cw: rough p in v, choking, over stimulation, cock sleeve, smoking
a/n: Sleepy’s first smut post for this fandom. Ovulation is a fucking monster. Only lightly edited because I’m trying to write something once a week come hell or high water and I'm out of time.
Soap loved to have you on his lap, wouldn’t allow his bonnie to lift a single finger while he fucked you into oblivion. This time, you’d told him you were going to take a shower because you felt gross after a work out, but he wanted to make sure you were well and truly dirty before washing off the tangy smelling sweat he loved on you. Pheromones, he claimed. He waited until you’d disrobed, grabbed you around the waist, hauled you out of the bathroom, and shucked off his boxers right before falling back against the couch cushions. He’d let you grind against his dick for a bit, lubing him up with feigned control, before lifting you, lining himself up, and slamming you down just to watch you scream.
“Fuckin’ hell, bonnie,” he grunts, hands gripping your ass with a bruising strength. He uses his hips to toss you up and down his cock, “Ye were gonnae let aw this sweet slick get washed down teh drain? No’ on ma watch.”
Your nails dig into the nape of his neck, fingers twisted in the base of his mohawk as you were used as his own personal fleshlight. One rough hand jumps from your ass to where your bodies are joined together, pushing his fingers in next to his cock in your tight hole to stretch you further. Without breaking pace, he continues bouncing you while sucking his fingers clean. His eyes rolling back with your taste shoves you over the edge.
Your first orgasm is raw and shocking, his name torn from your chest as he fucked you through it with ease. As you come down, your hips go pliant and he drives you towards the next one. If there came a day where he only gave you one orgasm, you’d know he was an imposter sent by the enemy. You didn’t have enough brain power left to do anything but feel his beefy arms lifting you up and sinking you back down over his cock.
“Still nae ready fer a shower,” He grins, mouth sucking marks into your breasts between grunts, glancing down at the creamy ring at the base of his cock, “Gottae get ye real dirty, donnae wan’ ta waste water, aye?”
Sex with Soap was sometimes only twenty minutes, but the man’s ability to pull four orgasms out of you in that time left you wondering why others needed hours to achieve such a simple feat.
Price doesn’t have you on his lap very often, much preferring you on your back where he can hold you in a mating press and work himself into you until you’re fruitlessly trying to push him off of you. Sometimes though, after a hellish day of desk work, he wants to be selfish— deserves to be selfish. So he gets comfortable in his favorite arm chair, lights a cigar, and sits back to watch you bounce yourself on his cock.
And gods did you love to ride him, to take your pleasure just how you liked, alternating between rolls and impaling yourself on his meaty cock. John loved to watch your pleasure, your cute little moans and whines turn him on like no other. The only problem, if you could even call it that, was if you coughed from the smoke, your cunt would clench around him so nicely that he’d decide to come right then and there regardless of if you’d found your own release. You had to alternate between slow even breaths timed against his plumes of smoke to keep yourself from ending things too quickly.
“So greedy…” He murmurs, blowing smoke just above your head, enough to make your eyes water from the acrid heat. Whimpering, you pick up the pace, moving your hands from his chest to behind you, clenched his thighs for support. Your hips roll and bounce over him, moans spilling freely as you find the right angle for yourself and pick up the pace. Every raise of your hips burned your muscles and you were fighting against your own pussy walls sucking him back into your heat. He doesn’t mind the wavering pace, your cunt is his favorite place to be no matter the position. “All I’m doin’ is sittin’ here, but you like usin' me to feel good, don’t you? Come on, lass. Find your pleasure before I do.”
A keen is caught behind your bitten lip, nodding furiously as you work yourself over him. He was thick, stretching you out on every drop and only occasionally hitting your cervix. When a particularly harsh roll of your hips lights up your spine with a zip of pain, your hand slips and you nearly fall backwards off the chair. Price is quick to catch you, hauling you back up with a smirk.
“Careful… if I drop this cigar, I’ll have to start a new one.”
Gaz has his arm banded across the front of your hips, the other hand holding the base of your throat. Your back is to his chest as he pumps himself into you with steady thrusts. “Such a sweet little thing for me, just stay right here, yeah? Lemme take care of this sweet cunt for you.”
“Kyyyle…” You whine, hands pawing at his meaty thighs, but it's no use trying to get away. Once Gaz has you, you’re not going anywhere until he’s decided you’re both done. His cock’s natural curve drags against your walls at the perfect angle in this position and he’s ruthlessly precise about it. His grip tightens around your throat at ythe plea, not breaking the rhythm that has you climbing a familiar peak.
Gaz hushes you with a kiss to your temple, tongue darting out to taste the sweat beading at your hairline. It didn’t matter to him how long it took you to come, because once he’s picked a pace, that’s where you’ll both finish. You got off on his subtle control, the willing bondage of pleasure you gave up to him.
“Gonna come for me, babydoll?” He whispers, nipping your earlobe when your head lolls back against his shoulder with a shudder. He adjusts the arm pinning your hips as your back arches off his chest, “Come on then, squeeze me, babydoll.” His words send you over, a choked cry presses your flexing throat muscles against his palm.
When he feels your slick drip down his thighs, he moves again, slow punching thrusts into your silken walls as you mewl in over stimulation. Always the gentleman, he makes sure to give you exactly what you need before finding his own release. It’s only a few minutes later before he’s biting into the junction of your shoulder and flooding you with his come. Even as his cock softens and more slick drips down your thighs, he rolls you over himself just to hear the broken record of his ruined lover.
Ghost puts you on his lap when you’ve been a brat- bending over to pick things up you could have reached your arm down to get, pouting with a swish of your hips when he tells you to wait until he’s done with work, mentioning this fancy new vibrator your single friend swears by… all this left you sitting on his lap, fully dressed sans panties. He’d unzip his pants enough to free his cock, pull up your skirt around your hips, and impale you on his dick without preamble as he sat at his desk. If you moved, you got a slap to the ass, if you whined, he’d pinch your nipple, but usually if you were quiet and let him finish his work, he’d fuck you into next week.
You were not in the mood to be good today, he’d only gotten back from deployment a day ago but had only fucked you twice! You’d felt an achy emptiness the entire month he was gone and now you only got the occasional slow grind of his cock against your womb when he shifted position.
“Please please please… need more… please, Si…” You whine feverishly, fat tears in your eyes from how long he’s kept you stretched full without release.
“More? My cock isn’t enough for you anymore? Only gone for a month and you’re fucking feral for it.”
Ghost huffs, trying to ignore the smell of arousal permeating the room, seeping under his mask and trapping him in the smell he craved more than air. His gloved hand slips between your bodies, a single finger pressing rough circles into your clit. When you tried to roll against the friction he pulled his hand back, “Move and you lose it.”
Your lip pouts out in frustration and need, but you nod, biting your lip and focusing on staying still. At least this way, you’d finally be able to come. His finger brings you to the edge quickly, your whole body clenching around his cock like it had been weeks since your last release. Tiny twitches of your hips are the only movement he’ll allow besides the squeezing of your arms around his shoulders. You’re rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as he was squeezed like a vice by your wet walls.
His finger doesn’t stop its assault on your clit, his other hand leaving his work to hold your hips down against him, “No, you’re not done. You want to come on my cock so bad? Take it.”
