough now that he can smell the subtle scent of your shampoo, familiar and inviting. It sets him at ease.
"Please, stay."
“Then, leave your work for the evening. What do you say?”
His desk lamp casts a warm, orange glow over the bedroom, casting heavy, almost architectural shadow. Your features are augmented, posed in sharp relief against the muted colors of his bedroom. Merely a few seconds have passed since you asked him a question, but he already feels like he’s taken too long to answer.
“...I shall put my things away.”
You hum and give him a moment to straighten his desk, lingering just outside of his personal space. Even in the privacy of his bedroom Lucifer is impeccably dressed. You follow the crease of his pant leg down to his polished loafers. He makes every move with purpose and each thing has its place. It's only the slight tremble of his hands that gives away his fatigue.
You think back on that afternoon. After Diavolo had left, you’d seen Lucifer in your mind’s eye - the hard line of his clenched jaw softened into an expression of relief, into an expression you covet.
You breathe out slowly, trying to hide your anticipation, and walk across the floor to his bed. The covers are smooth and unwrinkled, perfectly pleated as he feels they should be. You grab one of his pillows and make sure he's watching when you place it at your feet.
He feels the weight of your stare but looking at everything still left to do makes his head hurt. He has so much to do tomorrow and so much he should have done yesterday.
Your voice cuts through the fog. “Lucifer - come here.”
He quickly places his pen in its holder, almost knocking over the inkwell, before crossing the room to meet you at the foot of his bed.
He kneels of his own volition. Your pleased smile makes his heart pound.
“I didn’t even have to ask.” You muse fondly
“How…” he swallows, “How would you like me?”
You brush your thumb against his cheek. His eyelids flutter shut and he turns toward your open palm. “I think… just like this. This is where I want you tonight, on your knees.” His face heats up but he manages to meet your half-lidded gaze.
“I’ve noticed, you know?” You say, studying his face, tilting his jaw in your hand, “You’ve had a lot of things forced on you lately. I’ve offered my help yet you refuse it. Why?
He tenses. “I am merely reaping the consequences of my own actions. I refuse to burden you with my responsibilities.”
Your brow furrows. “Okay but, what about those pictures? He knows they make you uncomfortable and I don’t like that he takes them anyway.” Your hand is soft against his cheek. “I won’t take action if you don’t want me to, I promise. I just want to understand, Lucifer. Saying you don’t know why is also acceptable.”
Lucifer eases into the comforting weight of his position beneath you. His posture sags, just slightly, and the sharpness of his brow softens. There's a faint tint of red to his cheeks. He tentatively leans forward, not meeting your eyes.
“I… I am not fond of them, but… they’re just pictures. I shouldn’t be so bothered. The less bothered I am, the less often my picture will be taken.”
“Why shouldn’t you be bothered?”
“It’s an innocuous thing. Something as small as getting one's picture taken isn’t worth getting upset over.”
“I disagree. You’re bothered by them, and it isn’t difficult to respect that by not taking your picture.”
“There are better things you could spend your time on.” He tries again, weakly, hoping it doesn’t stick.
“That’s up to me, isn’t it? Don’t I get to decide what to spend my time on?”
“Yes, of course.”
“If I can't stop him then I want to get rid of them for you.”
“I…” He looks down at his hands, “I will think about it.”
“I’ll ask you again tomorrow morning, then. I promise I’ll drop it after that.” He nods and sinks further, wanting nowhere else to be. "Don’t worry, I won't let anyone else see you like this.”
"Never?" He’s keen for one last bit of reassurance.
"Never."
You lean down to kiss him. It's lingering, gentle, and sweet. He follows when you pull back, so you kiss him again, greedy this time, to sait him, but it's not enough, never enough, and you tell him so between kisses.
"Please..." he breathes, when you finally part.
"Please what, darling?" A shudder runs through him.
"May I service you, may I please you, in a way that only I can?"
"And how do you want to do that?"
"I..." he swallows thickly, “I want to do whatever you ask of me."
Your gentle laugh cements him on his knees. "How could I ever say no to that?" The affection in your voice makes him dizzy. A hand slips down his jaw to direct his attention. "If at any point you object to what I ask, you will tell me - that's your first order of the night."
He nods in agreement. As with any magic, intention matters, and you want him on his knees willingly. The pact remains inactive; each time he follows an order is done of his own free will.
"Your second order..." you thumb his lower lip, "You look so good on your knees.. I want your mouth between my legs."
He swallows. "It would be my pleasure."
"Stoplight system like usual."
“Understood.”
You lean down to kiss him again. It’s heady and languid, desire bubbling just beneath your skin. When you pull back he is a picture of perfect obedience, kneeling with his hands in his lap.
You languidly place a leg over his shoulder and he kisses your knee, inner thigh, before grabbing the edge of your shorts. He doesn’t go any further, instead catching your eye. You hold him in anticipation, sizing him up, waiting for him to ask.
Finally he swallows. “...May I?”
You smile and lift your hips so he can slide them off, leaving you bare before him. He takes the time to fold them before leaning forward and kissing up your thighs, shifting forward so he can wrap his arms around your hips.
His eyes flicker upward when he takes a long, slow lick, savoring the way your breath hitches. He yearns for your approval.
“Mmm… that’s it,” You breathe, lost in a hazy moment of affection and power. Lucifer kneels before you because he wants to be here, because he chooses to be here.
He groans low in his throat and sinks his fingers into the meat of your hips, holding onto every little noise you make, tasting the salty, musky tang of your arousal. The scant stubble of his cheek rubs against the smooth texture of your inner thigh. He yearns for the way your whole body chases his mouth and rocks against his face, folds sticky and wet, groaning when you tug on his hair.
"You're so good with your tongue, fuck-" You can't hold his gaze, too lost in how it feels, throbbing while he leverages his entire body for your pleasure. He flicks his tongue just right, sliding it back and forth, only stopping to breathe, using his calloused fingers in the interim, tiny tight circles, watching how your head tilts back.
"Can't get enough of you Luci." your praise blooms in his chest and floods his body. He shudders, little sounds escaping his every exhale.
You’re already close to the edge, but an image of him burns in your mind’s eye.
“L-lucifer - stop.” His tight grasp on your hips is immediately gentle and tentative. He stills himself and settles back onto his heels, shoulders heaving, lips shiny.
“What’s wrong?” There's a plaintive edge to his voice, a delicious contrast with the mask of power he usually wears. It's difficult to ignore the ache between your legs.
You wrap a stray tendril of hair behind his ear. “Not yet… I want - I’ve been imagining this all day, you on your knees - I want to see it, wanna see you sweetheart. Touch yourself while you please me.”
