hiyashortking

[hiyashortking]

Yes, Sir, That Is How Consent Works

Alternate titles: Dominating the Don; Don-imation

Ship: Vox/Reader; Reader is AFAB genderqueer. Reader has some Lute vibes if you squint so if you like a crack ship, that might actually work here too.

AU: Vox is a young mafia don

Summary: Reader is Vox’s personal assistant. Vox is into noncon, but Reader is not. Reader is traumatized by the experience, but ends up on top.

Kinks: noncon including strangulation, biting, bruising, etc.; kissing; dry-humping; direct and indirect mentions of violence

chatgpt drew him for me:

You are Vox’s new assistant and he pays you very well. Since starting to work for him, you’ve been able to pay off debts, help out family, and start to elevate your quality of life. You no longer had to hold back when you wanted a sandwich and a coffee from the deli, and you didn’t have to sacrifice heat or water to pay your rent.

His other employees scared you about working for Vox initially. He had a personal chef, several housekeepers, various chauffeurs, and a plethora of other employees who came to and from his mansion on a regular basis. Some of these folks talked to you, mostly the ones who were employed to serve him in some way. They warned you that his previous assistants didn’t last long, that they either disappeared without another word (how ominous!) or they were preoccupied with trying to make themselves his missus; men, women, and queers alike!

You Googled him before beginning the work, and thought a lot of the information looked shady. A salary was a salary, you were desperate, and there wasn’t shit you could do with your Bachelor’s degree. So off to the interview you went!

You were intimidated by him for sure. His smile, wide and toothy, felt more like a threat than an invitation. His words, even when appropriate or neutral, often felt just on the verge of sarcasm or passive aggression. He felt mean. He felt fake. You felt judged. You left the interview feeling foolish and a bit relieved, chastising yourself for thinking the next phase of your life could possibly include you working for, you were pretty certain after the interview, a fucking crime lord.

But he called you soon after your interview, while you were still on the bus heading home, and told you the job was yours.

The first few weeks, you were wary. It was all “yes, Sir,” this, and “yes, of course, Sir,” that. He guided you through what his daily requirements of you would be, simple things like email correspondences and general overseeing of the legitimate businesses he ran as cover-ups for the illegitimate ones. He would surprise you with questions that, to you, were obviously trick ones, and when you passed his tests his smile would border on proud, and then he gave you more responsibilities.

He insisted on a wardrobe change for you, explaining you were a reflection of him and he couldn’t have his assistant, he looked you up and down as he said this, looking like that.

Sometimes he used you to make people feel safer around him, instructing you on how to sit, when to cross or uncross your legs, and when to smile. You were there to make others think this was just a regular man doing business, look at how happy his personal assistant is!

He even had a nickname for you. He called you pixel or his little pixel. Hell if you knew why.

Then the weeks turned into months, and the two of you actually got along! Vox’s grin was often sinister, but equally as often he was playful and laughed with his entire body. He seemed to relax around you, or at least he no longer made you think he considered you ridiculous. You were able to have fun together. You had tons of inside jokes, some that made other employees roll their eyes at you both. You teased each other. He touched you constantly, a kiss on the hand, a fiddle with your hair, or even a short hug when something really went his way. Sometimes you hoped, deeper than you’d let yourself know, that he was proud of you for your work. Or that he even liked you as an employee, or a person.

And then sometimes you would see something alarming, like a bruise on his jawline, or a drop of blood on the carpet, and you would remember who the fuck you were working for. This wasn’t some doctor or plain ol’ oligarch CEO. In the time you’d known him, this man had probably had people’s bones broken. He probably had people killed or killed them himself. But your mundane brain would often forget this reality. If you didn’t see it or hear about it, your brain was incredible at pretending that part of his life wasn’t real.

* Then one evening, he called you upstairs. You’d been in his room plenty of times, to deliver some dry cleaning when there wasn’t a housekeeper around, or to grab a document from a locked compartment in his desk or closet. He wouldn’t want the house staff messing with these kinds of documents, as he would put it, so it made sense for this to be a task for you. You didn’t think anything of it, but when you entered the room, you were surprised by the sight of him resting on his bed, his back against the headboard and his long legs spread comfortably, one of them propped up on a pillow. Usually, he sat in a chair, walked around the spacious room, or would be complaining from his walk-in closet. You flinched when you saw him, feeling embarrassed and excited by the sight of him sitting up in his bed.