You gasp, squirming against the overstimulation as tears fall down your cheeks. It’s not until the third orgasm he tears out of you that you realize his game— he would keep his cock resting deep inside you, not moving an inch, until the sweet clench of your repeated orgasms made him come.
thigh riding + izuku is actually very important to me!!!!! i have a wip for this rn (quick premise: you are either professor!izuku's TA or prohero!deku's sidekick, with a huge crush; he calls you into his office one day to let you know that despite your feelings you cannot have sex because it would be unprofessional..... you walk in he pats his lap "we need to have a little chat") anywayyyyyyyy
i think... this happens a lot with him actually, for reasons that are different each time.
like if he's just too busy, grading or doing paperwork, and you're just too needy to wait for him – he'll lean back in his chair for a second, spread his legs with a smile an pull you on to his lap; presses a kiss to your cheek before saying, "you can take of yourself, can't you?" an you nod and he says, "alright, baby. why don't you show me?"
you do, lacing arms around his neck and carefully swinging a leg over his thigh until you're straddling it. his work pants feel thin, especially against the tissue-adjacent shorts you're wearing, so it's easy to really feel him, every peak and ridge of muscle, every tense as he flexes for you.
you're already slick and dripping with ravenous need as you roll your hips, putting pressure on the little bundle of nerves that aches for attention. moving back and forth, back and forth, working up a rhythm as he returns to the work on his desk, one hand absently stroking your back.
"such a good girl," he praises, "look at you doing so well, making such a pretty mess."
or maybe he uses it as a tool, something to get you to behave, to remind you of your place.
you mewl and moan into his neck as his hands press your twitchy hips down and across his leg. each swipe of flesh against flesh washes over you in an overstimulating cacophony of sensation. you're both naked, although on you it looks fucked out and spent, on him looks intimidating and imposing.
he's made you cum like this... twice, no, three times? when you begged him to give you something else, anything else, he said, "greedy girls need to learn patience and gratitude."
you hiccough little sobs and gasps as your head drops to his chest, but izuku doesn't feel you're quite listening, caressing your cheek to cup a hand under your jaw and make you look him in the eye.
"i need you to look at me so i know you're paying attention. are you paying attention?"
no, not really, but you give a weak nod anyway; he sees right through it, tuts and shakes his head. he bounces you a couple times, maintaining a collected expression but secretly loving the way it makes you keen.
"no, i don't think so," he muses, "sorry honey, i don't think the lesson has been learned yet."
mostly though, i think it's because he loves it when you're like this: flushed, eyes wide n glassy, bottom lip caught between your teeth like you don't want to admit how good it feels.
a movie is playing softly in the background, but it's falling on two sets of deaf ears. what started as cuddling turned to straddling his lap to kissing and heavy petting to him nudging your legs apart and guiding you over one of his tensed ones.
"want you to ride my thigh," he says, kissing a line down your neck. his curls tickle as they graze against flustered skin, and you grind down into his leg on insinct; he smiles, satisfied with your ready compliance. "wow, you're being so good," he praises, "m'pretty girl is such a good listener."
your timid laugh chimes softly in his ear as you lift off his lap and up onto your knees. he slides your panties down the top of your legs slowly, eyes locking on your pussy as soon as he sees her. "there she is. all wet n ready for me too, huh?"
"izuku," you pout, and he makes a shooing motion at you that earns an eye roll.
"just give me a second–" he glances up at your face for a second, pupils blown wide, before looking down again and spreading open your folds with two fingers. a string of slick connects them as he plays for a second, cooing at your pussy like it can hear him; maybe it can, because it clenches around nothing, gushing another wave of arousal that has him humming in approval.
he helps you slide your pants the rest of the way off, keeping you spread as you sink onto his leg again, this time with no pesky fabric between you.
"are you gonna fuck me?" you ask, despite already starting to move your pelvis. he helps you, and it makes it easier, eases the strain felt in your sleepy muscles. you fall into an easy rhythm, feelings of pleasure building and compounding to bring your high.
"want you to cum like this first," he murmurs, eyes locked on the place you're split apart, arousal oozing in a trail down his leg. big, solid and textured hands are gripping your hips so hard the nails leave crescents in the flesh there. "give me... at least one, okay?"
"okay, oka-ay–" you babble, "mm'izuku, feels s-so– feels so–" but it's hard to get the words out, when your head is swimming in a murky pool of hormones and pleasure.
"feels so what?" he asks, teasing at your clit with his thumb. it tears a moan from your lips that he swallows eagerly, mumbling, "feels good?" against your parted lips.
"yeah," you choke, "feels s'good, izuku–" and it does, the glossy movement building a coil of pleasure that threatens to snap with every nerve stimulated. you're still almost kissing, mouths open against each other, passing breath and spit and sweat.
"go ahead," he says, "fall apart for me, baby."
that's all it takes, the tether in your gut snapping and releasing the dam of pleasure you've been holding back. he doesn't quite stop the rolling motion of your hips, muttering, "that's right, all over my leg, just like that."
Uhh sorry if this is weird, but I please request Jester being teased until he accidentally says ‘Mommy’ when begging! (also can I be 🦌 Anon?)
Sure you can be 🦌Anon! I don’t think I have one rn.
It’s 2AM I really rushed this I hope you like it!
Calling you ‘Mommy’
-
Cw implied fem Reader, use of ‘Mommy’ edge play, safe words are in use, slight overstim
Jester had thought the wager between you two would have been an easy win, he’d just have to endure what you do until you were bored. Then he’d be allowed to do what he wants to you, it should have been easy, he has high stamina…but you kept stopping before he could even have a chance at cumming.
Had you only done it a few times it would have been easy to ignore the growing discomfort but unfortunately for him, you two never agreed on a time limit. It’s since been over a hour, Jester practically trembled as he had to stay still as you again stop stroking him right as he’s about to cum.
He growls as his cock is left bobbing, drooling a pathetically large amount of pre. He sighed in frustration, his claws sinking into the bed. “D…don’t you think that’s enough?” He tries to sound intimating, but he whines as you resume stroking his cock again. “I can’t promise I’ll be gentle with you if you keep..”
He loudly huffs as you squeeze his swollen cock, he grimaced as it gushes out more pre. It was beginning to actually hurt, every little twitch had him wince, he’s never been this sensitive before it was beginning to be overwhelming…
You run your thumb over the swollen tip of his cock, earning a bellow from him and a quick buck of his hips. You stop again as he trembles and pants, shooting you a glare. “Jester, if you’d like me to get bored, don’t be so fun!” You say with a soft smile, as if you were obvious to the pain you were causing him.
It both frustrated him and made him ache. He tried to calm his breathing as you gave him a brief moment to calm down. He wined as his arousal throbbed, he couldn’t help nearly squirming as your hand lightly rubbed his balls.
He growled in frustration and with a deep sigh gruffly said. “I’ll…I’ll forfeit just don’t stop!” He squeaked out, his claws sinking into the bed and tearing through the sheets. He feels a bit of relief when it looks like you’re going to take his offer, but then you shake your head.
“I love how you look,” You say leaning closer so your face is almost touching his. “But, how about this, if you beg, really nicely, I’ll let you forfeit?”
You give him quite a bit if time to answer, Jester could barely think straight, he sighed glancing down, he jumps a bit as you begin stroking him again. He loudly whines at your touch, the feeling is too much…
In just a few strokes he can feel himself about to burst, but again, you stop right before he can get any release. He feels his eyes sting and hisses as he realizes he’s tearing up in frustration. While he’s lost in thought, you flick the tip of his cock, earning a shrill cry.
“Mommy please! Please! I can’t-“ He babbles out, you can clear hear his claws tearing apart the sheets he’s been holding. You can’t even get mad as you see the desperation in his eyes, and the clear blush as he realizes what he said. “I-I mean my Dear, please, have mercy…”
He can’t meet your gaze as you deliberately take your time to answer. “How cute…if you can ask nicely, I might let you…but, you have to call me ‘Mommy’ while you beg, or I’ll stop.”
As your words register he looks mortified but quickly recovers trying to mask his emotions, he clears his throat, his face is practically read even in the dark.
“P-please let me cum?” He tries, but when you do nothing after a pause, he whimpers and tries again. “P-please my Love? Just once?”
You still don’t budge, his cock pulses heavily and he finally gives in. “M-Mommy please I need to cum! Please make me cum!” He roughly wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, he’s practically squeezing you as he hugs you.
