・❥ You don’t like to be touched—even handshakes get you sweaty, but can the charming ruler of Hell change that?
x: reader is g/n. no use of y/n.
xx: wowowoow my first inbox request!! i honestly never thought i would do one but i finally had the motivation to write a situation like this so… enjoy!
The first time you met Lucifer, you flinched.
It wasn’t subtle, either. You physically recoiled, reeling back as if. You could still recall the shock in his crimson eyes, then the slight tilt of his head as he regarded you in front of all your friends at the hotel.
“Oh?” he had murmured, withdrawing his hand just before it could make contact with your shoulder. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. “Ah, I see. The rumors have gotten to you, haven’t they? Terrified I’ll smite you where you stand?”
Lucifer’s tone was teasing, but there was a curiosity beneath it, as if he was waiting to see if you’d confirm his suspicion.
Your stomach had twisted at the attention. You’d only been working at the Hazbin Hotel’s front desk for a few weeks, trying to keep your head down and do your job.
When Charlie had offered you a position, promising you a place that felt safe, you hadn’t expected him—Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself—to be so… present.
And touchy.
Lucifer was all casual affection, all warmth and charm wrapped up in a devilishly well-dressed package. A hand at Charlie’s back, a ruffle of Vaggie’s hair, a deliberate jab to Alastor’s side when he stood in the King’s path. He was the kind of person who made contact as naturally as breathing.
Which, unfortunately, didn’t mix well with you.
You weren’t sure why you told him. Maybe it was the way he had pulled back so easily, so quickly, without a hint of offense. Maybe it was because of the curious way he watched you afterward, instead of the disgust or cruel judgment like you would have expected for the ruler of Hell.
“I don’t like being touched,” you had admitted, your fingers curling against the desk. “It’s not—it’s not you, I just—”
Lucifer had held up a hand, stopping you with a disarming smile. “Say no more, darling.”
And he hadn’t pushed. Not once.
At first, you thought he’d forget, like he did everything. But Lucifer never forgot.
When he spoke to you, he kept an extra bit of space between you. When he passed you one of his famous, hand made rubber duckies, he set it on the desk rather than handing it directly to you.
Even when he cracked a joke or leaned in conspiratorially, it was always within a distance you could handle.
And then, slowly, softly, after a few months of casual flirtation and shared laughter over pancakes, Lucifer started testing the waters.
The first time, it had been your hand. A particularly stressful morning had left you rubbing at your temples, exhaustion laying heavy in your bones.
Lucifer had approached the desk, a steaming cup of invigorating tea in hand, and instead of setting it down, he very deliberately extended it toward you.
You hesitated.
“It’s not cursed,” he teased, wiggling the cup.
You huffed, but took it from him—fingers brushing, just barely, against his own. The contact lasted less than a second, but Lucifer’s grin was bright.
After that, it was gradual. The lightest press of his shoulder beside you when he leaned in to peek at your paperwork. A casual touch to your sleeve when he needed your attention.
Never too much. Never too soon.
You weren’t sure when it happened, but one day, you realized you didn’t flinch anymore.
And then, one quiet evening in the lobby, it happened.
You had been reading, curled up in one of the oversized lounge chairs near the front desk, when Lucifer sauntered in.
“Hard at work I see,” he mused, sliding his gaze across the empty lobby. “I’m sure everyone is aware the weight of the hotel rests on your shoulders.”
You glanced up from your book with a raised brow, already catching the glint of amusement in his unnatural eyes. “It’s my break.”
“That’s perfect!” He slid onto the cushion beside you. “Then you won’t mind me indulging for a moment.”
Then, slowly, he extended a hand. Open, palm-up, resting on the cushion between you.
An invitation. Nothing more.
Your heart hammered, but… you didn’t move away.
Instead, cautiously, you let your fingers drift toward his. The moment your fingertips brushed his palm, Lucifer’s expression softened, his own fingers closing just enough to lightly hold yours.
“See?” he murmured, warmth seeping from his touch. “Not so bad, is it?”
You exhaled, and slowly your shoulders sank, and the tension coiled beneath your skin slowly dissipated. His hand was warm—steady, safe. Something you hadn’t felt since before arriving to this dark place.
For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to pull away.
Lucifer didn’t move either, didn’t tighten his grip or trace circles against your skin—he simply let you be, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
“Not so bad,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Lucifer’s lips curled into something softer than his usual knowing smirk. A smile, real and warm, one that made the space between you feel smaller in a way that wasn’t suffocating, but comforting.
“I’m rather delightful to touch, you know.” Lucifer winked, tilting his black wrists closer to view. “Silky smooth, soft as sin, practically a luxury experience.”
You let out a small, breathy laugh. Of course he’d find a way to make it about himself.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmured, his thumb shifting just slightly against your fingers—a feather-light stroke, so brief and careful you barely noticed until it was already gone, “you’re still holding my hand.”
Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t retreat. You could have. Lucifer would have let you. Instead, you turned your hand just a little, aligning your fingers with his.
His thumb ghosted against your knuckles, so light it was more suggestion than touch. Testing. Waiting.
Your heart skipped.
Lucifer didn’t push. He didn’t coax. He simply let you choose.
So you did.
You shifted closer, just slightly, your fingers curling tentatively around his. His expression didn’t change—still soft, still patient—but you swore his grip grew just the slightest bit firmer, just enough to make sure you knew he was there.
A long, quiet moment passed.
“I’ve been thinking…” he finally said, that playful grin twitching back onto his angelic features, “Charlie is going to be very jealous when she finds out I was your first.”
You blinked. “First…?”
“Holding hands, of course.” His smirk widened. “I’m not the only one in the family who’s fond of close contact. Unless dear Charlotte has already had the honor?”
You groaned, nudging his leg with your foot. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“What can I say?” He sighed, dramatically wistful. “I am the Sin of Pride, can’t I indulge in some while I celebrate this tender victory?”
Your lips twitched. He was incorrigible.
But… he had been patient. Gentle. Kind.
You squeezed his hand—just barely, just enough for him to know.
Lucifer stilled for half a second before his thumb traced another light, careful line along your knuckles. A silent thank you.
And, for once, the space between you didn’t feel so wide.
That night hadn’t been the end of Lucifer’s brazen acts, either.
If anything, it only emboldened him.
The brushes of his fingers became more frequent, the space between you ever-shrinking. A light touch at your elbow when he guided you through a crowded hall, the playful flick of a stray strand of hair when he teased you. Never too much, never unwelcome—but always there. Always him.
And then, one night, he caught you. Quite literally.
The explosion had been unexpected. A misplaced spell—Alastor’s, or maybe even Charlie’s—had sent a shockwave through the lobby, shaking the walls and rattling the grand chandelier overhead.
You had been moving toward the front desk when it happened, but the force of the blast sent you stumbling back.
Your arms flailed, your body crashed toward the floor. Everything was moving too fast, there was no time to break the fall.
And then—Lucifer appeared at the corner of your vision.
One second, you were falling, and the next, his arms were around you. Not just bracing you—catching you.
The world tilted, a blur of motion and heat, and suddenly, you were against his chest, the scent of him—apple cider and something dark, like aged wine—filling your senses.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
His grip was like steel, an arm locked around your waist, the other bracing your back. Your hands had instinctively grasped at his coat, clutching the fine fabric between your fingers.
And still, he didn’t let go.
“You know,” Lucifer hummed, a teasing lilt as his lips quirked upward, “for someone who claims to avoid my touch, you do seem rather comfortable in my arms.”
You scoffed, tilting your head up to glare at him—a mistake.
His pretty, i’m-so-charming-it-hurts face was close. Too close.
The smirk of Lucifer’s widened when your cheeks flushed with warmth—like he could practically feel the heat radiating between you—but there was something else beneath it, something softer in the way his crimson eyes lingered on your face.
Your breath caught.
Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly at your waist, his thumb brushing—just barely—against your ribs in a way that sent heat prickling up your spine.
It wasn’t teasing, not entirely.
There was something else there, something unspoken in the way his grip never softened.
His usual arrogance had quieted, his smirk tempered by something deeper, something almost hesitant.
Like the King of Hell was savoring the quiet, intimate moment. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.
“I could let go,” he offered, though his grip didn’t loosen.
You swallowed, pulse thundering. “Then why haven’t you?”
A slow grin. “You haven’t asked me to.”
The worst part?
You didn’t want to, especially when you looked up at Lucifer’s carefully guarded expression.
As if he was waiting for you to pull away—half-expecting it, maybe. Half-dreading it.
But you didn’t. Your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his coat.
“You’re staring,” you murmured, the words barely more than breath.
Lucifer’s lips twitched, but the usual smirk didn’t come. Instead, his thumb brushed absently against your side—a touch so light, so fleeting, that you might have imagined it.
“Can you blame me?” he murmured, so quiet you had to crane to hear. “This is a rather…captivating angle.”
And your heart skipped three beats.
Lucifer always knew how to make things seem like a game.
It was easier that way, wasn’t it? If he made it into a joke, if he grinned just so, if he teased enough to make you roll your eyes and huff at him, then it was nothing more than harmless fun. It was just another of his indulgent amusements, just another way to pass the time.
But then there were moments like these.
Moments where he didn’t hide behind a smirk.
Moments where he was patient. Where he was watching. Where you realized, belatedly, that it had never been a game to begin with.
“…I don’t want to be bad at it,” you admitted, hating how small your voice sounded as you sat across from him.
You were painfully aware of how small the space was between the two of you, sitting on one of the lounges in the dead of night—when everyone was to be asleep, you desperately hoped.
Lucifer’s expression softened—not in pity, never in pity, but something else. Something like understanding, which was an emotion others did not grant you so easily when it came to your adversity to physical interaction.
“There’s no such thing,” he shook his head confidently, tilting it just slightly. “It’s not a skill that needs to be perfected, I assure you. It’s just something to be shared.”
You swallowed. “Easy for you to say.”
His lips quirked. “Oh? Do you think I was born knowing how to kiss?”
The thought made you huff. “You might as well have been. Weren’t you created to be the most beautiful angel in Heaven? Surely that was one of the reasons.”
