#smut helluva boss

[roo-bi-unrestricted]

ɴ.ɴ.ɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ...

ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴏ , ᴍᴏxxɪᴇ , ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇʀ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ : ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴏ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ , ᴍᴏxxɪᴇ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ , ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇʀ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴀᴛᴇɢᴏʀʏ : ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ : ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ

ᴛʏᴘᴇ : ᴍɪɴɪ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ [2] [3]

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1,453 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴏ

At first, Blitzo started to think that you were joking about this ' challenge ' that you had stumbled upon up in the human realm. Since Blitzo loved a good challenge, he couldn't help himself from participating.

" No Nut November? " Blitzo snickers before continuing, " Who do you think I am, ( Name )? I can last more than a month without cumming. Hell, I could even last a whole year if I really wanted to. "

I could imagine him boasting to you about how he's going to win the challenge and how easy it is for him to not cum, but not even a week in, he's struggling a bit. It doesn't make it any better how you accidentally tease him.

He can't even stare at you for too long. Seeing you come back into the I.M.P building, covered in blood with your uniform clinging to your skin, Blitzo immediately looks away from you and takes a deep breath.

He tries not to be obvious about it, but whenever you walk past him or sit next to him, he would have to move a little further from you. Blitzo even has to temporarily cancel his agreement with Stolas to avoid the prince from seducing him.

Stolas doesn't make his situation any better, either. He will send Blitzo erotic pictures and voice messages of him. It's a struggle to not jerk off to the prince and a huge challenge for Blitzo when Stolas starts to call him.

With Blitzo being a week in, he fails. He called you into his office and straight up told you to give him a blowjob. You could see his raging erection through his pants, and while you would have normally said yes, you turn him down.

The imp begins to beg you to do something to him. Anything. He was a complete wreck by the time you got to the office. You do end up reliving the poor thing, but not with the way he would want.

You give him a handjob.

You make sure to take your sweet time as you jerk him off, hearing him growling and mumbling underneath his breath, demanding you to go faster.

By the end of it, he came on his desk, staining his paperwork and making a mess. When you were finished, Blitzo quickly pulled you up onto his lap. You could hear his strangled and harsh breaths against your neck.

Fuck, you could even feel his cock right up against your ass.

" You aren't going anywhere until you help me fix this mess. I don't give a fuck if the others hear us or if they come in. You started this, now help me clean it up. "

ᴍᴏxxɪᴇ

The idea of N.N.N. came to Moxxie because of Millie. The two of you had been planning to do this to Moxxie for a while now. When telling him about the challenge, he was extremely flustered. Was this going to mess up with his work, and was it going to make him lose time on the tasks assigned to him by Blitzo?

" Millie, ( Name ) I don't know if we- I can do this.. This ' challenge ' sounds concerning, to say the least. It is too much of a risk for us to do so, and we would be wasting time. "

" Aww, come on, Moxxie!" Me and ( Name ) had been waiting for the perfect moment to try this out, and now we got the opportunity. Come on, let's just try it at least once. "

Moxxie sighs, rubbing the side of his face. He had been thinking about it. He sighs, " Alright... I'll do it. "

" Oh my goodness, yes! Thank you, Moxxie!~ " Millie gives a small kiss to Moxxie's cheek, causing the white-haired Imp to blush slightly. You give the imp couple both a kiss on the cheek before going back to the work that Loona forgot to do.

The challenge wasn't that hard for Moxxie.. well, until his boss started to make lewd comments around him, trying to make him slip up.

Millie teased him a bit, but not that much. She would always whisper what she was going to do to him once the day was done, and it was driving him insane.

" Damn, Moxxie. Is that a boner or are you happy to see me? "

Moxxie looks down at his crotch to see that he was getting a boner from just the thought of his wives. He quickly gets up and bolts into the bathroom, hearing Blitzo burst out into laughter.

While you on the other hand, would sometimes walk past him, letting your tail brush against his leg, and sometimes, letting your hand trail down his inner thigh, making the poor imp flustered as hell.

You would also tell him what you and Millie are going to do to him, which would only make his erection more visible. Moxxie is able to keep his composure and beat the challenge. Millie was quick to take you and Moxxie to bed.

When she finally got her hands on him, she had him pinned against the wall, giving him a few hickeys here and there. She takes him to bed and strips him, and the both of you begin to pleasure him.

Millie explained to him that he was going to get a huge reward for being such a good boy. Moxxie, who currently had a hard-on and was horny as hell, wanted his 'reward' as soon as possible. Seeing the two of you with two large strap-ons really does something to him.

" Fuck.. Please, I want to feel the two of you inside of me. Please, let me have my reward. "

ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇʀ

Asking Striker about participating in N.N.N was easy enough. He seemed a little confused by its concept at first but quickly agreed to do it. He even teased you a bit, never expecting you to suggest something so lewd and scandalous

" You want me to not get off to nothin' for a whole month? " He asked you, " Ya know what that means, right? That means you won't be allowed to get me off neither. " Striker has a grin of his face as he saw your face heat up with embarrassment.

" Well yeah, I guess... Sure.. " You grumble before going back to what you were doing. Striker knew that you were going to tap out long before he would. This was going to be fun... for him at least.

The challenge was easy for him. All he had to do was bury himself in a fuck-ton of work, assassinating, and not let his mind wander off. If it did, he'd just think about his job and nothing else.

You, on the other hand, weren't fairing too well. You weren't used to having to deny yourself from your lovers' touch. So when Striker would brush against you or give you a kiss, it made you hot and bothered. You missed him.

Even though he was there with you every day, he was working his ass off to avoid getting aroused. And he did a pretty good job of it. You, on the other hand, didn't. You had no idea how you were going to last a whole month without sex.

As sad as it sounded, you did your best to pleasure yourself without him catching you. When he would go off to work you'd sneak away into the bedroom and fuck yourself with the dildos he gave you. You even got the one with his cum still on it, you were that desperate.

He noticed you acting more needy lately. Striker wasn't stupid. He knew what you were doing while he was gone. He wanted to catch you in the act.

His schedule was empty, so instead, he was going to sit back and let you do the work. You were already in your shared bedroom, laying on the bed.

Striker had come into the room to see you with your legs spread wide and a dildo shoved inside of you. You didn't even realize that he was in the room, too lost in your lust. The loud sequencing noise echoes and merges with your soft moans.

" Well, well. What do we have here?" He smirked, " I wonder where this came from? " Striker chuckled as he made his way over to you, causing you to jolt up in surprise. Before you could even cover yourself up, Striker had pounced on top of you and pinned you down onto the bed.

" Couldn't wait a month without me having a bit of fun?" Striker cooed as his tail snaked its way over to your discarded sex toy, " Maybe I should punish you for breaking our little deal. " He chuckled, pulling the toy from out of you.

" You'll like that, won't ya? "

[shapard]

Tantrum🕷️

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader

Tw: Smut, slow burn, therapist x client, Satan being Satan to the low life, p in v

6k

Satan is so Hot

Part 1 > Part 2

The story begins after the cut

You exhaled slowly, your breath shaky as your eyes scanned the list of today's clients. One name stood out like a drop of blood on pristine parchment: Satan. Yes, the Satan. You’d laughed when the receptionist first told you. Surely, it was some dark joke, right? But the chilling sincerity in her eyes told you otherwise. For the next month, the King of Wrath himself would be your client. His personal therapist—or "anger coach," as they called it—was conveniently on vacation, leaving the responsibility to you.

Your fingers hovered over the file, tapping lightly on the thick paper. His profile was sparse yet enough to send a chill down your spine. Anger issues. As if that needed to be stated. Brutal, cruel, unpredictable. Lies often. Has a dangerously short temper. And the last line, hastily scrawled like a warning, stood out the most: Approach with caution.

The note on your pad detailed when and where you were to meet him: Satan’s castle. Even the thought of it made your stomach churn. The clock on your desk screeched, breaking your trance. It was time.

Your palms were clammy as you left your room, dread curling around your spine. The limousine waiting outside was overkill, with its glossy black finish and an interior too luxurious for comfort. You sank into the seat, but even its plush softness couldn’t ease the knot tightening in your chest. Your fingers toyed nervously with the fabric of your shirt. "Why am I doing this to myself?" you muttered, your voice a hoarse whisper.

The drive stretched on, the limousine cutting through a landscape that seemed to grow darker, more twisted with every passing mile. Gnarled trees loomed like skeletal hands, their shadows dancing over the cracked road. The closer you got to his estate, the more oppressive the air became, thick with heat and a faint metallic tang that clung to your throat. When the car finally stopped, your breath hitched.

The castle loomed above you like a blackened wound carved into the earth itself. Jagged spires clawed at the sky, and the air was heavy with the faint stench of sulfur. The gates creaked open, revealing a procession of imps scurrying about with feverish purpose. Their glowing eyes briefly landed on you before darting away, like vermin avoiding a predator.

