You sometimes forget how strong demons really are. You never thought of them as your equal from the start, because you are only a human, a fragile one at that. You know you can get hurt easily, crushed by things they would barely notice, even if you try your best to protect yourself. Most of the time, they are careful, but there are moments when they forget that your body is not made to handle their strength.
One time, you were talking with Diavolo, standing close as he laughed loudly at something you said. He laughed so hard that his stomach hurt, and without thinking, he gave you a friendly pat on the back.
It sent you straight to the ground. You hit the floor before you even realized what happened. Diavolo froze, then panicked, immediately apologizing over and over, fussing over you with so much guilt that he completely forgot for a moment that his strength was never normal to begin with.
Another time, Belphie was asleep with his head on your lap. You were relaxed, gently playing with his hair, until he shifted in his sleep and his demon tail suddenly slapped your face.
Mammon, who was right beside you, immediately shouted at Belphie for hurting you. Later, when you checked, there was a bruise forming on your cheek. You didn’t even expect it to bruise.
You and Levi were late for a convention, and he grabbed your arm and started running, panic pushing him forward as he dragged you along. It was only later that you noticed the marks on your arm, dark and sore from how tightly he held you. None of them ever meant to hurt you, but moments like these reminded you again and again that you are human, and they are demons.
You ended up scolding them again and command them to not touch you for a week because there are bruises everywhere, you need to let it heal somehow or else people gonna assume the worse.
he hadn't been the same ever since you made him try a period cramp simulator a month ago.
it all unfolded during one ordinary morning— until it ended up being anything but ordinary— when you presented the device to him like an ancient relic uncovered from the deepest depths of the earth, all while saying something along the lines of, “it's a social experiment. a precious opportunity to strengthen our bond and explore the art of empathy."
him, being the ever-dutiful husband, naturally found himself agreeing to try it.
long story short, it humbled him deeply.
you thought he was already attentive during your cycle. which, to be truthful, he was. but now? you realised that you were wrong. very, very wrong.
and now, you were being greeted by your husband's face in the wee hours of the morning through one cracked eye, the mattress dipping with his weight as he stared at you with concern etched into his features.
then came the first inquiry.
“good morning, sweetheart. are you in pain?”
you blinked, groggily sitting up, an ache beginning to form in the deep depths of your system. “oh… i guess so?”
affirming that you were indeed going through that time of the month—courtesy of him having tracked your period— he gave you a solemn nod before standing up, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with a trey in hand.
you squinted. a fully prepared breakfast that looked too beautiful to consume. a heating pad. tea. water. chocolates. painkillers. and… a checklist.
you took a peek.
heating pad prepared. favorite blanket and pillows fluffed up. comfort snacks placed in her favorite bowl within reach. romance dramas queued. sanitary products restocked. chores cleared.
your gaze darted between him and the trey, your mouth closing and opening as your brain scrambled to process the situation.
“here, use this,” he moved forward, fluffing up the pillow you were sleeping on from behind before gently nudging you back, securing the heating pad against your stomach. “there.”
you didn't know which one to do first. shed a few sparkly tears of gratitude or laugh and lung forward and drown him in kisses.
“y-you didn't have to do all that—”
“i wanted to. i must. you can't be saying outrageous things like that.”
he didn't allow you to lift a single finger throughout the day. checked in from time to time to make sure you were okay, brought you whatever you asked for, gave you a message even though you didn't ask for it, dropped everything to cook for you, and came in with tissues, perfectly brewed tea with your exact preferences, vitamins and an even fluffier blanket when you sneezed once. at some point, he asked if you would like him to carry you around the house—even the bathroom, by the way— because “why waste your energy when I'm here?”
by evening, you were lounging like the queen you are, surrounded by all the things needed to make your period session bearable and one prepared-and ready-to pamper-to-the-max husband.
you paused the drama you were watching, yanking him down towards you from where you were curled up on the couch, his warmth immediately wrapping around you.
his hand instinctively found your waist, the other braced beside your hip. “hey— what's up?”
you grinned, lifting yourself just a little to place a featherlight kiss against his jaw. “baby, thank you. i'm fine now. why don't you relax with me?”
he hesitated for a moment, although his hands betrayed him by tightening around your waist just a fraction.
“are you sure? what if—”
“no buts. i demand cuddles. right now.”
he chuckled, the sound coming out breathier than intended as he settled down beside you before pulling you on top of him, securing you against his chest, his fingers already gently combing through your hair. you sighed contently, nuzzling deeper, all while his heart nearly gave out at the gesture.
after a moment, he spoke.
“if you ever need anything, just tell me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple.
“then stay here. with me.”
you didn't have to repeat that. and you never had to doubt the royalty treatment coming up every month. although he'd still make sure to treat you like a queen outside of that month, too.
he's the avatar of pride, he wants to claim what's his as his
it's not even sexual sometimes, the time he spends marking you up much deeper and more intimate
sometimes he gets embarrassed when his brothers or Diavolo point out the dark spots all over your neck, sometimes he gets smug; it depends on his mood and who's teasing him
feels at ease whenever you show them off
receiving:
nowhere visible
he has a reputation to uphold after all
he does let you mark him if you want to, though
enjoys that you want to claim his body as yours
usually happens during sex/foreplay and he finds it very endearing
sometimes just looks at them in the mirror and feels loved
Mammon:
giving:
it just happens
wherever his lips are, hickeys are bound to happen
he's so greedy, he can't get enough and his lips translate that desperation into beautifully crimson marks on your skin
he fucking loves looking at them, feeling proud and accomplished and shy because he barely remembers making them
doesn't mind any teasing about them on you
receiving:
not the biggest fan but he just can't say no to you
so shy and red and embarrassed when you mark him up
he loves the way they look on him and sometimes finds himself tracing them and zoning out
they make him feel loved <3
almost drops dead from embarrassment when someone points them out on him
there is a small part of him that's proud of them though
Leviathan:
giving:
meh
he's way too insecure
constantly asks if he's doing it right and later complains that his hickeys have weird shapes and look off-
he's way way way too in his head about the whole thing
therefore hates when people see the hickeys on you because he believes everyone's judging his... hickey-skills
receiving:
so shy about it and so very squirmy when you mark him
almost passes when you mark his thighs
can not bear to look at them there, instantly and painfully turned on at the reminder of where your lips had previously been
kind of digs the look but doesn't like others pointing it out too much
so he prefers when your marks are someplace he can hide under clothes
Satan:
giving:
usually doesn't mean to mark you, it just happens
he's so into it, so into you, he barely registers the marks blooming along the trail his lips pursue
proud of them when he notices them afterward
kind of teases you about them but wears a small blush himself while doing so
for some reason, your hips are the part of your body that he marks the most
receiving:
craves them sometimes but doesn't know exactly why
doesn't like them too much up on his neck
the lower, the better, actually
likes especially when you take your time really claiming his body
his fav form of foreplay
secretly makes pics of the marks you leave on him and looks at them when he misses you
Asmodeus:
giving:
hickeys are like his fav thing ever
doesn't cover you in them, he thinks that looks tacky
just leaves maybe one or two small ones carefully placed on your neck
they usually don't happen in sexual contexts either, just during make-outs or cuddles
so so so proud of them and loves pointing them out in front of other people
receiving:
very particular with their placements
sometimes asks you to give him one because it matches his outfit
takes several pictures of especially cute hickey arrangements and posts them
will complain if you leave an "unaesthetic" hickey in the heat of the moment
loves loves loves when people point them out
Beelzebub:
giving:
another one where it happens without realizing
his mouth just gets too eager, too ravenous, too hungry sometimes
the type to apologize for them afterward
gets shy when he sees them on you but also can't quite take his eyes off of them
thinks they suit you, but he's not over the top into them
receiving:
indulges you if you really like them
but he doesn't have a particular preference
does enjoy how intimate he feels when you mark him up
thinks they look nice but again, not a necessary accessory
also doesn't mind if people point them out, very casual about it
Belphegor:
giving:
honestly too tiresome
tries it once or twice but quickly realizes they're not worth the trouble
likes how they look on you and places them on very obvious spots
proud when people point them out
might get over his laziness when he feels particularly jealous/possessive
receiving:
doesn't have a certain opinion on it
finds it slightly soothing when you take your time marking his body
doesn't enjoy it as foreplay too much, he's too impatient for that
it's better as a casual act of intimacy or as a part of aftercare affection
couldn't care less if others see them but enjoys looking at them himself
A/N: mmmm I love Obey Me, I wish I could write about it more! Thanks for the request! ❤︎ ya!
