Satan is new to this thing of falling in love and everything gets mixed and messy.
+18,Slow Burn (?) Satan jerks off to the thought of you, Delusion behavior(?), guilty pleasure, sweet and perverted.
(Thinking of making a part two of this....)
Reblogs and comments appreciated! <3
Satan who is a very closed guy. He is too intense, he knows that, he has been called that many, many times. So, on his mind, he would be the last person in his family you would come up to do anything.
But after some months, his opinion started to change when you would vehemently would go to his room with some flimsy excuse. He's not stupid, he knew you wanted something— a pact with him perhaps? Humans are always so greedy—and your bright eyes didn't emphasize him so much...at first.
Satan who would be delighted by your persistence and especially for your genuine curiosity and willingness to learn. The feeling deep inside his guts telling him to make space for you in his own life. Your nightly and daily visits soon went from mere conversations through the crack in the door to tea and deep discussions about all sorts of things: books, movies, comics, and your shared daily life.
Which, unintentionally and without realizing it, would involve you in his routine almost naturally. And again, months later he felt he could discuss his deepests scars, the most impossible scenarios about life, about love, because no judgment emanated from your beautiful vocal cords.
Satan who is actually excited when you bring the idea of a little book club just for the two of you. His mind forming a spiral of all the possible debates and exchanges of ideas that could happen, and where they would happen. He has a pretty long list of cozy places he likes to go when he wants to immerse himself in his daydreams about his own future. Maybe you would like them too.
Satan who loves how you make everything magical. Yes, he knows how to cast spells, curses and everything a normal human can't, but, all of this is nothing when you don't have the hability to bask in the simple. Everything is magical to you because you pay attention to "trivial" things.
You love choosing what scent to wear based on where the book club will happen. You love to share with everyone what little creatures you saw on the RAD garden, and hear their opinion about it. You love experiencing the interests his brothers have, no matter how troublesome it may be or look. You love living in the present, and that washes his soul in a way that he didn't even know it needed to be cleaned.
Satan who starts to seek you out more often than he would like to do. The tip of his fingers in a desperate need to share the same space as you as soon as possible, and he has to swallow his pride and his nonchalant act when he knocks on your door without any true reason to be there, besides wanting to spend time with you.
Satan who feels his mouth go as dry as the desert when he found a letter on his bed. With you initials. A cute little heart besides it. You perfume on the paper. The paper's weight thick enough to be pleasant to the touch, the delicate design making his own heartbeat be all he can hear until he finishes reading it.
The letter was about him. About how you perceived him. Your words were so full of your essence, so deep, caring and somehow philosophical, that he was speechless, in true shock that someone could see so much beauty in a creature like him. A creature born from pride and forged in the raging fires of hell. You saw none of that, even though you admired him for that too, for you, he was simply, Satan. And he felt cared for that.
Satan who's favorite place to go with you is a cat cafe, - cliche, I know - there's something about the way you lose yourself in the sea of fluffly little balls with big eyes that makes his heart clench in his chest. He can feel his face heating up terribly when he bought you a pair of good quality cat ears and you meowed for him.
Satan who loves to act a little extra when it comes to his mannerisms around you. You just made everything so comfortable for him that he feels free to be truly an gentleman. He starts dressing himself more for when you two have a club meeting, he opens every door for you, he pulls out every chair for you to sit, serves you first, and makes sure everything is alright with you before he seeks his own needs.
Satan who knows nothing about romance besides what he reads about. And he reads a lot of it. So he knows the feeling blossoming in his heart is not just the warmth of a friendship. You are just so...present...and caring...and beautiful and amazing, and kind, and-
You bring so many perspectives to matters he already had put an end to it, that it's impossible for him to not think about you 24/7.
Satan who tries to coop with these feeling writing for you. Letters. Or poems. A bunch of them. The firts ones are just an introduction per say. He greets you, asks about your day, says a little bit about his own and finishes saying he is anxiously waiting for your answer. It's shy, but it is sweet.
Satan who's DDD homescreen is a picture of you holding a black kitty with those same cat ears he bought you. Your big smile puffing your cheeks and he stares at the picture for yours on end.
Satan who loves when you mischiviously hold his hand underneath the library table, claiming in a whisper that it's better for your concentration. He chuckles when he senses your eyes so attentively on him, and he can't help but blush deeply. The giggle muffled by your sealed lips, making him hide his face on his book. But his grasp on your hand only tightens.
Satan who is completely obssessed with the way you wore his clothes. His button up shirt a little big on you but doing little to cover your thights. His coat engulfing your figure as you laugh and say that he can be the Watson for your Sherlock. Your smell lingering on the pieces making him insane, his nose sniffling his own clothes frustrating him, 'I look like a creepy, for sure'.
Satan who might burst out of his skin when you give the idea of an sleepover in his room. You are jumping around, asking questions and sharing theories in your little pjs and god, what is happening to him. He who can't focus when you look so pretty in his habitat, surrounded by books and more books, papers, ink and pens. You look like you are his.