He tenses. His mind starts to conjure an ineffable mess of images and sensations. He can't stand the way his muscles twist, the way his skin is mottled and stretched - a punishment of his own making. He deserved it after the fall. He should be better than this. He should have been better. His mind always questions what you'll think of him, what others will think of him. It's the antithesis of pride, shame on full display, yet he wants your eyes on him, he wants to believe in how you see him. He tries to rationalize. It doesn't matter, you've seen him before, you know him. Yet something in him screams and claws, wound tight, tight, tight.
His silence makes you pause, makes you wonder whether you should check on him, but then he breathes out slowly.
“Where would you like me to start?”
You consider him for a moment. “Take your vest off and unbutton your shirt. You may leave it on as long as it’s unbuttoned.”
His mouth is dry. He doesn’t make a show of removing his clothing but he does so dutifully and completely, staying on his knees at your feet. He folds his vest and sets it just out of reach, leaving his red button up hanging loosely from his shoulders. His face is flushed a delicate pink that travels all the way down to his chest.
“What-” he clears his throat, “What would you have me do next?”
“Take your trousers off. Remove your briefs too - and your socks.” His hands hover awkwardly over his waistband. His reluctance is obvious.
You lean forward and kiss his temple before placing a gentle hand on his neck. Your voice is soft and warm in his ear. "Do you remember my first order? What’s your color?”
“...Yellow.”
"Good job. Do you want to leave them on?”
“I…" he exhales with great difficulty, shoulders tense, "I am not sure, I apologize.”
"Mm, what if you took off your briefs and then put your trousers back on?”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would I-”
“Would it make you feel better?” He doesn’t say anything and you can feel his cheek burn against your own. “Would it, Lucifer?”
He sighs, and the annoyance in his voice is tinged with something like relief. “Very well.”
You make a sound of agreement and then kiss his neck before drawing back to your full height.
“Briefs off, then. Put your trousers back on but leave your fly open and belt off.”
You give him privacy by turning around and adjusting the pillows behind you, waiting until you hear him still.
You’re met with the sight of his pink, flushed cheeks. The heavy meat of his chest is partly hidden by his open shirt. You follows the delicate trail of hair leading from his navel to the dark curls between his legs, just visible in his open trousers.
“Look at you -” you breathe, “ Fuck - you look good.”
He’s caught between pride and shame. He’s dizzy, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he wants to tell you exactly what you’re doing to him. The throbbing between his legs is almost unbearable. He wants to beg. He wants to touch you, he wants your hands on him, but he can’t, he can’t. Everything is too tight, too tense, his mind is too fast-
“Please - “ he whispers, before he can stop himself, “Tell me what to do. Give me an order.”
"What do you want, Lucifer? How do you want to feel good?”
"It does not matter what I want.”
Your gaze softens as you consider him, leaning down to kiss his temple. You speak low in his ear. "It always matters what you want. Answer me.” You kiss his neck and he whines a desperate little "oh-" shuddering as he inhales, delicate and wanting, before resting his forehead on your shoulder.
“I…” he licks his lips, “I want you to use me as you see fit.”
You kiss the shell of his ear. "You’re sweet and submissive just for me, aren’t you baby?” He nods, unable to voice it, unable to touch it, but he can acknowledge it and that’s good enough. “I want you back between my legs, but this time I want you to touch yourself while you please me. I want to hear you. What do you say?”
He whimpers. “Yes - I...” He pulls back from your shoulder and shifts down onto his knees between your open legs.
Your hand runs through a few strands of his hair. “Touch yourself for me, gently, slowly. Wanna see you feel it.”
One of his calloused hands disappears into his unbuttoned trousers. He sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering shut.
“That’s it… slow circles.” You lick your lips and savor his soft keening. “I want to take my time with you tonight.”
He’s already a little breathless.
“Mm…” You start to play with yourself, getting off to the image in front of you. Lucifer on his knees, stroking his clit at your command, a beautiful, willing submissive.
“May I…?” His eyes dart to your folds, wet and glistening, just a few inches away from his mouth.
You ignore him. “How do you feel?”
“G-good, ah - I-” he keeps his eyes on your, groaning when you part your lips. His breath is hot against your.
“What do you want, Lucifer? Be specific.”
“May I please you while I - while I touch myself?” His face burns.
“Good man… go ahead.”
“Thank you.” He breathes. You shift your hips forward to meet his tongue. He groans when they connect, dipping his tongue inside of you, breathing harshly through his nose, mouth open wide, lips wet. He’s rocking his hips into his own hand, legs spread, sinking lower.
“That feel good, baby?” You whisper.
He moans what sounds like an affirmative.
“You’re stunning…” You run a hand through his hair, “So fucking perfect-" your chest constricts at the way he looks at you, up through his lashes, completely adoring. “You make me so… fuck I wanna come. Make me come?”
You can barely see his irises, his perfect hair tousled and thrown to the side. He pulls away, just for a second, just long enough to whisper a desperate please.
“Fffuck - Luci- baby…” You fall onto your back and let the pleasure wash over you. He knows just what you like best and his little noises spur you on.
Your whispered praises and directions flood his mind. He’s dripping onto his own hand, viscous fluid staining the inside of his trousers. He revels in how you writhe above him, in the heady taste and smell of your arousal - all because of him. He throbs and he wants this, he wants to feel your release, to hear more, more. He moans when you grab his hair, needy and wanton, suddenly muffled by your cunt as you starts to fuck his face.
“Keep - right there, right there-!” He does exactly as you’ve instructed, doubling down, licking your clit just right, and finally you tense, muscles tight, before an elastic snap washes over you, throbbing and lingering, a wet sweltering heat. He takes his time, just how you like, gently licking as you come down.
Your chest heaves and you drop your tight grip on his hair, instead running your fingers through it. Soft praises leave your mouth, syrupy sweet, too good for him, but he relishes in it, still touching himself on his knees.
There are a few minutes of blissful calm as you catch your breath, before sitting up to place a hand on his cheek. Your hazy expression meets his own. “So good at making me come, so good on your knees - thank you.” He leans into your hand and his flushed, red lips press into your skin.
“So gorgeous,” you whisper, “Still touching yourself… You need me baby?”
He nods into your leg, now completely doubled over. He shivers at your soft hands on the back of his neck. “When was the last time you made yourself feel good?”
“Weeks at least,” he murmurs, surprising himself with how easily he answers.
“Oh sweetheart…” he throbs at the sincere affection in your voice. “I want you to take some time for yourself, for some stress relief, even when I’m not there. Especially then.”
He starts to shake, now resting his weight against your calf, head bent between your thighs.
“Lucifer… let me look at you.”
He slowly raises his head with purpose. The plaintive, needy look in his eyes makes your heart stutter.
“Come here, Lucifer.” You pull him forward into a kiss, leading until you’re both standing. The blood rushes to his head and he sways a little, but you hold him steady. He shivers when you lean in close and kiss his neck, hands wandering from his shoulders back down to squeeze his ass.