Lucifer chuckled, his thumb brushing idly against the back of your hand.
“No,” he murmured, “I had to learn too.”
You frowned, crossing your arms. “From who?”
His grin widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You groaned, smacking his arm lightly, and he laughed. But then, after a moment, he let the mirth fade, his voice softening once more.
“I learned the same way I’m offering to teach you now.” His fingers tightened slightly around yours. “With patience. With trust.”
You hesitated, heart beating a little too fast. “And if I do it wrong?”
“There is no wrong.” He lifted his free hand, cupping your jaw gently. “There’s only what you like and what you don’t. And we can stop the moment you want to, understand?”
You nodded.
He smiled. “Then come here.”
You sucked in a quiet breath, then shifted closer, tilting your face up toward his.
Lucifer didn’t rush. He let you take your time, let you hover just close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
Then, when you finally worked up the nerve to bridge that last inch without shivering at what was to come, he met you there.
The kiss was light at first, just a simple press, the barest brush of lips against lips. He let you test the feeling, let you adjust, let you decide.
And when you, ever so tentatively, kissed him again, he smiled against your mouth.
“See?” he murmured, sweet breath fanning your lips. “You’re already quite good at it.”
You weren’t sure if that was true.
But when he kissed you again—slower, deeper, his fingers cradling your face like something precious—you found that, for once, you didn’t really care.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the quiet, careful press of lips and the soft sighs exchanged between you. But then—
A noise. A clatter, followed by a small gasp.
You broke apart instantly, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned toward the kitchen doors across the lobby.
And there, standing in the dim light of the hall, barefoot in her pajamas with a bowl of something precariously balanced in her hands, was Charlie.
She blinked, her eyes going comically wide. Your lips parted, and you sputtered on air, desperately searching for something—anything—to use as an excuse.
‘Sorry, Charlie! Your dad was just checking for something in my teeth!…Rather closely…’ you thought of blurting.
Lucifer didn’t look surprised, but he definitely looked as if he had been caught red-handed with the sheepish smile growing across his face.
Sweat beaded on your brow, your eyes flicked from Lucifer to Charlie’s shocked expression, and when you finally got the courage, you—
“Yes!”
Charlie fist-pumped the air, and you gawked. What?
The princess practically vibrated in place, clutching her bowl of whatever midnight snack she’d been after. “I knew it! I knew something was going on! Oh my gosh, does this mean you’re together now? Or—wait—was that your first kiss?!”
Your soul nearly left your body (again). “Charlie—”
She gasped dramatically, bouncing on her heels. “It was! Oh, this is so much better than popcorn!”
Lucifer chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much with his chest swelling at the attention, while you were debating if it was possible to melt into the furniture and disappear entirely.
Charlie grinned at your flustered expression before finally stilling with a grin. “Okay, okay, I’ll go—but this is officially my new favorite thing.”
She spun on her heel, heading for the hallway, but not before shooting you both finger guns. “Carry on, lovebirds!”
And with that, she was gone, leaving behind only the sound of your mortification.
You slumped back into the couch, groaning into your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”
Lucifer, far too pleased, slowly lifted your hand to his lips, then placed a tender kiss on your knuckle. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
You sighed, the fight leaving you as you let your hand rest in his. “No… never with you.”
Lucifer smirked before he leaned in closer, and your breath hitched. “Good, because this time won't be the last.”
Hell… you hoped he was right.
hi!!! how have you all been doing? i’ve missed you guys!! this was a sweet idea to play around with, and i hope i’ve still got a feel for luci’s characterization while i’ve been away 🫶
could you a zestial x reader relationships headcanons with a royal painter to the ars goetia that makes all their portraits.
Zestial had done business with the Goetia family for a millennia and they procured a plethora of wine from his vineyard. Some were even given the rare gift of visiting it as well! He was nothing if not a generous sinner. He liked to see deals through to the very end when given the opportunity, which is how he met you. His hand reached for yours in greeting when you made a small, apologetic sound and pulled away.
“Wouldn’t want to ruin your coat.” You smiled impishly, waving your paint covered fingers.
Amusing and polite, a combination he could appreciate.
“Thou’s kind gesture shant be forgotten. Pray tell, for how long has thou been portraying the Goetia imagery.”
You tilted your head for a moment in thought, “Portraits… About a hundred years now?
All that time and somehow he had missed you?
• Zestial commissioned you, a pathetic ploy for more of your time. He had you paint his vineyard and kept you company all the while, offering tea during your breaks. Now he needn’t exaggerate his wants, you were his
• Working for the Goetia’s had, apparently, left you with endless ammunition for tittle-tattle and on occasion he would partake in your blathering. One time, after hearing you repeat a crass conversation, he bristled with irritation and politely silenced you with a kiss and a chaste, harsh, “enough… dearest.”
• He didn’t like raising his voice at you, vowed never again to after that. You kept the gossip was kept away from Zestial too. But boy, was there a-fucking-lot to say about that family!
• Zestial spoils you, that should come to no one’s surprise. He gifted you a bouquet of paintbrushes and a peculiar colour (as he wrote it) palette that came from Rosie. You’re very worried it’s made from a person but, hey, you don’t ask!
• He get’s a tad envious when majority of your time is spent inside the halls of a Goetia and not his quaint mansion. He’s resorted to kidnapping you on occasion. He morphs from the shadows and disappears with you the same way, stealing your time back as well as kiss after kiss
~
enjoy!
if you’re reading this and looking for a creative space, come hang out on my multifandom [discord] !（╹◡╹）♡
are you a writer? an artist? a humble OC maker? or perhaps you’ve been wanting to and don’t know where to start!
it saddens me to see people stifling creation with “cringe culture”. i wanted to make a space and build a community together where we can help each other hash out those final details, offer and ask advice— or simply talk about the worlds that make us happy!
write that story you’ve been planning in your mind.
make that OC you’re embarrassed about.
create that world that brings you peace.
and i humbly invite you to do that all [here] ♡ we hope to have you
Are you kidding!? He doesn’t wanna do that, not even for— oh. No shit? For that? Yeah, ok, he’d try for that! Seeing Adam snap out of his lazy ways is.. rather impressive. (And all it took was a little incentive, can you believe it!? You need to keep that in your back pocket.) Unfortunately, he doesn’t make it the whole month.
“It’s your fault, really,” he’s irritatingly smug for someone fucked stupid, “what else am I supposed to do when you look like that?”
Lasted 14 days, better than you expected
~
Angel Dust
He said he was ‘down for anything once’ but you think he missed the point. He’s brushing against you every chance he gets, placing strategic kisses in spots that make your knees weak, making you drool with the way he— Wait a damn minute! This is Angel we’re talking about, he didn’t miss the point!
“Ya caught me!” He laughs lowly as he climbs into your lap, “I was just testin’ somethin’, baby. Thought I could make this… harder on ya, s’all.”
Lasted 6 agonizing hours. You should’ve seen that coming HA
~
Alastor
He doesn’t know what that is, and he doesn’t want to know.
“I don’t care for games that test my patience... I do love a good hunt, though. Say! I have a game that could put this one to shame.”
you've lost count of how long it's been since... whatever happened, happened. you didn't have clearance to know why or how. that made it all the harder to accept it but he's gone; he died. you weren't ignorant to what he does— did— for heaven. it was a secret (or supposed to be, anyways) but adam loved to boast and you were his favorite person to brag to. he loved the way you would halfheartedly clap and praise him upon his returns.
"don't i deserve a kiss for all my hard work, babe? protecting you ain't easy, y'know."
you would scoff, "oh, don't i know it. c'mere my big, strong savior."
maybe you didn't know. you thought you did. everything was confusing now. his absence was noticeable, an unavoidable topic.
you haven't been able to bring yourself to touch the keys to his place, much less go to it. which was dumb, right? everywhere in heaven was a reminder of him! why did his penthouse seem so frightening without him in it? you'd been there countless times before now.
having a key of her own, lute went there already. she doesn't talk to you anymore, she doesn't even look at you when you pass by on the street and try to wave, but there's an unspoken promise between you that neither of you would get rid of his shit. or touch it, it seems. adam's place is a disaster, the very same one you saw the last time you were here.
"clean this up for me before i get back, yeah?"
your breath hitches, fingers trembling looking for the light switch before you remembered he had those stupid clap-activated ones. darkness it is. you only needed a picture and he had the only one. it was the very first you took together at heaven's winter carnival, a photo booth slide of four funny faces that he demanded to have. damn near threw a tantrum over keeping it, actually.
pausing at the bedroom door, your eyes dance over the room while memories flash, a plethora of scenes you've lived in here. bringing him soup when he was stubborn and sick, falling asleep on his chest, tossing dirty clothes at each other in fits of laughter, arguments, break ups, make ups, movie marathons, video game tournaments. the time he thought you were asleep and whispered he might be scared of loving you.
with blurry eyes you forced yourself to his bedside table, pulling open the drawer with unnecessary force. not in there. you sighed as you dropped to your knees beside his bed, pushing the sheets away and blindly reaching under for the box you knew he kept under there. he wasn't terribly organized keeping all this abandoned songs in a shoe box under the bed but the picture was sitting on top in pristine condition.
then you saw it. your name in his handwriting-- multiple times along the page. you read all too quickly the heartfelt confession amongst the swears and notes that made it unequivocally adam's. he called you a storm, turning his life upside down and sideways in a way that could only be love in it's truest form.
and fuck, if that didn't make this all the harder.
can you write nsfw alphabet... with manmon?? i'm begging please there is no alphabet with him
𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓭𝔂 - 𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦 𝓪𝓵𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓽
♡ ᴀ = ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ (what they're like after sex): He's admittedly, not the best. But believe it or not, he's actually improved since those first couple of flings you had with him in the beginning. Back then, the very concept of something like aftercare had been completely foreign to him. He was very much the sort of guy who'd pass out afterwards or resume whatever he had been doing beforehand: a phone call, watching trash television, a quick trip through a fast-food drive thru.
For the longest time you had thought that he was doing it on purpose. That he wanted to hurt you our make you feel unwanted and useless, but you were quick to gather that he really was just that out of touch when it comes to other people's emotions. His indifference didn't stem from a place of ill intent (not entirely), just pure detachedness. He's never truly considered another's wellbeing or desires before, and it's made him that clueless.