You relent and grab his swollen cock, roughly stroking it at a brisk pace. He whines, squirming under your touch, but to his relief, you do finally let him cum, he collapses against the bed as his cock spurts out a humiliatingly large amount of cum, you get dragged down with him. He grimaces as he feels his release cover his stomach, even a little bit splashing on his face. You stroke him faster, making him tremble a bit as the bliss begins to wear off.
He sighs in exhaustion as you keep stroking him, leaving him trembling, his cock having gone soft in your hand, yet you don’t seem to mind as you keep stroking him. He took in a sharp, shaky breath as you tease the slit of his cock, making him jolt.
“M-Mommy please, I need a break..” He tightened his grip on you as you press your thumb down just under the sensitive tip of his cock. He bites his lip releasing you as he lightly pulls at your wrist, trembling as your grip on his cock only tightens.
your fave fingering you, hitting all the right spots, keeping a perfectly maddening pace, thumb pressed right over your clit while his slick knuckles slide in and out and in and out making you cum again and again—and you start to whimper and squirm away but he just holds you down with his other hand and pouts,
c'mon sweetheart, you're doing so well for me, don't make me stop now...
☆ : dumbification(hopefully, it's my first time writing for this kink), overstimulation, cockwarming, creampie, hinted/mentioned multiple orgasms, very brief but also cnc if u squint, mentioned foreplay, dom!mike schmidt,
requested by anon
It's not often that Mike gets a day off, working countless overtime shifts in order to make ends meet.
When he finally catches a break, he's using that time to blow off steam, letting out all his frustrations by using you.
With your face pressed into the matress, your back arched, and moans muffled into the fabric of the sheets, he had it. Your hole is clenching tightly around his cock, milking him for all the cum he could give possibly give you.
"Fuuuckkkk, Miikkeeee....!" You cried, whimpering out as you couldn't form any other words, your mind was practically scrambled as Mike continued to fuck his cock deeper into your cunt. His tip continued to nudge your cervix. He was so deep inside he almost had the air in your lungs knocked out. You wanted to beg for more, for him to go faster, but all that came out was a mewl and whine.
"Yeah? Can't say shit?"
He slapped your thigh, a pink print left behind while he grabbed your hair and tugged on it. Your legs were shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you up, your back pressed up against his chest. He starts kissing your neck, his hands groping whatever they could reach. His fingers eventually make it to your nipples, playing with them as the movements of his hips moving start up again.
Your own hips ache with the positions he's had you in, your stomach dips as his fingers eventually reached your pussy. Your clit is overly sensitive from earlier foreplay, you almost fall forward as he starts to play with it.
"M-.. Mike-! Mike..!" You want to say something, you want him to fuck harder and faster, you want him to make you cum, but you can't make out words as your own breathing picks up a faster pace.
Your cum and slick allows for his cock to glide in and out so smoothly, the angle at which he has you in only intensifies the amount of pleasure he's giving you.
"You dumb little thing.." He groans out, seeing how fucked out he has you, how stupid you've become on his cock. "So fucked out on my dick, aren't you?", he whispered into your ear.
You can't even say anything other than his name as you're reaching another climax, pussy throbbing around his dick.
"Gonna cum?" He asked, pushing you onto the mattress, your chest hitting the bed, face into the sheets again. All you could do was let out a muffled cry, the overstimulation was reaching a peak within you, it was painful but overpowered by the sensation of pleasure. It was an overwhelming feel, but you needed it, you craved it because you didn't know when the next time would come.
"Oh, you dirty girl." Mike groans, you came, pussy spasms around his length. All strength in your body is gone, it doesn't take longer before your boyfriend is cumming into your used cunt. The hot sensation of his cum flowing into your pussy had you panting more.
Everything after that is a blur.
Mike doesn't pull out, instead, he falls to your side and hugs you from behind. The mixed combination of both yours and his cum sits at the base of his dick.
"Aren't you such a good dumb doll?" He kisses your neck. You barely hear what he says before his cock is ramming in and out of you again.
Time for Belphie! This one is a bit outside of my comfort zone. I hope you enjoy. In all honesty, if I was more confident, this would be in eroguro territory... Sadly, I chickened out.
Warnings/notes: undernegotiated kink, dealing with lesson 16, overstim, denial, ignoring as a punishment (unsure what that's actually called), pain play, punishment kink.
Summary: You try to prepare for your last exams at RAD. Unfortunately, a certain sleepy demon keeps distracting you. You decide to take care of unfinished business instead.
***
Belphie has parked himself at your feet.
He seems to have decided that constant exposure is the best way for the two of you to bond. Out of love for Beel, you have only firmly nudged him with your foot to keep him from touching you.
You're completing your homework, because despite everything you're still attending RAD and expected to be a good student. You're not entirely sure what lie the student council came up with to justify your absence. It doesn't really matter. No one's willing to question you on it. Your untimely death got you exactly a week off, some catch-up work, and a few looks of sympathy from the kinder demons at RAD. Nothing more.
Nothing more than another demon at your beck and call, anyway.
You made the pact with Belphie - who you must nudge away again, because he keeps trying to use the fluffy slippers Asmo got you as a pillow. Of course you did. Your neck still tingles, even as you try and focus on Devildom's bloody history. You can call him to heel whenever you need, should he try again.
He hasn't tried again, though. Nor has he shown any interest in trying again.
Mammon and Satan are the most understanding of your reticence around Belphie, and no one's outright questioned you, but you can tell most of your demons don't quite get it. It has been centuries since anyone could call any of them helpless. They don't know what it's like to be completely unable to fight back. To not even have a chance of facing death with defiance.
So they don't get why you're still uncomfortable with Belphie. A grudge they could understand, resentment, hate. But ongoing fear of their baby brother?
Their baby brother, who is currently drooling on your carpet?
You slam the textbook shut. Belphie wakes - a small jolt followed by feigned stillness, some instinct from long ago, or perhaps just a habit to avoid getting in trouble with Lucifer. You're not getting any work done. Might as well do something else productive.
"What do you want, Belphegor?" You don't look at him as you ask, staring instead at your desk.
He could be doing something else if he was going to hide under your desk while you studied. The thought comes whether you like it or not. Your pacts had tended to include one thing so far, and that thing often involves one of your demons on their knees.
You hear quiet shuffling sounds from under your desk. Belphie pokes his head out next to your knee, alert enough to keep some distance between you.
"I want to spend time with you... There's no hidden motive," he says, purple eyes half-hidden by his hair. He's been saying that a lot, lately. Assuring you he's not hiding anything. You suppose it's his way of trying to comfort you after all the lies he told you in the attic. It would almost be sweet, if your skin didn't crawl at the sight of him.
"You made a pretty quick turnaround," you mutter, pushing your chair away from the desk. You can see him properly now, sitting all curled up with his head propped up on his pillow.
The problem is that you liked Belphegor. You knew he was full of shit - you aren't, despite some opinions, a total idiot - but he was funny, and cute, and Lucifer locking his own brother in the attic while Beel suffered his absence downstairs made your blood boil with rage. You figured the two of you understood each other, at least a little. So you let him out of the attic.
And then he'd broken your ribs, your back, squeezed the air out of your lungs, and tossed you down the stairs. Laughing as Mammon screamed and the rest of his brothers cried.
Belphie wilts. His tired eyes, so similar to Beel's, look at the ground. The problem with Belphie - one of them, anyway - is that he really is pretty cute. Some part of you wants to hold him. More of you wants to break him.
"I just want you to know... that nothing will ever happen again," he says. You want to call him out, tell him that counts as a hidden motive, but it feels petty. Belphie clutches his pillow to him, squeezing it like a soft toy. Or like a soft, breakable human. "I want you to know I'm safe."