“Mm… I want you on your back.” He does as he’s told, settling where you’ve arranged the pillows. You crawl over him, shadows falling across your body, stunning and ethereal above him.
You kiss his jugular and his breath hitches when you slide your tongue up his neck. He's achingly conscious of the hands on his hips and your breath in his ear.
“You need me?”
“Yes,” He whispers, arms wrapped around your back, feeling your skin flush against his.
“I love you like this. Love you all the time but…” he’s so wanting and open and vulnerable , “I wanna find out just how wet you are, wanna make you feel incredible. You want that?” His pulse is racing.
He wraps his arms around your back, dragging his blunt nails up your spine. He breathes in deeply, nose pressed into your neck, nodding yes, yes.
You lean to the side and trail your hand down his belly, stopping at his waistband. You wait there for him.
He swallows, voice cracking. “Go ahead."
He lifts his hips and you pull his trousers down, dropping them off the side of the bed. Your hands settle on his thighs while your eyes wander.
He glistens. Sticky, viscous fluid string between his parted legs. His curls are damp and stick to his lips, clit heavy and swollen, flushed red. He’s taken by the way your breath catches, pushing him away from the edge of doubt. You did this to him. He trusted you to do this to him, to make him wet, to make him ache.
You catch his eyes as you straddle him, hovering just over his clit. He reaches for your hips.
“Above your head.” He reluctantly retracts, stretching his arms above to grasp onto the pillows. His chest arches forward, face flushed, and beads of sweat line his forehead. He’s quivering, dripping wet, but he obeys and withstands. The way you look at him makes the room fade into the background and muffles his every passing thought.
You grasp his waist and lower yourself, adjusting until you find it, until you brush his clit with your own just right.
He gasps, eyes squeezing shut, and you groan. His clit is hard, brushing through your folds with every gentle thrust.
“Yes…” he sighs in relief, fists clenching into the fabric above him.
You've been sated by your first orgasm, able to focus on his pleasure. The pace you set is slow, feeling him slick against you.
“I…”
“You want something, Luci?”
His chest is blotchy, mouth dry, panting. “More - I… faster, please-” You continue at a slow, steady pace.
“Missed this sight,” You whisper, lips kiss-bitten and full above him.
He aches to say every passing saccharine word, dripping with pride at how you make him feel, how you look, who you are. He feels a cool hand on his cheek. “I think I’ll let you simmer. How long can you hold off for me, I wonder?”
“As - as long as you desire,” he breathes.
“Then tell me when you’re close.” You speed up, just enough to make his head tilt back into the cushions. His biceps flex as he fights to stay still, to stay exactly as he’s been instructed.
You lean forward and starts fucking him faster, panting and reveling in the way he starts to writhe.
“I’m… ah - I’m getting close-” You hum in acknowledgement and keep going until you hear a familiar rise in the deep pitch of his voice, and feel the way his body tenses.
“There- I-!” You still.
“No-! No, fuck, please- ”
“Not yet baby, not yet,” you pant in his ear, “Hold it back…” and smile at his trembling effort. “Focus on how it feels to be denied what you need so badly.”
You pull back and he groans at the translucent, sticky fluid that stretches between you. You sit on his thighs.
“Look at you… so needy and wet - you want my fingers, sweetheart?”
“Yes, yes please-” his chest heaves as he starts to forget himself.
It's after the third edge that he really starts to beg. He is held in place by your gentle fingers, letting him whine, watching him finally let go. It’s not enough, not enough and then too much, until it only takes a few small circles to get him close, until he's whispering please, please, please under his breath, as you bring him to the edge and back again.
His perfectly pleated sheets are a mess and his legs are spread wide before you. He can’t think and it’s utter bliss. Your soft fingers tease him, pushing the hood of his clit up and over the head, back down again, and again, watching him twitch. He's torn between keeping his eyes shut and looking directly at the erotic sight of your hand jerking him off.
“That feel good? Answer me, Luci.”
“So - so fucking good, so - keep-!” You smile, savoring him like this. “I’m - I’m close, oh there - please there-” he begs, gasping, whining, but you pull back just when you feel him start to tense, leaving him just on the edge without anything to push him over.
“No, no, no I was - I was there, please keep going, please-!” He pitifully tries to hump your hand, wanting anything, any more friction, he was so close, so agonizingly close.
You drag your finger just over the tip of his clit and he sobs.
“What do you want, darling?”
“I want - I want to come, I need - please make me come, please, please-” His eyes are misty, his cheeks are red, and hair is a tousled mess. He can only feel and want and beg, overwhelmed by the feeling of your fingers still stroking his clit, but it's not enough, not enough. He wrenches his head to the side and covers his eyes with his forearm.
“That’s it Luci, let go - tell me..." He shivers and jolts at your fingers on his abdomen, tracing up his belly. “You need it, baby?”
“Yes,” he whimpers, “Yes, please, I need - I need it.”
You shift down his body, nails soothing over the tops of his thighs. Just as he removes his forearm you finally lick his clit. He gasps, before whining, high pitched and utterly debauched. He covers his mouth, embarrassment flooding his cheeks, but you rub your thumbs into his thighs.
“Wanna hear more of that,” you whisper, “Wanna make you come, since you asked so nicely, since you’re doing so well for me.”
He tilts his head back when you start licking his oversensitive clit. His thighs tremble.
Finally, finally you wrap your lips around him and suck. His clit is heavy and thick in your mouth, full and swollen.
“Yeesss, yes, yes…”
He sobs your name, feeling himself clench, “- shit-!” You suck hard and it takes all your strength to hold his hips against the bed. He thrashes, white knuckling the sheets. “Oh fuck - yes I’m - there, there, please - please -!”
You keep going, just as promised, sucking and licking, exactly how he needs, for just as long as he needs. His voice gets higher and higher, breathy, tensing, toes cracking until all is still and he freezes, forehead touching the pillows behind him, neck delicately exposed, and he lets go.
“ Yesss … ohhhh fffuck, fuck yes , yes-!” He sobs with deep seated relief, euphoria flushing his body.
You want him to linger in it, to feel tension dissipate as the embers die down and warm his body. He gasps, writhing as his entire body jerks with intermittent aftershocks. You hold him there for as long as you can, sweet caresses of his clit, doing your best not to overstimulate him, to let him down gently.
As his body starts to relax you kiss his inner thighs and nuzzle into his skin, tracing your nails over his legs. His breathing slows as exhaustion matures into a hazy comforting wading pool, until the world spins in slow motion and he's finally still. You slowly slide up his body, taking him in. His half-lidded eyes follow you, face slack, lips curled into a barely there smile, genuine and gentle. The hand on his cheek is met warmly.
“Good job love,” you whisper, “So good for me. You okay?”