You swallowed hard, stepping out of the limousine. The ground beneath your sneakers radiated an uncomfortable heat, as if the very earth resented your presence. You hesitated, looking up at the fortress before you. Every instinct screamed for you to run. But you were a therapist—for Lucifer’s sake, you’d dealt with impossible clients before. Just not ones who could incinerate you with a single breath.

A small, hunched imp dressed in a tattered butler’s uniform approached, its head bowed. Without a word, it gestured for you to follow. You obliged, your legs moving stiffly as if weighed down by chains. The castle’s interior was worse. Shadows seemed alive, twisting and curling around corners like smoke. The halls were cavernous and eerily silent, save for the echo of your footsteps against the stone floor.

You were led through corridors that gleamed with wealth. Gold littered every surface, accompanied by piles of glittering jewels—rubies, diamonds, and sapphires, carelessly heaped as if they were nothing more than pocket change. It was suffocating in its opulence, but it was the odd details that unsettled you. A scorch mark on the wall, as if something—or someone—had been obliterated there. Deep claw marks gouged into the stone.

When you entered his chamber, the atmosphere shifted entirely. Heat rolled over you in waves, and the room smelled faintly of ash. Your eyes roamed over the space, catching glimpses of heavy iron chains, monstrous workout equipment, and a hulking throne that seemed carved from molten rock. And then, your gaze rose.

He was there.

The dragon loomed in the far corner, a creature of pure, terrifying majesty. His scales shimmered like molten obsidian, and his horns, wickedly curved and sharp, glinted faintly in the dim light. His golden eyes burned like twin suns, locking onto you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His chest rose and fell with a deep, growling breath that reverberated through the floor.

"So," he rumbled, his voice a deep, guttural drawl that made the air vibrate. "You’re the replacement.”

You froze, your body rigid as his gaze raked over you. His tone dripped with disdain, his lips curling into something between a snarl and a smirk. You felt like a mouse under the eye of a serpent.

“A succubus?” he sneered, the word laced with contempt. His massive frame shifted as he lowered his head, bringing his razor-sharp teeth dangerously close to your trembling form. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their molten depths. “For a succubus, you look... innocent.”

You flinched as his claw moved, its sharp tip hooking under the edge of your buttoned shirt. With terrifying ease, he pulled you closer, the heat radiating from him suffocating.

“Sir,” you managed, your voice wavering as you fought to hold your ground, “this is… inappropriate.”

The dragon chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Inappropriate?” he repeated, his tone mockingly sweet. “Oh, little one, we’re far beyond ‘appropriate’ here.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable, his golden gaze locking onto yours, unyielding and searing. Then, with a huff, he released you, his massive claw retracting as he settled back.

“Let’s see how long you last,” he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement. “They always break, you know.”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow as you took a hesitant step back. This wasn’t going to be like any other client you’d dealt with. And as his gaze lingered on you, predatory and calculating, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into a game you didn’t fully understand—a game where the rules were written in blood.

“Let’s start with something simple—an introduction.” You tried to project confidence, raising your voice slightly to ensure he could hear you clearly. The weight of his molten gaze bore down on you, but you kept your posture straight. “Before we can trust each other, we need to know each other.”

Your words hung in the air, daring to challenge the suffocating silence. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his reptilian features. You forced a smile and continued, your voice steady despite the thrum of fear in your chest. “My name is Y/n L/n. I’ll be your therapist for the time being. In my spare time, I enjoy drawing. Now, would you care to introduce yourself?”

The room seemed to grow hotter. A deep huff escaped from Satan’s nostrils, the force of his breath stirring the papers on your clipboard. His head tilted ever so slightly, as though studying you from a new angle. “You know who I am.” His words were low and blunt, carrying the faintest edge of impatience.

You kept your expression neutral, though your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Of course, I know. But I’d like to hear it from you.” Your tone was calm, measured, even as the edges of his form seemed to ripple with heat.

That caught him off guard. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, his eyes lost some of their predatory sharpness. His breathing, which had been fiery and erratic, grew slower, more controlled. “I am Satan,” he said at last, his voice still low but tinged with pride. “The Sin of Wrath. The first sin.”

You didn’t flinch, though the words carried a weight that pressed against you. Liar. The truth was well-known—Lucifer was the first. But you kept that observation to yourself, instead lowering your gaze to jot something down on your notepad.

The scratch of your pen seemed deafening in the charged silence.

“What are you writing?” His tone was sharper now, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. You glanced up cautiously, noting the slight flare of his nostrils and the way his claws flexed against the stone floor.

“It’s nothing important,” you assured him, your voice soft but deliberate. “Just a few notes for me. Is that okay?”

His eyes narrowed further, glowing faintly as if testing your words for deceit. After a tense moment, he leaned back, the massive muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah… I guess.”

You allowed yourself a small exhale, the pen trembling faintly in your grip as you made another note. “Thank you. So, tell me—what’s your favorite hobby?” you asked, keeping your tone light, almost conversational.

Satan blinked, clearly caught off guard again. “Hobby?” he repeated, as if the concept were foreign to him. A pause stretched between you, and then he shrugged. “Uh… I like working out.”

Internally, you groaned. Great, you thought, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. A gym bro with anger issues. But outwardly, you smiled, though your fingers tightened slightly around your pen.

As you scribbled his answer, you felt a subtle shift in the air. His gaze hadn’t left you, and there was something unsettling about the way he watched you now—curious, calculating, like a predator studying its prey. The edges of his mouth twitched, as if he were amused by something only he understood.

“Do you always write so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice a little too casual.

You froze for half a second before looking up. “Only when it helps me understand my client better,” you said evenly.

Satan’s lip curled faintly, exposing a hint of razor-sharp teeth. “Interesting,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly. His massive frame seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow that swallowed the light around you. “You seem… different. For a therapist. For a succubus.”

The word dripped with disdain, but there was an odd curiosity in his tone as well. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t think I fit the usual mold,” you replied lightly, though the words felt thin against the heavy atmosphere.

Satan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “No, you don’t. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

The way he said it felt more like a warning than a casual remark. And as the room grew unnervingly quiet again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just stepped into something far more dangerous than you were prepared for.

“Anyway,” you began, trying to dissipate the strange tension in the air, “what do you usually do to calm yourself?” Your voice was steady, professional, but you were acutely aware of the weight of his golden gaze lingering on you.

Satan tapped his claw against his chin, the sharp tip glinting faintly in the dim light. “I work out,” he said simply.

You nodded and placed your notepad down. “Have you ever tried anything else? Something less… physical?”

He shook his head, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “No.”

“Interesting.” Your pen hovered over the page, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Bingo. A potential breakthrough, something to work on next week. “Maybe you should try something new,” you suggested, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

Satan raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something new?”

You nodded, maintaining your professional tone. “Yes. There might be situations where you aren’t able to work out. Finding an alternative that brings you calm can help—something you enjoy that doesn’t rely on strength or exertion.”

You could see him thinking, his gaze becoming distant for a moment before snapping back to you. Then, he said it, blunt and unapologetic:

“Sex.”

Your pen slipped slightly, leaving a faint mark across your notepad as your head shot up to meet his gaze. “Excuse me?”

“Sex,” he repeated, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “I enjoy it. Specifically, I love to dominate. It brings me a sense of calm, of control.”

The heat in the room seemed to spike as his words hung in the air, heavy and electric. You felt your breath hitch slightly, your professionalism faltering under the weight of his admission. Your teeth caught your bottom lip, a subconscious reflex as your mind betrayed you with images you hadn’t invited.

Satan, towering over you, his claws dragging possessively over your skin. His deep growls vibrating against your neck as his body pressed you into the bed like prey. The way his molten gaze would devour every inch of you, a predator savoring its prize.

The thought was dangerous, forbidden—and utterly intoxicating.

“You’re quiet,” Satan observed, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. He leaned forward, resting his massive claws on the table between you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sit straighter in your chair, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your inner turmoil. “Not at all,” you lied, your voice wavering slightly.

His smirk widened, the sharp tips of his teeth glinting faintly in the low light. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched again as he stood, the sheer size of him making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, predatory. His shadow fell over you, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, velvety growl. “Have you ever let someone take control of you? Completely?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. His presence was overwhelming, his golden eyes boring into you with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare.

“Let me guess,” he continued, his voice smooth and teasing. “You play the role of the confident therapist. Always in control, always composed. But I wonder…” He leaned closer, his claw tipping your chin up slightly. “What would happen if you let go? If you surrendered—for once?”

Your pulse raced as his words sent a shiver down your spine. The air between you was charged, thick with tension that felt ready to snap at any moment.

“I—” You barely managed to speak before his smirk deepened.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your body reacts to me.”

Your breath quickened, your mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen—this wasn’t professional. But the pull of his presence, the raw magnetism of him, was impossible to ignore.