"Demons aren't safe, Belphie," you counter, resting your chin on your hands. "You gave me a good reminder of that."
Neither of you tend to talk about it. Not directly. The others don't either. It's clear no one's forgotten. They've only just started leaving you and Belphie alone together. But talking about it is too much for them.
"You, um..." Belphie hesitates. Eyes flick to you and away again. You nod, giving him permission. Might as well hear what he has to say. "You shouldn't be mad... at the others. Or scared of them. Because of me."
You laugh, and the bitterness in surprises you both. "Your brothers did quite a bit to get me to fear them before you got out, Belphegor."
Belphie frowns. He's heard some of it from you, in the attic, but Beel - Beel was your third pact, early on, and the twins' connection may have led him to a more rosy idea of your relationships. Didn't stop him from trying to rip you away from them. Maybe he was afraid of what happened to Lilith happening again.
"You're not scared of them anymore, though. Or you weren't." Belphie isn't quite arguing, but there's a stubborn furrow between his eyebrows. "You... I mean, you..."
His cheeks colour lightly. You tilt your head to the side.
"I what, Belphegor?"
"I mean... you slept with all of them." He pauses. "Except Lucifer. Good."
Not wanting to unpack that last statement for now, you sigh. "I did sleep with them. But only after they'd proven their feelings beyond a shadow of a doubt."
"So... I need to prove my feelings?" Belphie murmurs, nodding to himself. He slides out from under your desk and stands, heading for the door. He walks with purpose.
You have a bad feeling. But if you call after him, he won't leave.
You get back to your work.
***
There is a pile of bodies at your feet.
Belphie looks awfully proud of himself. Smug, if you were feeling less generous. You count at least six heads, though with some body parts missing it’s hard to tell exactly how many demons might have met their end. You recognise precisely none of them. They don't make for a particularly tasteful addition to the House's garden. Satan might be pleased if the meat attracts stray cats, though.
“Who are they?” you ask.
“They were against the exchange program, especially having humans here.” Belphie puffs out his chest. “They were making some plans. I stopped them. Even reported it to Lucifer, so he wouldn’t complain.”
That last part is said bitterly, but it doesn’t dampen his mood for long. He approaches you with a grin that only subsides when you hold out a hand in the universal gesture for stop.
“Did you have fun?” You step forward and rest that same hand against his chest, feeling his elevated heart rate - for him, anyway. Your gaze travels further down and you catch a bump in his slacks - not fully hard, but clearly excited.
The problem is so are you. Even as Belphie demurs, shrugs at your question, you know he’s a sadistic killer who would’ve enjoyed it. Hell, you’ve heard stories from the others about their early days in the Devildom. What they'd done to blow off steam.
But your demons have had an effect on you, as much as you'd had an effect on them. And one of those effects is getting wet at the sight of dismembered demons. They’ve Pavlov’d you.
You look at Belphie again, searching. His eyes have always been so pretty - a dead giveaway of his nature, being so like Beel’s. He looks proud, yes, but also hopeful.
“You would’ve enjoyed killing them anyway,” you say. Belphie sways backwards, hurt. You grip the fabric of his shirt and he freezes. “I have another way for you to prove yourself. Go clean up and and change. Meet me in the attic in half an hour.”
He nods eagerly and runs off. Well, running for him, which seems more like a halfhearted jog, but he’s trying to put the speed on. Trying to put in effort for you.
He’s going to have to, with what you’ve got planned for him.
***
You sneak up to the attic with your supplies. You’d rather avoid all the brothers, but particularly Asmo - if he sees what you’re carrying, he will try to follow you, and you’d feel awful about his pout when you sent him back downstairs.
Lucifer catches a glimpse of you from his room, and promptly closes the door.
When you get there, Belphie is already shirtless. Optimistic of him. Not a bad guess though. You dump what you’re carrying on the table.
“Here’s the thing, Belphie,” you begin. You’re not trying to be seductive, but Belphie seems into it anyway, a flush creeping down his pale chest. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you taking those demons out, but let’s face it, it wasn’t exactly hard for you, was it?”
Belphie shrugs. “It’s hard to find tough enough opponents for us. Unless you want me to fight one of my brothers, but I figured you wouldn’t be happy if I did that.”
“I’m glad you know that much.” Belphie has clearly thought about this. His overtures weren't always obvious. Feelings didn’t always come across clearly from him. But he is trying to take your thoughts and feelings into account. It is sweet, annoyingly, and if it weren't for your history, you would simply find it endearing. “I also know you’re a sadistic asshole, so I don’t think it was difficult or upsetting for you to do. And to prove yourself, I want to see you push beyond your comfort zone a bit.”
Belphie eyes the things you've brought up to the attic. He looks wary and excited. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say, and then your voice hardens. “This will be the only order I give you tonight. Safe word if you need to. Green if you’re fine. Yellow for slow down or pause, red for an immediate stop.”
Belphie gulps as the order settles in, the pact flaring between you. It’s rare for you to call on his power. You’re both still getting used to it.
“I think I’ll like the kind of games you want to play, but got it, Master.” He says the title with an almost manic glee in his eyes. You wonder how long it will last.
“Everything else that happens tonight will be on your own willpower.” You lift up a yoga mat and a towel. “Bed or floor. I suggest floor. You’ll be less tempted to sleep, and it’ll be easy to stay balanced.”
Belphie scrambles off the bed in a rare show of speed. He's confused, but taking your suggestion. He can be a good listener when he wants to be.
You lay out the mat and the towel on the carpet for him, because fucking his knees up is not on your agenda for tonight. The rest of him is fair game.
“Next, pants off.”
Belphie grins, taking it slow. You wonder if he got advice from Asmo. In clumsy, unpracticed movements, he inches his pyjama pants down, revealing more and more of his stomach. It’s sort of cute, and you suppress a smile. You don’t want to give him too much encouragement.
“Hands and knees.”
You don’t take much time to appreciate his body. It’s nice. Soft. You settle behind him, carrying with you lube and a box full of options. You're not sure how experienced Belphie is - he's lazy, but he's also thousands of years old. You're trying to push him in very specific ways, and tearing his ass apart is not one of them. Tonight, anyway.
You still don't bother warming the lube up before shoving a finger in his ass. You're not being that nice. The choked sound Belphie makes sends a thrill down your spine.
After the initial shock of the cold and intrusion, Belphie quickly settles on his elbows, relaxing into your touch. When you lean over you see the soft, dreamy smile on his face. He makes soft, quiet little noises. He's clearly enjoying it, so you work up to two, then three fingers. His muscles seem naturally relaxed which helps, possibly due to his Sloth. You decide against any of the smaller toys.
You take your time, working your fingers until he's a puddle on the floor except for his ass, which he's still holding up for you. He groans in protest when you remove your fingers. He tries to push himself back, chase you, but you spank him, hard.
He jolts, a smaller reaction than a human would've had with the amount of force you put into it. You remind yourself you're dealing with a demon, so there's little need to hold back.
You smack him again until he reluctantly sits up.
"Here's the deal, Belphegor," you tell him, setting up the base upright on the mat for him, and selecting a good, mid-sized dildo to mount on it. "I want you to work to prove yourself. You're going to enjoy this for a while. But you don't get to stop when you cum. You're going to keep going until I say stop."
Belphie glances between you and the dildo. "That seems more like a reward."
You smile. It draws a shudder out of him. "We'll see how long you think that." You wave your DDD around. "Every so often a chime will go off, and I'll add something to the experience. Sometimes it might help you. Probably it won't. If you get through it all, I'll know how you feel. If you safe word out, we can change things up and try again. If you just give up though, we're done. And I will know the difference."
Belphie swallows. Nods.
"Great! I need to get some homework done for the first part, so you get comfortable, okay?"