He licks his lips and leans up with just enough energy to meet you. You guide him back down and kiss him like he deserves, whispering little affirmations between them. It’s like he’s floating in a space of unreality and he lets himself linger, for just a bit, enjoying the way he can quietly give and receive a softness he’d forgotten he was capable of.
You gently run your hands over his skin and he does the same, tilting when you kiss his neck, sighing when you kiss just under his ear. You lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, until one of you starts to recognize the sound of a clock ticking. You nuzzle against his sweaty skin.
“Wanna get cleaned up? I don’t feel like a shower tonight but I’ll take one if you want.”
“Washcloth is fine,” he murmurs.
“Okay.” You kiss his temple and then reluctantly slide off the bed and head for the bathroom. You pee and clean yourself up a little bit before returning to him with a washcloth in hand.
He’s slowly unfolding another comforter, back in his discarded trousers and unbuttoned shirt.
You come up behind him and kiss his shoulder. “M’sorry, I forgot to put a towel down.” He shrugs, still a little out of it, eyes glazed over.
You let him finish before having him sit in front of you, gently wiping his face clean as he leans into your hand.
“I’ll get changed,” he murmurs, faded and wobbly. You give him his privacy in the bathroom and change into a pair of pajamas left in his room for nights like these. He returns wearing his own and immediately sinks into bed. You roll onto your back, beckoning him, and he settles into your side.
After a few moments of peaceful silence, Lucifer speaks. His voice is muffled against your skin.
“If you do decide to delete those pictures you’ll have to do it twice - once in his phone and once in his backup.”
“Mm. Why don’t I pick Leviathan’s brain - I want it to be permanent.”
“Might as well be if you’re going through the trouble.”
“It isn’t trouble.”
The tension in his body slowly dissipates, yielding the enormity of his weight.
“Then… I’ll let you take care of it."
#lucifer obey me#obey me lucifer#my writing#wearyeyebrow#i know this is older but i never properly posted it damnit#nightbringer really hyped me up#now im just posting all my notes app lucifer conent#and the one long fic ive done for him#anyway#lucifer x mc#sub obey me#sub lucifer#dom mc
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Hidden in Lace
Summary: Diluc internalizes the various roles he's meant to play, but what would it be to listen to his own desires? A night of trying something new turns into an intimate discussion with you. NotSFW leaning but nothing explicit. Tags under the cut.
Tags: lingerie, implied sub Diluc, discussion, implied sex, romance, gn reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort
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It's late in the evening at the Dawn Winery and you're pouring over your work, holed up in Diluc's study. Diluc's purposeful footfall notifies his return and the clink of china tells you he's refilled your teacup. You sigh and stretch before taking an appreciative sip. He's pulled another tome forward, sifting through the glossary, when his deep voice breaks the silence.
"Your birthday is next month - is there anything you'd like?"
You hum and mark your place with a finger. "Huh. I can't think of anything… wait-" your eyes light up. "Actually, there is something I want, but only if you're comfortable with it."
His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"
"Well... I - you see, I've always wanted to see you in a set of lingerie. Would you mind if I bought you some?"
Diluc pauses for a moment, hand hovering in mid air, "...You want to buy me something for your birthday?"
"Well that, in and of itself, wouldn't be my present. You'd be allowing me to see you in whatever I buy - that's the gift."
"But... you could have-" he coughs into his hand and looks askance, "No matter. I can get you something and... also do that for you, if that's what you really want."
"Really?" You can't completely hide your delight.
He shrugs, attempting to feign nonchalance. "It's hardly fair buying someone else a present for your birthday."
"That means... you don't mind? Wearing what I pick out?"
"I reserve the right to say no upon seeing it."
"Of course. You're allowed to say no to the whole thing too, you know?"
He's quick to reassure, a faint smile on his lips. "I know - it was just a reminder for myself."
"Nervous?"
"...Preemptively unsure, maybe."
You close your book and set it on the table with a thud. "It's just a fantasy of mine. I love the look of lace and I love what you look like even more. The two go really well together in my mind's eye."
He cocks an eyebrow, expression incredulous, maybe a little cheeky. "Oh? So you've thought about this before...?"
You smile wide, unabashed. "Indeed - especially when we've been unable to see each other for awhile. You are one of my favorite fantasies." The slight color of his cheeks contrasts with a slightly scandalized expression. "Now that you've tentatively agreed, can I take your measurements?"
-
A few weeks later and you're waiting for him to open the dressing room door, leg bouncing in anticipation. He seemed a little hesitant when you handed him the set but you just know it'll look stunning on him.
He calls out to you, voice muffled by the dressing room door. "I believe I've managed to put it on, it's... it's a bit... I'm not sure if it suits me."
"I'll have to see it on to decide whether I agree, right?"
"...Would it be alright if I come out in slacks, just to start?"
"Of course - do anything that makes you feel comfortable, and that includes calling it off."
There's a pause in conversation, and just when you're about to ask if he's okay, the dressing room door creaks open.
Oil lamp light flickers across the wall, lighting up his body as he enters the bedroom. Your breath catches in your chest, and your words die in your throat.
His slacks are black, pressed well and tight to his thighs. They're held up with a leather belt and silver buckle. They sit low on his hips, just below the tips of his hip bones, and you can see the delicate trail of hair that reaches his navel. The top is made of jet black lace, delicate, but there's some weight to it. The lace has a soft, almost scalloped edge, hugging the curves and concaves of his chest. The fabric drapes over his body, as if it's meant to be there. It's intricate and stunning, embellished with tiny facets of white crystal, catching and shimmering even in the dim light.
He clears his throat at your silence. You try and blink away the sudden fog clouding your mind.
"Come here, love." You rasp, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice. He does as you ask and you rise to meet him. You drink him in, hands softly sliding against the fabric. His breath hitches at your touch, but he is otherwise silent. You finally find his face after roaming his body with hunger in your eyes. He's flushed a beautiful red, head tilted to the side, avoiding the heaviness of your gaze.
"Darling," you murmur, and his eyes flicker to your face, "You look stunning. Words rarely fail me, but I am having trouble articulating just how beautiful you look in this." He blushes impossibly red still, slightly overwhelmed, and maybe just... slightly uncomfortable? You pause.
"I guess I've never really asked, even though I've said it lots of times. Do you like it when I call you beautiful? Or would you prefer something else?"
"I..." he clears his throat, "I am unsure how to respond." You look at him with concern. "It..." he breathes out, and even in the complete privacy of your bedroom he can only manage a whisper. "I do like it. But... I don't feel like I should."
You gently prompt him to sit on the edge of the bed with you. "Do you wanna talk about it for a bit?"
He wilts slightly, "I will do my best, but I'm afraid it's - it's quite nonsensical, or rather, it's really not worth any emotional weight."