As he leaned back, giving you a moment to catch your breath, his smirk softened into something darker, more sinister. “We’ll see how long you can resist,” he murmured, his voice like a promise—a challenge.

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your notepad like it was a lifeline. Whatever line had just been crossed, there was no going back now. And the worst part? Some small, treacherous part of you didn’t want to.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, the ticking seconds echoing louder in your ears as you realized the session had come to an end. It felt like both a relief and a punishment. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Our time is up for today.”

Gripping your notepad tightly, you rose from your chair, the slight tremble in your legs betraying the inner conflict you fought to suppress. “I’ll see you next week?” you asked, your voice carefully measured, though the second heartbeat between your thighs throbbed mercilessly, reminding you of how thin the line was between professionalism and raw, unspoken desire.

Satan leaned back into his seat, his massive frame exuding power and ease as his ever-present smirk stretched across his face. “You’re quite interesting, you know that?” he said, his golden eyes glinting with something dark, something dangerous.

The way his words curled in the air, dripping with molten heat, sent a shiver down your spine. And then he said it—your name.

“See you next week, Y/n.”

The sound of your name, as it rolled off his tongue like a lazy threat, like a predator marking its prey, felt like fire licking at your skin. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the way he owned it, as if your name wasn’t yours anymore but his to use, to savor, to command.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you fought to maintain control of yourself. His gaze lingered on you, heavy and consuming, as if he could see every thought, every reaction you tried to bury. The room felt smaller, hotter, as if the very air bent to his will.

You took a deep breath, willing the flush creeping up your neck to subside, and bowed your head slightly—a courteous gesture, but also an excuse to break free of his burning gaze. “I’ll… take my leave now,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected, though your body betrayed you with every trembling step toward the door.

The silence stretched, but you could feel him watching you, his presence looming even as you turned your back to him. Each step felt heavier, your legs weaker, as if some invisible tether pulled you back to him.

“Y/n,” he called softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement. It was enough to stop you in your tracks, your hand hovering just above the door handle.

You turned slightly, not enough to meet his gaze but enough to let him know you were listening.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said, his smirk audible in his voice. “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t trust yourself to respond. With a hurried nod, you pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the hall as quickly as you could without outright running.

As the door closed behind you, the weight of his words lingered, wrapping around you like a vice. Each step away from his chamber only made the ache within you stronger, and the echo of his voice—dark, commanding, possessive—played on repeat in your mind.

When you finally reached the outside air, you exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady the wild beat of your heart. But no matter how much distance you put between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trapped—bound not by his hands, but by his voice, his gaze, his presence.

And the worst part? You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to escape.

______________________

Your mind drifted to Satan again, as it often did these days. His golden eyes, the low timbre of his voice, the weight of his presence—all of it lingered with you like an intoxicating haze. It was wrong to think of him this way, wasn’t it? You're the therapist. A being of ancient power. Yet his words from the last session whispered through your mind, sending a shiver down your spine: “Next week… I expect us to get much more personal.” What did he mean? The thought left you breathless, your lip caught between your teeth as you tried to push the memory away.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the mirror, pulling yourself together. Today was a new session, and you needed to remain professional. No room for fluttering thoughts or the heat that crept up your neck every time he said your name. After all, you had a job to do, and you’d prepared exercises meant to calm, not... whatever this was. You brushed out your hair, adjusted your outfit, and gave yourself one last look. You could do this.

The drive to his mansion felt longer than usual, the limousine’s quiet luxury giving your mind too much space to wander. By the time you arrived and stepped out, your palms were clammy despite the crisp air. You gathered your supplies—a palette, brushes, a canvas—and headed to the imposing doors. They opened with a creak, and there he was, standing tall, his figure sharper than usual in a tailored outfit that clung just enough to his form to make you notice. Was he doing this on purpose? The thought made your cheeks flush.

“Satan,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady as you stepped inside.

“Y/n,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto yours. He always said your name like it was a secret, something sacred.

You set your supplies down, the clinking of brushes breaking the charged silence. He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over the items with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with intrigue.

“Painting,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s something that can help channel emotions. I thought it might be worth trying with you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but the flicker of interest in them was unmistakable. “You think this will calm me?”

“It’s worth a shot,” you replied, your tone light. “But first, I need you to… shrink a bit. Your current size might make it tricky.”

He arched a brow but complied without argument, his towering form diminishing to something more manageable. Even so, he still loomed over you, his presence filling the room in a way that made your breath catch.

You handed him one of your favorite brushes, your fingers grazing his. The brief contact sent a spark through you that you tried to ignore. “This one’s precious to me, so don’t break it,” you said with a teasing smile.

His golden eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you. “Why would you entrust me with something so valuable?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

“Because I think you’ll manage,” you said simply, turning to demonstrate. The truth was, you trusted him in a way you couldn’t explain, and the weight of his gaze as you worked was almost palpable.

You dipped your brush into the paint, your movements fluid and purposeful as you applied color to the canvas. You explained the process, your voice calm, almost hypnotic, as you encouraged him to let his emotions guide him. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” you said, glancing at him. “Just let it flow.”

Satan watched you intently, his focus shifting between your hands and your face. There was something mesmerizing about the way you moved—graceful, confident, entirely at ease. He tried to mimic your strokes but grew frustrated when his didn’t have the same beauty. Fire flickered briefly at the corner of his mouth as his grip on the brush tightened.

“Take your time,” you said gently, your voice softening. “You’ll manage.”

Those words seemed to echo in his mind, silencing his frustration. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His golden eyes settled on you again, and this time, there was something softer in them—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Pretty,” he murmured, the word so quiet you almost missed it.

You glanced up, assuming he meant his canvas. “It’s not bad for a first try,” you said, smiling.

But when your eyes met his, you realized he wasn’t looking at the canvas at all. He was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made heat rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you were lost in it.

“I… meant your canvas,” he said quickly, the faintest hint of a stammer in his voice. He turned away, focusing on his painting as if the moment hadn’t happened. “I suppose this isn’t for me,” he added, his tone returning to its usual steadiness.

You sighed softly, setting your brush down. “That’s okay. We’ll find something else to try next time.”

When it was time to leave, you gathered your supplies, his lingering gaze following you to the door. “Till next time, Y/n,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You smiled, bidding him goodbye before stepping into the limousine. As the car pulled away, you stared out the window, your reflection blushing faintly. “Cute,” you muttered under your breath, thinking of his fleeting shyness.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to think of him a little differently too.

As the limousine glided down the winding road back into the city, Y/n leaned their head against the cool glass of the window. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow, but their mind was too preoccupied to notice. Their chest tightened as they replayed the day's moments, each interaction with Satan etched into their memory with vivid clarity.

His golden eyes watching them, the way his brows furrowed in frustration only to soften when he heard their encouragement, and that one unguarded word he’d uttered—“pretty.” Y/n sighed and closed their eyes, the image of his intense gaze surfacing unbidden. He had said it so quietly, yet it echoed in their ears, lingering like a secret between them.

Why am I letting this get to me? Y/n thought, shaking their head. Satan was their patient. A being to be studied and guided, not… admired. And yet, there was something about him—something magnetic and impossible to ignore. His raw power was undeniable, but beneath the towering presence and occasional flashes of anger, there was a vulnerability that Y/n couldn’t help but find fascinating.

When the mansion’s doors had first opened to reveal him, standing there like some otherworldly figure carved out of the very shadows of the underworld, Y/n had been struck by how human he seemed despite his demonic origins. He was capable of humor, of curiosity, and, at times, even shyness—like when he stammered over his compliment and turned away. That brief flash of awkwardness had been disarming, endearing even, and it left a warmth in Y/n’s chest that refused to fade.

_______________

The past few weeks had been a blur of trial and error as you and Satan searched for a way to calm his tempestuous nature. Every method—meditation, physical exercises, even music—had ended in failure. Yet, with every attempt, the two of you had grown closer. Comfort had crept in between the boundaries you’d initially set, a warmth that softened the edges of your professional relationship. Perhaps it was too much comfort.

Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair, tugging slightly as you let out a groan. “What’s left?” you muttered, mostly to yourself. You hated admitting defeat, but the lack of progress was wearing on you.

“Are you okay?” Satan’s deep voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. He leaned against the edge of his desk, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned your face. Concern lingered in his tone, though there was something else in his expression—something darker, more intent.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall, your shoulders sagging. “Yeah, I’m just… out of ideas,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “Nothing seems to work. Maybe you were right all along—this isn’t going to change.”

