Heheheh
Satan coming in your room one day, and there’s an extra cloth on the bed. You’re looking in a box, but soon you look over your shoulder and smile at him, and his heart melts. He closes the door and locks it so his time with you won’t be interrupted. He comes over and hugs you from behind, “What is this?"
You lean into him, and hold the package up for him, “It’s edible body paint. I got it for us to try together.”
He would blink and hold onto you just the slightest bit tighter, thinking of all the things you could do..
(Mwah.) -🥀
🥀 anon my beloved how do you have such good taste.
cw: edible body paint, dom gender-neutral reader, overstimulation, use of pacts during sex, light pet play (calling Satan "kitty", "puss"), marking, aftercare
Leaving a mark (Satan x Reader)
The body paint isn't just edible, though you don't realize it at first.
You take your time undressing Satan, tracing the line of his clothes with the cool paint just to make him gasp. As he lifts his shirt you follow with your brush in a looping patterns. You circle around his bellybutton and then up into the natural crevice his abs make. The moment he reveals his beautiful chest to you, you make sure to circle his tit around and around and around.
"Please," Satan gasps, but it's not a request. Not yet.
But you decide to indulge him anyway, lathering the green paint up and down and all around his nipple, enjoying the way it pebbles under the cool paint. Curious about the taste, you duck down and mouth at it, swirling your tongue to get as much of the paint as you can while your hand switches over to his other tit, lathering it with the same attention you gave the first.
The paint is slightly sweet, slightly chalky. It's not your favourite taste, but it makes your tongue tingle pleasantly and that's a feeling you could definitely do with more of. You suck and slurp at it, grazing your teeth softly to lift as much paint into your mouth as possible. Satan all the while is whining and painting, hands moving to your head to card through your hair.
His fingers have turned to claws, but somehow, despite all the attention you're lavishing on him and the way he's keening, he hasn't scratched you with those sharp points.
He deserves a reward for that.
You switch over to his other nipple, giving that the same attention you gave the first. The paint is warm despite it's naturally cool state as it slides down your throat and you feel it settle heavily in your stomach. The more you suck and lick and consume, the more and more it fills you up. You can't get enough of the stuff, following the line you made down his body and into the crevice of his bellybutton, dipping your tongue in and swirling it around.
This makes Satan practically giggle, and that's enough to make you pause. You look up at him, slightly surprised to see his horns and slit pupils, but by no means turned off. If anything, the heat in your lower body is only growing.
"'m ticklish," he murmurs, and you watch as his already pretty pink face blushes darker.
You raise an eyebrow.
"Really?" you ask, "The Avatar of Wrath is ticklish?"
He nods, and then gasps out a laugh as you lightly scratch just above the line his hips make with your nails. Testing a theory, you decide to bring the brush down too. Lo and behold, this makes Satan actually kick his legs out, his hand coming up to try and push you away. He actually manages to dislodge you, from where you were kneeling next to his prone form, and. Well. You can't have that.
"Be still," you say, and you feel a tingle not too dissimilar from the paint crawl up your throat and into your mouth as the command leaves your lips.
Immediately, Satan's body freezes, tail halting in it's writhing and the shivers and wracks ceasing.
"Very good," you coo, stroking his torso lightly.
It's right where you were testing his ticklish nature, and you can tell he definitely still feels it by the way his eyes flare and the high pitched whine that escapes his throat.
It's been a few moments since you tasted that delicious paint, and you can't help but dive in and lick at his hip where the paint is now dripping down onto the sheets below. Once you start, it's very hard to stop. You keep licking and dragging your teeth, nipping at the hard edge of his hip.
Satan is still under your command so all he can do is whine from the back of his throat, and growl at you deep in his chest.
You feel yourself becoming more and more aroused by the sights and sounds and tastes before you, and so you take the opportunity to bring one of your legs up and around Satan in a straddle, moaning when your crotch comes into contact with his. It's just enough pressure and friction to be a relief, but not enough to give any satisfaction. For you, or him. But that's fine.
You can both wait.
Dipping your brush back in the pot, still straddling Satan, you tilt your head as you contemplate what to do next. The way he's frozen beneath you has left his jaw and neck exposed, and oh that's too delicious of a canvas to ignore.
You carefully bring your brush up to his collar bone, dipping into the crevices there before dragging it up and out in quick, symmetrical lines. The first on the left side is easy and quick, but you take your time on the right to make sure it matches perfectly. Following the lines, you create small dots above and below as ornamentation. Any time you make a mistake, you take the opportunity to lean down and lick it clean.