Satan who's mind went miles ahead, his tongue tied in a beautiful knot and he has to swallow the lump in his throat when you ask to share the bed with him. His big green eyes looking for some hint that you are joking or pranking him, but he only found an expectant - yet hesitant and shy - expression in your face. You looked amazing under the low orange light of his room and he can only say,
"...O-of course Kitten, do as you please."
"My favorite quote...from my favorite book, hmm...d-don't judge me okay? It might be controversial, but...I think It would be Heathcliff’s desperate plea to the ghost of Catherine in Wuthering Heights."
His eyes sought yours in delightful surprise. His green irises waiting for a better explanation for your choosing.
"Don't look at me like that, okay? I know their relationship was far from healthy, but...sometimes, more often than I would like, my own heart play tricks on me and make me imagine about...h-how would it be to...have someone feel this way about me, you know?"
Yes, yes he knows. Fuck, how he knows.
"I know...this type of behavior is...questionable, but... what if it were a reciprocal and respectable love? It would be something like the muse and the painter, but the muse would also be in love with them...so-something...like that..."
Now it was your eyes that searched for him. His bed feeling like concrete but not more heavy than the silence you were given.
"Forget it. I know it is a weird choice, and I might sound like some crazy dark romance booktok enjoyer who completely distorted the story and forgot that it's not a romance book, but wanted it to be...but I swear I understood the story! And that's why I love the book, I-"
"Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot die without my soul!"
Your monologue was cut short, and you found yourself staring into green orbs that now shone with supernatural intensity. Blond strands of hair framed his pale face like threads of gold woven by God himself, and his next words felt like soft cotton on your skin.
"I understand what your heart is saying. Claiming for a heavy love feels bittersweet, doesn't it? It's a beautiful quote. I wouldn't expect less from you."
The feeling of his skinny and warm fingers caressing your shaky hand underneath the covers was the last thing you felt before you forced yourself to sleep. Face hot and red, heart thumping and mouth dry.
Satan who now feels more confident about what he feels, and the feeling of fullfilment he gets from simply making you blush is imense. He who feels full. Full of love. Full of cuteness. Full of warmth.
Besides being a truly genuine guy and totally interested you, his lust starts to show up uninvited and at the worst times ever. It's honestly impossible for him to not take a glance at your beautiful body or at your pretty lips when you guys are together. He knows it's not wrong, erotism is a part a life, is normal. However, with you it felt different, it felt sacred.
Satan who gets deeply concerned when he starts daydreaming about you. His favorites memories to marinate into his brain are the ones you are in white. You look like an creature made in heaven, and he loves to spiral in the possibility that you two could have been angels in the amazing garden god created.
It always starts with something pure. The image of him chasing you softly throught the trees, the leaves creaking under your feet, the sun graciously blessing your skin and the breezy whispering in his ears makes everything more magical.
The tud his body make when he tackles you both to the ground does nothing when he can hear your - hypothetical - laughter as he tickles your sides. All the fruits and animals being witnesses of the soft moment.
His eyes get numb and he is lost in a paradise it never existed. His own mind playing tricks on him. But he is there, somehow. He is there with you. Caressing your face while he whispers your name countless times, affirming that you are his forever. He can feel it in his fingers. The moment, the scenery, the forbidden feeling of being tempted to have you right there, on the sacred grass of God's home. Everything is alive.
Satan who adores to cuddle with you. Since there's no day light in Devildom, the nigths tend to be much more cold than you have ever experienced. So having your legs on his lap, you two sharing the same blanket while he reads one of his books, is heaven.
Although...he has to hide the gulp he swallows everytime you rub your feet together, your figure too entranced on your own book to notice the pressure you are making on his dick. The lazyness of your movements making him dizzy and the grip on his book gets hard enough to bend the spine of it.
His cheeks getting more flushed by the passing of the seconds and his eyes began to well up with tears. Satan is sure you are aware of what you are doing, but when he looks at you he sees you biting your lip, your pupils going side to side, eating every word like it's your last meal and he has to excuse himself hurriedly. You looked to perfect, too good that if he stayed for even a minute more his pants would have been wet shamessly.
Satan who is lost. He reached a level in his life that he is certain he is under a spell. He feels gross everytime he sees your face. His dick throb in his pants and he can't stand being next to you without wanting to put you in his mouth. It's too much for him. Caring for someone this dearly, having this passion, this fire bubbling inside of his guts.
Satan who starts questioning if his desire for you is healthy or not because he can hear your voice ecchoing in his head when he is alone. His thights starts to burn more often and his eyes shed more and more tears. He is insanely lost in you. his pelvis, the sheets, his shirt...everything covered in cum and he doesn't care that he is acting like a beast. He's delirious with the possibility that you want him too. That you're waiting for him too. In your white angelic robes - or in your cute pjs - with patience and a pure smile, innocently waiting for the sinner that will for sure come to be tamed by you.
Satan who, now, feels like every little thing about you is eletrical. The single touch on his arm when you are passing him in the corridors, the hug you give his waist while you smush your head in his chest, complaining about how hard the test was, the little kiss you gift his bony cheek when he saves you a seat besides him and your pudding from his big hungry brother...everything is so silly, so casual, but affects him deeply. It's almost like a wound he can't close, and he feels like a beast bleeding away from it's hunter, who is getting closer and closer.