"Even so, it seems to weigh on you. Talking about it might help, if you want to."
"But… even now?" He gestures to himself.
"Especially now, if something's bothering you."
He sighs and almost reluctantly sits next to you. "...The piece you picked out is very well made, and it - it fits well."
You nod. "I got it with you in mind and had it tailored for your measurements."
"That…" he sighs, still flushed red but now turned inward. "I'm glad, I'm thrilled even-"
"You don't sound thrilled."
"Truly I am. It's just hard to acknowledge that to myself."
You soften your voice. "What do you mean?"
He sighs. "There are certain... images? Ideals might be more accurate, that I have always been meant for, what I should like, how I should act. I feel… like a disappointment, when I find myself unable to live up to those ideals." He sighs again, eyes fixated on the carpet, "The more time I spend with you romantically the more I find myself enjoying every aspect of it, especially those that I am not supposed to like. I… was actually really looking forward to tonight." His voice trails off.
"Was my request a little too much..? It's okay if it was."
He shakes his head and reflexively kisses your hand, voice low. "No - it's nothing you did, I - I'm just in my head all of the time, so hung up on - on..." his shoulders drop, and he sighs, as if resigned. "I am my own person. I am not beholden to the opinions of others in any other area of my life, and yet... it feels I'm doing something I shouldn't."
"Have you always felt this way when having sex with me?"
"Certainly not."
"Then… do you remember when you started feeling this way?"
"We were both figuring things out in the beginning. You graciously went through the motions with me -"
"It wasn't about being gracious-"
"I know, I'm sorry, that was the wrong way to put it. It's more accurate to say that our courtship began traditionally." He chuckles suddenly, "Well, not completely, you were the one who approached me, for which I am thankful." You squeeze his hand. "But more recently, our - the dynamic has shifted and..." He grimaces, "Whatever the hell that means - gods, the more I say it out loud the more trivial it all sounds."
Your brow furrows. "But if it's bothering you, it's important."
He sighs. "It just - I want to make sense of why I feel this way. I know that you and I are the only people in our relationship. What we do together is ours and ours alone. Yet I... I feel like I shouldn't enjoy it."
"What, exactly, do you feel like you shouldn't enjoy?" You ask softly, hoping he'll elaborate.
A gentle shade of red creeps down his neck and he falls onto his back. The bed feels nice and cool against his flushed skin. You shift onto your elbow and give him some time to think. You watch his adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows.
"Even in Mondstadt, the city of freedom, decorum is held in high esteem. There are roles certain people are meant to play, burdens to bear. So I… I feel like I shouldn't enjoy it when we're intimate and I - I don't have to worry about anything, when I don't have to think, I can only be myself, and there's- there's no danger, it's just us." He flushes all the way down his chest and averts his gaze, "When you call me pretty, and you direct me, and you... you praise me for doing as you’ve asked. It - I've never felt…” he tapers off, biting his tongue even in the midst of his confession. “In the back of my mind there's this voice saying that I'm being too much, too needy, I don't know the word for it. Unbecoming, maybe." His eyes flicker back and forth as he gazes at a spot of nothing on the ceiling. "______, you know why I changed the trajectory of my life and why I keep the details under wraps. I feel as though, even when I enjoy something so much, it does not fit the role I'm supposed to play, and therefore I shouldn't enjoy it." He smiles wryly, "Or maybe I'm misjudging the situation. Maybe I'm just awful in bed."
You shift onto your side and rest your head against his stomach, idly tracing your finger over and through the lace on his chest. His skin is warm and your voice is gentle.
"You’re wonderful in bed, but even if you weren't it'd hardly matter, that isn't why I care for you. I'd rather ask, is this how you want to enjoy intimacy?"
There's a beat of silence. His chest dips with every slow breath he takes.
"Yes."
"Me too." You seek out his hand amongst the covers and intertwine your fingers. "I don’t know if this will help but… I've never lived up to my 'potential,' I've rarely been what people have wanted, in vague terms anyway." He frowns but continues to listen, "I've tried, you know, to be what they wanted, but I couldn't even do that - that's when I realized that it's all futile. I'm…' you breathe in deeply, "I'm not going to censor myself for the sake of someone else's ideals or vision of me, especially since it never works, because, no matter what, I always come up short. But with the right people, with you, with others like me, those 'shoulds' matter less and less.” He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back.
You turn and meet his eyes. "To me, you're just Diluc. You're loyal and thoughtful, you care for moral causes and you work too hard. You have my back whether we’re fighting or resting together. I love all of that about you. And I also love you like this, when I call you pretty and your ears turn red, when you look at me like - like I'm… heh."
You shift up onto your stomach. He feels your tender hands start to run through his hair, separating any snags onto the bedspread below.
"You're allowed to enjoy yourself and you're allowed to feel pleasure - before anything that you are, you're a person. I don't expect any more of you than what you willingly give."
He breathes out and sits up slowly, blinking slightly as he adjusts to the dim glow of the oil lamp. His gaze flits between your eyes and his calloused fingers run up and down your arm. His voice is hushed and a little unsure.
"...What if it's still hard to convince myself of those things?"
You tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. "Truthfully, I don't know. I think you deserve the world, but… I'm not sure how you convince yourself. Maybe I'm also looking for the answer to that question."
You rest your hand against his cheek and he tilts, capturing it with his own to place a reverent kiss to your palm. His eyebrows furrow and he rests his forehead against your intertwined hands.
"I think I've said all I can put into words tonight. Thank you for listening. I have a lot to think about, but I feel more at peace with myself. May I come to you again after I've given it more thought?"
"You can come to me with anything, anytime."
"Please know I reserve the same space for you."
His eyes close as you place a gentle kiss to his forehead. He feels you lightly tug at the garment he's wearing.
"Would you like to save this for another night?"
He bites his lip, as if he just realized he's still wearing it.
“I… I did say that I've been looking forward to tonight.”
You smirk, “So you're okay to continue? I hardly know what to do with myself, you just… you look so good in lace, I knew you would.”
He can't meet your eyes but the red tips of his ears give him away.
You run a hand over the fabric. “Do you like it, Diluc?”
“...I do,” he whispers, "Archons I do."
#diluc/reader#genshin impact#diluc ragnivindr#diluc genshin impact#diluc x reader#sub diluc#wearyeyebrow#my writing
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Captivating
Summary: "Do you think of me when you touch yourself?"
Tags: Diluc/reader, NotSFW - very suggestive, implied dom reader, implied sub Diluc
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Diluc is on his back, head propped up by a pillow. You're straddling him, a hand on his chest, a glint in your eye.
"Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?"
"I..." he clears his throat as a soft blush blooms on his cheeks, travelling all the way down his neck. He looks away from you, almost scandalized, and covers his mouth with the back of his wrist. "N-naturally I... you are my partner."