Lucifer ⌕
Normally he’s so serious. His chest puffed out and his head held high. But something about watching you squirm under him, hands tied next to your ears and legs draped over his shoulders, makes him go feral.
Barbatos ⌕
While Barbatos is technically on the bottom, looking up at you bouncing on him, he’ll never make you forget that he’s in charge. That subtle look glinting in his eye sends shivers down your spine, but he won’t let you come without any eye contact.
Diavolo ⌕
He’s absolutely crazy about you, despite being so busy. He loves to push your head further down his cock, watching you struggle to take 10 inches of pure, demon dick. Don’t tease him while he has visitors, though, cause he’ll make sure you never leave his office.
Leviathan ⌕
Despite normally being submissive, if you rile him up enough he absolutely destroy you. Pinned down, both cocks sliding in and out of your pussy and ass, while his tail gags you, keeping you quiet enough to not draw any attention.
Satan ⌕
His professional and put together personality is merely a facade, a mask that’s easy to break. Especially if you’re you. Most of the time he’ll lay you across his lap, hand clapping down on your ass repeatedly. Don’t worry, though, you’ll get a reward as soon as you’re good again.
Synopsis: when it comes to you, they truly embody the sin that they are the avatar of.
Content: obey me brothers x fem!reader, semi public sex (Lucifer), oral (male and female receiving), Somnophilia (Belphie), fingering, slight choking (Satan), bit of a dom!reader (Asmo), shower sex (Beel), rough sex, pet names, i'm sorry if I forgot anything else
Lucifer
Befitting his title of the Avatar of Pride, Lucifer takes your pleasure seriously and relishes in the fact that nobody knows your body better than he does. He knows where you’re most sensitive and how to make you squirm. Most importantly, he takes pride in the fact that he can make you become putty with his fingertips.
This was torture. Lucifer knew it but that didn’t deter him from continuing his punishment with the straightest face as he talks with another RAD student. You on the other hand sat under the desk on your knees, out of sight, with his cock in your mouth.
His length twitches as your tongue traces up and down his shaft before the warmth of your mouth envelopes the sensitive head. Your jaw strains to accommodate his size, the masculine smell of him filling your nose. Tears prickle against your eyelashes as your hands rest on his thighs to take him deeper down your throat. You stifle a whimper, trying not to make too much noise so that the other student in the room wouldn’t become aware of such filthy actions going on with the student council vice president.
“Yes of course and what’s the earliest you could return those papers?” Lucifer asks in his usual calm tone. Under the table, his hands weave through your hair. He pulls you down making you gag on his length. You try to stifle your whimper, focusing on relaxing your throat to take him at the pace he set.
You shift uncomfortably, feeling your skin flush hot as you rub your legs together. To make matters worse, Lucifer pressed the sole of his polished dress shoes against your clothed pussy. Your breath hitched, and you can’t help the low whine that you prayed went unheard.
Lucifer pressed his shoe harder, intentionally rubbing against your needy clit. Your hips bucked, and you shamelessly ground against him in search of your release. When would the student leave?! You don’t know how much longer you could remain quiet, and you desperately wanted for you boyfriend to hurry up and fuck you.
Lucifer, though he didn’t show it, was amused by your antsyness. He intentionally dragged the conversation out, just to continue torturing you. But his own patience was wearing thin, and he knew he’d cum soon from the feeling of your mouth around him.
“Very well and can you make sure to run that by Lord Diavolo? Thank you. That will be all then.”
Once the door closed and the both of you were alone, Lucifer removed you from his cock leaving a string a saliva and pre cum. He yanked you to your feet and bent you over the desk, pushing a few of his papers to the floor including the documents that had just been dropped off.
“Such a naughty little thing aren’t you?” Lucifer asks, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. He flicks up your skirt to pull down your panties which were soaked with your slick. He collects your essence on his fingers before bringing them to his mouth to taste. “Tell me, did you get aroused by what was supposed to be a punishment? It wasn’t meant to be enjoyable.”
“L-Lucifer please,” you whimper, fingers curling around the edge of the desk. “Been good for you. Need your cock.”
Lucifer scoffs, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He aligns his cock at your slick entrance, gripping your ass as he eases himself in. He bites his lip to stifle his groan. “Hell,” the demon swears. “I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t think I will last long. You feel like heaven and sin.”
“F-fuck me Lucifer,” you moan out as he presses himself deeper. Lucifer leans over your back, grabbing your chin to pull you into a heated kiss. His hips snap against yours, setting a relentless pace that makes the desk shake. He hisses as your walls convulse around him. Your knees go weak but you feel so deliciously full as Lucifer fucks into you.
“Only you can make me lose my composure like this, y/n.” Lucifer pants. “You should be proud knowing that you have such a powerful demon under your control. Tell me what it is you wish and it shall be my command.”
Mammon
When it comes to you, the Avatar of Greed is greedy in a number of ways. Primarily, he wants you all day every day. Doesn’t matter how. He can never get enough of you, and you often use that fact to your advantage.
“Eyes on me treasure," Mammon instructs. He spreads your legs open around his waist, wedging one finger into your cunt. Then a second is added, scissoring you slowly so that you feel the stretch of his fingers against your gummy walls. You whimper at the penetration. Your hips involuntarily buck against his hand, searching for more relief. Mammon chuckles. "So greedy, aren’t you? You're just sucking my fingers in."
His thumb circles your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You clench around his fingers, body arching off the bed. “Fuck. Mammon please stop teasing me.”
The demon grins. “Whatever you wish, treasure.” With one hand on your hip for leverage, Mammon slowly pulls his fingers out of the warmth of your pussy before fucking them back in hard and deep.
Mammon holds you down by your thighs, keeping you from squirming and pulling away from his touch. His mouth captures yours roughly, swallowing down your moans. He bites down on your lower lip, kissing you with equal urgency and desperation.