It took you turning the tables on him and leaving before he could shrug you off and ignore you for him to even understand a shred of what he had been putting you through for the last couple of months. And even then, it was still a bit of an uphill climb. It didn't click instantly. It wasn't a light bulb moment where he reflected and pondered about it for hours on end, but it did help to nudge him in the right direction.
He does still grumble when you all but kick him out of the bed to go get a warm cloth to clean up with, or when you tell him to carry you to the bathroom for a shower or bath. He hates having to move afterwards, when all of the endorphins are still rushing through his veins and his limbs are heavy and lax.
But you can usually sway him with some praising, and a few stokes to his ego. Offering him some physical doting of your own is a sure-fire way to get him all pliant and just as needy. Offering him something like a massage will have him like putty in your hands and he'll latch himself onto you all night. Not to mention that he has a little cabinet in the nightstand that's stock full of all kinds of snacks (all of it is absolute junk). He acts like you're taking a knife and stabbing him each time you reach a hand into a bag of his chips and take some for yourself, but it's all just bark, no actual bite.
The two of you will lay in bed for hours, with you curled up on the soft press of his stomach and chest while you catch up on the most recent episodes of whatever TV show you're currently watching together. He'll cling to you the entire time, keeping you secured to his body with a pair of his arms while crams food into his mouth with a free hand, swearing and making comments towards whatever is happening on screen, tossing insults around a mouthful of his snack.
♡ ʙ = ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛ (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners): There isn't a part of Mammon that he doesn't love. It genuinely surprises you how he's the embodiment of Greed and not Pride sometimes with how he can admire and preen over himself. It's difficult to say which trait or part that he favors most. If he had to pick, it would most likely be his face. It's the image of his brand; posted along all corners of Hell, from hot sauce labels to perfume bottles, to the very currency that demons of all kinds use to buy said items with; there isn't a citizen or denizen in all of the Seven Circles who doesn't know who he is. From the wide, jagged grin on his face, the burning green of his eyes and the fool's cap on his head, it's all an easily recognizable facet from a simple glance.
It isn't a body part per se, but he also loves the sound of his voice. Not necessarily on a personal level, but the influence that it has on you never fails to make his body thrum with a heavy sort of satisfaction; ego and delight flaring whenever he sees you shiver or fall under the sway of that accented rumble of his. It makes you go all malleable and soft. And it's one of his first arms of defense against you whenever he annoys you or pisses you off. You hate to admit it, but he's gotten good at getting under your skin and twisting your emotions back into his favor with close to all but the sound of his voice.
For what he loves about you however, it might just be your mouth. He loves the watching the shape of your lips part open to talk to him, especially if you're speaking about him specifically - singing him praises and stroking his ego or saying his name. It might be a such a simple thing, but it never fails to have a shudder of delight skipping down his spine like a shot of electricity. But even better is when those same lips are stretched open and struggling to fit the thick girth of his cock down into your mouth. Forcing him down until you might choke on him with tears trailing from your waterline like diamonds, glittering in the light like flecks of silver and an iridescent shimmer.
No matter how many times you've taken him like that, there's always a bit of struggle with the difference in your sizes. And the strain of him in your mouth always has drool slipping down your chin and smearing and coating the length of him. It's filthy and messy, but it's a sight that he won't ever get enough of.
♡ ᴄ = ᴄᴜᴍ (anything to do with cum): He's an absolute degenerate with his cum. He's possessive and (of course- no duh) greedy, so there's always this consuming, almost ugly need to leave his mark on you. With his mouth, his tongue and teeth, and claws. He wants everyone to know who you belong to as soon as you enter a room, by sight and scent alone.
His possessive nature nearly makes him feral. He'll pump you full of his cum for hours, until you're completely dumb and useless if you let him, keeping you stuffed with his cock while he lifts you up and down on his girth like some kind of rag doll. Gripping ahold of you by the waist to work you around him until he's spilling what might be the third or eight load in you for the night while the rows of his sharp teeth clasp onto the tender flesh of your neck deep enough to break skin and leave marks.
Sometimes, he'll smear his cum over your body like some vulgar kind of lotion or perfume. Rubbing it in along the expanse of your abdomen and smudging it along your chest and throat like it's a fragrance. He wants it to stick to your skin. For your flesh to remember the scent of him, all musk, and ozone, and salt, and money; a subtle way to instinctually declare to anyone who may step near you that you're his.
There are some days, when the both of you have snuck away to slip inside a janitor closet or tucked yourselves away in some hidden corner between showings at his clown pageants or other performances that he'll cum deep inside of you until it's smearing and threatening to trickle down your thighs. And like some kind of pervert, he'll slip your underwear back over your hips and sweetly request that you walk around in your ruined undergarments for the remainder of the night. He gets some sort of sick thrill to know that underneath your clothes you're dripping full of him, and all of the strangers and fans around you and him are none the wiser to the fact that his cum is soaking your garments and defiling the fabric. But they can smell it on you for sure.
♡ ᴅ = ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ: Mammon doesn't hide many of his fantasies from you. He's pretty open about them, for better or for worse. Sometimes to an annoying degree. Annoying because of how jealous he makes himself with a particular fantasy of his. The possibly sharing you. It is completely a dream though. He could never actually stand watching someone touch you like he does. But he likes the idea of showing you off. Of letting people all see and experience what they're missing out on.
He's seen all of the tabloids and threads on social media platforms of people raving over Mammon's lover, simping over you and singing you praises and insults - the gorgeous demon who's always hitched to his arm at social events, and restaurants, and exclusive clubs. People want to be you. They want you. To hold you and fuck you like he does. But they never will. And that gives him a rush like no other. That the masses desire what he has - who he has - and that they'll never get it.
♡ ᴇ = ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ (how experienced are they?): Believe it or not, Mammon isn't very sexual. His libido is fairly low and the desire for sex is an urge the doesn't rise in him all that often. It's typically spurred on by a sense of possession or jealousy if he ever feels that someone is attempting to get too close to you. He can be extremely territorial, and he usually warns off potential threats to your relationship by warning them verbally or even the occasional physical confrontation every now and again. But usually just the sight of him alone is enough to get most demons to back off, unless they want to get on the bad side of the Sin and find themselves dead in a ditch in the middle of some toxic trash heap in Greed. And it's when all of those possessive urges rise up in him and build up that he needs an outlet. But even with all of his jealousy and avarice being such strong traits in him, his experience wasn't all that high when you had first got together.
He knew enough for it to be a pleasurable experience for the both of you, but he lacked overall skill and expertise. Though you didn't mind it all that much. It gave you plenty of room to teach him what you like specifically. What makes your mind draw a useless blank and your body become a writhing, burning mess. But you have made a bit of a monster with how determined he's become in reducing you to some dumb mess that only knows how to take his cock, or how desperate he gets for you to pleasure him until he's the one who's drooling and stupid.
♡ ꜰ = ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴏɴ: Mammon has a penchant for being a bit lazy, and the air of important that he holds himself at makes him feel as though he was born with the right to be served. As such, he absolutely adores any position that has you doing the majority of the work. He loves it when you ride him, working yourself up and down on his cock while he reclines himself back along the cushions of the bed with a pair of his arms crossed behind his head and the other set roaming over your body wherever he pleases. Reaching up with greedy fingers to pluck at your nipples and slipping them between your thighs to tease where you're all hot and slick and smeared with his cum. It gives him the perfect angle to analyze your face and admire the almost drunken expressions that slip across your expression; pleasure tugging your jaw down to release weak moans while your eyes nearly go cross.
It's one of the reasons that he loves head so much as well. There's something about being able to just relax and lie back while you devout yourself to laving your tongue and the warm, wet grip of your mouth and lips over his cock that turns him on like nothing else. He loves peeking down at you from where he sits to admire you, choking and gagging on him while you scatter kisses along the veins that throb along the thick length of him; worshiping him in the way that he deserves.
♡ ɢ = ɢᴏᴏꜰʏ (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.): Despite being arguably the most famous jester in Hell, he isn't usually trying to be intentionally funny at the best of times. Though there have been plenty of occasions where he's said something in the heat of the moment that's easily garnered more than a few laughs from you - much to his chagrin. He always gets so pouty and offended if you laugh at him because of a mistake he might have made or something that funny he's accidentally said in the heat of the moment. Much like the time that he had managed to fall off of the bed nearly mid stroke and lost his footing. He tumbled from the edge of it with enough force to shake the room and make the floor tremble. But it had been the string of startled swearing the had caught you the most of guard with the series of curses squawking out of him in rough yelp of, "shit! Fuckin' cunt - fuck me, dammit."
When he's deliberately trying to be funny during sex, it's usually because he wants to try something different - experimenting with a new position or such - and is trying to sweeten the incentive or distract you with humor. But there is every so often or so that he does use his jokes in a genuine manner, such as when you've had a rough day and he's trying to draw you out of your internal conflicts and troubles.
♡ ʜ = ʜᴀɪʀ (how well-groomed are they? Does the carpet mat the drapes? Ect.): Mammon doesn't have much hair on his body at all. But he does have a sparse scatter of hair that trails down his stomach and leads down to his groin. It's nothing too wild or unmanageable thankfully, and it's naturally pretty scarce, which is probably a win. You doubt that Mammon would be the type to be very motivated on his self-grooming if it was the opposite.
♡ ɪ = ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴄʏ (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): Intimacy isn't something that comes easily to him. It isn't a natural urge or instinct that he has, and it was very much a learned behavior that took him months to get a grip on. In the beginning, sex was just something to take the edge off. Something that he acted out on because he wanted it. It was purely a selfish act for him. All about his cravings and desires, and once he got his rocks off, he was always quick to leave or would dismiss you entirely. But with a lot of time, patience, and frustration, you were able to get him to soften up a bit and indulge in a bit of intimacy. Mostly through bribing him with massages, soft praises and gentle kisses after sex, and eventually he learned to adopt and translate that during sex as well.