You stand up before he has the chance to protest. As you head to wash your hands before touching your homework - you don't hate your Devildom History teacher that much - Belphie calls after you.
"You're still fully clothed." He's pouting at you, reproachful. You can see why his older brothers indulge him so much.
"You're not in a position to make requests right now," you reply.
You settle in. It's going to be a long night.
***
You chose right. Belphie groans and grits his teeth while he sinks onto the plastic cock. But he's not in obvious pain, his cock remains standing upright, and he begins rolling his hips soon after.
You glance between him, your timer, and your homework. Belphie is clever. He knows you're planning on leaving him like this for a while, so he paces himself. Doesn't chase his orgasm, doesn't bounce up and down, instead goes slow and steady, rolling his hips. One of his hands rests on the bed for balance, the other on his knee.
You're wet. Your body, now very used to regular sex, is ready to go. You find yourself hoping Belphie does well tonight, so you can both have what you want.
Because you do want Belphie, despite everything. You know he's no threat to you anymore. You know his body would feel sweet against yours. You imagine him making that flushed, breathless face over you, or under you, or in the mirror while you fuck him from behind.
You have to be careful how your pen moves on the paper, because you do not want to explain any doodles to your teacher.
It's probably a sign that something inside you over the course of the exchange program has been fundamentally altered. That there's even a possibility for the two of you after what he did. That your body could react not with fear, but desire. Is this the cultural exchange Diavolo had been looking for? You doubt it.
Belphie's still going strong after five, ten, fifteen minutes - he's biting his lip, cheeks red, eyes watery, determined. He hasn't come, but his cock is heavy between his legs. His hands white-knuckled, digging indents into the skin on his thigh, pulling the blanket half-off the bed. His pillow lays far away, out of the splash zone.
"You can cum as often as you want," you remind him.
He groans and glares at you. Instead of intimidating, it looks adorably pathetic. Verbal complaints are apparently beyond him. It startles a laugh out of you, which makes him smile for a moment before the first chime goes off at twenty minutes.
You turn it off - and turn down the volume of your DDD. You'd rather the other brothers don't show up, though they're usually good at giving you your privacy.
"Stay there," you order without using the pact. Putting your homework to the side, you walk behind him to find your box of tricks. "I've found the others have a high pain tolerance. I wonder how you'll go, as the seventh-born?"
"I'm -ngh- I'm still an Avatar," he moans. He's shaking. Eyes slipping closed. Now, twenty minutes in, he's starting to waver. He's lasted for longer than you thought, but his sin is creeping back in. Time for you to help him out. Wake him up.
"Back straight," is all the warning you give him.
You crack the whip against his back.
He folds over himself. It's a mistake - instantly, the toy is forced deeper, striking all new angles, and he cums. painting the towel in white. A red welt rises on his back - you've learned a lot about how to wield this thing right.
You give him a moment. "Back up, Belphegor."
He struggles to pull himself upright once more. You can't see his face, but you can see the tension in his muscles, and you can just spy his still hard cock, barely softened.
The whip splits the air again, meeting his skin with a sharp crack.
He responds better, only a small jump. Belphie chokes down his noises at first, but he quickly gives this up after a few more. You draw a latticework of red raised lines on his back, watching his muscles twitch, his shoulders heave, his ass bounce. You don't bother to count. That's not what this is about.
You keep going until your arm is sore, and then keep going after that. You go until Belphie cums again, with a hoarse cry, and you wait until he manages to push himself back up before striking him more.
You can't remember ever letting yourself be this vicious. Not holding back your anger, your strength, your desire to hurt. It makes you want to do worse.
You keep going until you're both breathing hard, until you physically cannot hold the whip anymore. You drop it to the floor, watch as Belphie flinches at the sound.
"Colour," you say between heavy breaths.
"G-g-" Belphie takes a deep breath, curled in on himself. It must hurt too much to sit up straight. "Green."
You walk by him back to your desk, ruffling his hair as you pass. "I hope," you breathe, "that woke you up a bit."
"F-f..." You raise an eyebrow, and Belphie trails off.
"I didn't say stop."
Belphie's hips stutter into motion again. His movements are jerky, painful, and it takes him another few minutes until he gets into stride again. You start your reading, unable to hold a pen until your arm recovers from the workout you just gave it. Your view now gives you no hint of the mess you left on his back - only a hint of redness around his shoulders, and cum splattered on the towel in front of him.
"I'm going to be good," Belphie mutters, and you're not sure if he's talking to you or himself.
***
You let him go slow for the next ten minutes. Demons heal fast, which is part of the reason you were willing to go so far - further than you ever could've gone with a human. That, and the satisfaction of seeing those marks on him and knowing you put them there.
"I've learned a lot about myself here," you muse, putting your textbook to the side. Kinks you'd have never had the opportunity to try. Experiences you never would've had. Survived things you never imagined you could've - including, as it turned out, your own death.
"Like that you're a sadist?" Belphie asks dryly. His hips stutter, still sensitive, but he does seem more aware. It seems he's recovered enough to talk back.
"Not hearing that from you," you say shortly, "and besides, I'm surrounded by masochists."
Belphie snorts. He doesn't argue because you both know he doesn't have a leg to stand on. It's quiet for a while.
Then, "How long h-has it been?"
His hips drop mid-sentence, a gasp interrupting his words. He struggles up again.
You glance at the time. It's been almost an hour, counting the whipping, but you have no desire to tell him that. You do, however, stand and grab a couple of pillows off the bed.
"Up," you tell him. Belphie stares at you blankly for a second before raising his hips, hissing through his teeth. You notice, as you kneel in front of him, that he hasn't fully lifted off the toy. The effort is making his legs shake.
"I'm not trying to trick you, Belphegor," you say. You tap one of his knees. "Lift."
He raises one knee. You shove a pillow beneath it. You repeat the process on the other side.
"...I don't get it," Belphie says. He settles down, sighing as the toy enters him fully again. With the pillows he can lower himself down both more comfortably and further without much effort - when his hips start to move, they roll with a new smooth motion that flows up his stomach, to his chest, his arms steadying him against the ground.
"This isn't about hurting you, Belphie." You stand over him. You wonder how you looked to him when he threw you down the stairs. When he dropped you after crushing your ribs. "This is about you proving yourself."
Belphie doesn't look like he believes you. Fair enough - you did whip his back into a maze of red lines, even though they've faded by now. Demonic healing strikes again.
"I can be good," he says. He arches his back, as if that will show you how sincere he is. Belphie's nipples are painfully hard, begging for you to play with them. You don't. Not yet.
You lean over him, one hand cupping his cheek. "It's not about taming you, either, Belphegor." You press your thumb into his mouth to shut him up, and to see if he'll bite. He doesn't, starts to suck instead - a mistake on your part, maybe, because his eyes instantly go half-lidded, sleepy.
You pull your thumb away, wipe Belphie's spit on his cheek. He scowls at you and wipes it off.
"This may be surprising, but even though you were full of shit, I did like you back then."
Belphie freezes. You nudge his knee with your foot. You didn't tell him to stop.
"You're funny, even though I don't think you mean to be half the time. You're cute, too, though part of that is definitely you playing it up." Belphie stares at you, eyes no longer in danger of slipping shut. They look shiny all of a sudden, wet. His cock twitches.
"I even liked that you were sort of a jerk. If that was a hard no, I wouldn't have fucked most of your brothers."
"You..." Belphie groans. He's close again. His hair is starting to stick to his forehead.
"Are you cold?" you ask, watching sweat cool on his skin.
"I don't get you," Belphie groans, shakes his head. His movements take on a faster, more frantic pace. "If this isn't a punishment, then..."
"I said this wasn't about hurting you." Belphie hasn't earned you touching his cock yet - not even by stepping on it - but you can't resist pinching a nipple meanly, your other hand fisting into his hair and forcing him to meet your eyes. "I didn't say it wasn't a punishment."