A low growl escaped him, and he moved closer, the space between you shrinking with every step. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried,” he said, his voice a seductive rumble. He reached out, his clawed fingers brushing along the curve of your neck with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. The ruby necklace he’d given you weeks ago caught the light, glinting like a drop of blood between you.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I’m open,” you replied, though your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but the tension in the air was thick enough to drown in.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and his eyes seemed to glow brighter. “Let me please you,” he said, the words both a question and a command.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His hand slid lower, taking yours in his. His touch was firm but surprisingly warm, and you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened. “For weeks, I’ve been thinking of you. Not just as a distraction from my anger, but as something—someone—I want to consume. Every thought I’ve had has been about how to lure you in, how to make you mine.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, your body tingling with the weight of his confession. He slipped a delicate, shining ring onto your finger, the smooth metal cold against your skin.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “I’m throbbing for you, aching to show you what it means to be claimed by me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. His clawed hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The first touch of his tongue against your neck made you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as he traced slow, burning lines along your skin.

“Satan…” His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as his claws found the waistband of your pants, the sharp tips grazing your skin without breaking it.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your throat, his voice raw with need. “Tell me you want it too.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if to ground yourself. That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed into yours, the kiss rough and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, and the pain mingled with pleasure in a way that made your head spin. His hands roamed your body, one clawed hand tangling in your hair while the other gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped as he tore open your shirt, the fabric giving way like paper under his strength. His golden eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the heat in his gaze made you shiver. “Perfect,” he growled, his lips descending to your collarbone as his claws worked your pants down, leaving you bare beneath his burning gaze.

He pressed his body against yours, his skin hot like fire but not unbearable. The sensation was intoxicating, his power and desire radiating off him in waves that left you trembling. His mouth found your chest, his tongue and teeth teasing sensitive skin until you were writhing beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you fought to keep some semblance of control.

But control was the last thing Satan allowed. “Let go,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl as his hand slipped between your thighs. His touch was rough but precise, drawing sounds from you that you’d never made before. He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, the heat of his body searing into your palms. His growls deepened as you touched him, and when you whispered his name again, it seemed to drive him over the edge.

He latched onto your nipple, his hot, eager tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as though it held the key to quenching a deep, unrelenting hunger. The heat of his mouth sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your back arching instinctively to press closer to him. Each flick and tug of his tongue was deliberate, rough yet skilled, and it drove you wild with every second.

Your hands found his horns, gripping tightly as a loud, unrestrained moan tore from your lips. The sensation of his horns beneath your fingers—solid, commanding, and so uniquely him—only heightened the intensity of the moment. He groaned in response, the vibration of it against your skin adding a tantalizing edge to the pleasure.

As you opened your mouth to say something—perhaps to beg, perhaps to curse his name—his massive hand moved swiftly, covering your mouth and silencing you with an almost possessive dominance. His palm was warm, his claws just barely grazing your jawline, a silent reminder of his power.

“Shh,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with desire and control. “No words. Just feel.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your muffled protests turning into needy whimpers against his hand. His golden eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race. He didn’t need to say more; the look alone spoke volumes. You’re mine, and I’m going to show you exactly what that means.

His free hand trailed down your side, the sharp edge of his claws leaving ghostly trails that tingled with a mix of anticipation and pleasure. He shifted slightly, his lips abandoning one nipple to lavish attention on the other, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you gasp against his palm.

“Such sweet sounds,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a deep, sinful growl that left you trembling. “I want to hear every single one.”

He claimed you fully then, his movements powerful and relentless as he pushed you to your limits and beyond. The roughness of his touch, the possessiveness in every kiss and thrust, sent you spiraling into a state of pure bliss. He was consuming, overwhelming, but it was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When it was over, you were both breathing heavily, your bodies tangled together on the floor. His claws traced lazy circles on your skin, the sharp tips surprisingly gentle now.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left no room for argument.

You smiled, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “Yours,” you whispered, and for the first time in weeks, you felt completely at peace.

“I need to take you fully,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint, though his burning gaze made it clear his control was hanging by a thread. His golden eyes bore into yours, aflame with desire and something deeper—possessiveness, perhaps, or the primal need to claim you completely. His hot breath fanned across your face, each exhale like a spark threatening to ignite you from within.

You swallowed hard, your body trembling beneath him as you nodded, unable to form words. He stood, towering over you even in his "smallest" form, and the sound of his belt buckle clicking open made your heart skip. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, his claws brushing lightly against his skin as he stroked himself. His movements were deliberate, slow, as he smeared the slick arousal you’d already left on him along his length. The sight of it was utterly mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his voice a rumble of raw need. His eyes darted to your smaller frame beneath him, the contrast between your softness and his powerful figure making his jaw tighten. Your body trembled under his intense scrutiny, and the way you shuddered only seemed to spur him on.

“You’ll take all of me,” he promised darkly, his lips pulling into a feral smirk before he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to press in, the stretch almost overwhelming as he filled you inch by inch. The thickness of him made your breath hitch, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward as if savoring the way your body gripped him so tightly. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with awe and lust. “You were made for this. Made for me.”

He started to move, his thrusts deliberate and forceful, his pace building with every stroke. The wet, sinful sounds of your body meeting his filled the den, mingling with the guttural sounds he made as he lost himself in the rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his rough movements perfectly hitting every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with pride as he watched your body arch beneath him, your moans spilling out freely. “Taking me so well—every inch of me.”

His hands gripped your hips tightly, claws digging in just enough to leave marks as he pulled you into each thrust. His pace quickened, his breathing harsh and uneven, a symphony of raw need that filled the space around you.

Your moans turned into cries of ecstasy as he pounded into you harder, the force of it making your head spin. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. He growled your name, the sound reverberating through the air as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice breaking slightly as he thrust even harder, his control finally snapping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure and submission. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in him, his movements becoming even more relentless. His growls deepened, and the way he pounded into you left you utterly breathless. Every nerve in your body was aflame, and as you reached your peak, the intensity of it shattered you completely, your cries echoing through the den.

Moments later, he followed, his movements faltering as he let out a deep, primal groan. You felt him shudder above you, his body rigid as he spilled into you, marking you in a way that felt both physical and otherworldly.

For a moment, the only sounds were the two of you catching your breath, the heat of his body still pressed against yours. He leaned down, brushing a surprisingly tender kiss against your forehead, a stark contrast to the ferocity he’d shown moments before.

“You’re mine,” he repeated softly, almost as if reassuring himself.

And as you lay there in his arms, thoroughly claimed and utterly sated, you knew he was right. You were his. And you didn’t want it any other way.

Saw no one making shit about him so here I am your savior. Damn y'all.

💫

Masterlist

[chrolloluvr]

May you please write Mammon x reader smut. Where the reader is short and has a size difference kink. If you do I give many thanks in advance (Seriously love this blog so much)

♡ Mammon w/ A Size Kink ♡

Note: AHHH TYSM BOOKIE!!! Also yes this has been on my mind for so long... and I have not made a proper NSFW fic yet until now. So here you go! (alot more NSFW coming soon, especially for this man...) So here are my thoughts! Also sorry if its a bit short...

AFAB, Female!Reader

Warnings: Size kink, belly bulge, penetration, overstimulation, size transformation, oral (female and male receiving) ★

The height difference makes him feral. He is at least a couple feet taller than you. So he likes to use this to his advantage. By manhandling you. he will pick you up, grab your waist, literally rip your legs off of its hinges when he pulls them apart, etc. So, he likes when you are shorter than him. It gives him a power influx, and it makes him feel supreme to you. So he will basically use you like a glorified sex doll.

He will purposely make himself transform into a couple feet taller. Like a big, scary spider. So he can intimidate you, and get you riled up. He wont have actual penetrative sex with you in his big spider form, but he will eat you out.

And he delivers very well. His tongue is huge. You feel like your in cloud 9 whenever he eats your pussy, especially because he does not do it very often.

his favorite position, especially due to his size, is Full Nelson. He likes how in this position, he has complete control over you. With his upper hands behind your knees, his hips under your own, and his lower arms circling your sensitive clit, and his other hand pussy slapping you. Sometimes, he will place you in front of a big mirror, while hammering his hips into your vice, little pussy. Also making you look at yourself, being utterly destroyed by his large cock. He will tie your ankles together with his webs when he does this.

His other favorite is picking you up, and putting his hands under your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He enjoys listening to the skin slapping sounds, and how lude they sound. And seeing your reactions to his every harsh thrust to your G-spot. And how especially cramped you are between his body, his cock, and his arms, with a tight grip on your ass. This position makes you more sensitive and vulnerable, which is just where he wants you.

Belly Bulge. Need I say more? It makes him laugh, and chuckle about how 'your gonna take it- fuck, yeah, you like that don't you- little fuckin' slut-'

It makes him realize just how large he is compared to you. How much he effects you and your body. He craves this kind of dominance over you.

He is a little bastard. When he sees you have a belly bulge from his constant plummeting, he will press down onto it. This, as he is well aware of, makes you see stars. You become a moaning, drooling, babbling mess under his large self. Which is what he wants, of course.

The sheer size of his dick. He cant help but feel aroused, when he compares you and his cock side by side. Every now and then, he will have you sat right behind it, while he holds you, and just admire how small you are. He has to prep you for your first time together, and even every single time you guys do have sex. Simply because of the size of it. And its not just long, its girthy too. So if you dont have some prep, he might end up abominating your poor womb.