Satan who almost got on his knees and begged you to be his forever when you so sweetely asks if he is okay. He's been avoiding you like the plague. His dark circles were deeper than usual, his hair was strangely messy, and the poem you received wasn't delicate as usual, but rather spoke of the agony of loving like a dog waiting for its owner's affection at the end of the day...it was creeping, profound, beautiful and dark, completely different from the things he'd sent you before.
Satan who is stuck in a deep trance, almost hallucinating, lost in his daydreams and he can only feel the way his hand is wet and sticky. His dick hurts and he doesn't know what time is it or for how long he has been beating his meat raw, but he simply can't stop.
His hand caressess his tip - so sensitive that he cross his eyes in pain - and he trembles and whine in his hand, biting hard enough to draw blood. Just the thought of your plush lips on his cheek bone makes his hand squeeze his poor cock again and he sobs in his pillow.
Strangled moans scape from his throat messily with his words. A bunch of :
"Yeaahh, what a dirty kitty- you l-ike that huh?"
Satan who by the end of his session is filled with guilty pleasure. The same hand who caresses your face with an fake casualty, now is dirty with his own feral needs.
Satan who misses every fucking hint you give him, you offered to sleep in his bed for god's sake! He thinks that you at least is a little more infatuated with him than with his brothers, but everything is uncertain and unless he has solid proof that you desire him too, he won't risk losing you. He can't lose this feeling of being complete, even if you aren't with him yet.
But this shame, this profound desire, only distanced him from you. However, you got tired of his hermit behaviour, of him dismissing every conversation and encounter you wanted to have. You got tired of not knowing what is happening. Tired of mixed signals from someone who claimed to be so mature.
You got tired of his avoidance, of his scared cat act whenever you entered the room. What happened to you lovely friend? Your confidant? The demon who understood you more than any other human could have?
Invinting yourself to another slumber party in his room, without consulting him, and without even listening to his excuses about it not being a good time to that, you sat on his bed, - noticing how his room was more messy than before - big pout while you hold your own pillow tighly in your arms, shooting daggers at a visibly uncomfortable Satan.
"Did I do something to upset you?"
Totally taken back by your harsh tone, Satan freezes when you stomped inside his room like it was yours.
"W-why would you think that?"
He fakes an innocent act that does little to stick to you.
"Maybe it is because you can't even be in the same place as me for more than two minutes? Or how you barely sent me any poetry anymore? Or how you stood me up, today, when we were supposed to meet at the museum? Is that enough for you, Mister?"
Don't get him wrong, he is startled by your confrontation, but he truly hopes you forgive him for not listening to your complaints very well because, good lord of hell, how you look amazing like this. Looking like a mad kitty who haven't received any headpats from its owner.
"So? Did you get bored of me or what? I won't leave until you fucking answer me."
Your big pout, your fierce eyes, your fingers clawing at the pillow like it personally offended you. Fuck, you look so cute. And worse, he is starting to get visibly aroused by your presence. Your demanding and accusatory words working him up more than it should. Get serious, Satan! Focus!
"I didn't! Of course not...it's just that-I-...I needed time...yes! Time to think about some projects and-stuff..."
He can feel his lower part already trembling in antecipation, it's too much for the avatar of anger to see a piece of himself on his beloved!!
It's been days since he really took a good look at your face, and now, seeing you up close, he could notice the details of your furious figure. You look impatient, for sure, but your lips look so shine and soft, plump. Your body was covered by his old shirt that glued to your body in a glorious way. Your hair was messy, and your eyes puffy...have you been crying? Because of him?
Your silence after his answer was everything he needed to know. He could feel your stare on his crotch, but he refused to meet your eyes.
"I-I am sorry. I didn't know you were having your alone time I-...I just felt so lonely without you with me...and I was wondering if you...hated me...somehow...so I need to-"
Your mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. Your eyebrows to your hairline and the hold you had on your pillow completely forgotten.
Satan grabbed his weeping cock through his slacks, firm and shameless, looking deep into your eyes, his voice full with no regret.
"It's all your fault. This, is your fault. My absence, it's your fault. My love for you is driving me crazy and I can't stand being near you without erotic mental images of you flooding my mind. Fuck! It's frustating because there's nothing more that I want than being with you! You are my soul! My heart!"
Each and every word he spoke sank down into your heart like an anchor, and your body warmed terribly with the desire of kissing him stupid. And you did.
With long and hurried steps you cross the space between you two in seconds, your lips crashing with his with full force but his mouth seemed prepared to welcome yours completely.
Lips graciously caressed themselfs, missing each other dearly. But soon, he couldn't hold it anymore. Satan's tongue licked your soft mounds with vigor, holding both sides of your face while his finger tangled in your hair. You opened your mouth fast, eager to finally feel his taste. The taste of his love.
You too, grabed and tugged at his hair, but with the purpose of vengeance instead of longing. He is still has to pay for all the melancholy he has put you through.
Soon, the need for air surfaced, and a sting of thick saliva was the only thing connecting you both. For now.
"My fury has yet to be extinguished, you dummy, and you will be the one to feel it all."