His fingers press against your innermost walls making more sinful cries leave your lips, which sound heavenly to Mammon's ears. The squelching sound of your wetness each time he moves his fingers sent heat shooting through his body straight to his cock.
“Fucking hell. Just listen how wet you are for me. You're literally dripping. Don't worry. I'll reward your pretty pussy here soon. Just gotta make sure you're nice and ready for my cock."
Mammon presses right where he knows you to be the most sensitive and you’re coming undone at his touch. Your body bucks, eyes rolling back. Your abdomen tightens as waves of pressure course through your body like electricity leaving your legs trembling. A loud cry leaves your lips, and Mammon swears under his breath. You’re gushing all over his hand. The erotic sight has his cock straining against his pants, and fuck, he wish he had recorded that so he could use to jack off to later.
Licking his fingers clean, Mammon groans in delight at your taste. He wanted, no needed, to taste you more.
"Mammon, please," your soft whimpers pull him back to reality. "Wan' to feel you inside of me." Red dusts Mammon's cheeks before his signature grin spreads across his face.
"If my dear treasure is so needy, how could I possibly refuse." Finally releasing his cock from the confines of his boxers, Mammon could almost sigh in relief. His stiff erection oozes pre from the tip and twitches in his hand as he aligns himself at your entrance.
“Fuck treasure.” Mammon pushes your legs to your chest. You both moan as he eases his cock in. “You’re so damn addicting. I haven’t had my fill of your sweet pussy yet. So indulge my greediness for a bit.”
Leviathan
The third born is very needy, but at the same time, extremely shy about vocalizing his needs. It’s embarrassing, okay! Levi doesn’t like it when others have your attention, especially if it’s one of his brothers. If it were up to him, he’d keep you all to himself.
“S-sorry, but I just needed you so bad,” Leviathan apologizes by kissing your lips, making the quietest of whimpers leave your lips. “Please don’t leave me. Be good for you-“
“I’m not going anywhere, Levi,” you assure. “Okay?”
“Okay,” he exhales shakily.
Levi kisses you again, this time with more urgency. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close as you lay back down into the bed. Levi trails kisses down the side of your neck, leaving love bites in their wake. His wandering hands tug at your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air. You let out a squeak when he bites down on your sensitive nipple. As Levi pressed against you, you could feel his arousal pressing against his pants.
You wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your hips up against his crotch. Levi let out a strangled groan. He presses his face into the crook of your neck to try to muffle the sounds as he ruts back against you.
“Hell. I need to cum so bad. Y/n~please.” Letting out a giggle, you help unbuckle his belt and loosen his trousers that he kicks away. You cup your hand over the bulge in his boxers, giving it a squeeze, grinning at Levi’s reaction. His body shudders, eyes scrunching shut. “Please. Don’t tease me.”
You give his cock a few languid strokes to get him fully hard. He twitched in your hand as you rub your thumb over the sensitive tip, precum beginning to leak out.
"A-ah...f-feels good..." Levi groans. Resting on his elbows, he presses his sweaty forehead against yours. It takes all his strength not to cum right there on the spot. He hikes your leg up around his waist and aligns his cock at your dripping entrance.
Leviathan slowly thrusts in, your wetness causing little resistance. You both groan at the feeling of him stretching you out. Your hips buck upwards, searching for more.
"L-Levi, t-there," you plea.
Levi groaned and picked up the pace. He couldn't get enough of the way you felt around him. The way your gummy walls would convulse with each snap of his hips. Your high pitched and needy moans for him and him alone nearly drove him over the edge.
Leviathan bites against your neck, pressing his cock as deep as he could, claiming every inch of you. “I’m envious of the other guys that hog all you attention,” he muttered. “Only look at me. You’re mine and mine only.”
Satan
Satan also detests when others take too much of your time, especially if it’s his brothers, namely Lucifer. However, rather than beg for attention, Satan punishes you for being a distraction in the first place. His anger sometimes results in a rougher sentence
“Keep quiet,” Satan commands, a sharp edge to his tone. “You wouldn’t want someone to walk in now, would you?”
With tears brimming your lashes, you quickly shake your head no and try to steady your breathing, bite back your moans. You and Satan were in the library. It was after hours, but there was still the possibility someone could walk in to the mortifying sight of Satan sitting on the couch, you on his lap, your underwear pulled down to your ankles and you sitting on his cock.
“Good,” the avatar of wrath said. “Now, tell me the answer to number five.”
You shakily hold up the workbook, trying to figure out the math problem for your homework. But you could hardly focus as your boyfriend shifted you on his lap, intentionally pressing you deeper. “I-it’s B. 43,” you eventually stammer out.
“Good,” Satan approves. “What about the next one?”
“It’s-“ your breath hitches as you feel his fluttering touch on your pussy. The pads of his fingers trace your clit in slow tantalizing circles that make your toes curl. You roll your hips, which Satan promptly stops with his other hand. There was a soft squeeze on your throat in warning.
“Don’t misbehave. Only good students get rewards. Now, tell me the answer.” Satan pinches your clit. You shakily exhale and say the answer. “Good, the next one.”
You were going to lose it. This was torture and you couldn’t tell if Satan was truly getting a kick out of your suffering or not. He wore an indifferent look while waiting for you to answer. But he was so hard. You were stretched full sitting on his engorged cock, the tip of his length rubbing against your walls with each subtle shift. Feeling him wasn’t enough though. You wanted-needed-him to move. However, Satan either had immense self control or was too prideful to break his composure.
“What’s the answer?” He asked again, rather impatiently.
“Tanie~” you whine. “I c-can’t-dunno. Please.” You try again to move your hips to be stopped again. A hand clamps around your throat.
“You’re pushing my patience. I’m not going to reward bad behavior. If you want my cock, then you will have to be good and work for it. I have no problem with leaving you here horny all night. However long it takes to finish your assignment. Now, finish the problem and I may be generous enough to let you take a break.”
You will yourself to focus. After a few excruciating seconds that felt like minutes, you tell Satan the answer, garnering a nod of approval.
“Now, was that so hard?” He taunts. Satan takes the workbook from you and throws it on the nearby table. Before you could gather your bearings, he pulls your legs to your chest. You gasp out as his cock hits deeper than before followed by subsequently rougher and faster thrusts that have you seeing stars.
“W-wait Tanie, fuck! I’m gonna cum,” you cry, keening against him, the coil in your stomach finally snapping. His veiny cock drags across your gummy walls, claiming every inch of you, until he’s cumming thick ropes of white.
Satan holds you close. His chest rises and falls in steady pants. “Let this be a reminder who you belong to. Next time, my wrath may not be so easily quelled.”
Asmodeus
As the avatar of lust, Asmodeus is no stranger in the bedroom. He’s adventurous and kinky. He likes to experiment and change things up from time to time, so you never know what experience you will get, only that it will end with you cumming.
"Come on," Asmodeus coos. “You can be a little rougher you know.” A flush of pink coats his cheeks as you pull on the choker around his throat. But paired with his cheesy grin, you knew he was enjoying whatever pain you inflicted. Not to mention his growing erection you felt from sitting on his lap.
“This isn’t supposed to be enjoyable, Asmo,” you try your best to sound stern.