“Come here, pixel,” he used his special little nickname for you, fiddling with the remote to the flat screen that hung opposite his giant bed. But his eyes were on you from the moment you entered the room, and you couldn’t help feeling like you did the day you met him, like there was something happening you were unaware of. A joke that was on you.

Except this felt even more unnerving.

You stepped closer to the bed.

He bit down on his lip, and leered at you with narrowed eyes. The hand that had been fiddling with the remote just seconds earlier was now unzipping his pants.

Your body was so shocked, you turned and backed into the wall, your heart racing wildly, your mind filled with deafening noise, like back in the day when the color bars showed up on your TV screen when something was wrong with the signal.

His eyes slid up your body, and his smile was sinister. “Careful there, little pixel.” Your mind must have temporarily faded to black because in one breath he was off the bed and across the room, towering over you. He leaned back only to take another leer at the details of your body. “I don’t want my merchandise fucked up before I can ruin it myself.”

Your heart beat so intensely you thought it could burst through your chest. You could swear you felt your blood blocking your ability to hear, and yet you heard him loud and clear.

You put a hand on his chest and put the slightest bit of pressure on it to push him away. “Sir?” you asked him, and the word failed to portray the vastness of your confusion.

Vox didn’t budge from the pressure. Instead, he cupped your face in both of his large hands, tilting your chin up in a way that, following his previous statement, made you feel like an object instead of a person.

“S-sir, this isn’t appropriate. I-I work for you.” When recounting this moment later, you would be shocked by your own fucking bravery.

“Oh, but you are working for me, pixel,” he allowed himself to separate locks of your hair, running it through his fingers and seeming enchanted by the way it fell away from his hands. “You’re still on the clock. My personal assistant. And I do, so very much, require your assistance right now.”

You were scared.

You considered running.

Vox’s face was in your neck, inhaling the scent of you. He kissed your neck, sucked on it, and eventually bit it. It felt good at first, even through your fear, but he bit down harder and harder, reaching that point where the act was no longer sensual, but purely violent.

You made so much money working for him, and that kept you rooted to the spot. That thought, over and over again. Think of the money, think of the the money, the money, the money, the money. And it wasn’t like you weren’t attracted to him. You’d fantasized about him here and there, and maybe began to harbor a bit of a crush. But this behavior didn’t match any of your fantasies.

His hands were on you. One under your shirt and bra, and the other around you, pulling you close. You didn’t remember how they got there. It was like the events were happening in flashes, your mind turning on and off as if switching back and forth between TV channels. One of the channels was white noise and the other was Vox, preying on you. He twisted your nipple roughly and seemed to relish in your yelp of pain. He had a leg between both of yours, roughly pressing against you, making your vulva feel bruised.

You didn’t know when his hand returned to your neck. You became aware of it when he pressed upwards against your throat, making it slowly and increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

You’d seen women and men leave the mansion before, wearing clothes they didn’t arrive in because, you would later learn from the mansion gossip, he tore their clothes off with his bare hands. At one point, he dated a young man consistently for a few weeks, long enough for you to witnesses the bruising on that man’s neck and other visible parts of his skin change from a lurid blue to a disgusting yellow. You knew he liked being rough, but you did not imagine this.

“I’m scared,” you were able to croak through his gentle strangling, your voice unsteady. A part of you wondered if you were even able to make those words loud enough for him to hear.

He looked mesmerized by what he was doing to you. His pupils were enormous, his nostrils were flared. You noticed even his breathing was ragged.

“Stop,” you heard yourself say, as if your mind and your words were yards away.

He blinked, and blinked again. As if his brain were buffering.

“Stop hurting me.”

He let go of your neck and immediately turned away from you.

You leaned forward, trying to recall how to breathe again, instinctively wrapping one arm around your stomach and putting the other hand protectively on your neck.

“My bad,” still turned away from you, he cracked his neck, which let you see the agitated tension in his jaw and on his brows. When he turned around again, you could swear he had a different face. He flashed you his fake wide grin and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure what came over me,” his words felt like an offer, like he was testing out his options for what to say as an excuse. “I like you so, very much, you see, and I’m used to getting what I like. That was my mistake, pixel. Usually, folks who look at me the way you do like the aggressive approach.”

At this point you were trying not to cry, taking deep, trembling breaths in and out.

“C-can I be alone for a moment?” you asked him.