Belphie cums again with a gasp, looking straight into your eyes. He's pretty. Soft lips inviting you to stick your fingers in again, make him choke. Sunset eyes pleading with you for more touch.
"You might want to pace yourself, Belphie," you say, releasing him. You turn back to your desk. "We could be here for a while."
"You..." He catches his breath. "You called me Belphie again."
You don't reply, and you don't look back.
***
Belphie is starting to get a glassy look in his eyes.
Sometimes he looks more like he's dozing, only habit driving his hips forward. At some point in the last thirty minutes he came again, cum now dribbling down his thighs. He has made no attempt to wipe it off.
Sometimes, though. Sometimes he gets that distant look that tells you he is here, but not quite here. So focused on obedience that he's forgotten about anything else - including his pleasure. including himself.
Belphie returns to himself with a gasp when your phone chimes again.
You stare into your box of toys. You put one thing to the side for later, but keep it out of Belphie's view.
"How are you feeling, Belphie?" you ask him. He looks at you, no longer wary, just curious.
"Good," he says quickly, then thinks about it longer. He wipes drool from his chin and clears his throat. "My knees hurt less, but my hips hurt real bad. And I'm getting sleepy again. I don't want to fall asleep, though."
You are honestly impressed he can be so articulate after bouncing on a plastic cock for so long. The pleasure must have become secondary to discomfort by now. You're not sure how coherent you would be after almost 90 minutes.
You take his words into account when choosing your next move. You decide on two things now. Your patience might be an issue here - denying Belphie while keeping an eye on him means denying yourself, too, because he hasn't earned watching you get off. Belphie is working on it, though. He hasn't complained much.
"You're a good boy for being honest, Belphie," you tell him. He can't properly see what's in your hands, but he tenses nonetheless as you approach. "If you need to stand up and stretch, you can."
Belphie thinks about it but shakes his head. "Still a demon. Not doing any damage yet. Have to tell you if it would."
You accept his judgement, because he's right. But just to check, you ask, "Colour?"
"...Green," Belphie replies, but there's some hesitation.
You kneel to his level, nudging the towel to fold over so you're not just sitting in dried cum. Belphie sways forward, towards you, but stops himself.
"I want to help you stay awake," you tell him. Belphie is smart enough to tense a bit. The look in his eyes isn't fear. "If I make something else hurt, would that push you to yellow or red?"
"No." His answer is so quick and sincere you laugh, and he smiles again. "Pain isn't a problem."
"If you keep being such a masochistic brat, I'm going to have to think about more creative punishments," you tease, but Belphie's eyes widen.
"You mean we can do this again?" Belphie asks, all faux innocent hope.
You lean forward. Smile gently. "We'll see."
You let the clamp bite down on his nipple.
Belphie cries out, chokes, throws his head so far back you think he might topple over. A small dribble escapes his mouth as he tries to catch his breath.
You've never used them before, although Asmo had mentioned them a few times. In truth, the angry-looking steel teeth had you wincing in sympathy pain. It seems even a demon's higher tolerance wasn't enough to ignore hard steel biting into delicate, sensitive flesh.
Belphie gasps again as you touch him, one arm wrapping around his back to keep him in place. He is disbelieving, unable to comprehend what you're about to do even as he watches you begin to do it.
Your mouth latches on to his other nipple. He bucks, moans, presses his chest forward, into your body, into your mouth. You suck and lick and nip until it's wet and hard and-
And he cums, weakly, into your lap. You're pretty sure the pants you're currently wearing were originally Levi's, so probably not the first time they've been cum-stained. You can't really blame Belphie for it. You put yourself in the line of fire, after all.
It still feels like a punishment to him when your mouth leaves his nipple with a pop and the second clamp comes in to replace it.
He screams, curses, voice hoarse as his cock bounces in the air, his body spasming. You keep your hand on his hip, steadying him, grounding him, making sure he doesn't collapse to the floor.
You look into his eyes as he takes quick breaths through his mouth. His breathing slows, deepens, as he adjusts to the pain in his chest. You can feel the pounding of his heart. You're not sure if it's through the bond or through your hand. His breath hitches in time with each beat.
You do not understand the look he gives you. It's not one you ever saw in the attic.
"Is that better? Are you more awake, Belphie?" you ask.
"Yes, Master." You've never heard his voice sound like that, either. The way his mouth curls around the title makes your heart beat fast. Makes you want to push him down right now and enjoy yourself.
You deny the both of you for a little longer though.
"Good boy," you say, and that face you recognise - not on Belphie, but from all your other demons, the hazy look they get when you praise them. "You said your hips hurt too, right? I'll help you a little bit, but you'll still have to sit up."
You take the remote you hid in your pocket and switch it on.
The base vibrates to life.
Belphie's reaction is... everything.
He bucks, tries to arch his back, but that tugs on the clamps. He tries to hunch over, relieve the pressure on his chest, but that forces him further down on the toy that is now vibrating along with the base. Belphie twitches, hands gripping the sheets of the bed next to him, looking for a position that's less pain, less pleasure, less feeling.
He doesn't find one.
"There. Now you won't have to ride it. You can relax a little. Does that help, Belphie?"
"Y-y-y-" He chokes, bouncing involuntarily - hips up to try and escape the pleasure, collapsing back down in exhaustion. "Yes, Master! Thank you, Master!"
"...Colour?" you ask him.
He hesitates. You feel the pact flare lightly, and you reach for the remote the same time the word is forced out of him: "Yellow."
You turn the vibrations off. "What's going too far?"
"Strong." Belphie blinks, trying to force the feelings he experienced into coherent thoughts. "The vibrations were strong, and they went through the clamps, and it was too much."
You nod. "I am going to turn them on weaker. Let me know if that helps, or if it's still too much."
You pause with your finger over the button. Belphie is blatantly staring at you, brows drawn together in confusions.
"Yes?" you prompt.
To your horror, Belphie's eyes go shiny and wet. His body is shaking from exertion. You've pushed him tonight - pushed him beyond anything you've tried before - and for the first time you're faced with the possibility you may have pushed one of your demons too far.
"Why?" Belphie snaps. Hunched over, naked, he looks like a cornered animal.
"Why are we doing this?"
"Why are you being nice?" he snarls, and then his shoulders hunch further, shying away from you. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't mean to talk back, Master."
"Belphie," you prompt, gently. "Normally I would punish talking back. But right now, I need to know what's going on. Why do you think this is me being nice?"
Tears start to spill over, making tracks down his already red cheeks. "I don't understand. You said this wasn't revenge but what else could you want? Anyone - demon, human, whatever - would want revenge after what I did to you. I said sorry but what the hell is that worth?" You don't disagree with him. He's got a point, after all. "I thought if I let you do what you want you might feel like you've gotten even, but I have to follow your order and tell you when it's too much, which means you can't take everything out on me! I don't know what you want from me!"
You reach out, and Belphie holds very still as your hand covers his cheek, wiping away tears. "You're right, Belphie. Sorry wasn't enough."
He tries to pull away but you grip his chin.
"What you did was unforgivable. Beyond cruel. But I'm not looking for revenge, because revenge would be exhausting. Revenge would be hard work for me and painful for Beel and I don't think it would actually make you feel better. I don't think it would even make me feel better."
It's not like you hadn't thought about it. Hurting Belphie had been a fantasy for a while. But with how tough demons were you'd have to cross a lot of lines to hurt him half as much as he'd hurt you. Or involve his brothers, which you never wanted to do.
"So instead, we're going to try and start fresh." Finally, Belphie looks back at you. His eyes are still wet, still confused, but he's smart, your demon. He's starting to get it. "In the attic, I was your lifeline to the outside world, and you were a manipulative bastard. Now, on the outside, you're my demon, and I'm your master. Tonight is about making those roles clear."
