since ur requests are open can i trouble you for a silly satan piece? just something cute and fluffy. i think having a picnic and birdwatching with him would be adorable
a/n: HELLO! thank you for requesting ahh! i lowkey had a small freakout whenever i saw you followed me back haha; im honored! and honestly, i don't know the first thing about birdwatching, but i did my best... enjoy! <3
"That one looks like you!"
Satan squints and cocks his head. His cheek presses against the hair of your scalp, warm breath huffing over the slope of your temple. His eyelashes flicker in your peripherals -- aureate and fine in quality.
You're laid out beneath the permanent ebony veil of the Devildom's sky. The moon, fixed upon her throne, paints the hillside in silver-hued glory. Satan and you are cuddled together on top of a soft, checkered blanket. The remnants of your meal (formerly resembling little sandwiches in the characteristic shape of a feline's face) are carefully wrapped and stowed away in a fraying basket.
Several feet away, a small bird busily constructs its nest in the elbow of a tall tree's branch. The downy feathers of its wings are a pigmented green, which continue in thin ripples up to its cranium. The coloration is distinctly unnatural to you. It must be a native Devildom creature.
"I still don't see it." Satan sighs, skeptically eyeing the object of your fixation as it proceeds to drop the same little twig for the third time in a row.
"Look, look. I'll show you." You slip deftly away from his flank, rotating so that you can clamber onto his lap. He instinctively begins to lean up to meet you halfway, but you shake your head and press his shoulders back onto the plushness of the blanket.
"You are, for one, very green." You declare matter-of-factly, using your finger to push his brow up and peer into his eyes. There is a verdant ring around his pupils -- which are blown wide as he watches your expression with unfiltered adoration. "Like these. Or the color scheme of your demon form. Oh, and you have those feather things too!"
You continue, "and you're soft. More than you think. Here," you pinch at his ribs, and his legs instinctively buck up in retaliation. Gigging and thoroughly undeterred, you stroke the top of his head. His 'outrage' melts into delight, and he pushes into the tenderness of your palm. "And there."
Seemingly becoming conscious of his apparent 'gooey-ness' in that moment, he straightens and tries to dignify himself again, "I don't think --"
"And you like to nest!" you chirp, "stealing all the blankets from my room, taking Belphie's pillow's, hoarding my --"
You're interrupted by a delicate peck to your lips. You stop, the energy draining out of your body rather dramatically, and slump onto his front. He wraps his arms around your back, cradling the upper portion of your spine.
"I understand. I like it. I like that you see me in mundane things." He purrs.
"Birds aren't mundane. At least, not that one. That's your bird. Satan's bird."
"I read in the Bird-Watching Handbook that its name is actually..." he trails off, eyes getting misty as he gazes at you. "Never mind. I like 'Satan's Bird' better."
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