He isn't the most romantic by any stretch of the imagination, but he has been improving in subtle ways by giving you tender compliments and sweeping, dulcet touches. He knows how big he is in comparison to you. How much strength he causally holds in his body. He could crush you like a twig with the brush of a single finger; and so, he's grown to be careful with the way that he holds you. Like you're delicate. A thing made of glass or porcelain that might shatter if he so holds you too closely. It makes him uncharacteristically gentle with you.
Mammon rarely cares for others in a way that doesn't stem from a personal gain. And honestly, he might not be able to truly care for anyone at all - not like you or other demons are able to. He's greed incarnate after all. He was born selfish. But when he clutches you close, stroking his fingertips along your spine and mapping out the shape of your face with curious hands, it truly does feel like he cares. It feels intimate.
♡ ᴊ = ᴊᴀᴄᴋᴏꜰꜰ (masturbation headcanon): He doesn't jerk off all that much. He doesn't need to. If the urge ever arises in him, he'll just find you. Though if you happen to be out of reach for whatever reason, perhaps in a different Ring entirely or busy taking care of personal affairs, he's quick to blow up your phone. He needs to hear you. Your voice, the sound of your breathing - anything will work while he grips his cock.
He'll absolutely spam the device if you don't answer. Calls, texts, DM's - it doesn't matter. Anything to get your attention onto him so that you can help him with his current predicament. It is technically your fault after all, it's the least you can do.
♡ ᴋ = ᴋɪɴᴋ (one or more of their kinks): Exhibitionism: He enjoys being watched - putting himself and you on display to show everyone just what they're all missing. What they'll never have.
Size kink: Even in terms of most demons, Mammon is quite tall. Towering over a decent amount of the population, and it delights him to no end that he's able to look down at you. To stand over you by several feet. Dwarfing your smaller form with his own. And that translates into sex. He could never tire of the way that you struggle to take him. Even after all of this time, it takes so much for your smaller body to stretch open around the thick girth of his cock for him to slip into your soaked warmth; tight walls fluttering around his length while they struggle to adjust to his size.
Breeding kink/cumflation: It doesn't matter if you're able to get pregnant or not, he's insistent on filling you up with load after load of his cum until you're both completely spent and gasping for breath and soaked in sweat and cum. Just the idea of him filling you up so much that your stomach is all swollen and heavy with him will have him hard in seconds.
And if you got pregnant, all round with his baby, then everyone would know that you're his. That it's his child that you're carrying. It soothes that rapacious nature in him like scratching an itch, but it's also like an accelerant on a fervent fire that'll have you both burning for hours.
Free use kink: It's one of those kinks, that even with his low libido, never fails to make him feral. The day that you had eagerly agreed - requested even - to be used for his pleasure had nearly sent him over the edge. It delighted him to no end to know that you make an effort in keeping yourself prepped and ready for him. That you're slick and stretched out, sometimes with a toy stuffed inside your hole to keep yourself nice and prepped for him. Especially on days when you know that he's going to be stressed and overworked. He loves that you'll happily take him when he needs it. That you'll let him bend you over the kitchen counter, or fuck you in the back of his limo, or that you'll let him take you backstage at one of his shows like a whore that he had paid.
♡ ʟ = ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (favorite places to do the do): He'll do it anytime, anyplace - everyone else be damned. He's perpetually torn between the desire to show you off to the masses - to let them see what they don't have, and to keep you completely hidden away and private for himself. But regardless of his internal debate, he easily lets himself get carried away and if you allow it, near public sex becomes a pretty frequent fixture in your life with him. He loves the thrill of it. The idea of possibly landing himself on a news channel or headlining all of the social platforms and tabloids because you two got caught has molten lust rushing through his veins.
But he also loves taking you within the safety of one of his webs. There's something so tantalizing about seeing you all strung up and vulnerable within the confines of his silk that really turns him on. Especially when he sees that excited glimmer burning in your eyes when your wrists and ankles are strung up and bound tight. You like being caught and at his mercy.
♡ ᴍ = ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (what turns them on, gets them going): Jealousy or a sense of possession. But on a more positive note, just stroke his ego. Praise his skills and ideas and successes and you'll have him rock hard in seconds flat. He also loves it when he can pick up his scent on you. He complains if you (use) steal any of his bodywash or cologne, but he practically salivates when he smells himself on you. Especially when it's his natural musk and not just his shampoo. It'll make him want to rub his scent on other much more intimate places.
♡ ɴ = ɴᴏ (something they wouldn't do): He won't ever share you. No cuckholding or threesomes or orgies. Just the thought of touching you can turn him angry and jealous. Sometimes he'll trigger himself with just the thought of it and walk around pissed off and angry with a nasty sneer on his face and venom in his voice. He'll get snippy and curt with you like you had actually gone out and had sex with someone else. But he won't communicate why he's upset. He'll just leave you to be confused while he grovels around the house until you finally interrogate him enough until he can't hold in the "betrayal" and all of his emotion come pouring out of him. It's gotten to the point that you don't even bother listening to his little rants anymore, you just let him stew in his own self-induced jealousy until he works through it.
♡ ᴏ = ᴏʀᴀʟ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): Very unsurprisingly, he prefers to receive. He's a king after all. Royalty. And as such, he deserves to be praised and serviced. It's an honor to be able to share his bed, to be called his, to lie between his thighs. It's such a sight to watch you taking his cock between your lips. To observe the soft, wet drag of your tongue lap along the head to take the cum dribbling out like it's something to be savored. But he has come to enjoy giving as well. Definitely not as much as he likes getting head, but that's not exactly a surprise. He didn't have all that much experience with giving head in the past. It was a skill that he never bothered to acquire or refine until you had managed to spark his interest in it. Mostly by poking at his ego, but that's another story.
Although, he usually finds a way in making it about himself by dragging orgasm after orgasm out of your body until your brain is fogged and lost. And just to be cruel he makes you keep track of every single one. Let's hope you don't lose your count though, or else you'll have to start all over again!
♡ ᴘ = ᴘᴀᴄᴇ (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): It really just depends. As stated before, Mammon has a proclivity for being a bit . . . lazy, for lack of a better term. He wants to be the one being pleased, and worshipped, and loved. It makes his thrusts all languid and unrushed in a pace that's completely frustrating. It works you up, building up fire and heat in the pit of your stomach and dangling you over that debilitating precipice but failing to guide you over the edge. And it's entirely intentional. He does it so that you'll have no choice but to use him to get yourself off. To get him off. The lust searing through your body forcing you to bounce yourself up and down his cock to make you both cum.
But even he has his moments where his greed gets the better of him. It turns him into a slave of his own wants and hunger, until all he does is take and take and take in a frenzied pace that threatens to make you pass out. It's like he's starved. Using your body and his own to work the both of you into exhaustion; with both of your muscles quivering and thrumming weakly, lungs pulling in air with labored breaths, sweat and cum smearing your skin until you're certain that it's impossible to cum again. But he never fails to pull another orgasm from your spent body. And another. And another . . .
♡ Q = Qᴜɪᴄᴋɪᴇ (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): Isn't the fondest of quickie's. Once he gets started, it's difficult for him to stop, and being forced to pull away from the slick heat of your body can easily push him into a bad mood. Quickies are a tease. They require a restraint that he doesn't possess, and you learned a long time ago not to try and initiate sex with Mammon if you have a place to be or an appointment to get to. There's a very high chance that you won't be reaching it otherwise. Not unless you want to deal with a pouting, frustrated Mammon for the next few weeks. He tends to hold a grudge.
♡ ʀ = ʀɪꜱᴋ (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): Absolutely. Especially in terms of public sex and being seen. He loves to risk of other demons walking in on you two and seeing you all spread out and split open on him, stomach bulging from his girth while you moan and whimper helplessly. It's feels like he's proving to them that you're entirely his. That they'll never have you like he does.
Experimenting in general is always on the table. He loves finding new ways to take you apart piece by piece. And in turn, he loves discovering new things about himself. Of watching you find another way to please him and prove your devotion to him, just like he deserves.
♡ ꜱ = ꜱᴛᴀᴍɪɴᴀ (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): It really just depends. Mammon isn't the most motivated individual - not unless money is involved. But he is greedy. And once he gets worked up it can take a lot for the heat to get entirely snuffed out, and if he's in one of his rare moods, he can last for hours. However, that doesn't mean that he's going to be the one doing a good deal of the work. He'll have you bouncing on him. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from his spent body, even when the friction of your tight, sloppy walls gripping his cock is too much. Sparking something raw and tender along his nerves like an electrical current with every downstroke and grind from your hips. It's too sensitive. Almost brutal in a way that might make his eyes cross, but you can't stop now. You can't leave him like this. Moaning and whimpering and begging for another one - just one more - even though that's exactly what he had told you about four orgasms back. The sheets are beyond ruined now. Soaked with your shared arousal and sweat. It's a chore to breathe. It's no longer an automatic bodily response anymore, you have to constantly remind yourself to force in lungful's between each bounce. Your thighs are burning and screaming at you from the exertion, and there's no way that you aren't going to be sore tomorrow but Mammon's still begging. His claws are latched onto the meat of your hips, threatening to slice skin and leave you bleeding, but the blissed-out expression on his face takes precedence amongst all else. He still needs you. Crying out like a slut for you. And who are you to deny him?
♡ ᴛ = ᴛᴏʏꜱ (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): You'd think that the guy who produces sex robots in his company's name would be a bit more open to using toys in the bedroom, but Mammon's jealousy truly knows no bounds. He sees them as an insult to himself and his capabilities. What could you possibly need a dildo or vibrator for when you have him? Let's be honest, a toy couldn't satisfy you like his fingers, or tongue, or cock can. They'll always pale in comparison in terms of how easily he makes your eyes cross, and your jaw drop from the flood of pleasure seizing your body.
But every now and again you may be able to persuade him into using something on you. . . Though it typically ends up backfiring and bringing him more enjoyment with the way that he never fails to torture you with whatever device you had insisted on using. He makes you regret even asking to use a toy; making sure to wring every ounce of bliss from your body until you're pleading for him to give you a break.