"You're my master," Belphie repeats, nodding. You raise an eyebrow, waiting. "And I'm... your demon?"
You pick up his cow-print pillow, left on the bed. "You don't rip apart your things, do you? Not the important ones, anyway. I'm going to play with you, because you're my demon. I'm going to use you, because you're my demon. I'm going to hurt you, because we both enjoy it."
Belphie snorts.
"But I'm not going to break you, Belphie," you say, voice soft, caressing his cheek, brushing back his hair.
"Not unless you give me another reason to."
Silence falls in the attic.
After a time, Belphie whispers, "I want to keep going."
***
When your phone goes off next, you decide it's the final time.
You gave Belphie permission to fully lean against the bed, his arms pillowed against the mattress. He is awake, but his body is mostly relaxed. Only his shoulders are tense, upper back rounding to avoid the clamps from brushing against anything.
"Belphie," you begin gently, "I think this is going to feel very odd."
You pinch open one clamp, prompting a shudder and a groan. His nipple is puffy, red, angry, painful. You blow on it lightly and he hisses.
The other one comes off and Belphie collapses fully against the mattress, a gasp of pain when his sensitive nipples hit the fabric. He quickly straightens up enough to lean away.
You turn the vibrations off. "On the bed, Belphie," you order, keeping your voice gentle. You know he'll be a good boy and listen. "Do you want to keep your toy in for now?"
He shakes his head.
You help him up on shaky legs, let him flop onto the bed. He crawls up onto the pillows, propping himself up even as his whole body melts into the mattress. Including, unfortunately for you, his cock. Next time you try something like this, you'll have to keep that in mind in case you want to ride him later.
For now, you pick up one of the clean toys still in your box, throw off your pants, and settle on his stomach. You're so wet - and the toy so within your limits - that you don't worry about lube. You use Belphie as a pillow, supporting your hips as you ride the toy against him, feeling his muscles tense beneath you.
Belphie grumbles. "You could've ordered me hard again."
"I told you there would only be one order today," you remind him. Your breath only hitches lightly - you're in no rush, aiming for a slow, sweet orgasm rather than moving your hips at a desperate pace. "Don't worry, Belphie. You'll have plenty of chances to fuck me later."
He fumbles with the buttons on your shirt - you didn't bother taking it off, and he can't be bothered to reach up further, so he just rests his hands on your bare stomach, fingers brushing across your skin.
"Love you, Master," Belphie says, all quiet, as if someone might overhear you. "Love being yours."
You tip over the edge with a sigh. Your orgasm rolls through you slowly. You'd been waiting on it most of the night, but it still doesn't feel as good as whipping Belphie did.
There is still a bit of work to do. You get wet wipes for yourself and Belphie. Mostly Belphie, whose thighs are streaked with cum, and whose stomach is covered in your wetness. You're pretty proud about your ability to think ahead and pack wipes as well. You like to think you're getting good at this.
You prompt Belphie to sit up a bit, check his back. The angry red lines have faded into a pale pink, and he doesn't wince when you press against them. You force his pyjama pants back on him, because you have RAD tomorrow, and you don't want to risk temptation making you late in the morning.
Now, you rearrange yourself and Belphie under the covers, cuddle up nice and warm. Almost immediately Belphie attaches himself to your chest, mouthing at your nipple. It seems the twins share an oral fixation.
Exams are soon. The year is coming to an end. You'll have to return to your humdrum human life in barely over a month. And a much less active sex life.
Still, you've long since accepted the relationships you've made here will be for the long haul. Not just because of the pacts, either. Mammon, Levi, Beel, Asmo, Satan, and now Belphie - all have shown you a level of devotion you can't imagine from a human partner. That would be undesirable, repulsive in a human partner. They're yours, and you're theirs - their human, and their master.
For six of the seven brothers, anyway. As Belphie's warmth draws you into sleep, you think about the final brother. And you think about revenge.
summary :: pepe has been away for almost 3 weeks and he's never been needier. but you're sleeping so peacefully, thank god you agreed to be able to use each other whenever.
f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || OVULATING CELLY!!!
Usually when Pepe comes home, he'll dramatically yell out "I'm home!" for the entire world to hear. But this time, he simply opens the door, drops his bags and goes on a hunt to find you in the shared apartment. His shoulders are sore, his races were awful, and he needed an outlet for this all.
"Cariño," He called out for you. But it fell on deaf ears as he looked inside the bedroom to find you peacefully sleeping.
He feels a wave of softness run over him, simply just from seeing you after so long. It's like you're a drug for him. A smile appears on his lips as he quickly changes into some fresh pajamas. Except his pajamas is just his boxers, so it's not much "changing"
Before he jumps into his bed, he can't help but just stare at you. How you're so peaceful, cute pajamas on, hair all over the pillows. It's always been a joke from his friend group that he's a simp for you, but he truly is. You didn't even do anything and he already has a boner simply from appreciating your beauty.
"Fuck..." He mumbles as he reaches in his boxers, stroking his hard on. He gets on his knees on the bed, using his free hand to caress the small of your back that wasn't covered due to you moving a lot in your sleep. The soft skin touching his hand made him want more, need more.
Thankfully you both agreed before to allow the other to do whatever you want when they're sleeping. And Pepe has never been more grateful for this rule until now. He quickly reached for some lube in the nightstand's drawer, rubbing it all over his dick to make sure it wouldn't hurt.
His dick curves up to touch his stomach, the cold lube touching his belly made him hiss a little. But that didn't matter, as he slowly and gently pulled down your pajama pants and panties. It was like he was teasing himself just from getting a view of your cunt.
As if you would break from a gust of wind, his fingers softly touch your cunt. Rubbing it in circles in a gentle motion. You twitch from the touch, the feeling of the leftover lube from his fingers making you feel cold. But you didn't wake up. Instead, you just moved your body to face away from Pepe.
You facing away on your side, with your thighs touching together, only gave Pepe a better view of you . And also a tighter position to fuck you in. Pepe can't help but chuckle slightly, thinking that it's your body's instinct to get into one of his favorite positions.
He can't hold back anymore, propping both of his arms around your body as he positions his dick at your entrance. And like usual, he slips his tip in. Barely. You're too tight to even take more than the tip.
"Ow," you mumble loudly, blinking your eyes awake. As your eyes piece together the puzzle in front of you, you're met with Pepe sinking his head down into your neck.
"I'm sorry, cariño." He says in a groan as he pushes further into you, making your insides burn from the stretch. "Couldn't help it."
You moan lightly against his shoulder blade. To let him in easier, you move onto your back and slip your leg under his chest, putting you in missionary. Which is actually Pepe's favorite position.
His big frame became 10x times bigger when he was with you. His towering height, slight muscles, and masculinity were all exploded to an extreme level with you. You loved it and so did he.
Even though you feel the sting from him stretching you out, he's still not fully in yet. He had about an inch and a half that he needed to get in you. You moan again, wincing slightly as he begins to coo at you.
He balances his entire weight onto one arm, using his free hand to move the hair out of your face. His fingers caress your cheek and trace your jaw. "It's okay, it's okay" he whispers to you. "I'll wait."
And he kept his word, waiting until you give him a sign that you're ready. But he's not a jerk about it, that's the last thing he wants to be. He's patient and slow. Thrusting in and out so gently, as if you would break. He's loving it, feeling every bit of you wrap around him and each centimeter of him being soaked by you. Kissing all around your neck and lips, making sure you knew how much he loved you.
But for you, this is teasing. You're practically soaking the entire bed by the time he begins to finally pick up his speed. And the only reason he even began to go faster was because you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you aggressively.
"Faster?" He asks, making sure he understands you. You nod, letting a moan slip out from him thrusting in you yet again. "You sure?" A smile creeps onto his lips. Again you nod, knowing exactly what his smirk means.