You take his hand and hold it next to his head, pressed against the mattress. The other gently grasps his jaw, silently asking him to look at you. His breath catches when he does at the heady expression on your face.
"What am I doing to you when you think about me?" Your thumb brushes against his lips, "Describe it for me - your mind's eye."
"I - I couldn't-"
"You couldn't?" You lean forward, lips hovering over his own.
"I..."
"Am I on top of you, in those moments? Are my hands all over you?" You brush past his lips and lean down to his neck, leaving soft kisses below his ear. You feel him shiver and hear his breath hitch.
"Or am I doing something else?" You whisper.
"You - you aren't wrong." You're about to say something else when he continues, voice soft and breathy, "I always imagine the look that you give me..."
"What look?" You smile before gently biting his ear.
His breath hitches. "It's intense - I can't describe it accurately, but it always makes me..."
"What is the rest of me doing? Where are my hands going?" You lightly grind against his pelvis and he sucks in air through his teeth. "They're all over me, all - all over my chest, my legs."
"Like this?" You sit back and slowly drag your hands down his chest, over his partly unbuttoned shirt. You undo the buttons on your second pass, and brush against his nipples, fingernails lightly tracing his body, palms pressing tight against his sides. His chest heaves. "Yes - j-just like that."
"What do I do next?"
"You... ah - you grab my hair and-"
You rub little circles with your thumb against one of his nipples. You hear a small whine catch in the back of his throat.
"You grab my hair and pull my neck to the side -"
You smile and oblige, knowing exactly what he wants. He groans at the contact, feeling you tug at the roots of his hair, the slight commanding posession of your grip. You turn his head to the side exposing his neck.
"Then what?" Your breath comes out in little puffs against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.
He's flustered and slightly overwhelmed, flushes all the way down to his chest, from both arousal and a bit of embarrassment.
"You always... take control," he whispers, gaze heavy, fixated on you, "and you're... you're aroused, because of me."
You spread your legs and lower yourself onto his thigh, spreading your wetness against his skin. He groans and meets your eyes.
"You always do this to me." A gentle smile belies your roaming, hungry gaze.
His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide, lips parted and breathless. "Kiss me," he rasps, "please-"
You press your lips against his, letting go of his hair to cup his jaw. He groans when you slip your tongue into his mouth, and wraps his arms around your neck.
He chases your lips when you pull back to kiss down his neck and chest. "I always think of you when I touch myself." He groans, neck tilted to watch your descent. "I think about how pretty you look, how strong you are - your hand in mine. You look at me like I'm everything you've ever wanted-"
"You are," he croaks, partially sitting up on one of his forearms.
"Archons - what you do to me."
#diluc genshin impact#sub diluc#sub impact#dom reader#my writing#genshin impact#diluc/reader#diluc x reader#slowly getting back into genshin#diluc still has my heart#wearyeyebrow#NotSFW
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Love to Hate Him
Summary: Mephistopheles makes another remark about Lucifer not respecting Lord Diavolo. MC has had just about enough.
Tags: SFW, lucifer x MC, pre-relationship, gn MC, brothers included, mild conflict, drabble
The dark and alluring scenery whizzes by as you speed across the horizon line. The train car is filled with chaos incarnate, all seven avatars of sin, the crown prince, his retainer, and a nobleman together in the same train car. You sit amidst it all, Lucifer to your right, Diavolo, Mephistopheles, and Barbatos sit across from you. Mammon occassionally jostles you to your left, and the others are spread about.
This year's FTA Summit will be held in the carrion mountains, far from RAD. Mephistopheles was invited by Diavolo to join your enterouge, attending as a representative of his family.
So far everything has gone smoothly, which is a miracle in and of itself. Levi has a new game to occupy him, Beel is kept full by rotating railway staff (Lucifer planned ahead), Satan has a new book, Asmo is on devilgram, Mammon is occupied by online slots, and Belphie is half asleep in Beel's lap. They're in it for the long haul but the offer of a reward for good behavior (one of your suggestions) is keeping them in line for now.
You're reading over some notes Solomon sent you on your DDD, a couple ancient spells he wants you to memorize by the time you return. You're also half listening to a conversation between Lucifer and Diavolo.
"Absolutely not." Lucifer mutters.
"Oh c'mon, it's a great idea!"
"It's a terrible idea."
"Well, what about a piano bar? It would be a great way to unwind."
Lucifer hesitates, "It isn't that it's a bad idea, but it is a recipe for disaster with everyone here coming along."
"Maybe so, but I'd enjoy a lively outing."
"If you want to subject yourself to the chaos, be my guest. I will be at home."
Diavolo pouts and opens his mouth to complain when Mephistopheles chimes in.
"You know Lucifer, you really need to show Lord Diavolo more respect. He is your direct superior, you have no business refusing a request."
Lucifer stiffens beside you and his lightly discarded mask is firmly back in place. You were having such a good time, too.
"Oh come off it Mephistopheles." You pipe up, eyes still glued to your DDD.
"What did you just say to me?"
You sigh and look up from your phone with great effort.
"You heard what I said."
Mephistopheles rises from his seat to glower down at you, fists tightly balled at his sides.
The car is suddenly quiet.
"Maintaining a strict royal hierarchy is how we keep order in the Devildom, something these ex-angels aren't exactly known for. I for one-"
You meet his eyes. "Sit down, Mephistopheles."
"What-"
"I said, sit down."
His face burns in anger but when he takes one step toward you a chill runs up his spine. All of the brothers tense, hackles raised. Another step toward you is a death wish.
He tuts, trying to save face. "I was just saying-"
"You were just saying what, exactly?" You raise an eyebrow.
Lucifer is guarded on your right, regarding Mephistopheles as a speck of dirt beneath your shoe. Mammon shifts closer to you, forearms on his knees, eyebrow cocked in annoyance. The power you hold in this moment is almost exillerating, but you were never interested in power for its own sake.
Mephistopheles bites his tongue "I was just saying-"
"Nothing, was it? Oh good!" Your smile is too wide as you return your attention to Solomon's notes.
Lucifer is well amused beside you, chest puffed out, head held high as he fully leans back against the seat. His knowing smirk is insufferable. Mephistopheles wants to wring his neck. Satan privately gives his condolences.
"Whatever, I'm going to get some air." He huffs, slamming the door on his way out.
Barbatos chuckles, "Shall we go check on him, My Lord?"
Diavolo sighs, "Indeed. I'll be back shortly, please continue enjoying yourselves."
As soon as they're gone, Lucifer regards you, bemused. "You needn't intervene on my behalf, I'm perfectly capable."
"Oh I know, but his comment put me off."
"Really? I didn't notice."