“Awe but anything I do with you is enjoyable. No matter what it is.” He lets out a strangled moan when you tug the leash again, pulling him closer to you. His hands settle on your hips. Goosebumps prickle across your skin when he runs his fingers up and down your sides over your thighs and to your breast, mapping the shape of your curves and the feel of you. When he gets too handy, touching too close to your already dripping cunt, you yanked the collar to get him to stop.
“Bad, Asmo,” you chide. He whined, more so from frustration than annoyance. “If you want to touch me, then you have to make yourself cum first.”
“But it feels so much better when I cum with you,” Asmo protests. You knew it was just a bratty act, so you reiterated your demands, making him sigh playfully. “Fine. If I must.”
You sit back to watch Asmodeus release his dick from the lingerie he wore. His pretty cock was red at the tip, already weeping beads of pre cum. Cheeks flushed, Asmo begins moving his hand up and down the base of his shaft. His equally pretty moans fill the room, sending electricity through your core.
“Ah fuck feels good,” Asmo whimpers. His own hand didn’t nearly compare to yours but knowing that your watchful, hungry eyes, drunk in his every movement, fueled him to move his hand faster. To push himself over the edge. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m close. Ahh Y/n am I doing good? Being so good just for you.”
Tears prickled along his eyelashes. His abdomen constricted. The pressure of his release nearly boiled over.
“Stop.”
That singular word felt like ice all over him. Asmo’s hand stopped moving on its own, and he nearly cried in protest until you climbed on to his lap, pushing him back against the bed, and sank down on to his cock. You both moaned out as your pussy stretched around him.
“Ahh feels so good,” Asmodeus moans. “You know I can’t hide my most lustful desires around you. Our bodies fit so perfectly together. Don’t you think?”
Beelzebub
Beel's favorite thing to do (besides the obvious eating) is to eat you out. He often doesn't realize how over stimulated he leaves you until you're practically begging for him to stop. As he is the most fit out of all his brothers, his stamina is unmatched, and you best prepare yourself to go several rounds.
Beelzebub pins you up against the shower wall with ease. One of your legs wrap around his broad shoulder, the other held up by his rough palm to give him easy access to pussy. Muttering a low, "thank you for the meal," Beel attaches his mouth to your cunt, beginning to suck and eat you as if it were the last thing he'd get to taste.
"S-shit Beel, slow down!" Your head lulls back against the wall. The room fogs from the steam produced from the shower, and the intense heat of the water intensifies the tension between the two of you. You hips involuntarily buck up, but Beelzebub’s strong hold keeps you pinned and at his mercy.
“Can’t-“He’s messy, slurping at your folds trying not to waste a drop of your precious essence. “Taste too good-“ Beel mumbles, gripping your thighs tighter. As his tongue moves in and out of your folds at a rough pace, he buries his face deeper in between your legs, letting out a low groan. It’s almost as if he’s drunk. Your taste is so addicting he can’t thing of anything else but drinking you down.
“F-fuck Beel cuming,” you cry out. Your hands tangle themselves in Beelzebub’s hair, pulling the strands as you ground against his face. A throaty growl resounds from the back of his throat.
“H-hurts but so good.” Beel could feel the blood and heat racing toward his cock. He’s hard and he knows it, all just from tasting you. His balls ached for release, and his cock stiffened against his abdomen streaking beads of pearling pre cum across his skin.
Beel’s rougher, sucking on your sensitive clit and greedily tasting your sweet, addictive release. You feel your head spin as the overwhelming pleasure overloads your senses. Tears brim your lashes. Your back arches up, pressing yourself firmly against his face as you tug on his hair, making him groan. His cock twitches.
"Fuck, Beel, I'm close!" Your toes curl and the pressure coiling in your stomach snaps. Gasping out your boyfriend’s name, you cum a second time across his face before slumping back against the wall, begging him to give you a break. Reluctantly does he pull away, not before giving your pussy a sloppy kiss.
Beelzebub licks his lips, savoring the taste of you on them. "Sorry y/n, but you know how much of a glutton I am for your pussy. Won't you let me have another taste? I promise to make you feel good."
Belphegor
As the Avatar of Sloth, he often falls asleep during your intimate moments, so he gives you full permission to do whatever you want when he’s asleep. A lot of the times, Belphie thinks he’s dreaming and he won’t even stir until he’s on the brink of cuming
Belphegor dozed off while you were cuddling, making you giggle at how cute he looked, long lashes fluttered shut and comfortably surrounded by a mountain of pillows. You brush his cheek to move some stray hairs and he lets out the prettiest little whimper, but doesn’t rouse from his slumber. A mischievous smile then spreads across your face.
You discard your pajamas, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and pull the covers back. Belphegor stirs slightly from the loss of warmth. You sit on his lap, feeling that he already had a slight erection.
“What are you dreaming about, Belphie?” You coo. You rock your hips across his crotch, moaning softly.
Belphegor lets out a shaky sigh in his sleep, legs subconsciously spreading wider. His cock stiffens within his boxers, slowly stretching the fabric of his pajama pants the harder he becomes from your touch. He stirs slightly in his sleep, mumbling your name.
“Come on Belphie,” you moan. “I know you’re close.”
A gasp leaves the male’s lips. His hands settle on your hips and his eyes groggily flutter open. “Y-y/n-ah! S-shit!” Belphegor whines, hips bucking up in attempts to sheath his clothed cock in your pussy.
When the last bits of drowsiness finally subside, Belphegor sits up quickly. He takes you in, your naked form sitting so daintily on his lap…his lap. Noticing the large wet patch on his crotch, Belphegor’s face slowly turns red.
“S-so I wasn’t dreaming…”
You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. He swallows thickly as you press your breasts against his chest. “Care to tell me what you were dreaming of? Maybe we can make it reality.”
Belphegor grins, but his ears still had a bright red tinge. He then flips your positions so that you’re beneath him. “Well, for starters, we were more like this. And…then, I kissed you like this-“
The demon presses his lips against yours, first starting off gentle and sensual. Belphegor cups your jaw to deepen the kiss. Your run your fingers through his hair, tugging at his roots eliciting a groan.
“W-what’s next Belphie?” You ask breathlessly. Belphegor trailed kisses down your neck and the valley of your breasts. His eyes flickered dangerously with desire.
“I fill you with my cock and fuck you until the sun rises.”
You eagerly help Belphegor remove his pajama bottoms and boxers. He holds his stiff cock, still slick with his earlier release, and aligns himself with your entrance. Kissing you once more, Belphegor sheathes himself with a single thrust, setting a fast pace before you could fully adjust to his size.
“Mmph Belphie wait!” You whimper into the kiss. Belphegor hisses when you bite his lip. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close. The tip of his cock kisses your inner walls making coils of pleasure constrict in your stomach.
Belphegor lets out a groan, his pace faltering slightly. “Fuck, y/n the things you do to me. You awaken something within me that not even the most slothful of demons could ignore. I’ve never wanted anything as bad as you.”
pairings: the brothers/Reader, Diavolo/Reader, Solomon/Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic)
summary: You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain.
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.
“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.”
“A paper cut,” Lucifer repeats with bemusement and skepticism. “You got hurt by a piece of paper,” he says incredulously.