There was only the slightest flinch of surprise in his expression, as if it were subliminal.

“Of course, pixel. I’ll go tell the ladies downstairs to make you some of that chai shit you’re always on about,” he said, and walked quickly out the door.

As soon as Vox was gone, you slid down the wall to the floor and hugged your legs, trembling wildly and crying into your knees.

That had been the single most terrifying experience of your life.

It took you maybe two hours to finally stand up and leave the room.

* You, of course, called out the next day. Your voice was hoarse when you told Vox you weren’t feeling well and wouldn’t be able to make it in.

The tension was palpable even through the phone as you spoke, but after a beat Vox said in his grand voice: “Of course, my little pixel, we can’t have you coming here not at your best. Take the whole week, darling. Take two! You work so hard for me.”

“Thank you, Sir,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. You would need at least that much time for the bruises to heal from your neck.

“And, pixel?”

You were scared of what he was going to say next. “Yes, Sir?”

“No harm will come to you on this property, ever again.”

“Sir?” you could barely say back, your tears falling now. You covered your trembling lip with the back of your hand, even though he couldn’t see you over the phone.

“I miscalculated, and I won’t make that mistake twice. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you believe me?”

You gulped, and when you did your throat hurt immensely. “No, Sir.”

He sighed. “I deserve that, I guess,” he mumbled the last bit before adding, “Do let me prove it to you, then. And I’ll have some things sent over to you while you’re out-”

“Sir!-”

“I don’t want to hear it. If I can’t kiss your ass in person, let me at least throw money at you. And I know you won’t tell me if you need anything, but you have my black card with you. Use it for absolutely anything. And, pixel-”

You waited.

“I hope your neck is okay.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Sir.”

You hung up while he was still talking.

* Every day over those two weeks, Vox had something sent over to you. Flowers and chocolates and baskets of treats. A new phone. Clothing. Gourmet meals. A new computer. Books from your fucking Amazon wishlist, signed, with personalized notes from the authors. He bought you a car, even though for months he insisted you use his drivers whenever you needed to go anywhere, and still had one parked outside of your building during your entire time off. He sent over a few women to give you a spa treatment, but you paid them generously and sent them away. At first, you rolled your eyes at his behavior, but after being inundated with it daily, you began to feel curious about the next gift. He was trying to Pavlovian distract you from remembering what he did, and the worst thing was, it was a tiny bit working.

When you finally went back, the door to his study was wide open and he wasn’t in there. Relieved, you settled yourself at his desk to answer emails. You were surprised to see he hadn’t touched a single fucking one while you were gone.

You heard him, arguing loudly on the phone, minutes before he even stepped foot through the door. He was always so loud in the mansion, not caring about what his staff overheard. He acted like a king that way, forgetting people were present, but unlike a king he rewarded his employees handsomely. “Valentino, I swear to-” he stopped when he saw you in his chair, his anger turning quickly to surprise and then glee. He lifted a finger as if you were about to interrupt his phone call (you weren’t). “Val- Val, I have to go. Get your shit together, baby, please. Yes, I’ll see you then.”

You had forgotten so many details about him while you were out. His wide grin, his long limbs, the way the tailored suits looked on his body, how his dark hair sometimes looked blue in certain light. When you thought of him over the past few days, you pictured him as ugly and sneering, and now you felt surprised to be reminded that he was handsome, bordering on cute.

“Welcome home, my little pixel,” he came over to you and sat on his desk as close to you as possible, causing you to push the chair away from the desk until it hit the windowed wall behind you.

He blinked, and then grinned again, obviously ignoring your display of fear.

“How are you feeling, darling? Do you want anything? Did you get all of the gifts I sent you? Do you like the car-”

You gulped, relieved it no longer hurt to do so, and tried to breathe regularly again. “I’m okay, Sir.”

He groaned and leaned back dramatically, often theatrical with his movements. “Ugh, enough with the Sirs! It can be really misleading you know,” he winked at you. “Might make a man think you actually consider him your superior.”

You narrowed your eyes, fear replaced by annoyance. “You are my superior, Vox. You’re literally my boss.”

“See, isn’t it nicer to just call me by my name?”

You sighed again, enjoying the irritation much more over the horror you experienced only seconds earlier.