Satan strains beneath you, those whimpering growls getting louder and more pathetic the higher your brush reaches. When you finally reach his neck, those sounds hitch before sounding like a sob.
"Oh poor kitty," you simper with fake pity, and as the words leave your mouth you're inspired. "Make sure to keep that pretty purring up for me, okay?"
The brush now drags up and around his adam's apple, and then around again when it makes his breath hitch and those purrs stutter. Dots are placed under his jaw, but you're less careful with these (only so you can lean down and lick them clean when you make a mistake).
Finally, finally you reach his face and oh what a sight he already makes.
His cheeks are so, so red and his eyes are barely open. What small slivers of his irises you could see are almost completely consumed by his black pupils. An impressive feat in his demon form, what with the way those pupils are naturally quite narrow. A bit of drool has escaped his lips as they're parted enough to peek those sharp, sharp teeth.
"Gotta have a clean canvas," you practically sing as you lean over and kiss that line of drool away.
You barely register the way you've begun to hump against him, Satan powerless to reciprocate beyond those high pitched whines. The purring is now practically a constant rumbling that makes you vibrate and it feels so so good as you move your hips.
"Now... what should I do with you?"
The question is rhetorical. You've already decided. But it's worth it to see the way Satan strains against the command's hold, eyes now wide and begging.
"How about I staaart here."
You move your brush as if you're going to continue under his jaw, but at the last moment you fling it up and paint a line across his left horn. More than anything, you just want to see if he'll feel it.
"Haaaa," he groans, the purring stopping and stuttering for the moments your brush drags across that hardened flesh and bone.
"Oh that is interesting," you say, and the excitement in your voice is definitely not faked.
You continue along his horns, drawing tiny little stars and patterns. You're craving a taste of that paint once more, so you carefully lather the tip of his right horn just to hear him whine, before taking it carefully in your mouth and sucking.
If Satan could speak right now, you know he'd be blubbering.
Once you've had your fill, and those horns are now covered in pretty green swirls and stars, you contemplate what you're going to do next.
"Good kitties have whiskers," you muse, and you follow the thought up with three lines to his right cheek.
It looks good, if you do say so yourself, so you decide to do the same on his left. Once again, it's not perfect on the first try, but that could have something to do with the way your rocking and humping has increased in fervor. It's hard to do fine, precise lines while you're chasing your own pleasure.
You bend down and lick at his cheek. While you're there, you move across just slightly so that you're able to dip your tongue into his mouth. You can tell he can taste the paint on it but can't do anything more than moan and swallow as you make sure to lick behind his fangs, under his tongue, and up to the roof of his mouth, lavishing every nook and cranny with that sweet, chalky paint.
He swallows again and almost immediately after, his purrs and whines cease. His breath also stops, and you wonder for a moment what happened. You shoot upwards, pulling back to stare into his face, to make sure he's okay. But as you do, the movement and pressure on his crotch increases and you feel it.
"Did you just cum?" you ask, just as surprised as you are impressed. There's no way for him to respond though, not with the command, so you move your free hand down and between your bodies to cup at his crotch.
And there you feel the slight pulse and the way his trousers are undeniably damp - way more than from just his precum.
"What a good Puss!" you cry, "I didn't know you knew that trick!"
Satan once again strains against the command, and you're starting to miss his cries.
"You can speak," you say, and once again that telltale tingling climbs its way up and out of your throat. The effect is immediate.
"Please please please tastes so good, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor-"
"Why are you sorry?" you ask, "you're such a good kitty, coming untouched like that!"
Satan whines and blubbers but it seems like his limit for words has been reached. You sigh, petting his hair.
"That's ok, sweetling. I'll be sure to give you your reward."
You carefully move down his body with both your mouth and your brush, making looping lines as you go. You reach a patch of blank skin to the right of his navel that makes you pause. You lean up, staring at it for a moment, wondering why that particular spot interests you.
Oh.
That's where his own pact mark lies on your body. Its a favorite place of his to nip and suck at when you're stretched out beneath him.
It seems odd that there's nothing there on him. But you can fix that.
With strokes more careful than you've done so far, you create a circular seal in just the way Solomon taught you. Within you put specific runes and dividing lines, dotting and marking the appropriate points until -
Perfect.
A seal of your own. A green brand marking Satan as yours.
It looks delectable, and makes that curling in your lower stomach tighten even further. You groan, and it harmonizes beautifully with whimpers and whines and meows of Satan. But you resist the urge to lick this mark up.