♡ ᴜ = ᴜɴꜰᴀɪʀ (how much they like to tease): To an almost annoying degree. He downright tortures you with his teasing, playing with your body so carefully. Working you up until your muscles are drawn taunt and tight and it feels like something molten and sugared is thrumming through your veins; keeping you right on that almost agonizing edge like he might finally have mercy on you and tip you over it with the brush of his fingertips or tongue. All of that just so that he can pull away from you and leave you empty and unfulfilled. Sobbing mournfully and writhing from your ruined orgasm. But he never has any sympathy for your tears or pleads - no matter how much he delights in the way that you beg for him. He'll work you back up again to hear your desperate moans and whimpers, just to stop and repeat the process all over again. For the second, fourth, sixth time in a row.
But sometimes he gives too much. Using your body for his own pleasure until you're pliant and stupid and filled with cum; nerves burning and raw from use and ecstasy. He'll have you split between bliss and something that might just be agony - a pleasure that's almost too much. But he's greedy. Using you like a doll as he chases after his own satisfaction like the ultimate hedonist. And you're just the vessel that was created to grant him his pleasure. He's made you black out from cumming over and over again and being filled to the brim until it's smearing down both of your bodies and soaking the silk sheets underneath.
♡ ᴠ = ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): He can be very vocal. He mostly groans and grunts, swearing and mumbling underneath his breath in a guttural purr that always has an exited tremble skipping down your spine. But it also doesn't take much for him to get loud either until he's practically whimpering (he always gets so flustered and angry when you tell him that he whines); drool slipping past the corners of his lips while his brows furrow close from the pleasure burning through every inch of his body. When he gets like this, he rambles. Sometimes it's straight up nonsense. His words too slurred and garbled to understood, but every now and then he manages to make a proper sentence. And when he does its usually complete filth.
. "Just' gimme another one. Jus' one more, I swear."
. " Keep yourself nice and spread open for me. Fuck, you're so fucking sloppy baby, you should be ashamed of yourself. But you're too stupid for that, ain't ya?"
. "You're such a slut. But you're my slut, huh? C'mon, say it."
. "You look like a porn star. I wish you'd let me film ya, you'd look so good all fucked out on film."
. "You should feel terrible makin' me do all the work while you sit back droolin' all over yourself like a useless little toy. Nothin' but a hole fer me to use - oh, don' act like you don't like it. I can feel you squeezin' me."
♡ ᴡ = ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ (a random headcanon for the character): It's been said before that Mammon would never share you. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't maybe fantasize about it every now and again. He's far too possessive to ever truly indulge in the dream, but he does entertain the idea every once in a while. There's just something so tempting about imagining the both of you all sprawled out among a sea of writhing bodies while you're brought to bliss by the glide of hungry, wet mouths and tongues. Teeth nipping at your tender flesh and stroking at you until your whine and writhe and scream.
It's a nice though but he'd rip apart anyone who touched you limb from limb.
♡ x = x-ʀᴀʏ (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): An absolute monster. It was extremely intimidating the first time that you had seen him bare and fully hard - but who are you kidding, he's intimidating even when he's flaccid. You weren't even sure if he was going to fit the first time that you had fucked. And he didn't. It took week of stretching you out and training for you to be able to take him. Hours of working yourself open with fingers, and his tongue and toys for you to finally stretch out around his cock. The first few times that you had sex, all that you could manage was the tip. And there were times where it felt like it was ripping the air from your lungs and stuffing you full when it would finally slip past your tight walls with a filthy, wet pop.
Just the head of his cock would have you going dumb. All cross-eyed and slack jawed like one of those stupidly dramatic porn stars. And with the size difference, you were practically little more than a flesh light; all stupid and drooling while your body struggled to take him. But Mammon was remarkably patient for someone so stingy. Probably too caught up in his gloating and sickly-sweet cooing to be truly greedy.
Even now that your body has adjusted to him, he's still a lot to take, but it's always worth it.
♡ ʏ = ʏᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (how high is their sex drive?): Not the highest sex drive. The impulse for sex typically evades him, and as stated before, when the desire does spark it's usually triggered by a bout of jealousy or a sense of possession. But on the rare occasion that the two of you are separated by business meetings, family affairs or events, he has a tendency to set himself off by thinking of you. He tortures himself with the memory of you sometimes and it often leads to him calling you no matter the hour of the day or night and demanding that you help get him off. He just wants to hear the sound of your voice, all dipped low and saturated with lust as he works one of his fists over his cock until he's cumming all over himself with a ragged groan.
♡ z = zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep after?): He's usually out like a light. It's honestly a little fascinating (and irritating) how quickly he's able to pass out afterwards. One second, he's panting and heaving and catching his breath while he clutches you close and the next, he's passed out and already drooling on his pillow.
hello all i’m sorry for disappearing without notice and not answering or posting recently. my mom passed away in march and i’m simply not capable of writing. i have all the love for this fandom and have every intention of returning when i can
“Tell me again,” He urged you as his fingers gently teased you through the fabric of your panties. Lucifer looked into your eyes with a purple half-lidded gaze, doing nothing to hide his desperation. His desire for you, his eagerness for assurance of your affection.
“I love you,” You repeated for the fourth time. A small whine left his lips and he gave you a satisfied, sharp toothed grin once he got what he needed. Lucifer rewarded you for your words of love by grounding his fingers against your cunt, finally providing friction after teasing you for so long. A soft mewl of appreciation from you fueled his fingers to venture up to the spot he knew would make you feel best.
His lips met yours in a kiss of pure desperation as he leaned over your body pressing closer against you. His teeth slightly nipping at your bottom lip out of excitement and lust.
“Fuck, baby, say it again,” He murmured against your lips as while his fingers rubbed circles against your clit. Lucifer’s tongue swiped along your lips eliciting a small moan of arousal and anticipation from you.
“Lucifer,” your eyes fluttered open and you took in the sight of your lover leaning over you. His red eyes with his pupils blown wide with desire and admiration, blonde hair slightly mussed from your hands running through it, his pale cheeks flushed.
“I love you so god damn much.” You could barely whisper the words out before he captured your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips in an attempt to taste you, feel more of you, in any way possible. Swallowing up your sweet words of love and affection with a hunger that seemed bottomless. Lucifer’s finger slid your panties to the side and a deft finger slipped gently into you.
“Again. Please,” He said more desperately, “I need to hear it again.”
So I'm not seeing this particular kink and I am appalled! imagine group sex with Lucifer and only Lucifer because it's shown he can make multiple versions of himself and to top it all off with his shape shifting abilities?! *fans self*
i am so sorry it took me so long to get to this but i love this request sm!!! i decided to use candy as adjectives bc the vibes felt right, hehe. hope you don't mind! if this does well i may or may not write more, but we'll see!
( edit : it just occurred to me that i forgot the shapeshifting AAAAAAA I WILL WRITE IT SOMETIME I’M SO SORRY AGHHH )
There is candy on his lips in the way he kisses you, needy hands finding your own on the bed before your fingers intertwine like lace. He pinned your hand to the wall behind you, two more hands tracing down your sternum and sliding down your waist like water while a sharp nip at your neck causes you to jolt.
You opened your eyes and there’s one, two, three, four … a fifth Lucifer leaning back against a couch in his room, drink in his hand with his elbows propped up on the headrest.
“Lu, you’re not … coming?” You found yourself asking, but you bit your lip from the other Lucifers’ administrations on your neck, one spreading your thighs apart, another cupping your cheek.
“Is four not enough for you, darling?” Lucifer chuckles and it might have been the cruelest thing you ever heard—now that was ridiculous.
You’ve heard worse but your heart kicked and writhed like the tongue Lucifer had in your mouth wasn’t licorice-sweet enough already.
It was night time and seeing as you were Lucifer’s … well, it was complicated up until now. You didn’t know what you were to him but you knew about the sweet tooth he had for these things—the sweet tooth you both shared for this aspect in life. You only wore an oversized shirt and underwear to bed, so it didn’t take much for one of the Lucifers to get between you, your back arched as your lips rolled open.
But Lucifer still sat unmoving on the couch.
You looked at him, of course you did—tears framed your cheeks from the pleasure as the Lucifer between you struck that familiar bundle of marshmallow nerves over and over.
“Luci …” you moaned his name softly, voice peaking in time with his thrusts.
He finally placed the drink down with a clink before making his way towards you, his lookalike never relenting as he only sped up inside you.
“There there, honey. I’m coming.”
( taglist : @sunnie21 @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @rineptune ) lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!
if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold.
alastor, lucifer, rosie, husk
⌇alastor
you looked the radio demon up and down, thinking that doing so from the farthest corner of the bar would ensure he didn’t see you. it’s not like you could help it though. alastor had switched out his normal suit for a gorgeous red velvet, his hair pulled up with what looked like braids in it, no doubt nifty’s doing. you took a sip of your drink and looked down, seeing him look up at your area of the bar.
you had been doing this since you had sat down at the bar. watching him interact with patrons and royalty, who were there to have their pocket books pried open for some funding as well as support for the hotel. it wasn’t an easy task by any means even with lucifer in support of the idea and here tonight. you were supposed to be chatting people up as well, but after the first guy you spoke to kept his hand on your arm for a little too long, you decided you were too sober for all of this.
you saw alastor’s attention be pulled else where, giving you your cue to look back up. he was angled away from you and you gulped audibly. the way the jacket fit his frame, his hair style complimented his long neck, and how his waist looked so deliciously tiny made your stomach warm and your face heat. you had zoned out, your mind taking you to an alternate reality where you had a chance of slipping off that coat of his… you shook your head and your eyes locked with alastor’s. you’re not sure how it was possible but your face heated even more, almost burning with the blush you had at being caught. you couldn’t look away though, even as he smirked at you.
you swallowed heavily and shakily took a sip of your drink as you saw him depart from whoever he was talking to, walk up to the bar and stand close next you.
“just a few fingers of that old rye you have back there.” alastor requested, and husk nodded turning away. giving alastor a chance to look down at you. you felt yourself shrink under his gaze as he smiled again, almost like a smirk. he grabbed the glass husk handed to him and you watched intently as he brought the glass up to his lips and sipped his drink, glancing at his neck and the way it moved. flickering your eyes back up to his as his grin widened. he bent down at his waist, you both face to face now.