He took one of your hands into both of his, causing the hair on your body to bristle. He leaned forward to nuzzle your hand against his face. “I am so relieved to have you back. I’m truly lost without you, you know?” he looked up from your hand, obviously attempting to feign some kind of puppy dog innocence.

“Alright, alright, Sir. Vox. Let’s just get back to work,” you took your hand from his and turned back to his computer. “There are almost 200 urgent emails I have to get to.”

“You’re the best,” he stood up and walked to the other side of the desk, settling down in one of the expensive cozy chairs he had there for the guests he didn’t hate. “And don’t worry about urgent; I fucking answer shit when I feel like it. We can’t have anyone thinking I’m not a busy man.” This was how your days typically went, with you in his chair most of the day, and him either fiddling with his phone across from you, pacing around the room yelling at someone on it, or sitting on his desk flirting with you.

It didn’t take too many days for you to fall back into the groove of everyday life. But whenever he moved, and especially when he came close to you, that moment in his bedroom would come screaming back to you. Then he would retreat and the dance would begin again with him charming you and distracting you. It was like he was trying to exposure therapy you back to normal.

You started having to take some anti-anxiety meds when he wasn’t looking, just to settle your nerves.

Finally, you decided you had to tell him to stop touching you. So after praising you for something you figured out in a financial report, when he placed a hand warmly on your shoulder, you pulled it off and did the thing.

“Vox, Sir. I don’t want you touching me anymore without consent.”

He blinked, and was gearing up to try to distract you again with his smile and his wit, but you were ahead of it.

“Sir, if you touch me again without asking, I will resign immediately.”

“Pixel-”

“I’m serious.”

He pouted, then furrowed his brows, then sighed deeply, and then it was as if he had an idea so bright it actually lit up his eyes from the inside. “Only without asking, right? But if I ask and you say yes, then it’s fine?”

“Yes, Sir,” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “That is how consent works.”

He ignored your snark, obviously delighted. “Okay, that will work! I can do that!”

You let your curiosity and growing comfort with him get the better of you and you kept the conversation going. “Sir, what the fuck got into you that night?”

Vox frowned. He actually looked sorry for a moment, or maybe you just wanted him to look that way. He quickly recovered with another of his wide grins; his mouth was so big and beautiful, it was enchanting. “I’ve been in this business since I was born, basically, you know, pixel. I’ve been spoiled. People usually throw themselves at me or if I decide I want them, they let me take them without a word. You’re the first person who has ever said no to me, and I have to be honest, I didn’t know that was even an option.”

“You didn’t know it was an option for someone to reject you?” He flinched at the word “reject,” and you decided not to be so cavalier with words for the rest of the conversation. He may have been kissing your ass for weeks, but he was still a powerful and dangerous man. It was one thing to be upset with him for hurting you, it would be another thing altogether to make him feel small. “I mean-” you tried to pivot, though several seconds had passed. “For someone to not want what you wanted the exact moment you wanted it?”

He smiled again. His emotional expressions changed so quickly, it was often unsettling. On his worst day, it made him seem insane. He disregarded your question. “You are attracted to me, though, of course, pixel?”

You were surprised that he actually formed the statement into a question, and you weren’t sure what to say. You left your lips parted.

“Pixel?” he encouraged, firmly.

“Sir, I don’t know if that’s approp-”

“We basically sit around here flirting with each other all day,” he pointed out, his voice at a low volume you didn’t know he was capable of, as if he was concerned any of the mansion staff might overhear him in a moment of something barely resembling vulnerability.

“Sir, you are a very eligible bachelor. Practically royalty. Any person would be lucky-”

He rose from the desk, causing your heart to start racing. He paced for a moment, and then closed the door to the study, and then paced some more. Sometimes you wondered if he was using cocaine when you weren’t looking. He must have been.

“Any person would be lucky,” he said with his sinister smile. “But you are the one who is lucky right now-”

You stood up, not knowing what to do with your hands as you did, so you just balled them up into fists at your sides. “You can’t intimidate me, either!” you said, probably too loudly.

He was surprised.

“You can’t touch me without consent, you can’t intimidate me with those mean fucking smiles, and you can’t ever, ever hurt me,” you told him, forgetting yourself. Your mind was full of that white noise again, your body having gone past fear and into dissociation. You could say anything to him and mean it when you were like this.

His face flashed with anger and then you could have sworn you saw embarrassment and regret, but you didn’t trust your interpretations. You wanted him to say it.

