Demonologist AU
Because cohost is mcfucking dying.
Kia/Vice with a side of Rage/Paresse/Fussa
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"What th-- What the fuck is this? Hah, little bitch has done her research this time, huh? You really think these binding rings will hold me for more than an hour?"
"Research and a bit of backup. And an hour is more than plenty of time."
Another voice rings out before he can get a good look at his prey. He whips around and snarls at the unexpected guest. His eyes fall upon stark white hair, piercing green eyes, tattoos of sigils and binding spells burnt into pale skin. Pretty round tits sit just half hidden by a loose black shirt, sharply juxtaposed by the gaunt, angular face sat above them.
A growl draws his eyes away from the demonologist, and now he sees the two at their feet. One, feline in disposition and black in color, has her lips drawn back to display sharp golden fangs framing the ivory of others. Her eyes glow a golden brown, gold claws dig into the wooden floor. A succubus. The other is her opposite, stark white with vivid blue and silver decorating his canine-like form. An incubus. On both are collars, matching the one on their lounging master. Other demons, chained to a mortal.
Said mortal tilts his head back, "He'll be a bit tougher to break."
"Break? Me? Hah! Just because you got two sluts chained up means nothing. I will not be broken, much less bound, if that's what you think you're going to do." The spines on his back stiffen, extend from his back. Unfortunately, he is so caught in his prideful sneering that he doesn't feel the barriers shift, allowing the woman behind him to sneak up... and latch a collar around his throat. He lashes out, spinning around and catching her arm as she flees backwards. He charges the barrier and slams against it, demonic, needle-like teeth gnashing as the scent of her blood curls like a cat against his senses.
Her companion is up, coming over to help her up and apply pressure to the wounds.
His fury is deflated as the metal around his neck begins to heat up, "You better hope you got these sigils right..." He groans low, "You're not getting a second chance." He lifts his claws up to start scratching at it, hoping to ruin any engravings or paintings, but the outside surface is smooth, untouched. He shouts his frustration, now trying to claw at the inside of the collar without slitting his own throat. The sigils were engraved on the inside.
"Clever bitch." He breaks the decorative o-ring on the front. He twists the hinges, but they don't yield. The warmth continues to build. It doesn't burn, though. He huffs and turns to glare at them, his eyes meeting that of the two other demons, now lounged between the barriers and the mortals. He laughs, "Fine, you wanna fuck? I'll put a baby in you if that's what you want. I'll even let you keep this thing on me while I do it. After that, we go our own separate ways and we forget this whole little 'soul' deal, hm?"
He's met with silence. Neither mortal moves. He hears a snicker from the gold demon.
"Bargaining already? I thought you weren't going to be easy to break."
Infernal tongue hisses along his senses. The silver demon skitters away from the barrier with a laugh not unlike a hyena when he charges the barrier again. It holds steady, however.
"Well, you saved me the trouble of cutting my palm open." His prey speaks at last. He whips his head around to face her, finally taking her in. Her companion seems to have helped her chose her outfit, ritualistic embellishments on her dress saying such absolutely wicked things she couldn't have known, symbols meaning such lewd things no human would repeat them. He licks his teeth as he watches her press blood into a groove on her necklace. The collar grows warmer. It still doesn't burn.
Oh, it feels good. He knows what these sigils are for. Ancient ones, meant to fold a demon into the service of a human. Sigils taught to man by angels to assist them in an ancient holy war. These were meant for demons of lust. Each set of sigils were carved to give the gratification of different sins, each to lure different demons to serve. He was no lesser demon, though, he could resist this. He was not bound to one sin, one carnal pleasure.
He indulged himself in wrath instead. He clawed at the barriers, lashed out with insults towards the mortals, the demon slaves at their feet. He hesitated when he heard mumbling. His eyes focused on the grey-green of the woman he'd preyed upon as she stood a mere inch from the barrier. Infernal whisperings that urged the blood in her jewelry to dance along the ritualistic engravings. His golden-green eyes followed hers as she paced around. He watched her lips move, felt his body warm under her gaze.
"...you don't even know what you're saying, do you? Do you know what filth you're promising? What each hiss in the back of your throat means?" His voice is weaker than he wants it to be. How long has it been since she started? He turns and his knees threaten to buckle, "You can't possibly keep your end of this binding..."
She smiles, but keeps mumbling. Never once faltering, no matter how he distracted her. He growls and slams his shoulder against the barrier. A voice rose up, in time with her mumblings. The gold demon speaks with her sandpaper-rough tongue.
"I will bind your broken soul with mine. You will be at my command. I will stoke the fires of hell in your gut. I will use them for my own. You will not fight." The caged demon roars at her, "You will take nothing of mine. I will use your body as a tool. As a toy. As I please."
The silver one grins, the flash of lightning between his fangs.
"Your cock, your cunt, your mouth, your ass, your hands, you are but a weapon for my battles." Her tongue trips up. She cannot speak the next lines as her master hooks a finger in the rings of her own collar. One so ornately decorated and lovingly carved.
"She knows what she's saying." The low, tempered voice of the demonologist purrs, "There is no end for her to keep. This isn't a deal, and you know it." The succubus whimpers softly as her master starts mouthing at her neck, pulling her into their lap.
His name, his name comes from the mouth of the one he'd once intended to enslave himself and his knees give out beneath him at last. Her hands come through the barrier and cup his face. Even though he wants nothing more than to bite her hands off, he can't move. He's numbed from the words, her touch the only thing he can feel by comparison.
In infernal, she declares, "You. Are. Mine."
And he is. He doesn't know how many times she had to repeat the ritual. He should have paid closer attention. He should have been trying to distract more than just lash out. He never was good with words. He presses his palms to the barrier, panting softly.
"...Paresse, is it...?"
"It is. He would have eaten one of your hands if it wasn't nearly done."
Nearly. It isn't complete yet... He wants it to be complete. He wants her to make him hers. He presses up against the barrier, pressing into her hands, whimpering. She smiles at him and steps closer, entering the circle, and he moves back to let her. She pushed him with just the smallest amount of force and he understands her desire. He lays flat on his back, eyes wide and watching her. He can see the amazement on his mistress's face. All the things he had done her, and now he was pliant beneath her.
His tail lashed with need. His hips buck a little as she straddles his hips.
He hears a moan from across the room. No doubt the other human indulging in their own servants. But he only has eyes for her.
"Please..." He whispers, slit pupils blown wide. His golden-green irises only thin rings now. He takes in every detail of her, every pore, every little drop of sweat from her brow, every little crack in her lips. His heart thuds as she descends upon him. He wonders if this is how mortals he's fucked have felt about him. But only briefly. The very floor beneath him, concrete and rough, doesn't even concern him anymore.
His world is filled with her. Nothing else matters.