He especially likes seeing you struggle, especially when you give him head. you can barely fit your mouth around it. Your jaw gets sore within literal seconds of putting his member in your mouth. So you have to use your hands (which also barely touch eachother), for the rest of his cock.

Overstimulating you. His favorite way of overstimulation you is with his arms and hands. He will have you trapped in between his legs. One of his lower arms will be fingering your supple core; the other one circling harshly around your clit. One of his upper hands holding your waist up; the other one toying with your breast and sensitive, puffy nipples.

He also likes overstimulating you, by having you cock warm him. Its one of his favorite past times. Especially when you two try to be sneaky, like during his pageants ontop of the webbing. (should I make a whole other post about this??) He just loves feeling the warmth of your pussy against his cold self. And he wont let you move. Like at all. Unless he grabs your hips and forcibly bounces you up and down, which is after a while of waiting of course.

Dirty talk. He loves making you feel smaller, so he will talk down upon you. Everything he calls you starts with 'my', because he is very possessive. things like "my slut", "my whore", "my princess", etc. He will never talk about you in a truly bad connotation. So he will say things like:

"You like being my little slut, yeah?"

"C'mon, you can take more. don't be a baby."

"yeahhhh. Takin' it like a fuckin' champ. Good fuckin' girl-"

"Oh fuck... shit just like that"

"Ohh yeah- thats some good shit."

"Dont you dare fuckin' move."

"You feelin' good princess? Yeah I bet you are. Fittin' me like a glove."

"Awww you want more? Your gonna have to wait a bit, m'kay?"

"You want it inside? Ya' want daddy to fill ya' up real nice?"

So overall, he favors when you are small and meek. Just be a good girl for him, and you wont have to worry about his intimidation, okay?

[voxslays]

WRAPPING PRESENTS

You were stressed. Pushed past your limit time and time again. Why? Charlie. You cared for her like a daughter, you truly did—but you needed a break. It was your fault, and you knew it. You had offered to handle all the holiday affairs so she could run the trust exercises stress-free…but now you were suffering with nowhere and nobody to turn to. You had been told to take a break by Charlie and Vaggie multiple times, but you couldn’t. Not now, when you’re so close to being done! ​​

So there you were, sitting quietly, running paperwork for the rest of the Christmas decor that would be arriving soon, bored out of your mind and stressing out. That was until you heard the subtle click of the lock opening, followed by the squeak of the door. You quickly looked up, expecting Charlie—only to be met with Lucifer. “Luci?” You ask softly, still holding the small red and gold pen in your hand. “Did you need something?”

Lucifer's gentle gaze falls upon you as he enters the room, his presence commanding attention as he approaches your desk. He sits down beside you, his beautifully tailored creamy white suit a stark contrast to the mundane paperwork you're handling. His gloved hand reaches out, gently taking the pen from yours and setting it aside. You look up at him, giving him your undivided attention. "You're overworking yourself again, darling.” Lucifer says in an almost sing-songy tone, his voice is gentle, almost concerned.

"Tell me truthfully—when was the last time you took a proper break? Let someone else handle things?" Lucifer grips your hands softly. “I don’t have time for a break.” You say sweetly, your right hand cupping his pale face, while the other sits folded in your lap. “And I’m almost done anyways.” Lucifer's golden eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles softly, leaning into your touch. He knows this argument all too well. "Almost done?" He echoes, his tone skeptical. "You've been saying that for weeks now." He sighs. “Well it’s true this time-!” Luci lets out a soft chuckle, reaching up to hold your hand against his cheek. "Oh golly…” He sighs.

“Listen to yourself. The only thing 'true' here is how badly you need someone to force you to rest." His expression softens further, becoming more tender. You stare at him silently, having no argument because you know deep down he’s right. You cross your arms and pout your upper lip. Seeing your pout, Lucifer can't help but smile wider, his golden eyes crinkling at the corners. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before standing up and pulling you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you out of here before you burn yourself out completely."

“Luci!” You frown. His expression turns more serious, and he steps closer to you. "Don't 'Luci' me. I'm not letting you push yourself like this anymore." With a quick move, he sweeps your papers into a neat stack and slides them aside. He steps to the large curtained windows and opens them, letting light seep into the room. “I’m not letting you end up like me…” Lucifer mutters quietly, not loud enough for anyone but himself to hear.

“What did you say?” You ask softly, stepping closer. Lucifer's gaze drops to the floor, clearly ashamed of his seven year disappearance—his hands clasped behind his back as he stares out the window. "Oh uhm- nothing, darling. Just...nothing." He clears his throat, trying to shake off the melancholy that often settles over him. "Now, let's get you out of here." You follow him out of the hotel’s office, and into the main lobby. You squint, putting a hand to your eyebrows to dim the light…has it always been this bright in here? You follow Lucifer down the hall to the elevator and step inside. The ride up is silent, the tension so thick you could cut it with Vaggie’s spear.

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the doors open. You follow Lucifer down another long hall to what you remember to be the large apple shaped tower from the outside of the building; his room. You step inside. The interior is golden, completely furnished with velvety red sofas, a large white kitchen with marble counters, and an intricate sunglow spiral staircase to the top floor. All around were intricate apples and wings, reminiscent of his days as an angel.

As you step inside, Lucifer closes the door behind you and leans against it, his red pupils watching you as you take in the lavish room. He unbuttons his white suit jacket, revealing the crisp white and red vest underneath. "Make yourself comfortable, apple pie." You sit down on one of the velvety sofas in the living room as Lucifer disappears from sight. You take another look around the golden, apple themed penthouse before Lucifer reappears carrying a small golden, woven basket full of what you assume to be the presents for the hotel residents.

From your quick glance, you see a bottle of champagne and a knitted sweater (with an intricate stitched apple design)—presumably for Husk and Charlie respectively. “What are those?” You ask him politely, though you probably already knew the answer. Lucifer sits down beside you on the velvet sofa, placing the golden basket between his knees. He looks down at the presents, his fingers gently sifting through the wrapping paper. "I think you know.” He smirks devilishly.

“And you want my help wrapping?” You fold your hands in your lap. "Perhaps..." His golden eyes gleam with amusement as he selects a small package and hands it to you. "Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to get you up here." The words come out with a hint of playfulness, but underlying them is a warmth that speaks of tender feelings. “Well either works, because I love wrapping presents!” You squeal excitedly as Lucifer hands you the champagne bottle. He chuckles, pleased by your enthusiasm. You carefully chose a golden sheet of wrapping paper, cutting it precisely before slowly wrapping and taping. Once the bottle is wrapped nicely, you put a big red bow and write ‘To: Husker’ on the bottle, before setting it aside. He selects the knitted sweater and begins to wrap it himself, his movements a little more clumsy compared to yours. He adds a small, slightly lopsided bow and writes 'To: Charlie' in elegant script before setting the present aside next to the champagne bottle.

The two of you repeat the process until there are no presents left, you look over to Lucifer, who is beaming with delight. Smiling brightly with delight, Lucifer leans back against the sofa cushion, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. "Oh golly! Now that was productive.” You laugh softly at his overexcited tone. You never thought you’d see the literal devil happy over wrapping Christmas presents. Scratch that- You never thought you’d see the devil celebrating Christmas at all!

“I never thought I’d see the ‘prince of darkness’ so joyous over wrapping gifts.” You comment aloud. "Well, it's not every day I get to sit around and wrap presents with my...” He pauses, his golden eyes flickering with unspoken words. “Your…?” You motion for him to finish, but he quickly switches the topic before he can say too much. “I uhm- I like your skin- I mean- Oh golly! Look at the time!” Lucifer laughs awkwardly.

You let out a yawn, not realizing how tired you really were from the past few weeks of overworking yourself. “I should probably get some sleep.” You pause, leaning in and kissing him on his rosy-red cheek. “Goodnight.” You wave goodbye, before strolling out of his room sleepily. As soon as you're gone, Lucifer's expression turns soft and contemplative. He touches his cheek where you kissed him, a small, tender smile playing on his lips. Touché.

[lqveharrington]

Lucky King? | L.M.

summary: Lucifer takes pride in everything he has, especially his wife.

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x wife!reader

includes: fluff, lucifer being a sweet and attentive husband and father, suggestiveness, possessiveness, that’s pretty much it (let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: okay but like, i am on serious hazbin brain rot, i have written more for HH than any other fandom so far.

Being the embodiment of pride meant that Lucifer constantly flaunted everything to his fellow sins and his people. And being the King of Hell meant he had a lot to brag about. Especially his family. God, Lucifer loved his family and would do anything to talk about them in every conversation.

An overlord meeting about movie productions on VoxFlix? Add romantic comedies, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite. Speaking with Beelzebub about her different alcoholic beverages? Make sure to make mojitos, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite.