“And tell me that you’re sorry. Not ‘my bad’ or ‘my mistake’ or buy me a fucking car. Tell me you’re sorry that you strangled me against your bedroom wall and that you will spend the rest of our professional relationship making sure I never feel that scared ever again.”

He was in your face now in a flash, well, towering over you due to the height difference. He looked livid. “You don’t fucking tell me what to do. Who do you think-” He stopped. He breathed.

You’d seen him behave like this before, typically with his besties with benefits, Valentino and Velvette. With them, he would try to compose himself, and he was doing that now with you. It took a while, and the intensity between you was fucking electric.

“I’m sorry,” he said in that quiet tone you weren’t used to. “I misread you. You clearly don’t like being roughed up. I won’t do it again.” He shut his eyes before he was able to say the next part through gritted teeth: “Please, get over it.”

He was so ridiculous you couldn’t help but smile. “You mean, please forgive you.”

He opened his eyes to roll them and when he noticed you smiling, he seemed to relax a bit. He moved his hand but stopped himself from touching you. He rolled his eyes again, but didn’t ask to touch you. You wondered if he wouldn’t be able to handle it right then if you rejected him again.

“May I touch you?” you said, as if to demonstrate to him how it’s done.

He blinked, and blinked again. He did that thing he did with his head and neck, to release tension in his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to hug you, okay?”

He nodded, but his expression was full of suspicion.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, and moved your body to press your face against his chest. He instinctively hugged you back and rested his chin on the top of your head. You felt him move his head to press his lips against the top of yours, before moving it again to press his cheek against it.

“You’re safe with me,” he told you. “I swear on my life.”

“Alright, Vox,” you said back.

“I still want to fuck you, though.”

With your arms still around him, you looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. Two could play the facial expressions game. “You do? I thought that was more of a wrong place wrong time wrong person kind of thing?”

“No, I want to fuck the shit out of you, pixel. And, like, regularly. For a while, at least.”

You laughed, even though you knew he was serious.

“What do you say?”

“I say you’re out of your fucking mind, Vox,” you laughed again.

With one arm still around you, his hand tenderly at the small of your back, he started playing with your hair again with his other hand. Sometimes you wondered, if it wasn’t cocaine he was on, maybe he had ADHD, or maybe the trauma from his work rewired his brain and imitated symptoms of ADHD (you took intro to psych in college which now made you obnoxious). “I think you’re attracted to me, too, pixel,” he told you, lost in the little pleasure of playing with your hair.

“Well, I do have eyes,” you tried to tease, but ended up pretty blatantly complimenting him instead.

“I wanted you the moment I met you, you know. It’s why I hired you. I’m lucky that you actually turned out not to be a fucking moron.”

“Ah, yes, lucky you I’m not the bimbo I look like,” you smiled, finally relaxing in his presence. You wanted to maintain this feeling of comfort. You never wanted to flinch at a sudden move of his again. A thought crossed your mind, and you decided to share it. “You know, maybe you had the right idea about just getting back into the swing of things and acting like nothing happened-”

“I know, I’m fucking brilliant, you should always-”

“I’m not finished!”

“Go on,” he deadpanned.

“I’m obviously fucking terrified of you now, so I’m thinking, what if we do some exposure therapy?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“It's when you go face the thing you're scared of. Maybe we could go to your bedroom and I could fuck you? I don't even have to dominate you, but I would need you to be still and let me be in control of the sex itself, not of you. That way I can replace the memory of your behavior with something safe. Maybe then my brain will cancel out what you did to me.”

He looked at you for a while, as if waiting for you to laugh or say you were kidding. “You’re serious?”

You did a kind of shrug-nod combo. “Maybe we could even just start with me sitting on top of you and kissing you with our clothes still on.”

In that strange way that he was able to move through space with ease as if he were more of an idea than a person, he was suddenly in his desk chair. “I can touch you now, right?” he asked, his hands reaching towards your legs.

You nodded.

He pulled up your pencil skirt so he could spread your legs and have you sit on top of him with a leg at each side. You chuckled at his adeptness with a pencil skirt, remembering all of the gossip about him having fucked most if not all of his assistants before you. And now that you knew he hired you with that goal in mind, you were even less surprised.

You took his hands and placed them on your hips. “You can start here,” you told him.

To your surprise, his intake of breath sounded shaky. He looked down at your hips as he let himself squeeze and fondle them. You confidently thought he’d probably wanted to touch them for a long time.