The demon brothers learn a valuable lesson as they grow to include you in their lives: humans are very strange.
word count: 3.3k | ao3 version
warnings: mentions of sickness, medical care, injury.
I know demons are virtually the same as humans canonically, but I’ve always wanted to explore the brothers’ reactions to human things MC does, whether it’s a sneeze or a bruise or getting sick… And, well, here we are.
This won’t be canon compliant. This is set to take place sometime after Episode 15 and all seven brothers are included. The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used**. There’s one bit where they’re stated to wear glasses & another where they had braces and currently wear retainers. But I feel like that’s a pretty easy thing to imagine, so… yeah!
**The reader is referred to with it/its pronouns once in Belphegor's snippet—skip reading it if it bothers you. i use these pronouns so i wrote that mostly for me 🤘
“Darling, what is that ghastly thing?” Asmodeus asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.
“What thing?” you frown. The two of you are sitting in his bedroom, sprawled across his bed as you talk about stupid things. Asmodeus had been ranting about something when his eyes locked on something near you with startling focus.
“This!” he says, pointing at your forearm.
You follow his gaze, finding a spot of slightly discolored skin halfway down your arm. “Oh,” you say, “It’s just a bruise.”
“A bruise?” Asmodeus repeats, his nose scrunched in confusion.
“You know, a bruise,” you repeat. There’s nothing close to comprehension on his face. “...A contusion or whatever?” …Still nothing.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the demon frowns. “And wow, is it unsightly.” Asmodeus remarks, disgust passing over his face before intrigue takes over it. He leans over you, before proceeding to poke at your skin curiously.
“Ow, Asmo—” you hiss, batting his hand away. You don’t put much strength behind the gesture, but Asmodeus goes along with it anyway and removes his hand.
“It hurts?” he then blinks owlishly.
“Yes,” you say, letting your arm fall back to your side.
Asmodeus shakes his head in disbelief. “Humans are so weird.”
It’s late at night and you need to refill your glass of water. You’re tiredly walking out to the kitchen when a sudden noise breaks through the silence.
“Hey.”
You inhale sharply, fear coursing through you until you recognize the familiar voice. “Holy shit, Beel,” you murmur, placing your hand on your chest momentarily and squinting through the darkness. You can only see the general outline of his form. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Beelzebub says. You think he must be frowning now. Again, it’s difficult to tell. “I thought you saw me.”
“Um…” you squint again. “No.”
“Oops,” he says. You hear a light shuffling sound. “Can you see me now?” he asks.
You blink again. “Sort of.”
Suddenly he’s standing right in front of you. You can’t suppress a flinch this time, instinctually leaning backwards.
“Beel, stop that—!” you exclaim, nearly stumbling over yourself.
He sets you straight with a hand on your shoulder, a frown rising on his face. “You can’t see in the dark, then?” Beelzebub hums.
“No,” you sigh. It’s as if he didn’t believe you—like he had to test it for himself to make sure.
“Hmph,” Beelzebub frowns again. Or, at least, it sounds like he’s frowning. “That’s inconvenient.”
“I guess,” you concede.
“What’s wrong with your skin?” Belphegor asks you one morning, when the two of you are relaxing in his room.
“Hm?” you blink, momentarily distracted from looking down at your D.D.D.
“Your skin,” he restates. “Look,” he demands, pointing down at your forearm. You follow the demon’s gaze, only to find goosebumps scattered across your skin.
“Oh, those are just goosebumps,” you answer casually.
“Goose… bumps,” Belphegor repeats, his nose scrunched in evident revulsion.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m not sure why they’re called that, but they show up on your skin if you get too cold.”
“Well, stop being cold,” Belphegor orders, as if you’re inconveniencing him. He probably thinks you are, although it’s entirely out of your control. You hardly have a chance to react before you’re promptly pelted in the face with a sweatshirt. “Here.”
“Oof,” you say, peeling it off the crown of your head and putting it on. “Thanks, Belphie.”
“Shut up,” he murmurs. There’s a hint of pink rising on the back of his neck, as if he’s embarrassed. “Stupid human. Can’t even keep itself warm.” He huffs. You valiantly ignore the remark.
“Why are there teeth in the bathroom?” Levi asks as he enters the room. And wow, what a way to make an entrance. Satan and you look over at Levi from where you’d been reading.
“What?” Satan blinks questioningly, clearly just as confused as you are.
“Teeth,” Levi repeats himself, “in the bathroom.”
How he expects the same exact remark to make more sense, you have no idea. It takes you a few moments to connect the dots, but you do eventually. “Oh!” you exclaim. “Those are just my retainers.”
“Your retainers,” Satan repeats. There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And what do they retain, exactly?” he asks sardonically. You scoff.
“My teeth,” you respond. “Obviously,” you add, if only to combat his sarcasm.
“So… what do you do with them?” Levi asks curiously, tilting his head as he looks at you.
“I wear them every night when I sleep,” you explain. “They’re supposed to prevent my teeth from shifting.”
“Your teeth shift?” Satan exclaims incredulously. “You mean they can move?”
“Um— yes,” you respond. “Human teeth always move, even after a person has braces.”
“What are braces?” Levi demands.
“They’re metal brackets that an orthodontist puts on your teeth when they’re crooked. They guide the teeth into a more neat shape.”
“I’m convinced you just made that up,” Satan says helpfully.
You roll your eyes. “I had braces. But since my teeth can still move, I have to wear the retainers.”
“For how long?” Levi blinks.
“The rest of my life.”
Satan whistles. “That sucks.”
You shrug amicably.
“And I thought normies were weird,” Levi huffs. “But humans are even weirder.”
“Hey, wait: how’d you even see my retainers in the first place?” you realize aloud. “I always keep them in a case… in a drawer.” You wouldn’t just leave them on the counter—that would be pretty unsanitary.
As if caught in a lie, Levi freezes and quickly bolts away. “Gotta go shower, bye—!” he says, slamming the bathroom door shut with more force than necessary.
You stare after him in disbelief, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from your throat.
“He was just curious,” Satan explains with a shrug. “Not that I blame him. Do your teeth truly keep growing?”
“Not growing, necessarily,” you contemplate. “Babies are born with baby teeth. Then, as you get older, you lose your baby teeth as your adult teeth grow in.”
“That’s similar to demons,” Satan confirms.
“Our teeth eventually stop growing, but they can shift and move still,” you clarify.
Satan shakes his head in annoyed disbelief. “Humans are truly an anomaly.”
You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain.
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.
“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.” You squint down at your finger and grit your teeth in annoyance. You’re so concentrated that you don’t know Lucifer’s pensive silence or furrowed brows.
“A….. paper cut,” he restates, a mix of bemusement and concern in his voice.
“You don’t get those?” you ask.
“You got hurt by a piece of paper,” Lucifer says incredulously. Suddenly he’s getting to his feet and striding over to you, taking your hand in his and investigating your fingertip. “Hm. You weren’t joking. How strange.”