And he starts. Thrusting in an out at a pace that had the bed frame hitting the wall. He moved one hand to pin both of yours onto the bed. The other hand was busy caressing your boobs and waist. Playing with your nipple and then admiring your curves.
He moved his head down from your neck, now facing your breast. His lips met your breast, sucking on them and twirling your bud with his tongue. All while thrusting in and out of you whilst the other hand was holding your waist. His grip was soft, yet controlling when needed. He halted you whenever you bucked upwards but would quickly loosen his grip to make sure he didn't hurt you.
You moaned out his name, begging to do anything to touch him back. But he didn't let you. Only he wanted to be in control, giving you as much pleasure as possible. "Mm please Pepe," you moaned out as he kept thrusting into you. His harsh pace was a stark contrast from his gentle touches.
"You wanna cum?" He misinterprets you. "Cum then," He mumbles and lets a small groan escape. "Cum, I'll just, agh, I'll keep going."
You shake your head, unable to use words from how much pleasure he was giving you. Even his voice was sending you into a further spiral. "N-No, wanna-" You let out a moan, needing a few seconds to continue your sentence "Touch you, mm, wanna-"
"No" He says instantly, thrusting extra hard into you when he says that. You swear that if you were to look down, you'd see a bulge in your belly from how deep his dick was hitting you. "Jus' be pretty"
And you obeyed him, who are you to not listen to him? He knew you too well. Your body was coming undone, feeling your stomach tighten and your brain get fuzzy. All you could think about was looking at Pepe's eyes while wondering if your bed would break. He knew you were close, going extra hard in his thrusts and even moving his hand to your clit.
He rubbed circles on your clit, making you yelp and cry from the overstimulation. But it was all you needed to finally cum, making your legs wrap tightly around his waist to try and halt him.
Pepe knew you too well, he's a caring man after all. So he quickly moved both hands to go under your back, lifting you up to now be stranding his lap. You thought that having your legs wrapped would stop his thrusting, but the new position made your legs useless. He used his strong arms to grip your hips, forcing you to bounce up and down on him.
"Pepe!" You screamed out, grabbing his shoulders for support as you feel your own cum drip down his dick, being forced back into you.
"You can 'ake it." He groans loudly as he focussing on watching your boobs bounce. "Relax, cariño."
DISCLAIMER: IF YOU READ THE TAGS AND STILL CHOOSE TO READ KNOWING YOU WILL BE TRIGGERED BY THIS FIC, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE. IF YOU ARE AGAINST NONCON FICS THEN BLOCK ME. READ AT YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY. IT IS NOT MY JOB TO PARENT YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION
Diluc, who has you wear exclusively skimpy lingerie around Dawn Winery. This serves two purposes. One: for his eyes. Two: To make sure that you’re always too exposed to be able to bear the weather or the gazes of others to possibly escape.
Diluc, who seemingly allows you to sleep in a separate bed but not too rarely, you wake up cocooned in his arms, your head against his chest, his body radiating warmth. His iron grip on you is immovable. He won’t let go of you no matter how much you try to wriggle your way out.
Diluc, who attempts to traditionally court you. With fragrant flowers gifted to you weekly and sweet bits of chocolate fed to you by yours truly, it’s almost like a false sense of normalcy and romance is created in your relationship. You occasionally wake up to a love letter written by him, next to your bed. It usually details his feelings, his hopes for you and might have a small piece of jewelry come with it
Diluc, who attempts to initiate physical affection with you, trying to kiss you gently. When you say no and push him away, he’ll just try again another day. It goes on day after day, with you refusing his attempts to kiss you
He cups your face and slowly leans in near you, only for you to push him away, but this time he doesn’t budge. He wraps his arm around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You try to wriggle and push him off you but he’s too strong and heavy for you to do anything against him. Diluc’s had enough of your rejection. Your eyes widen in fear and panic as his lips roughly press against yours. He holds you firmly as he deepens the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth. It’s big and wet and gross to you. Diluc presses your head and pushes you closer to him. Your tongues and spit are forced to mingle with each other, your saliva mixing into a sloppy mess. He eventually breaks away to take a breath. His eyes staring through you.
After that day, you don’t try to reject him anymore.
Diluc doesn’t take long to try and initiate sex after that. You oblige, even if you really don’t want to. He’ll get what he wants no matter what. If there is no way then he will find or make a way.
His large and bulky body is towering above you, his breath hot against your neck. He roughly sucks at the soft tender flesh, leaving reddish purple marks behind. He nips at the skin on your collarbone and bites occasionally . It’s like a dog in heat has pounced on you. He tears off the thin lingerie from your body and latches onto your nipple. You stifle a moan as he suckles on your nipple and plays with your other using his hand. Unwanted pleasure is forced upon you as electric sparks course through your nerves. He kneads at the soft mound and leaves a hickey in the middle of your chest. You lie beneath him like a ragdoll as you feel your body betray you, your cunt growing wetter and wetter.
He has a hand on your hip as he spreads your folds, revealing the glistening heat in between your legs. You bite down on your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself from moaning out loud when he presses his thumb against your clit, teasing it and playing with your nerves. He swipes his fingertip against your slit, sending chills down your spine, before roughly inserting it into your spongy hole. He thrusts his finger in you as you bite your lip, nearly bleeding, to hold back your mews of pleasure. He inserts another one of his long and thick fingers before curling them in a particularly sensitive spot of yours. You grit your teeth at the forceful pleasure. He thrusts his digits into your wet and spongy cunt, again and again until there are beads of sweat coming down your neck and your lips are too painful to keep biting down on. You’ve arrived at the very edge. With one final curl and with a light pinch of your clit, you’re forced to endure your first orgasm with him. You let out your first moan with him, no different than a signal of surrender.
Diluc lets his cock spring free from his pants. He’s fully erect and so painfully hard. He’s big and thick. His pubic hair is thick and dark red with small curls and a curved vein. Droplets of precum dribble down from the tip.
“It’s not going to fit!” You think to yourself as your eyes widen
He pumps his own cock up and down for a few moments before plunging into you. There isn’t any time for you to adjust to his size and you feel as if you’re going to be split in half. The stretch is excruciating and you feel like you may just tear.
Diluc lets out a breathy moan upon sinking into you. He cups your cheek and wipes away your tears with his thumb. “It’ll feel good soon,” he mumbles out before thrusting into you. It hurts as he mercilessly hammers against you. The sensation is overwhelming, a gross mix of pleasure and pain. He grunts, his breath hot against your skin. You let go and start crying out in both pleasure and pain.
He puts your legs around his neck, allowing for a higher angle and deeper penetration. You cry, tears of pain and overstimulation flood your face. Your moans are uncontrollable and you can’t help but buck your hips upwards as he rams into you. He’s going too deep into your sorry little pussy, it’s overstimulating. The pain, the pleasure, all too much for your stupid little mind to comprehend. You feel a tight knot in your abdomen and you unwillingly orgasm. Diluc orgasms too, white sticky seed being spurted out directly into your fucked hole.
But he’s not done yet. Your eyes widen as he starts to fuck his semen back into your womb. You’re already sensitive and overstimulated from the previous round. How could you survive another? He doesn’t seem to care. His thrusts are sloppier than the previous round. All sense of self control has already been thrown out the window. You’re nothing more than a ragdoll beneath him, moaning and sobbing as you get your guts rearranged. Your already over sensitive pussy is just sucking him back in every time. Your mind is clouded by pleasure and the pain between your legs as your captor brutally fucks you. You’re nothing more than a sex doll at this point. You feel another orgasm incoming and you finish. He finishes again, this time he pulls out and cums all over your tits. You’re too cock drunk to do anything
Just as you think he’s finished, you feel something prod against your hole. “One last time…” he mumbles out.
You already know, it isn’t going to the the last time and you’re in for a long night