He took pride in who he married and who his daughter was. After all, they were the royal family of Hell.

“Mom, I think it’s as tight as it can go— MOM!” Charlie’s eyes flashed red as she squealed, grabbing your arm.

“Sorry!” You tilt your head back as you let a laugh fall from your lips. “I thought you said—“

“No no no no noooo!” She turned around, eyes wide. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her crown.

Charlie beamed at you and traded places with you. “My turn!”

You hum as she tightens the corset around you, eyes flickering up toward the mirror when you hear the door creak open. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hi, my love.” He pressed a kiss to your hand and then one to Charlie’s forehead. “Hi, apple pie.” He watched his daughter tug on the strings attached to the corset, moving forward when it seemed like you were going to fall from the platform. “Charlie, what are you doing to your mother?”

“Pulling her corset tight—“ She grunted as she held the string in place, tying the back. “There.” You gave her a thumbs up as she finished, watching her glow at your silent praise.

“Gorgeous as always.” Lucifer stole you from your platform, the devil’s tail wrapping around your waist.

“You know? Vaggie is probably looking for me! I should leave…” Charlie let out an awkward laugh and fled for the door. “Text me when you need me for the entrance!”

Lucifer dipped you down, chuckling when you let out a noise of surprise. “You look breathtaking, my love. Maybe we should just skip the gala and do better activities right here—“

“Lucifer!” You lightly smack his chest, face flushed from his words. “You horny devil!”

“Says the queen of Hell.” He captured you in a quick kiss, red lipstick staining his lips. “Come on, Charlie can handle it on her own.” He squeezed your hips as you walked over to the vanity with his head resting on your bare shoulder.

You glance at your beloved with a soft look, “Luce, we didn’t coordinate a whole gala just to have our daughter host it herself.” You clip on a pair of earrings, the golden snake and apple shining through the light. “We also didn’t have these outfits made for us just for them to be wasted away on our bedroom floor.”

“I mean…” He nipped on your exposed shoulder, earning a gasp and glare. “They made you a maroon dress with a slit exposing your legs, my love.”

“Because it matches your maroon and black suit.” You turn in his arms and tug at his lapels. “Which I have to admit, kinda does it for me.”

He smirked as he slowly pushed you up against the vanity, “Yeah? Maybe we should ditch.”

“Nope.” Your hands clasped behind his neck, eyes widening when you feel one of his hands trail down to your exposed leg. “Luce…”

“You started this.” He slotted himself between your legs and continuously peppered kisses to your collarbone and neck, softly sucking. “You’re a tease.”

“Lucifer—“ Your protests were cut off with a quiet moan, but you quickly covered your mouth when hearing him chuckle. “Nope, we’re leaving now.”

Lucifer separated from you, a wide grin adorning his face as he scanned you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “Let’s go then, my love.”

You raised a brow but didn’t protest, letting him wrap his arm around your waist to guide you toward the ballroom. You both were quickly accompanied by your daughter as you made your way to the landing of the grand stairway.

The lights flashed off and the spotlight projected on the Morningstar family, the crowd’s voice hushed when spotting the monarchy. Lucifer gave a welcoming speech to the sinners, overlords, and sins who attended, making sure to mention his family and how they helped make the gala entirely possible. Final rounds of applause echoed through the ballroom as Lucifer finished off, letting everyone go back to their socialization and dancing.

“Mom,” Charlie caught you before you could follow Lucifer to greet his fellow sins. “Did you… Do you know why… You have bruises on your neck.” She finally mumbled out, eyes not meeting yours.

You felt yourself warm from embarrassment. Not only did your daughter tell you that you have hickeys on your neck, but you stood in the blinding lights with an audience staring at the three of you. No doubt photographers caught this and snapped photos for the internet. “Thank you for telling me, baby. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to murder your father.”

“Mom—“

You scanned the room before your gaze zeroed on Lucifer. He was laughing with Asmodeus before meeting your gaze and gave you a wink. Oh, he was going to pay.

“Lucifer.” You appear by his side. You give his fellow sin a quick smile but turn back to the little devil with a scowl. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “It was nice catching up with you, Oz.”

You guided Lucifer back to a secluded hallway, eyes flashing bright red when you were alone. Within a blink of an eye, you had Lucifer pinned against the wall with your forearm.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to know that I went out there with bruises all over my neck? Or, better yet, that our daughter was the one who told me what was on my neck?” You seethed. You were beyond embarrassed and pissed, you’re surprised you haven’t become a full demon yet.

“To be fair, it was more than just your neck—“

“LUCIFER!” You use your free hand to reach up your collarbone. The room felt ten times warmer, and it didn’t help that you felt Lucifer’s devil tail decided to wrap around your calf.

He remained pinned on the wall, giving you a cheeky grin. “This is really hot.”

“Oh, my god!” You release him with a glare. “There’s going to be photos everywhere! What will the public think about—“

“Lucky king?” He shrugged as he let his fingers trail up your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Listen, we’ll get rid of the photos. But is it really a crime to show off what’s mine?”

You grumble a small response, propping your head on his shoulder. “You’re crazy, Luce.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He chuckled.

The photos never made it outside of Pride Manor, but the teasing you received from the other sins made you flush every time. Lucifer listened to each jeer, a smirk present on his face from the constant reminder that you were in fact his.

Especially when the bruises scattered around you spelled out his initials.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[jazzmasternot]

Thanks @hazelfoureyes for suggesting I make banners of these working on stickers and pens possibly bc I really like that idea!

Reblog with your occupation and I’ll make you a banner aswell

[voxsremotec0ck]

Multi prompt ask: they're just chilling and flirty joking with reader when reader just jokingly drop that if they were to sleep together then they'd totally dom their ass, reactions?

𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐩.ᐟ

⋆｡ﾟJokingly saying you’ll top them leads to some realizations ﾟ｡⋆

— Verosika, Vox, Beelzebub, Velvette

Verosika is genuinely caught off guard by the joke, not having anyone say something like that to her. She’s used to having a semblance of control in the bedroom, being a succubus and all, so having someone say they wanted to top her? To focus on her pleasure? Makes her blush and ask you to prove it.

Vox laughs, thinking your joke was just that, a joke. But when you raise an eyebrow at him and he realizes you’re serious? He short circuits so bad that you have to reboot him. When he wakes up though, he’s instantly pushing you on your back and telling you that if you want to top him you’ll have to earn it.

Beelzebub laughs loudly before grabbing your arm and pulling you to somewhere more private. She likes your straightforwardness and tells you to show her what you got. You do just that, fucking her so good she sees stars, and she decides that maybe she’ll keep you around.

Velvette just stares at you, trying to figure out just how serious you were. No one has ever said anything like that to her before, always assuming she preferred to top. When it turns out you were in fact very serious, she smirks straddles your lap, and tells you to do your worst.

The girls and Vox lol

[littlepputo]

Hb head canons of how they would be during yk 🫣

A/N: Idk if I'm going to do a part two to this lovely request

Warnings: smut, Gn reader , Praise kink, degrading kink, semi public sex

Stolas

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I see stolas as a soft dom or a switch.

He likes to take things slow, likes to take his time with you enjoy every moment he has you in his arms.

He most definitely realises on your praises, telling him he's making you good or that he's hitting all the right places.

And seeing as he never got the love and praise he desperately needed from his father or even Stella. He's basically putty in your hands when you do praise him.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Asmodeus

Heheh

I think much like Stolas he likes to take it slow, enjoying his time with you.

Finding out what places of your body is most pleasurable, what makes you scream and moan out his name.

He's the embodiment of lust he's had years centuries to learn what makes a soul scream out his name.

And don't even get me start on that wife beater.

♧⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞♧♧⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞♧♧⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞⌝⌟⌜⌞♧

Andrealphous

This sassy man knows his way around the bedroom, pleasuring his partner is basically what he's focusing on whenever he gets the chance.

He definitely praises and degrades his partner, anything to get a raise out of them. Hes totally into begging, it makes him feel like he has much more power and control over the situation.

ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ

Blitzø

Blitzø definitely has a high sex drive, and he'll basically do it anywhere. This man has no shame.

It gets him more excited than he should be, covering your mouth to keep you quiet as he basically pounds into you as if its his last day in hell.

Whenever you guys are in his office he'll sometimes if not all the times having you give him a bj while he's talking to a client, trying to keep a straight face.