He continues to study your skin with a frightening intensity. Your hand is almost shaking in his grip, as you attempt to fight off your restlessness at his proximity. Eventually Lucifer sighs and lets his grip fall away. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah,” you admit. “Paper cuts are just a minor inconvenience… But for whatever reason, they can really hurt sometimes. Feels like your skin is splitting apart.” They really shouldn’t hurt, but they do. One time, you had one that spanned your entire fingertip. This one doesn’t look nearly as bad, fortunately. But it still burns.
“You’re rather breakable,” the Avatar of Pride notes.
“It’s just a paper cut,” you feel the need to say defensively.
“Of course,” Lucifer responds, an indulgent and amused smile on his face. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you roll your eyes, abandoning the argument.
Solomon and you often get stuck accompanying one another to the human realm whenever you need anything. The demon realm is great, but it doesn’t have everything humans need. Besides, sometimes it’s nice to breathe in some fresh air or be among other humans.
Today’s visit has a purpose, though. After a rather unfortunate incident involving Mammon, you, and a chandelier, you find yourself with broken glasses. (Thanks, Mammon.) It’s been roughly a year since you’ve had an eye exam, so it’s about time for another appointment anyways. Unfortunately, the Devildom doesn’t have eye doctors (and you still remember the perplexed look on Levi’s face when you casually asked him one day). That’s how you find yourself in your ophthalmologist’s office in the human realm. Solomon dropped you off with the promise that he’d return the moment you texted, leaving you to slowly waste away in the waiting room.
Fortunately, your name is finally called and you’re able to undergo all of the various examinations. You emerge an hour later with dilated pupils, an updated prescription, and reassurance from the doctor that nothing is amiss. You manage to text Solomon—through slightly blurred vision—and he arrives within five minutes.
You can only hope to slip into the manor unnoticed. But from the very moment you slip through the front doors, Mammon is bounding up to you like an overexcited puppy. He seems moments away from looping an arm around you and dragging you off into some misguided adventure when he locks eyes with you and freezes.
“Whoa, what the hell—?” Mammon exclaims, staring at you intently. “Oi, human, don’t tell me ya got possessed—!” His hands clamp on your shoulders and he starts shaking you roughly.
“Mammon, stop it,” you object, grabbing onto his shoulders and attempting to prevent him from shaking you any harder. He calms down a little, but he still looks confused. “I’m not possessed. I just had an appointment with an eye doctor.”
“Well, how’d they screw up so bad then, huh?” he spits. In another situation, his concern would be touching; but now, it’s mostly just amusing. “Ya look like a shark!”
“It’s just one of the tests,” you explain. “They had to dilate my pupils.”
“Humans are crazy,” Mammon asserts. He’s studying you from far too close—occasionally changing his angle as if it will somehow give him new insight. “You look so freaky.”
“Thanks, Mammon,” you sigh.
“Does it hurt?” he asks. “I bet it does; yer such a baby.” The insult seems to be a cover-up for his concern.
“It doesn’t really hurt,” you reassure him. “It just feels a little strange. The drops really just affect your vision. I can’t focus on things in front of me, and it sort of looks like I’m seeing double.”
“Well, there’s nothing for it but resting your eyes,” Mammon sighs theatrically, looping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s watch the next episode of Destroyman.”
“How is that supposed to help my eyes?” you ask skeptically.
“Hey, I’ve been waiting for ya all day!” Mammon exclaims. “We’re watching the next episode, even if it looks all blurry to you.” The demon is soon yanking you along before you can object.
“There’s the culprit,” Belphegor remarks, looking up at you as you enter the dining room for breakfast. The brothers are staring at you intently.
“Good morning to you too,” you huff, shoving your hands in the pockets of your uniform and taking the empty seat at the table. It’s a bit unusual to see all seven brothers at the table like this, especially so early in the morning. “What’d I do?” you blink cluelessly.
“You don’t remember?” Beel pipes up, blinking at you curiously. He seems to be mid-bite, with some food hanging out of his mouth. Lucifer chides him for table manners and Beel huffs, promptly demolishing the rest of his food.
“You were roaming the halls in the middle of the night like a ghost!” Mammon explains before anyone else can. He sounds particularly energetic this morning. “It was freaky.”
Roaming the halls at night? You don’t remember doing that, which can only mean one thing. “Oh, I was probably just sleepwalking,” you realize aloud.
“Wonders truly never cease,” Lucifer says dryly. “Just how many eccentricities do humans possess?” he muses.
You sigh, remembering all of the strange interactions you’ve had over the past few weeks. “I’m not choosing to do any of this, you know,” you frown. “I can’t control it.” It’s not like you wanted to get a paper cut, or a bruise, or goosebumps. These are just facts of life.
“We know, dear,” Asmo reassures you.
“It’s okay,” Levi says, barely sparing you a glance as he stares down at his plate. “None of these human behaviors are super annoying.” That’s very meaningful coming from Levi of all demons.
“They’re just weird,” Satan supplies helpfully. You roll your eyes at him.
“It seems my brothers were just… worried,” Lucifer explains.
“Hey, you were worried too!” Mammon objects. “You were the one to—” Whatever the Avatar of Greed means to say next promptly fades into obscurity, as Lucifer sends his younger brother a murderous glare to silence him.
“Okay,” you eventually remark, uncomfortable with the sudden tension settling in the room. “Well, sorry to disturb you guys, I guess. Sleepwalking is normal for humans, though.”
“I’m starting to think nothing about humans is normal,” Satan mutters under his breath. Lucifer nods in agreement. You just roll your eyes and pretend not to hear the remark, serving yourself some food and beginning to eat breakfast. Despite the fanfare, it’s nice to know the brothers care about you—even if they don’t show it in very orthodox ways.
“Oh,” a familiar voice says one afternoon. You blink blearily, your dizzy vision momentarily clarifying to reveal Diavolo standing over you. You’re crumpled on the floor, your cheek pressed to the cold hardwood as sweat rolls down the nape of your neck. “I must say, when I heard of your absence, I assumed you ditched classes for the day.”
It’s difficult for you to process what he’s saying; his voice sounds warped. The headmaster just hums. “Are you… all right?” he asks. You can barely manage a weak nod. Diavolo sighs. “Forgive me for the foolish question. You’re clearly not all right. Here, let’s get you up…”
You hardly have the chance to object before the demon is lifting you into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all. He sets you on your bed with deceptive gentleness, before staring at you and frowning.
“I don’t suppose you know what’s happening to you,” Diavolo says.
“I think I’m sick,” you manage to respond. Your voice sounds a little raspy and your airways feel a bit tight. You clear your throat, wincing at the dryness the gesture provokes. You must have a fever, because your body temperature keeps oscillating between frigid cold and searing warmth. Before you can think better of it, you blink dazedly and reach out to grab Diavolo’s hand. “Tell me if I feel warm.”
He’s clearly a bit confused, but he allows you to guide his hand to your temple.
“You’re hot,” he observes after a moment.
“Thanks,” you huff deliriously.
“Your temperature,” he clarifies with a knowing smile, shaking his head. “What does this mean?” Diavolo frowns.
“I have a fever,” you answer. “When a human’s body temperature is too high, it causes sickness.”
“What can be done about it?” he continues.
“Depends,” you reply. “Sometimes it breaks on its own; sometimes you need antibiotics.”