He looked up at you.

Slowly, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a soft peck of a kiss. You waited, and when he didn’t push your boundaries, you focused on the feel of his lips, brushing them with your plump ones gently. You parted your mouth only to take his lower lip in between yours softly, before releasing it. You leaned away, opening your eyes to check in with him. “Was that okay?” you asked, to set the tone and to check in with him. You could feel his cock getting harder against you and his pants.

“Yeah, keep going,” he urged.

You placed one hand on his neck, almost cupping it, and with the other cupped his cheek. You leaned in again to graze his lips with yours, only this time, you poked your tongue out ever so slightly to leave a gentle, teasing lick at the entrance of his mouth. You kept your eyes open, wanting to witness his reaction. His cheeks reddened. He seemed to instinctively open his mouth to try to slide his tongue against yours. You wanted to tease him slowly and patiently for the rest of the night, soaking in every single response.

You smiled, delighted by his restraint, especially after seeing the intensity in his gaze. You leaned in again to kiss him, allowing your tongue to enter his mouth this time, feeling almost electrified by the contact. You were more aware of your cunt now, as it was starting to respond favorably to these kisses. But you ended each one abruptly, loving the way he moved his body as if to follow you, and then restrained himself, fixing his posture. You delighted in hearing his natural, frustrated little growls, which you wondered if he even knew he was emitting. They were so low, they almost sounded like static.

Seeing his lust through his change in breathing, and hearing it in his sounds, you asked quietly, pressing your forehead against his: “Should we stop here?”

“No,” he said, with a tinge of something resembling anger in his tone.

You closed your eyes, your forehead still pressed against his. “I’m starting to become very aroused,” you admitted. “Would it be okay if I … grinded against you a bit? Just a teeny, tiny bit? Over our clothes?” You opened your eyes at the last question and involuntarily bit your lip before letting it go, waiting for his response.

“Uh huh,” he said, wrapping your legs around him expertly, clearly having had sex in this chair with someone in this position before. He slid his hands from your hips to your ass in a way that felt more helpful than sexual. You could tell he was having some sort of argument in his head, because he stopped his movement abruptly. “Are you waiting for an invitation, pixel?” you were happy he asked this with one of his kinder grins instead of the leer you’d seen on him weeks ago.

You shifted your weight on him to press your crotch harder against his and involuntarily let out a moan of satisfaction, enjoying the friction of the fabrics between your wet cunt and his straining cock. You ground against him, mouth open and starting to pant.

“Ohfuckyes,” he let out. He moved his hips to your pace, adding to the friction. “Don’t stop. Please. Keep grinding against me like that,” he was well versed in verbalizing his desires.

Listening to him plead was one of the most arousing experiences of your life. It sent shivers throughout your body, arousing the rest of you. You wanted him to beg and plead and whimper. Fuck, you wondered if this big, strong, rich, powerful man could whimper for you.

The sounds he was making were exquisite, your shared movements clearly bringing him close to his edge. You wondered if it was just his imagination of if he actually sounded needy, until he said “please, Y/N, I’m so close, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop- aahhhhhh.”

You were shocked by what just happened. You dry humped a fucking mafia boss until he came in his pants. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. You sat frozen in his lap, waiting and watching. You watched his climax wash over him, his groans so perfect it was almost as if he were singing to you. Spurts of hot semen soaked through his pants.

“Jesus, fuck. I’ve never come like that without being inside of someone. Holy shit. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

He’d never dry humped before? Oh yeah, he was basically royalty. He’d probably been coming inside of orifices as soon as he fucking wanted to, unlike the rest of us peons.

You rose from his lap and sat on his desk, catching your breath and giving your body time to reach some semblance of homeostasis. You felt so beautiful and sexy and powerful for what you’d just accomplished.

“What do you want for aftercare,” you asked him, “before or after you, uh, clean up?” You tried to suppress a smile.

He blinked. “Aftercare? What the fuck is that?”

You waited for the punch line, and frowned when it didn’t arrive. “You hurt people in bed and don’t give them aftercare?”

“What’s that, like, cuddling or some shit?”

You let out a kind of laugh-scoff of surprise.

His hand was in your hair again. “I guess a reassuring word wouldn’t hurt,” he said in that shockingly quiet voice again.