“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’ll catch a cold darling.” he murmured to you, as your eyes widened and you looked down ashamed. alastor chuckled and you felt his finger draw your face up to look at you again.
“cat got your tongue?” he asks, smirking. you try and speak but no words come out and you feel your face and now arms burning. you take your cool hands and place them on your cheeks. he draws them away, holding them.
“don’t do that. i like the red color. red as blood.” he says, kissing your right cheek, then straightening up and taking his drink and himself back into the middle of the party, shooting glances at you from time to time as you still just watched him charm the crowd.
⌇lucifer
there were many benefits to being with the king of hell. you practically never had to worry about anything, be that financial or even emotional or physical. you knew lucifer had you covered. he was in your corner. once word got around that you were dating the king of hell, the perks increased. you’d walk into a shop and the attendants wouldn’t let you buy anything. there was just a small ask to post it on sinstagram or voxtube and review it. which you never minded, but then that oddly started an influencing career in hell. that definitely was not something on your bingo card for when you died.
right now though, you were faced with the biggest detractor of dating the king of hell. he had to attend this gathering. very boring, and you felt your eyes glaze over as you sipped lucifer’s appletini he left. you watched him converse with this group of royalty and business people, you being the only one left at the table. not that you minded and no, you didn’t want to go make conversation over there. you sighed and decided to use this opportunity to really admire lucifer.
he was dressed in his suit but instead of the white base he wore around normally, the suit was gold with red accents. and it just brought out his eyes so well. he looked ethereal standing there, talking to those people. you gave him a once over and all you could think about was getting him out of that damn suit that fit him so well. just imagining him underneath you, panting and sobbing for-
“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i might just catch a cold.” you hear lucifer’s voice in your ear. your gasp sounding more like a moan when he grabs the appletini in your hand and throws it back in one drink.
“undressing you? you were already undressed in my mind. already on the bed if i’m honest.” you murmur to him and watch the blush take his cheeks.
“this boring you?” he asks smiling.
“desperately.” you look at him. “we should go back home. we can pick up where i left off envisioning you on our bed underneath me… begging for more.” you grin wickedly as lucifer gulps. he quickly makes his way over to the group, explaining something and you see them all nod. he quickly makes his way back to you and takes your hand, waiting for you to get up. then he all but drags you out of the venue.
“let’s go home.”
⌇rosie
you had told rosie she should wear her new dress. and damn it she was so excited about it, that of course you said yes. now… a part of you regretted saying she should as one of the gentleman in cannibal town kept talking rosie up while she was checking out a long line of patrons. you tried to breathe as you just watched rosie. you knew she was capable of taking care of herself. you watched how she nimbly packed up different items, wrapping them all while charming all around her. her figure was so graceful and the dress hugged her just right, accentuating her waist. you bit your lip watching her. both of your eyes widening as you caught each others gaze.
you blushed deeply while she smirked at you and checked out the last guest in line. finally she took a second to come over to you.
“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold darling.” she purred as she strode up to you. you saw behind her the same gentleman watching the both of you, his gaze hungry. you glared at him as you grabbed a bit of rosie’s skirt possessively, but not wanting to make a show. she chuckled.
“he’s really got you worked up, don’t he?” she asked.
“he keeps flirting with you. it’s disgusting.” you comment, looking at rosie. she hums and pulls you up so you were standing. she still towered over you, as she gently maneuvered you face to look up at her. she smiled again, licking her lips and she bends down and kisses you. your eyes widen as you throw your arms around her neck, reaching up on your tip toes to get closer.
you hum into the kiss, gently weaving your fingers in rosie’s hair and pulling at her nape. you feel the growl that comes from her, slightly panting as she break.
“get a fuckin’ room! absolutely disgusting. there are children!” you hear susan yell and you sigh. you hands at rosie’s waist, absentmindedly rubbing over the boning in the dress.
“i think you need to get back to the shop.” you sigh and rosie nods. “anything i can help with?”
“sit there and look pretty for me?” she asks and you laugh, nodding. you turn to the check out area and smile even brighter.
“he’s gone!” you exclaim. happy the guy from before wasn’t in the store.
“oh, yeah. he left right when i kissed you.” she laughed, patting down some of the fizz in your hair. “needed to make sure that everyone else knew who i was with though.” she winks and walks back up to the front counter as you sit back down and sigh. you wondered how you got so lucky.
⌇husk
watching husk talk to other patrons and quickly whip up drinks was a past time of yours that you greatly favored. it was sort of relaxing seeing him in an element that he excelled in, but honestly, just watching him and how good he was with his hands made you blush.
you were currently off, deep in thought, but husk caught your glance. your eyes widen as you try and look away, attempting to save whatever shred of dignity you had by playing it cool. you knew husk wasn’t dumb though. he had seen you staring.
he went back to work quickly enough and you waiting for a few more moments before looking out of the corner of your eye at him, watching him rim a glass with salt. he poured two liquors in at the same time topping off with some red liquid and a lime wedge, pushing it towards a demon who giggled as their hands touched being passed the drink.
you rolled your eyes and as soon as husk’s back was turned you took your opportunity to really look at him. he wore his usual suspenders and pants, but he had slicked back his hair tonight and had on a white button down shirt with suit themed cufflinks. it was an incredibly dapper look and you couldn’t help imagine taking off the damn shirt he was wearing. loosing your grip on reality again, you didn’t notice a drink being slid to you. you hear the drink before seeing it in front of you, looking up, you meet husk’s eyes. a smirk almost tattooed on his face. you blink a few times, trying to understand, when he chuckles.
“if ya keep starin’ at me sweetheart, and undressin’ me with those eyes of yours, i’m gonna catch a cold.” he takes back your old glass and leaves you sitting there bewildered as he helps the next guest. you take a sip and see a slip of paper from under the glass. you squint to read the scrawled handwriting.
“meet me at 1. party should be wrapped up then. you can stare all ya want.”
you placed your hand over the paper and felt your cheeks grow warm. he was going to be the death of you.
#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, gn reader.
#cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. different intercourse positions. praise kink. edging. creampie. overstimulation. sub reader. really soft luci!! usage of 'doll' on alastor's part.
#summary : their favorite positions to fuck you in bed !! or something.
#note : if you're wondering where the male version of giving/receiving head is, it'll take longer to be posted than you might think :3 I currently do not have the spark to write for that idea.
ʚ LUCIFER .
spooning / missionary position. lucifer prefers to hold you whole while fucking, it provides a sense of security and satisfaction to him at the very least. he would have his arms around your body almost throughout the whole session.
the bright, blinding sun peeps through the small gap between the curtains that covers the windows in your shared room. your fingers claw into the soft bed sheets, droopy eyes fighting to lift open considering how you woke up to lazy thrust of lucifer's hips.
it seems that the both of you almost instantly fell asleep after last night's intercourse while having him remain buried deep in you. it wasn't until when he woke up earlier than you did and felt a warm sensation he normally wouldn't feel that he realized that he slept through the night with his length nestled inside of you.
for some odd reason, that thought alone riled him up. he grunted after feeling his cock twitch inside of you, a shaky breath leaving his lips and hitting your skin. feeling his gaze falling onto your back that faced him, he slowly moved his hips, lips leaning in to press sloppy kisses from your shoulder to the back of your neck. he wanted to wake you up, to have you feel good along with him.
and that brings you to where you are now; body held closely against his, his lean arm wrapped around your waist as his forehead leans against your shoulder. he thrusts at a quicker pace compared to before, soft whines and groans spilling from his lips and so does yours.
every time your skin comes in contact with one another, a throaty moan would be drawn from you with your eyes closed tight. the fog in your head has yet to subside completely, and lucifer is already working to add in more haze to your mind. you feel him dragging deliciously along your walls, body still unable to adjust to the burning sensation at this time of the day.
"morning, baby," he whispers against your now flushed skin, a grin growing on his face when he hears you moan. you grasp onto the soft sheets tighter; him spooning you while fucking into you allows him to reach areas that he normally isn't able to. the feeling made your vision grow blurry, unable to focus on anything other than pleasure.
you moan his name weakly, words incomprehensive as they leave your mouth without giving them another thought. you hear lucifer mumbling about him reaching close to his climax, his grip on your hips tightens significantly as well as the pace of his trust. it merely took a couple more thrusts of his hips before he spilled his warm release inside of you, your body shaking as you climaxed along with him.
your breath is hot against the bed sheet, a strong wave of exhaustion hitting you like a ton of bricks. lucifer feels the same thing as you do, his upper body falling onto the bed with a soft thud as his elbow gives out. you feel him pull you in closer into his embrace, soft murmurs of sweet nothings into your neck as the both of you drift into yet another slumber for the day.
ʚ ALASTOR .
doggy style / leapfrog position. he likes watching you from above as he fucks you into a mindless, moaning mess. having a clear view of the effect he has on you is exactly what he aims for especially under activities like this, and this positions provides him just the thing he wants. i used doggy style here :3
you feel cold tentacles wrap around your thighs and push them further apart, legs threatening to give out with the hold of his tentacles being the sole support for your body. today is a day when alastor returns home frustrated; his red locks were slightly messed with splinters of hair poking out, brows furrowed on his forehead and his usual grin didn't seem as bright as they usually do.
you did not have much time to register his situation and ask him before getting lifted up by his tentacles, sharp coldness stings your skin where they wrap around. darkness surrounds the both of you before disappearing when you both appear in the bedroom that you share, your body being tossed onto the bed as the hold of his tentacles on your body remains.
despite being harsh and all, there's always a hint of softness in alastor's actions like vocally asking to make sure you're alright and not hurt occasionally. his clawed hands have a firm hold on your hips, his own snapping onto yours brutally to the point where the bed would creak ever so often. your eyes roll back until it's almost completely white, mouth hanging open as uncontrollable babbles roll off your tongue.
his eye twitches in excitement at the sight displayed below him, the sight of you taking him in so nicely drawing out a groan from his throat. slowly, another one of his many tentacles snakes from his back and plunges itself into your mouth through your parted lips, the dampness of your mouth already coating a layer onto it.