“Antibiotics,” Diavolo repeats, the concept clearly foreign to him. “I can’t say I’m familiar. But it’s clear that you should rest. I’ll watch over you.” Whatever else he says is lost on you, as you close your eyes and surrender to the persistent fatigue burning your eyelids.
You wake several hours later to a room devoid of Diavolo. You’re not exactly surprised that he had to leave—he’s the ruler of the Devildom, after all. He surely has far more important things to do than look after you. You blink away traces of sleep as you look around the room, your vision clarifying to reveal Solomon sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. You blink at him silently.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Solomon says. “How are you feeling?”
“…Fine,” you admit, touching your temple experimentally. Your headache has subsided a little, but your skin still feels a bit warm. At your movement, Solomon pushes himself to his feet and feels your forehead.
“Your temperature’s coming down, finally,” he hums.
“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to ask.
“Diavolo summoned me,” Solomon explains. “Supposedly, he attempted to enlist the help of the brothers, but they proved to be rather useless. They are… woefully uninformed when it comes to humans, after all.”
That’s true. “Thanks,” you remember to say. He didn’t have to come, after all. Just because he’s the only other human, doesn’t mean he’s relegated to nursing you back to health.
“No problem,” Solomon nods sincerely. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the whole arrangement. “It’s nice not to be the only human. Although, I expect around the clock service and care the next time I fall ill.”
You smile tiredly. “Of course,” you agree. It’s a frighteningly easy promise to make.
After your sickness, you notice that the brothers begin to ease up on you a bit. Mammon’s no longer texting you in the middle of the night, demanding that you entertain him; Lucifer doesn’t mind if you occasionally take a day to complete your work remotely at the mansion; Asmo’s physical affection is gentler than normal; Levi doesn’t tease you about being a normie as much; Beelzebub doesn’t ever touch your plate or food; hell, even Belphegor is behaving himself—no longer interfering with your naps or sleep.
One afternoon, Lucifer approaches you in the living room. He greets you before settling on the couch next to you, his posture rigid and proper. “You may have noticed that my brothers…” Lucifer starts, before pausing and shaking his head, “...that we have been acting a bit different than normal.” You nod.
“In the past few weeks—especially in light of your bout of sickness—we realized that we’ve been neglecting you and your health. A demon’s stamina is much stronger than a human’s—we need less sleep; food is more of a luxury than a necessity; our bodies are more resistant to injury… You understand.”
“What I mean to say is…” Lucifer trails off again, an uncharacteristic sign of hesitation from him. He takes a slow breath. “I apologize for the oversight.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him.
“It is not,” Lucifer states firmly. “We have neglected to consider just how difficult this transition must be for you. We—I—didn’t think to ensure your health and safety were priorities.”
“But no more. I’ve spoken to Diavolo and Solomon at length, in addition to doing some elective research, to ensure we are not so unprepared in the future. And, should your accommodations be unsuitable—should anything here be unsuitable—I want you to inform me at once.”
That… sounds a lot more serious than what you were expecting. You blink. “That’s— That’s really not necessary,” you try to say.
“It wasn’t a request,” Lucifer interjects smoothly. It’s a firm but well-meaning statement. “Do you understand?”
You swallow. “Yes.”
“Good.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. “Truthfully, my brothers were very worried for you.” Lucifer pauses for a moment. “I was very worried for you,” he admits.
You’re sure you look surprised now. Lucifer only laughs, before getting to his feet and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You can almost convince yourself that the look in his eyes is unbearably fond. But he’s soon withdrawing, leaving you to wonder if you imagined the entire interaction.
Christmas Head cannons of how the brothers would react to some mistletoe ;)
Content: lots of kissing mwah ( ˘ ³˘)~♥︎
Pairings: Brothers x gn!mc
⋆꙳•❅°⋆❆.ೃ࿔:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°⋆❆.ೃ࿔:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳•❅°⋆❆.ೃ࿔:･
𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗿
When you lean over his desk, mistletoe dangling mischievously between you, he pauses his work. For a second he just blinks at it, at you, before a slow, knowing sigh slips out. “Is this another human tradition?” There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.
After you explain the mistletoe, one brow arches. “If you wanted a kiss, all you needed to do was ask.” Before you can respond, his hand grips your waist and he pulls you into his lap, cradling you against him. He takes the mistletoe from your hand and holds it above your heads with a quiet, smug little hum.
“Very well… I suppose I have a moment to indulge you.” His first kiss is slow and warm, savoring the feeling of your lips pressed against his. But the second kiss is deeper, hungrier, his free hand sliding into your hair as he tilts your head and presses closer. The mistletoe slips from his fingers and drops somewhere on the floor, forgotten the instant his lips part yours fully.
When he finally pulls back, both of you breathless, he murmurs against your ear, “you’ll stay in my room tonight.” A quiet command. “You can show me what other human traditions I should learn.”
𝗠𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻
He’s wobbling on a little step stool outside your door, clumsily trying to tape mistletoe up. The tape sticks to his fingers more than the wall and he's grumbling under his breath.
When you catch him in the act, he jumps so hard the stool shakes, and he falls straight on his ass. "OW OW OW! MC! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
You point at the mistletoe, his face goes red instantly, looking away. "O-okay listen! Solomon was runnin’ his mouth about human holidays, alright? And he said when two people..." He motions towards the mistletoe, voice getting smaller. "You know.. stand under this stupid thing… they’re s’posed to kiss..."
He hides his burning face in his hands. “But it’s not like I wanna kiss ya or nothin’!”
"Mammon—"
"OKAY, FINE! I do wanna kiss ya!" He's standing now, both of you under the mistletoe. His hands hover over your arms as his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, nervous and desperately hopeful. He keeps biting his lip like he’s trying not to die.
You can't help but laugh, cupping his face and pulling his lips down onto yours. The kiss is soft and warm. He freezes, eyes growing wide, before he melts completely, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a shaky groan. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you close.
When you part, his eyes are searching yours. He scoops you up bridal style, kicking the door closed, mistletoe now dangling dangerously close to falling as he caries you to your bed, grinning cheekily. "I’mma need more of those kisses. Way more!”
𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻
You're both curled up together, playing a cute Christmas themed RPG in his room (stardew valley type vibes). Soft music, sparkling snow, watching as your avatars bounce around the winter wonderland.
"OOO I got a new item!" He smiles excitedly, and you both watch as a present pops open with a little Christmas jingle playing. The item was a bundle of Mistletoe, and the description read: Give this item to a player for a festive kiss!
You're both blushing now, and there's a long silence between you as the Christmas jingle loops, the virtual mistletoe sparkling back at you.
"I-I’ll just delete—" He starts, but you cut him off. "Levi." "O-OK!" His hands are trembling as he selects the option and sends the mistletoe to you. Both of you watch as the tiny pixel mistletoe floats between your avatars… and they do a cute quick peck on the lips.
"OMG I JUST KISSED YOU." He drops face first into his pillow, kicking his feet like he’s about to explode. He’s red down to his neck, even a virtual kiss with you is too much for him.
When he lifts his head again, you lean in and kiss him the same way the avatars did. Soft. Quick. Sweet. His mouth is hanging open when you pull back, frozen.
"OMG, NOW YOU JUST KISSED ME!" He's screaming into his pillow now, but there's a smile on his face.
𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗻
Snow clings to both of you as you make your way through the forest, cat treats in hand. When he notices your shoulders tremble, he stops, and slips his jacket around you without hesitation. “I told you to bring a warmer jacket,” he murmurs, but his voice is far too soft to be scolding, brushing a stray snowflake from your hair.
"I’m certain the cat was just over here…” He threads his fingers through yours as he guides you between snow covered branches, unwilling to leave the stray cat he found yesterday in the cold.
There's a faint blush on his cheeks, and he swears it's from the cold. It's not.
You’re scanning the ground for tracks when Satan gently lifts your chin with two fingers. “Hold still.” You blink, confused, until he nods upward. Mistletoe hangs above you, swaying lightly in the cool wind.
He absolutely noticed it first, and absolutely walked you under it on purpose, but his smug smile never quite reaches his eyes, too gentle for that as he leans down.
"May I?" He asks softly, you nod.
He captures your lips in a slow, warm kiss, so different from the cold nipping at your skin. His hands cradle your face gently, thumbs sweeping your cold cheeks like he’s trying to warm them himself.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on yours, and you can see your frosted breath mingling in the chilly air. He looks at you so fondly, leaving another soft kiss on your frosty red nose.
Meow
A tiny orange tabby trudges through the snow toward you, whiskers frosted. Satan’s eyes go wide and a look of genuine delight flashes across his face, he lets out a soft gasp and crouches down immediately. He offers treats, praising the cat like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen, before scooping it carefully into his arms.
Once the cat is safely tucked into his arms, he looks up at you, cheeks red and eyes bright with quiet joy. “Let’s get both of you warm,” he says, voice soft but brimming with excitement. He takes your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, he's smiling like Santa just gave him exactly what he wanted: a cat and you.
𝗔𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘂𝘀
Click, click, click.
You’re holding Asmo’s phone, spam clicking, as he poses in front of the Christmas tree. You’d voluntee— wait no, you were voluntold to take photos for his Devilgram. You figure that if you just kept clicking, at least one, hopefully even three, would turn out good.
“Umm, MC… are you getting my good side?” he pouts, fixing his hair for the tenth time. Click. You shrug.
Eventually he plucks the phone out of your hands with a satisfied hum, smiling. “Okay! One last photo. And this one’s going to be special.” Before you can ask what that means, he whirls you around and places you in front of the tree. Then he disappears, rustling through his bag with far too much enthusiasm.
When he returns, he's setting up a tripod. You stare at it so hard it's truly a Christmas miracle it doesn't burst into flames. He never actually needed you to take photos like he insisted.
His cheeks are dusted a rosy pink as he drops onto the cushion beside you, hiding something behind his back. He reveals a sprig of mistletoe tied with a satin red ribbon and lifts it above your head. The warm hues of the Christmas tree lights glow around both of you, dancing across your skin. Picture perfect.
His free hand tilts your chin up gently, leaning closer.
"Can I?" He asks softly, his lips already brushing yours in quiet question.
You're blushing now, heart thundering in your ears as you nod. His lips meet yours, slow and soft, you hear the faint click, click of the camera capturing everything. His hand glides from your chin, into your hair, pulling you closer.
When you finally part, breathless, he looks a little guilty. “I'm sorry for tricking you, darling,” he murmurs, there's a soft smile on his face. “I just wanted more photos of you… of us.”
He laughs lightly, but the way he’s looking at you is anything but playful. “Don’t worry, though," he brushes his thumb across your lips. "These are just for me. The world doesn’t deserve memories this precious.” And you can't tell if he's taking about your lips or the photos now.
Either way, the way he holds you, like you're the only gift he wanted this year, you know he means it.
𝗕𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘇𝗲𝗯𝘂𝗯
You're sitting on the kitchen counter, mistletoe dangling above your head as you patiently wait for your gentle giant to notice. He's busy stuffing his face with cookies you'd baked, murmuring little thank yous between bites.
It finally took you clearing your throat and pointing upward for him to notice. He freezes mid-bite, half-eaten cookie in hand. He looks at you, then at the mistletoe, then back at you.
"Why is there a plant there?"
You couldn't help but laugh, the sound making pink warm his cheeks.
When you explain the meaning, he practically melts. The cookies lay forgotten as he steps closer, bracing his hands on the counter and caging you in, staring at the mistletoe like it's some kind of trap. Which, to be fair, it is. A very good trap, you think.
"...I've never done this before." He murmurs softly, still staring at mistletoe instead of you.
You smile gently, tilting his head down toward you. When his eyes finally meet yours, he relaxes, pressing his forehead against yours. His nose brushes yours as he leaned in, and the two of you dissolve into nervous laughter as you kiss, breath mingling.
When he looks back at you it's more confident now, warm as he finally leans down fully, lips pressed against yours. Gentle, warm, and sweet. You can taste the chocolate chips on his lips as his hands settle on your hips, sliding you closer. Your hands cup his face just as gently.
When you finally part, his hands slide from your hips into your hair, playing with the strands. "Hmm... I'm hungry.." He murmurs, his eyes don't leave yours as he pushes the plate of cookies away, leaning down to capture your lips again.
Oh, Good luck buddy.
𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿
The sound of flames crackle and pop in the fireplace, the smell of warm ash filling the room. He lays in front of the fireplace, blankets and pillows pulled together like some nest, using the flames like a heater as he naps.
You kneel beside him, brushing stray hairs from his face. He smiles. "Mc…" he murmurs drowsily, eyes fluttering open and they take a moment to adjust to the warmth of the room. He catches your hand, pressing lazy kisses to your fingers.
Then he points above you. Mistletoe, hung just above the fireplace. That absolutely wasn't there when you walked in the room. Before you can even process how he managed it, he's flipping you onto your back, soft pillows and blankets cushioning you. One hand braces beside your head, pressed firmly into the pillow. The other grips your leg, draping it around his waist.
Now you were in his trap.
"Hmm I wonder how that got there..." He murmurs, so smugly. "Only one thing to do now, right..?"
His hand moves to your chin, tilting your face up toward him. He pauses just above your lips, giving you time to push him away. When you don't, when your arms wrap around his neck instead, he smiles before pressing his lips to yours.
His kiss is slow and lazy at first, before growing hungrier. His teeth catch your bottom lip, drawing a soft sound from both of you. When he finally pulls back, he doesn't move away. He buries his face in your neck, leaving breathless kisses against your skin.
"…You're making it hard to stop," he murmurs against your throat, voice rough, like he wasn't the one who started it.
He rolls on his back, pulling you down into the pillows with him. "Stay." He murmurs against your hair, less demanding then usual, and you could hear the soft pleading in his voice. When you settle fully against his chest, unmoving, he relaxes, tracing lazy patterns on your back.
The fire crackles softly, filling the room with warmth. His hand continues tracing lazy patterns on your back, and you can feel him smile against your hair.
Whatever scheme he'd planned with that mistletoe, with the way he's holding you, it worked perfectly.
THE END MWAH!
As always let me know if you enjoyed it! I had so much fun writing this, and not to toot my own horn but I think I ate this up LOL
ALSO REAL TALK: Who are yall picking for the new game? I'm between Mammon and Satan...