[cherryrainn]

begging u for some fem reader blitzø smut 🙏 we need more blitzø content in this world

━━ ✧ 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ; blitzø + fem!reader

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; i'm proud of this. and YEAH SO TRUE

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; sexual content, smut, oral sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, dirty talk,

you push open the heavy door to i.m.p headquarters, expecting to hear the usual cacophony of voices and the shenanigans that often accompany a typical workday. instead, you're met with an unsettling silence. the absence of moxxie's chatter, millie's boisterous laughter, and even loona's sarcastic remarks leaves the place feeling eerily still.

raising an eyebrow, you shrug off the unusual quietude and decide to head straight to blitzo's office. the walls adorned with contracts and pictures of past assignments close in on you as you make your way down the corridor.

you've always sensed a strange, electric tension between you and blitzo. the stolen glances, the lingering touches — yet, neither of you has dared to cross that unspoken boundary.

as you approach blitzo's office, you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest. was he even in there?

you've had your eyes on each other for what feels like forever, but circumstances, or maybe just sheer cowardice, have kept things between you strictly professional.

you knock lightly on blitzo's door, already half-expecting it to swing open without a response. to your surprise, the door creaks open almost immediately, revealing blitzo leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk cluttered with paperwork and empty whiskey bottles. was he waiting for you? classic.

"ah, if it isn't the most fuckable employee walkin' through that door," blitzo drawls, his red eyes lighting up with mischief as he takes in your appearance. "took ya long enough."

rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smirk tugging at your lips, you step into the room, closing the door behind you. "looks like everyone decided to play hooky today. even loona?"

blitzo chuckles, lowering his feet to the ground as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "yeah, somethin' like that. mox and mil.. more like a 'family day out,' or some sappy shit like that. loona.. i dunno. left me here all alone, can you believe it?"

you say nothing. you move closer to the desk.

it's just you and him.

blitzo breaks the silence first, his voice husky and laced with an unfamiliar vulnerability. "y'know, for all the shit we've been through, all the near-death experiences and fucked-up assignments, there's somethin' i've been meanin' to tell you."

your heart pounds in your chest as you lean in, captivated by the intensity in his eyes. "oh? and what's that?"

he smirks, a devilish glint in his gaze as he reaches across the desk, his fingers lightly grazing yours. "fuck the paperwork."

before you can process what's happening, blitzo is standing before you, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into a rough kiss.

your lips crash against his as he tightens his grip on you, his hands roaming over your body, desperate and hungry. he bites your bottom lip, earning a moan from you, and your tongues dance together as you deepen the kiss.

heat pools in your core as blitzo's hand slips under your top, his claws raking down your back. he pushes you onto the desk, and you find yourself trapped beneath him, his frame pressing you against the wooden surface.

the sound of ripping fabric fills the room as blitzo tears off your top, exposing your bare chest. he lowers his mouth to your breasts, his tongue teasing your nipples before sucking on them. you writhe beneath him, your breath hitching as his fingers trail down your stomach and under the waistband of your jeans.

"tell me you want this," blitzo murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire as his fingers brush against your clit.

"yes, please, i want you," you whisper, your own voice trembling as you cling to him.

that's all the encouragement he needs. in a blur of movement, blitzo yanks off your pants (or whatever you're wearing) and underwear, tossing them aside as he kneels between your legs.

his tongue flicks against your folds, causing you to buck your hips against him. he chuckles, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, before pushing his tongue inside of you.

you let out a moan as he begins to lick and suck at your entrance, his fingers massaging your clit. the heat inside you is unbearable, and you arch your back, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

blitzo pulls away, his eyes burning with lust as he looks up at you. "god, you taste so fuckin' good."

you reach down, grabbing his horn, guiding his head back down to your dripping cunt. he groans against you, his tongue plunging inside of you once more, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

the wet sounds of his mouth against your pussy echo throughout the room, mingling with the sounds of your whimpers and moans. you feel yourself growing closer and closer to climax, your grip on his horn tightening.

"fuck, blitz," you whimper, your thighs quivering as you teeter on the edge of release.

suddenly, blitzo stops, pulling away from you. you whimper, the loss of his touch leaving you feeling cold and empty.

"why'd you stop?" you pant, your eyes pleading for him to continue.

"i think you can do better than that," blitzo smirks, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly rises to his feet, unfastening his pants.

your eyes widen as his cock springs free, already hard and throbbing. his hands grip your thighs, spreading your legs open as he positions himself between them.

you bite your lip as he enters you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. he grunts, his hands digging into your flesh as he begins to thrust into you.

the sensation of him filling you, his cock hitting every right spot, is almost too much to bear. you cry out, arching your back as he pounds into you, his movements frantic and desperate.

"oh, fuck, blitz!" you moan, your hands grasping his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"that's better," he growls, his voice ragged and full of need.

his fingers dig into your thighs, the pain mixing with the pleasure, sending you spiraling towards your release. your muscles tense, your body tingling with the delicious friction of him moving inside of you.

"are you gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispers, his eyes locked with yours.

"yes!" you moan, the heat building inside you reaching a breaking point.

blitzo smirks, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more frenzied. "go ahead then, cum for me."

you cry out, the coil of pleasure inside you snapping as you reach your peak. your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

blitzo lets out a guttural groan, his cock pulsing inside of you as he comes undone. his hips slam against yours, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room as he empties himself into you.

you collapse onto the desk, sweaty and panting, the euphoric afterglow of your orgasm washing over you. blitzo leans over you, his face inches from yours, his red eyes gazing into yours.

"shiiit," he says, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "i think i love you."

you smile, a warmth spreading through your chest as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. "i think i love you too."

[ennvisin]

Half the fan base wanting to call Vox daddy is so funny to me like…

You want THIS WET PATHETIC MAN to be your daddy dom???? LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE HE WHIMPERS IN BED.

[roo-bi-unrestricted]

" ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.. "

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ : ꜱᴛᴏʟᴀꜱ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ : ᴀɴᴏɴ

ᴄᴀᴛᴇɢᴏʀʏ : ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ : ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ( ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴀꜱ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟꜱ )

ᴛʏᴘᴇ : ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 479 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ꜱᴛᴏʟᴀꜱ

I could imagine the two of you fucking either because Blitzo loaned you off to Stolas since he was too busy to fulfill his side of the agreement he had with Stolas or the owl requested your presence when he was lonely.

The Goetia swings both ways when it comes to BDM. You could tie him up or vice versa, and he wouldn't mind. The prince is more on the submissive side, allowing you to dominate him to your heart's content.

Stolas makes a lot of lewd sounds, his moans, screams, and begging echo through the room as you pound into him. His legs wrap around your hips tightly. Having him blindfolded while you tease him is one of his favorite kinks.

Especially if you tie him up while he's on his back. You can hear his wings flap in excitement and frustration as you edge him closer and closer to the edge of climax, but you don't let him.

You can feel his feathers rise whenever he's close, and when you finally decide to let him, he lets out the most lewd sound ever. It's almost animalistic, and the only time you've heard a sound like that is from an animal in heat.

Stolas likes it when you pull his feathers. If you were going to soften on him, he would grab your hand and shove it into his chest, making sure that you were gripping the base of the feathers and pulling them hard.

He would even beg for you to leave bite marks, scratches, and hickeys all over him. That's also another one of the Goetia's kinks. When it's time to switch, the prince is very dominant. He loves to ride you, using his long tongue to explore your body and make you his plaything.

The Goetia makes sure to belong your orgasms.

Since the bird doesn't have a cock of his own, he would finger or eat you out. He knows that you would love the way his tongue feels inside of you, so warm, slick and wet. Stolas loves to praise and degrade you, telling you how amazing you were for him. Tell you how naughty you're being.

He is always willing to go another round, especially if you use his toys on him. Putting a vibrator right next to his cloaca while he's blindfolded makes him go crazy. He loves the feeling of not knowing where the vibrations would be placed and when they would happen.

.

Stolas would definitely invite you over again. He would never see you as more than a sex buddy or a friend, nothing more. He would make sure to give you the best aftercare of your life ( afterlife. ) Even letting you stay the night if it was your first time with him.

You were a good lay, but the prince was still very much in love with Blitzo. He may consider inviting you both over to ravage him once more.

[inferno-0]

⌞ SATAN X READER ⌝ - SMUT 18+

Huge, imposing, angry and... Hot. Four damn words that refer to him in every sense. This fire burning between you was so strong that it could melt even it, although it was an idiom. Strong paws, with yellow tints on their claws, squeezed your thighs, leaving them in place without unnecessary movements. But just the sight of him has already made you freeze and just look at all the muscles of his body, even being under him. A long, serpentine tongue played with you and pressed all the buttons, completely enveloping you in pleasure.

His breath deprived you of a hot stream with every breath. You had no choice but to grab his horns. But who knew that it was there that the lever of his movements was located. Such a moment is impossible not to forget, the way he plunged into you with his mouth with a growl, caressing your folds. Harsh and rude, but not so much as to hurt you. It may be the remnants of his rage after a long day that have nowhere to vent, but you don't mind if Satan takes it out this way.

A quiet squeak came out of you with each of its movements and growing rumbles. His muzzle was still between his thighs, exploring the same places over and over again. It looks like you've gone through all nine circles of hell in pleasure before snuggling up to his tongue in approach. Satan didn't want to rush it, but by listening to your pleas, he's still going your way, giving you what you need right now.