You fondly roll your eyes. "I don't care about hierarchies, especially when they're contractual or coercive." You click your tongue, "It's just - look, you and I may have a pact but I don't own you or your time - no one should. Now I know Diavolo means well, but Mephistopheles is an ass. He just had to butt in, anything to reinforce his precious hierarchy. It bugged me so I said something."
Lucifer's quiet so you shrug, "But, well, maybe I'm overstepping-"
Lucifer huffs, but there's a smile on his face. His hand grazes your own, just slightly. "While unnecessary, the sentiment is noted and... appreciated."
Belphie makes a gagging sound in the background so you shoot him a look.
The car returns to its original chatter and the hills contine to roll on by. What further chaos awaits?
#lucifer obey me#obey me brothers#obey me shall we date#drabble#obey me mephistopheles#wearyeyebrow#my writing#silly little thing#i love to hate Mephistopheles#obey me drabble#obey me mc#obey me
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To Know You
You take a chance to know Lucifer better by asking a late night question - what does pride mean to him? Your conversation is intellectual until it isn't, until you take a chance on vulnerability. You reach out and, to your surprise, he tentatively reaches back.
Feat: pre-relationship, mutual pining, late night conversation, SFW
“Lucifer…” you lean against the backrest of the couch, head tilted toward the ceiling. “I’ll understand if you can’t answer, or if it’s too… I dunno, maybe too loaded of a question, but what does ‘pride’ mean to you? How do you define it?”
His eyebrows raise, so subtle you almost miss it. He meets your gaze, head now tilted towards him, still resting against the couch.
There’s nothing suspicious behind your eyes, nothing invasive or prodding, accusatory or maligned. He almost rather there were - it’s unnerving how little he can read in your expression. The silence only lasts as long as he’ll allow it.
He adjusts a few stray papers on his desk. “What prompted this… sudden curiosity?”
“I wouldn’t call it sudden,” You’ve turned away from him again, eyes back on the ceiling, slightly far away, “I’ve wondered here and there, it’s only now that I truly desire the answer, I guess.”
“What changed?”
Your eyes search the space in front of you. “...Everyone here takes up space.”
He finishes straightening what he needs to take care of tomorrow, planner and pens neatly arranged. Even at the end of the day his desk must be the picture of perfection. He stands and his heels clack on the heavy hardwood floor.
“Why don’t we continue this discussion in my room? We might do well with a few drinks.”
This offer indicates two things to you. One - he’s open to continuing the discussion, and two - he’d like to keep it private. It’s a small smile you offer him, but a smile nonetheless.
“I’d like that.”
---
HIs room is familiar enough, and even in your low mood you can’t resist giving a jaunty hello to the literal skeleton in the corner. You hit Lucifer with a line, the very same you give him each time you enter his room: “I’ve heard about skeletons in a closet, but this is ridiculous.”
“You are insufferable.”
“Yeah.”
Ah, but you’ve never agreed with him.
He gestures to your usual chair and you take it, waiting while he gets a few drinks for the both of you. He hardly breaks out the good stuff for anyone except Lord Diavolo, but you have had the privilege of tasting a few aged delicacies. Still, part of you hopes he’ll return with tea instead. Tipsy Lucifer is always a delight, but you don’t want him to deny any of this conversation later.
He seems to have read the room and returns with tea in hand, a recent recommendation and one you haven’t tried.
He sits in the chair next to you and lights the fireplace with a sweep of his hand. The light is low, covering you both in flickering shadows. He is in his waistcoat and slacks, crisp dress shoes still tied, holding onto some of his posturing even in the comfort of his own bedroom. Or, maybe it’s only because you’re here? Thoughts and questions run nebulous through your mind.
“You asked how I define my sin, correct?”
You are pulled away from the flickering flames by the low timbre of his voice. You rest your chin in your hand and look at him, humming an affirmative.
“Ah…” he gazes into the fire and takes a sip of his tea. Silence stretches on, though it is not unwelcome. Eventually, he shifts and places his half empty tea cup on the side table, perfectly ‘clinked’ into place on its matching plate. “Technically, there are seven virtues that oppose the seven sins. The opposite of pride is humility. While there are no ‘avatars of virtue,’ the virtues themselves, at least in typical abhrahamic religions, exist somewhere in between the lines. If I had once embodied humility as a virtue, then I would say my philosophical downfall began when I turned against authority, when I accepted my own view of the world and myself as superior to those around me. In that, pride may be the ability to have mastery where others would not, and accepting yourself as superior.” He pauses for a moment. “That is my initial answer. I am interested in your comment.”
You tilt your head back again, taking your time to process. "So… then, pride is the assumption of superior judgement where one deserves to take pride in oneself if and only if they meet, or exceed, some sort of… standard of mastery? Am I misinterpreting?”
“That is… more or less correct, yes.”
“Then, who sets that standard? Is it yourself? An authority figure? Society?”
He is quiet for a moment. “...It may be contextual, or fluid, truly. In my case, I take pride in being of aid to the crown prince, finishing my work on time and with diligence - my appearance is maintained, I do as is expected and I maintain an acceptable aesthetic. I excel at each task I take up, and I carry out the will of those I am either beholden to, or respect. All compose my image - one I take pride in.”
“Do you take pride in your brothers, as well?”
“Be more specific.”
“When Mammon is featured on magazine covers, or when Beel wins a game, that sort of thing.”
“Naturally, then. They are succeeding and in turn bringing prestige to both the avatars of sin and Lord Diavolo himself.”
“Hmm… may I pose a hypothetical?”
He nods in assent.
“Suppose… suppose Mammon had been itching to steal from you. Something expensive. A vintage bottle that’d go for a high price. But - simultaneously, he doesn’t actively want to upset you. So, he resists temptation and doesn’t steal from you, and instead he, I dunno, goes antiquing. It was just one day, right? Maybe the urge will be stronger tomorrow, but he resisted today. Is that something he should feel proud of? Is that something that you might take pride in?”
“...Barring the hypothetical assumptions of his motivations, if those exact circumstances were true, I wouldn’t admonish him for taking a certain amount of pride in abstaining, but I… I do not believe I would find anything worth taking pride in.”
“So… ‘pride’ or ‘to take pride in something’ is based on subjective appreciation. Is that at least partly accurate?”
“...I suppose so, yes.”
“Hm.” There’s another long stretch of silence. “I want to take up space, Lucifer.”
“Define “take up space’”
“To… to make my needs known. To have those needs and boundaries respected, and to respectfully, but firmly, see to it that they are respected. I don’t think I… I don’t think I can do that if I do not take pride in myself.”
“Do you not?”