"look at you. such great performance from you, doll." praise falls through his gritted teeth while he thrusts into you, doing his best to contain his noises, avoiding being overly vocal. being less vocal makes him feel like he's more of the one in control, despite wanting to let them out so badly because of how good you feel.
you return with a muffled moan in response, walls clamping down on him while you choke on the tentacle that reaches the back of your throat. alastor's grin widens, allowing his tentacles to grip tighter around your thighs, and the other one curls in your mouth. hot tears slide down your face as you feel a strong release approach closer with each of his hard thrusts, a buzzing sound filling your ears along with a few words that he speaks.
the coil in your stomach snapped suddenly without allowing you to vocally warn him about it, your upper body giving out while your lower remains upright solely from the support of his hold. your body shakes intensely, face pressed far into the bed sheet; a spasming mess is what alastor would describe you as currently.
your consciousness was about to fade before your eyes snapped wide open once again, feeling a sudden stretch with a loud slap of your skin. he has not reached climax yet, so of course he's not done.
"will you be so obedient and allow me another round, hm? i have not achieved my goal yet, you see."
ʚ VOX .
mating press position. what can i say, he's absolutely smitten over how you look when he presses you down while fucking deep inside of you. he gets to hear you moan and ramble about how deep he's in, feeling your muscle tense in his hold whenever the tip of his cock kisses the spot inside of you. he's drunk on the feeling and view, always wanting more of it which results in multiple rounds until the both of you are overstimulated.
"doin' so good f' me," vox's voice is shaky along with a slight glitch, heavily hinting at the pleasure he's receiving. a streak of pink line connects from the corner of his mouth down to the frame of his screen, a wobbly grin plastered on his face.
his clawed fingers hold a firm grip on the back of your knees, pressing them onto your chest while simultaneously rocking his hips against yours. his gaze locks with the thick liquid that oozes out from you every time his cock fully pushes in, forcing the liquid out and rolling down your clammy skin. the demon moans at the sight, significantly increasing his pace and making you yelp in surprise.
you're fuzzy from overstimulation, barely able to comprehend simple sentences as they're all just a blur in your mind. your hands are folded onto your face, tears and saliva sprawled everywhere messily on your face with your knee occasionally hitting your cheeks. every time you'd mumble about how it's 'too much' or 'you can't go for any more rounds', vox would shut you up with a harsh slap on your thigh before resuming on fucking your pretty hole with a chuckle.
he's tired, too, from round after round of ejaculation. it feels like he has nothing more to offer, but god are you unresistible. he craves more of his name spilling out as pretty noises from your lips, craves for the warmth of your velvet walls engulfing his sore erection, craves for another satisfying sight of him filling you up with his seed all the way to the brim.
his eyes light up as an idea pops into him, his fingers gripping tighter onto your legs. the tip of them light up a bright color of blue before vanishing suddenly, a sudden shock of small electricity piercing through your skin from his fingers. your body jolts at the sudden unfamiliar sensation, a different kind of noise slipping from your tongue. your eyes are wide, gaze that met his in confusion and pleasure.
vox grins at your reaction; he loves it. it's obvious that you did, too, feeling how tight you squeezed around him when you felt the sudden electricity shock send through your veins. he leans forward, only increasing his thrusts as he readies to send yet another wave of electricity through his fingers. he found a brand new way to toy with you, to draw out pretty noises that he always get drunk on.
"you like that, huh? squeezing around me like that, s' like you're begging for more my love."
ʚ VALENTINO .
lotus / heatwave position. he either likes to see you struggle to pleasure him properly or fuck you over the kitchen counter or any high tables he has in his office. he finds it hot to limit your movements, watching you helplessly take in anything and everything he has to offer. i used heatwave pos. here :3
“fuck, val, c-can’t we do this in- hngh, bed?” you groan in frustration before getting cut off by a moan, a hand gripping tightly onto his arm and another on the corner of the countertop. your leg was thrown over valentino’s shoulder when he lifted you onto the counter top, giving him a perfect display of you for himself. he gave you a breathy laugh before he replied teasingly. “this is fun, no? It feels better than the bed.”
out of all places, he chose to do it at the countertop, the place where you can barely move around to avoid falling off. he only chuckled everytime you complained and whined, shutting you up with a thrust of his fingers inside of you.
toying with you like this has always been his favorite. he knows exactly what and where to reach in you just to make your legs tremble and body shudder in pleasure, soft moans of his name that spills as you plead for more. he carries on providing pleasure to you until he feels the gummy walls around his fingers tighten, signaling a close approach of climax; he remove his fingers completely from you and deny your orgasm.
he watches you whine, trying to pull his hand back as you tighten around nothing out of desperation. valentino watches with a shit-eating grin on his face, leaning forward to bite on your earlobe while whispering. “hm, why don’t you tell me exactly why i should give you what you want?” he pauses for a moment before continuing, his voice sweet like honey cooing into your ear. “I’m waiting, carino~”
you grunt, hating the cheekiness of his behavior yet desperate for a sweet release. giving in slightly, you glare at him with glistening eyes while running your mouth with sweet words in hopes of them being enough to convince him knowing how playful this man could get. he gazes down at you while holding your leg over his shoulder, lips grazing over your ankle as a ghosting kiss. he shows no response to your words, just doing whatever he was with half-lidded eyes.
just as you thought your attempt failed, you feel his sudden thrust into you, a spark of pain and pleasure shoots all the way to your head. your breath gets caught in your throat, a loud gasp leaving your lips, body freezing in place to adjust to the sudden stretch. valentino drinks in your reaction with a hungry gaze, earning a low grunt from him as he pulled his hips back slowly before thrusting forward again. excitement bubbles in his chest, his upper row of sharp teeth biting down on his lower lips.
he doesn’t waste another second on waiting and starts rolling his hips at a steady pace. he moans in great pleasure, both pairs of his arms hold you firmly to avoid you falling off. your face burns more than usual because of how exposed you feel being in this position, yet it also riles you up a whole lot. you already feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten, begging to snap after multiple denies from your partner.
valentino feels it, of course. instead of slowing down or completely moving himself, he increases the pace to the point where the tip of his cock is able to press on the sensitive spot inside of you. your chest heaves heavily with yet another gasp, gritting your teeth because of how much it triggers the coil in your stomach. your knuckles gradually turn white from how hard you’re gripping the demon, moaning at how close you are to your sweet release.
everything came to a halt when he suddenly stopped his movements. he has denied your orgasm, again. you groan in frustration, hitting his chest with your fisted hands with a frown on your face. valentino snickers at your reaction, completely unfazed by your annoyance. he has all the time he needs to play with you, after all.
I would love to see this- Lucifer is the strongest entity in Hell, and it turns him on like nothing else when his lover wrestles him for dominance. He will go straight up feral over that.
Lucifer Morningstar wrestling his S/O for dominance...
Headcanons + Drabble
warnings: nsfw, hints at degradation, mentions of blood, biting, scratching, power-dynamics, rough(er) love
words: 806
a/n: I had way too much fun with this- thanks for this lovely, unique ask, I hope I did it justice! It was a bit difficult for my pee brain to come up with things to write, but the people need to be fed; here is your feast
✡ It's hot, its rough, and it's primal
✡ Ideally, Lucifer never tended to like it when anyone challenged his authority, no matter what over
✡ But if you, his lover, did so, he had the benefits of being able to take you however he pleased after you get the chide out of your system (with consent of course), knowing damn well how much it riles him up
✡ When the two of you wrestle, its almost like two wild animals, fighting for a meal that could very well end up being your last before a harsh winter rolls in
✡ It doesn't take long for his demon form to make an appearance during your steamy game, allowing him a decent advantage over your regular strength capabilities; you often call him out for 'cheating', but seeing him in such a feral state turns you on like nothing else
✡ You can feel him getting hard the first few minutes of your rough-housing, telling you all you need to know about how much he really enjoys doing things like this with you. His deep, guttural groans are hard to ignore, his wings flaring up as they batter your body with feather-light touches
✡ His claws and fangs are really coming out now. His claws are dug deep into your skin, leaving light (yet effective) scratches on your skin, as he watches the blood well up on the line of the cut, proceeding to then lean down and let his forked tongue lick off the excess mess his claws left behind
✡ Bite marks will litter your body, blood complimenting those areas as well. The stinging sensation they leave can not go unnoticed and they only help add to the different emotions you are feeling in the current moment
✡ Having someone to challenge him, both mentally and physically, gets him going; its admirably hot how you continue to protest that you could take him down if you wanted to, and he likes seeing that smug, confident smirk of yours turn to one of pure pleasure and ecstasy as he proves you wrong, over and over again
✡ Knowing he holds the most power possible for a being in any hellish realm, makes it all the more fun when you try and downgrade that title, even if just in the slightest bit; it's your own little game you like to play with one another, a common game of cat and mouse, or rather, Devil and prey
✡ Lucifer is ravaging your body, fully claiming you this time, letting you know that there is no one but himself that can hold this power over you; it reminds you that he will always be in charge one way or another, no matter how much you question
✡ In the long run though, you both love these feral moments in your relationship, getting to express your shared love for one another even in such a strange, somewhat brutal way
✡ He loves fighting for his right to dominate you, and he never fails to claim it.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The heavy panting and notable scent of sweat on the pair of your bodies seemed to go unnoticed, as the two of you were locked in both an intense staring contest, and a physical fight between your bodies; fingers were locked together, arms continually pushing at the other in an attempt to overthrow them. Your bare skin rubs against each other feverishly, his hard cock still buried deep within you from earlier.
"Do you really think you can overpower me in a battle for dominance, darling? I suggest you give in and just let your King take care of you."
His voice was smooth, soothing almost, aside from his heavy breaths filling your ears. He still sounded like an angel to you all the same.
A feral one.
The two of you had been at this now for a good half-n-hour, trying to secure your position as the dominant party in the sheets for the night, but Lucifer had you pinned underneath his own pale body at this point, using the enhanced strength from his demon form to keep you where you were.
The fight for dominance had been over just as soon as it had started; you both knew this from the beginning.