[blitzwhore]

It is so important to me that both Blitzø and Stolas are so so so cringe

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Masterlist

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut 

Author note: This is my first attempt at a fanfic, but I was just so inspired and wanted to post it somewhere after writing like +67K words (and counting). So here goes nothing I guess?

Warnings: Minors DNI! 18+! May contain disturbing, gruesome, and graphic sexual scenes. Graphic violence. Blood. Obsession. Mentions of abuse. Mentions of substance abuse. Trigger warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter. 

“Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…” 

- Mahatma Gandhi

-> Chapter One - The Commercial

-> Chapter Two - Breakfast

-> Chapter Three - Care for a Drink? Spice 🔥

-> Chapter Four - The Meeting

-> Chapter Five - Night's Mistress Smut 💦

-> Chapter Six - A Stroll Spice 🔥

-> Chapter Seven - Forget Me Knot Smut 💦

-> Chapter Eight - The Headliner Spice🔥

-> Chapter Nine - A Black Suit Spice🔥

-> Chapter Ten - Cute Smut 💦

-> Chapter Eleven - Lucifer's Visit

-> Chapter Twelve - The Kidnapping

-> Chapter Thirteen - The Truth

-> Chapter Fourteen - Picking a Fight Smut 💦

—> A message to the readers

-> Chapter Fifteen - Heaven's Worst Kept Secret Smut 💦

-> Chapter Sixteen - Let’s Kill God Smut 💦

-> Chapter Seventeen - The Countdown Cuteness ❤️

Alternative Endings:

My Fawn & My Shadow:

-> Chapter Eighteen - The Endgame

-> Epilogue

Paris

-> Chapter Eighteen - The Endgame

-> Epilogue

->Afterword

[eepylucifer]

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x f!reader.

part two to this fic.

after inviting blitzø to stay the night in your bed, the two of you (and the rest of i.m.p.) deal with the sudden change in the dynamic between the two of you.

features blitzø typical language, pure fluff, and sexual innuendo. the man really has a thing for your boobs, okay? 1.4k

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You wake up before your alarm, eyes opening reluctantly against the red light of a hellish morning. It takes you a moment to remember the events of the night before, but the shifting of the sheets over you as another body in the bed moves brings it all flooding back.

Both you and Blitzø had moved in the night and his hand is no longer wrapped around yours. You vaguely remember falling asleep after him, your hand still enclosed in his as his breathing had slowly evened out into a soothing, steady rhythm. His back is to you now, his body curled in on itself almost protectively. You take a moment to study him, the curve of his horns and the slim line of his back as it peeks out from under the blankets. Eventually you make a move to leave the bed, switching off your alarm and intent on a steaming shower.

You stop as something tightens reflexively around your leg as soon as you try to move, and you lift the sheets with a brow raised in curiosity. Blitzø’s tail is wrapped firmly around your calf, and as you watch, the spade of his tail twitches slowly back in forth against the underside of your knee. It’s oddly soothing, and you press your lips together against the smile that threatens to bloom on your lips. With a soft exhale you let yourself fall back against the mattress, turning your head to look at him again.

“Blitzø?” you say his name softly, almost unwilling to wake him up. You weren’t sure of the last time he’d seemed so… peaceful. You reach out to touch a gentle hand to his shoulder. “B? We’ve gotta go to work.”

The imp groans, rolling onto his back. He squints up at the unfamiliar ceiling, apparently confused. “The fuck…?”

His eyes snap fully open as the night before suddenly comes back to him, and he grimaces, slowly turning his head to meet your eye.

“Christ on a stick, I really spent the fuckin’ night here, didn’t I?”

You nod, amused by the almost bashful glint in his eyes. “You did.”

“Please tell me I at least got to bury my face in those sweet—”

“No, you didn’t.” you say bluntly, rolling your eyes before he can finish. Still, you feel a tingle of warmth through you at the suggestion. “How’d you sleep?”

He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing a hand over his face and groaning. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“That’s what happens when you drink your weight in booze two nights in a row.”

“Bitch.”

You smirk at the lack of venom in his voice. “You wanna shower first? I don’t know if I’ve got anything you could wear, but I guess you could borrow a shirt or something if you need it…”

Blitzø groans again, more dramatically than before, rolling into your side and burying his face in your neck. You freeze as you feel the warmth of him press up against you, his face almost nuzzling into the curve of your collarbone. The sensation makes that warmth reappear inside you. The softest of cat-like purrs sounds from him for a moment before he stiffens, suddenly aware of the position he’s in.

He jerks away from you, falling off the side of the bed with a loud thump and a string of curses. The move tugs your leg across the bed, and his swearing continues as he realizes he’s effectively tied himself to you in his sleep. “Fuckin’ – ASS!”

His tail detangles itself from your leg as you sit up, and you swear you can see a pinkish hue to the scarred side of his face.

“…You good?”

“Shut up.”

“Nope,” you reply childishly, smirking when he flips you off. “Now, did you want to shower?”

Blitzø tries for seductive, raising an eyebrow at you from where he still sits on the floor. “You joining me? ‘Cause I gotta say the idea of you all soaped up and gag—”

“Blitzø.” you deadpan, climbing out of bed. His eyes drop over your figure as he realizes what you had been wearing in bed with him – just an oversized tee shirt and your underwear – and you swear his pupils dilate. “Are you sober yet?”

He blinks up at you, swallowing heavily before clearing his throat. “Judgin’ by the titty-fuckin’ brass band shovin’ its collective dick up my brain’s unlubed ass right now, I’d say yeah.”

You wrinkle your nose at the metaphor but squat down in front of him, studying his face for a moment. You nod as you make a decision, reaching out to wipe a spot of dried drool away from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. “Okay.”

Ignoring the part of you that reminded you that this was a bad idea, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss, his cheek still cupped in your hand. Blitzø freezes for a moment before kissing you back, his hand finding your knee and sliding up to curl around the bare flesh of your thigh as he leans up into it. You feel his breath catch against your mouth, his tongue touching your bottom lip for a second. The kiss is soft and it’s brief and when you pull away Blitzø still looks surprised.

Giving him a small smile you stand, fingers curling in the hem of your shirt. “I’ve gotta shower. The coffee machine should start brewing in a few minutes if you want some.”

“I… what?!”

***

Loona doesn’t say anything when she climbs up into the van beside you, trapping you between the hellhound and the imp driving, but her raised eyebrow speaks volumes.

“Nothing happened.” you tell her defensively.

“Uh-huh.” Loona replies dryly, already focused on her phone, and you can basically feel Blitzø’s smirk on the other side of you. By the time you were showered and dressed he’d managed to summon up much of his usual bravado, and the fact that he was currently wearing your favorite 666 Wrath Radio tee shirt was serving as basically a spotlight broadcasting the idea that the two of you had fucked.

You suspect that that was the whole reason he picked it.

You jump as you feel Blitzø’s hand slide over your thigh as he reaches between your knees to shift gears. He touches you again as he withdraws, claws grazing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Goosebumps follow after them. You shiver and he snickers, and suddenly you’re regretting the fact that you’d chosen to wear shorts.

Loona eyes you as she notices the touch, and you roll your eyes. “Nothing happened.”

“Sure.”

***

“Is Blitzø wearing your shirt?” Moxxie asked as you entered the I.M.P. office, drawing Millie’s attention too. “Why is he wearing your shirt?”

A smile forms on Millie’s lips, her eyes shining with possibility. “Did you two…?”

“No!” you reply, dropping onto the couch with a sigh. “For Satan’s sake, no!”

Moxxie seems to be still stuck on the obvious. “But he’s wearing your shirt.”

“Aw, come on, Moxx.” Blitzø says, wrapping an arm obnoxiously around the other imp and pulling him unwillingly into his side. He ruffles Moxxie’s hair with his fist, grinning as he tries to shove him away. “You know if we’d fucked Y/N here would need the day off just to get those sexy little legs of hers workin’ again after all the shakin’ they’d been doin’!”

“Shut the fuck up, B,” you tell him as Moxxie finally manages to wrest himself Blitzø’s grasp, and the taller imp grins at you. “Or I’ll tell ‘em what actually happened last night. Okay, boss?”

“Ooh, ‘boss’? Tits, you’re gonna go and make me all tingly.”

You roll your eyes, but his smile widens from teasing to more pleased as he notices you trying not to smile yourself. “Can we just… go kill someone? Please?”

Blitzø claps his hand together, turning on his heel to face Loona. “Now you’re talking! Looney, what have we got on the books for today?”

Millie takes a seat beside you, leaning into your side to speak quietly enough that only you would hear. “What did happen last night?”

You shake your head, avoiding her eye. Blitzø catches your eye again as Loona goes through the day’s agenda in a detached tone of voice. He winks and you feel yourself flush. Millie’s eyebrows shoot up as she notices.

You clear your throat. “I… honestly, I've got no fucking idea.”