You want it to last as long as possible.
Slipping off Satan's crotch so you can unbutton his trousers, you don't even notice as that makeshift seal glows slightly.
Instead, you peel away his pants and his underwear, his erection straining against the fabric even after coming once. The brush travels down down down and over his hard cock, making it twitch up - somehow defying the command you gave.
"Please, too much, too soon," whines your beautiful boy.
"But you're my good kitty, right?" you ask as you once again bring your brush down, from base to tip. You savor the way that makes his breath hitch and whine. "Say it for me: say you're my good Puss."
You pause for a moment to let him speak, but his breath is still dragging itself raggedly up his throat. You bring the brush down in punishment, over his balls and down, painting until just before you reach his hole.
"Say it."
You didn't mean for that to be a command, but it happens anyway, that powerful speech pulled from your chest.
"I'm your good kitty! A good boy please please let me come let your good puss come please-"
His words do something to you, and you find yourself grabbing his tail and bringing it down beneath your legs, making it arch in just the right way so you have pressure as you move.
Hnnnnng feels so good.
"Good, good boy!" you cry as your pace increases.
The brush comes back up and swirls over and around his cock, but this time you're not careful at all. You're not trying to be careful, you just want to cover him in that pretty green paint so you can bend down and suck it right back up.
And you do, barely minding the brush as you lean down and lick up and down his shaft, sucking and swallowing and even getting the brush's bristles in your mouth as you're slow to pull it up and over, out of your way. It's sloppy and wet and messy but you don't care - it tastes so good and the way his tail is dragging against your crotch gives you just enough friction through your pants that you're so close.
"Nnyaaah I'm a good kitty please let your kitty come please please please!" Satan begs, even without your prompting.
You slurp and suck noisily and when you've covered enough of his cock you take the head into your mouth and lather your tongue all over. You move back and forward on his tail, and that's enough to bring his cock in and out of your mouth. Each time you rock forwards and backwards you take more and more of him in, until his head his nudging the back of your throat.
You hum around his cock and he cries out. Suddenly, your mouth is filled with the sweet and bitter and salty and chalky taste of his cum mixed with that delicious paint. You don't let a drop go to waste, even as you hump furiously against his tail, chasing your own release.
Ah.
It hits you all it once, that tasty, warm, delicious paint combined with Satan's cum sending warm jolts throughout your body from your stomach. With one last stuttering move, you cum, crying out Satan's name as you flop forward.
You're exhausted, and that's evident in the way the pact releases its hold and Satan brings his clawed hands down once more, threading through your hair. You sit up, reluctantly letting his cock slide out of your mouth, so that you can pick his hands off your head and thread your fingers together.
Satan is smiling blissfully at you, fangs pressing into his lower lip softly.
"I love you," he says, and that feels warmer than any orgasm, any paint.
"I love you too," you respond, "are you okay?"
Even as you ask, you're now reaching over to the bedside table where you left the damp cloth, and begin wiping him down, slowly dissolving that beautiful green paint. You wish you were feeling brave enough to take a picture. Maybe another time.
"I'm wonderful," he breathes, "can we do that again?"
You chuckle, now wiping down his chest and his stomach. You can feel his body relaxing, practically arcing into your touch. To your amusement, those purrs continue their soft vibrato.
"Definitely, but maybe after a breather."
The cloth wipes and wipes, until you reach the side of his navel. You frown, and you wipe again. Pulling the cloth away yields the exact same result.
Satan seems to notice your distress.
"What's wrong?" he asks, slowly sitting up.
"I can't-" you start, but you're distracted by the task at hand.
He stops your scrubbing with a soft hand, bringing the cloth away to reveal that improvised seal that refuses to wipe away.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why it's not going away, I'll try-"
"Don't," he says, cupping your jaw and tilting your face up until you meet his eyes. Rather than the anger or annoyance you'd expect, all you can see is that soft, soul-destroying love. "The paint is magic. It works by intent - it's what makes it such a good stimulant. If you wanted that mark to stay, then it stays."
Your eyes widen and your heart stutters. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -"
"It's okay," Satan interrupts again. "I love it. I love you. It marks me as yours, just like my pact marks you as mine."
As he says that, he strokes beneath your shirt where your pact mark sits. It tingles with magic, and you notice with awe that it makes his own mark glow bright green.
There's only one thing you can say to that in the face of his soft look, his touch at your side:
"I love you."