“I think… I think, for me, pride also gets in the way. It's hard to ask for help because it feels like I should be better than that. I am in the habit of making myself small to fit into the spaces other people define for me. I… I don’t feel like ripping my chest open right now, but to avoid being too vague, I've never met conventional expectations. What was there to take pride in, especiallyif no one else did? Even the things I was good at were usually done to benefit someone else, to make someone else happy. I… I came to you with this definitional question because… and correct me if I’m wrong, I realize I’m making assumptions, but… I find that we are not entirely dissimilar, in that regard. The constant molding of the self to fit what is acceptable to take pride in - regardless of where those expectations came from… And yet I… I’m tired, Lucifer. Are you ever tired of it all?”
“...You are an odd human.”
“My name is _____. Call me odd all you want, but do so with my name, you very peculiar demon.”
His mouth quirks at your light mockery. “My apologies, ______.”
You wave him away so he understands you were half-joking. “Forgiven.”
He looks away from you toward some vague spot in the corner of his room. “In truth, my automatic response was to disagree with you, but… upon reflection, even momentarily, I realize that was just a habitual response. We are alike, in that way, and… I am not ‘tired of it all,’ but, on occasion, I am.. tired.”
“Me too.” You agree, quietly, an acknowledgement of sorts. “I do not know if you are capable of answering, or maybe it’s better to say whether you want to answer, but if pride, or rather, your appearances, weren’t as important, what would you be doing right now?”
He doesn’t answer so you continue. “I think you’d like to laugh at my very terrible jokes. I think you don’t because you aren’t supposed to like them, but you do, don’t you?”
He huffs a little, a small burst of air from his nose, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “...I think I’d remove my shoes.”
“Your shoes?”
“Yes… I -” he hesitates, just briefly, before sighing. He bends down and lifts up the hem of his left pant leg, and then his right. “I wore mismatched socks today - I overslept by a few minutes this morning and didn’t have time to find the other match. I cannot tolerate any evidence of inefficiency to tarnish the reputations I tend to.”
“I think blue and red suit you.”
“Together they clash.”
“I find it charming.”
“Charming?”
“Mhm. In fact… shall I do you one better?” You untie your loafers revealing black socks that, while a perfect match, the left has a small hole right over the knuckle of your big toe. “I need to darn this one. I’ve even had time, I just can’t be bothered - I like to think that those who would see my socks wouldn’t think less of me for it, as I can’t think less of you.”
“And…” he recognizes the glint in your eyes, the upturn of your mouth, “I think I’m interested in seeing you in the morning, half asleep, just a tad late… the word that comes to mind is, ‘adorable,” and not “inefficient.’”
He snorts. “Hardly.”
“Adorable is a valuable complement, in my personal vernacular.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t give it to just anyone.” You’re testing something, you’re not quite sure what.
“I…” he clears his throat and coughs into his hand, “I see.” He can feel a slight warmth to his cheeks, emphasized by the low light of the fire. He nearly chides himself for getting flustered over something so insignificant when you speak just a little louder than his thoughts.
“Thank you, Lucifer, for your company.” Your fingers brush against him ever so slightly and he ignores the goosebumps that lick up his arms like wildfire.
He nods, sharp, as if expected, as if he isn’t attempting to recompose himself. “Do let me know if you wish to talk again. I always enjoy our conversations. I’m often left with many things to think about.”
“Me too. Oh and, don’t worry - your mis-matched sock secret's safe with me.”
“When you put it that way it sounds trivial.”
“I care about it if you care about it.”
“...It is getting late.”
“So it is.” You sigh, after glancing at the clock, not really caring what time it is - you recognize that sentence as your key to leave him be. “Let me know if you ever want to talk, too, okay? I’m here to listen, at the very least.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
You both stand and he walks you to the door of his bedroom. You say your goodnights, yawning as you go, and say you’ll see him in the morning.
The door closes behind you and he’s left to the dying embers of a fire and the quiet ticking of a clock overhead. His posture sags some and he runs a hand through his hair. You are a delightful conversation partner, truly, but introspection exhausts him.
Ah, you’ve forgotten your shoes. Well, he’ll just give them to you tomorrow morning… maybe after a good polish.
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First Kiss
Summary: The quiet of a winter forest amplifies your anxiety and desire. Does he return your feelings?
Tags: Diluc, Diluc x reader, first kiss, winter
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"Diluc." You stop, mid conversation, your heart pounding.
He looks at you quizzically, color in his cheeks, chapped by the cold winter air. There's tension between the two of you, separated by a thousand questions left unasked in your letters. You steel yourself.
"May I kiss you?"
He stops breathing for a moment, trepidation and slight panic maring his usually neutral expression. You watch his eyes flit back and forth, considering his answer, trying to ascertain all the potential outcomes of a yes or a no. Eventually his heart stutters and his thoughts freeze. You're looking at him patiently, resting a respectful foot away. There's forgiveness in your body language. Open to any answer. What answer does he want to give?
"...Yes." He breathes, waiting for your reaction.
Your eyes widen and your nose crinkles into his favorite smile. You close the distance and place a reverent hand on his cheek.
"Thank you." He's burning up, blush creeping down his neck. His eyes follow your every move and he stiffens at the contact. You search his eyes, concern blooming on your face. "You sure?" Your voice is soft and sweet, sending tingles down his back and up his neck. He absentmindedly licks his lips and wills himself to relax. He's sure you can hear his heart pounding.
"I'm sure." He whispers, desperate not to break the swelling intimate atmosphere.
"Okay." You whisper as you tilt your head and lean in.
Your scent immediately envelops him, thumb brushing over his cheek, lips chapped by the winter wind yet soft and warm against his own. Your nose brushes against his when you pull back with half lidded-eyes. This time he leans in first, eyes fluttering shut as you connect. The second kiss lasts longer, as does the third. You feel his hands tentatively settle at your waist as you tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. There are so many things you've been waiting to say to him. You hope, somehow, he'll understand just how much you feel for him.
Eventually you both pull back breathless. Snow falls around you, deafening the world. You aren't sure what to say. He doesn't have any words to offer either. Eventually your quiet voice fills the air. "Do you want to talk about it over the fire tonight? Or do you want to wait until our assignment is wrapped up?"
He thinks for a minute before sighing somewhere deep in his chest. He lingers a moment longer before retracting his hands from your waist, absentmindedly tugging at his gloves. "We should probably wait until the assignment is finished. It..."
"It takes priority." You finish for him, watching as he's momentarily conflicted by your choice of words.
"For now... yes. It has to."
He nods and his neutral expression returns, eyes narrowed on the objectives in front of him. You continue cutting your way through the underbrush.
"Then we're on the same page." You breathe out and step away from him feeling the wind shiver up your spine. "Thanks for letting me get that out of my system. I couldn't focus." You chuckle, almost bashful at your own confession. He reaches toward you before stopping himself, hands hovering awkwardly in the air before he stuffs them back in his pockets.
"Likewise." He coughs into his hand and you laugh, feeling nervous and giddy.
"Let's get a move on then. We'll need to get to the crossroads by nightfall if we don't want to get stuck out here."
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