No matter if you were to be above or beneath him, he would always find a way to end out on top of it all, including yourself.
And by all the Gods, if that didn't make him even sexier in your eyes.
You would easily give yourself up to Lucifer whenever he wanted or needed you; there was no doubt about it and you both shared that same knowledge.
But maybe, if this is where challenging him for dominance got you, then you'd have to indulge in the action more often.
Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?
Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons
Have good day :3
・﹒・ perversions of the soul
Warnings: 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments
Pairings: [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]
Notes: Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D
﹒Lucifer﹒
・He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.
・He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.
・While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.
﹒Adam﹒
・This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.
・He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.
・Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.
・Valentino・
・Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.
・Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.
・He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.
・Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.
﹒Vox﹒
・Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.
・Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.
・He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.
﹒Saint Peter﹒
・That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...
・He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.
・He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.
PEGGING VAL???? sorry recently i’ve just really wanted to make this man cry. like he makes me want to be absolutely CRUEL and MERCILESS!!! just like giving him a taste of his own medicine would be fantastic idk 🤷♀️
SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!! ive been in a writing slump 😭 but im obsessed with writing val! it’s hard but i like trying to figure out how to I wanna characterize the goober
smoke and mirrors
—valentino x f!reader (gendered nicknames like princess and etc, but other than that the reader’s gender is not mentioned)
—includes: overstimulation, crying, bondage, toys
valentino, one of the 3 vees. tall, flirtatious, intimidating, rude.
too rude, perhaps. sure, being a bitch is pretty much a given in hell, but val was way more than that.
he has heels on people’s backs, and claws through sinners’ hearts. sure, demons can regrow limbs and heal scars. but not ones on the soul.
and valentino was an expert at cutting deep.
there's a scar on every one of his employees’ thoughts, his presence unable to leave their minds like smoke stuck to cloth.
no matter how much one washes it, that scent always comes back.
you were his cigarette. he clings onto you, unrelenting as he asks you to stay longer. you usually roll your eyes and dismiss him, but sometimes, you return, letting him indulge in his obsession with you.
he breathes you in, wanting you stuck on his clothes, hoping you stay a little longer, and unable to let you go.
with how much he craves you, you have control. power. one he will let go of when the two of you are tangled in lust, falling onto plush bedsheets with you over him.
he needs you. and you take advantage of that wholeheartedly.
val didn’t complain when you took charge. quite the opposite, actually. your fingers were a fucking blessing amongst this hellscape, and he doesn’t care where they are as long as they’re on him.
but they unfortunately, they weren’t.
“come on, princesa,” his tone was sickly sweet at first. persuading, sensual. fake.
“fucking do something~!” there we go. his true feelings. his tone was getting higher the more impatient he got, sing-songy in a way as he tried not to full-on scream at you. he knew you’d get even more pissed if he did.
you click your tongue in disappointment before hitting his thigh swiftly, provoking a sharp gasp from val as he hisses in pain, but also pleasure.
he couldn’t see and he couldn’t move any of his arms. usually, he’d be into kinky shit like this, but he also likes to be somewhat in control. if he asks for something, he gets it. your average pillow princess behavior. but you want to show him he’s not royalty, and he shouldn’t expect to be treated like it when it was clear he was an impressively shit ruler. seriously, who kills someone else’s employee?
but, even with how much you wanted to take his control away from him, his legs stayed free since you wanted them to drape over your shoulders at some point during the night, but that was for later. you have other things on your hands.
like his waist, for example. thin and smooth, hot to the touch even though he’s supposed to be cold-blooded. he relaxes into your palms instantly, a smile donning his face around the gag as he feels your touch.
his back arches up as he twists himself in an admittedly stunning way in your hands, trying to make himself look as appealing as possible for you to ravage him as soon. but you know his tricks. you won’t fall for his attempts of seduction.
so instead of moving your hands down to his inner thighs how he likes it, you draw them away, eliciting almost a growl out of the man underneath you.
“you really need to work on being more patient,” you tell him, your finger running underneath his chin, making his head tilt up so you can see it better.
even though he was frowning at you, the crimson drool that slipped down his lips made him look too pathetic to be threatening. “you need to work on being faster, amorcita! really, how can someone be so fucking slow—!”
you interrupt his complaints by suddenly getting off the bed, making him stop in confusion and…slight fear. “where—where do you think you’re going!” he snarls, trying to cover his vulnerability with coats of anger.
“i’m leaving if you can’t behave,” you answer, no hint of remorse in your voice. it chills him to his very core, a wave of frost running over his burning body as he stills in panic. you can’t just leave, that’s not—people don’t do that—
but val knows that you will. you weren’t afraid of him. and he knows he won’t be able to make you either. he was too soft on you.
so as a last ditch attempt, he musters up his most suggestive voice, wiggling in his binds as he tries to make you come back with his allure. “oh, come on. i’m always good—wait wait!”
he hears your footsteps getting further, and his words fly out of his mouth without thought. “please, wait—i’ll fucking behave just—don’t…” he breathes in carefully, trying to talk slower. “don’t leave, babe. i… i’m sorry, okay?”
he looks around at nothing, and it stares back at him cruelly as he tries to see you through the blindfold, even if he knows it's pointless.
you know most of his words aren’t sincere, it’s all just out of frustration, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
a sigh of relief leaves him as he feels a dip on the mattress, your hands moving over his torso. a yelp flies out of val’s lips as you tug on the chain connected by the clamps on his chest, the pain both sharp yet pleasing.
“we’ll see about that.”
val didn’t realize how mad you must have been, because the past hour or so had only been torture. the blindfold was already drenched in tears, his chest was over-sensitive to the point that even a breath would make him jolt, and he hasn’t been able to cum once, even when your fingers have been drilling into him constantly and the vibrator against his tip never stopped tormenting him.
“ah—! ah, hah, please—! wa-wait!” he sobs, thrashing in his ropes as he cries, the vibrations getting faster now. your fingers press right against that spot he usually loves, but he can’t enjoy it to the fullest if his cock is so hard it practically hurts. what’s worse is that he couldn't even cum if he wanted to, the ring around it ruining any chance of easy gratification.
“i thought you said i was too slow?” you tease, pulling your fingers out with a loud pop.
“well you fixed that—FUCK! pretty fast—!” val wailed as you entered him abruptly, bottoming out without warning before setting a brutal pace, not giving him time to accustom to you at all. “fuckfuckfuck—! baby, please!”
all he can do is take it, and as you rip the blindfold off of him, you revel in his expression, which was exceptionally different from his usual cocky one.
tears ran down the path of previous dried ones, and his mouth couldn’t even close from all of his noises escaping any time they could. his signature red drool drips out of his mouth and swirls around his teeth. you take caution, knowing what will happen if you kiss him. you don’t want to indulge in him just yet.
he had to earn it.
and he was slowly getting the hang of it. his claws dug into his palms as he shook, the sound of shaky pleas and uncontrollable moans filling the room beautifully. it seemed like he was practically made to be fucked by you, unable to get enough.
even when he’s tired, he can’t help but rock his hips against yours as he begs for more, while also pleading for less. he couldn’t tell what he wanted, because he knew he loved getting fucked by you, but he also hated not being able to cum. it was the dilemma of the century!
“p-please…please—i—hic—i can’t…” his voice slowly starts to get softer as he starts to lose strength. he can’t hold up a facade anymore. he can’t pretend that he’s in control. that this was a gift all for him, because it clearly wasn’t. it was a cruel punishment, and it was served in the way he knows best.
“can’t what?” you question, your hands firm on his hips as you stop him from moving, eliciting a pathetic whine of frustration from val.
“can’t—i can’t wait anymore, please let—ha—let me cum! i’m begging you, baby—fuck—too fast!” those were words he thought he’d never say, considering how much he liked it rough.
which, showed even through his pleas. his eyes rolled back and his voice came around again, gracing you with delightful moans and cries that got louder and louder. it was quite clear this pleased him a lot. but, it was even more certain that this was too much, and for someone so addicted to sex, it was surprising to figure out his breaking point was so easy to find.
of course, it took a long time, but from how much game he boasts he has, it was almost laughable how pathetic he was right now. begging, sobbing, messy. you want to see more of this side of him.
“not yet, val,” you scold him, tugging on his nipple clamps like it was some sort of leash. it was a gentle pull, yet his sensitive self couldn’t help but shriek in response, his back arching into a wonderful crescent.
“i promise—i promise i’ll be good—i’m good i swear!” he whines, looking up at you with his watery eyes. “i won’t be rude to you everagainplease—!”
you know it's a lie. you know he believes it, at least at in this moment, conceding to whatever it is you desire just to get what he wants. his nice act won’t last forever. but for now, with him underneath you, unable to think, drowning in pleasure, suffocating on the desire for you…you decide it’s good enough to warrant a small reward.
“oh—FU—!”
“what do you say?”
“SHITshit—AH! th…hmm!” he trails off into a high-pitched whimper as he feels that ring finally fucking leave, letting him cum for the first time in what felt like years.
“val. what. do. you. say?” you hiss, and suddenly the stars he had started to see turned into warning signs in an instant.
“sorry—thank you! fuck, thank—ngh—!”
you nod in approval, moving your hand down his quivering chest with sudden gentleness. it almost made val want to cry even more, and he was too tired to think why.
yet, your sweetness suddenly stops with a rush of almost painful pleasure running up his spine as you start to thrust again, slow, yet quickly hastening into the frenzied pace from before.
val doesn’t even bother asking you to go slower, sinking into the pillowy smoke of lust once more without complaint as you drive into him relentlessly.
he loves it, the way your presence surrounds him, how your hands get so tight around his hips that they leave marks. everything you do, he loves. so, even as his tears line his eyes once more, and his mouth spews words of forgiveness, he can’t help but want more, for who was he if not with you?
even when morning comes and you two finish, he still yearns for you as he walks out that door in the afternoon, his assistant rushing over to his side as he makes his way to the studio that he knew wouldn’t be able to produce anything that rivaled your touch.
“i like your new perfume.”
“hm?” he looks down at his assistant, raising an eyebrow out of confusion before sniffing his coat. he can’t help but crack a small, uncharacteristic smile.