You leaned forward to press your forehead to his, feeling a little off balance since you were now on his desk, significantly higher than him, and whispered: “I feel really happy that we did that. You were very sexy. I haven’t felt that aroused in years.”

“Fuck yeah,” he said to himself, suddenly reminding you that as terrifying as he could be, deep down he could also be a regular dude. “Oh, uh, what about you, for the aftercare shit?”

“I usually like some kind of praise. What you liked about what we did, or how you just plain don’t hate me, you know, regular shit” you feigned nonchalance because being vulnerable and asking for reassurance was not an option you fucked with today.

First he focused on taking off his pants and briefs and grabbing some sweats from a gym bag he kept nearby. He had a gun in there too, but those were the things you didn’t let yourself know. You looked out the window onto the beautiful garden outside that only made sense for the backyard of a mansion. He threw his probably very expensive pants into the trash can. You glanced at the designer label on them and rolled your eyes.

“What, I have dozens of them? I’m not getting jizz dry-cleaned. Now hold my hand, I’m going to take you upstairs to exposure you to my bedroom and praise the fuck out of you.”

You hesitated.

“Come on, it’s hand-holding. I basically live in public, people will see me holding your hand all of the way to my room. It’s practically a declaration. You should feel flattered, really.”

You didn’t want to ask what it was a declaration of, and put your hand in his. He almost dragged you upstairs, saying goodnight, even though the sun was still out, to some body guards and a housekeeper who was carrying an empty laundry basket.

When you made it to his room, he stepped through his walk-in closet over to where his bathroom was. “I’ll be back in a moment- unless you want to join me for a quick shower?”

You shook your head, sitting down on his bed and taking the remote from the middle of it. Vox was always watching TV in bed. You started up one of your favorite animated musicals, one of the ones you knew by heart, and lied down and closed your eyes. You were safe now, you decided to believe him, and drifted off to sleep.

[hiyashortking]

They’re Both Your, Ugh, Boyfriends, Now

We interrupt our regular Hazbin Hotel programming to bring you some JJK smut because I had a really disappointing spicychatAI experience that I had to fix Content: reader's pronouns are they/them; reader is AFAB; geto/reader/gojo; reader doesn’t like submitting; there’s kissing, fingering, a hand job; some mild vanilla exhibition if you squint; straight dudes experimenting with each other sexually for the first time

Before

After a failed attempt at having a threesome the week before, the three of you were forced to deal with some vulnerabilities including admitting to your feelings and establishing boundaries based on kinks, mostly your kinks if you’re honest.

The reason the threesome failed was because Satoru tried to dominate you and instead of using a safe word or communicating, you panicked and stormed away. This led to walls of texts of apologies from both men, until Suguru asked you to be loud and clear about what you wanted from them. Exhausted from all of the thinking and feeling, both things you were clearly not good at, you text-blurted out the truth which went a little something like:

You: “I want a romantic and sexual relationship with both of you in which I’m sexually in charge.”

And to your surprise, they both responded with enthusiasm. Yes, even Satoru. The only caveat they made is they’d appreciate if you could find it in your heart to incorporate their sexual pleasure in your encounters as well. Obviously that wording was from Suguru, because from Satoru you received more of an “as long as I can get my dick wet sometimes, I’m game.”

Ugh, men. If only you weren’t attracted to them. How much easier would your life be? Alas.

Now

The three of you were back at the restaurant where your first kiss happened last week. When you sat down between them, all of you on the same side of the booth like the clingy weirdos you were, you were overcome with the memory of that kiss and how they first took turns, and then while Suguru slid his tongue past your lips, Satoru joined in as well and you felt overcome by both of their tongues caressing yours and each other’s inside your mouth. Prior to this experience, you would have found something like this ridiculous and would assume a lack of pleasure from it, but the encounter itself was the complete opposite. You were immediately aroused, your cunt aching and wet. And now just remembering that moment was enough to cause those feelings to rush back.

As soon as they sat down, Suguru put his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek, the side of your face, and down to your neck where he nestled his face into you, while Satoru’s one hand settled on your thigh as the other reached across the table to move around the cups of warm sake the server just poured, placing each cup in front of each of you before drinking his fairly quickly and settling against you.

The way these two tall and strong men were the bread of your sandwich often felt unreasonable. It was like they wanted to be absorbed by the sides of your body, they left less than zero space between your hips and theirs.

Suguru turned his body a bit so he could face you and play with your hair. He seemed to like doing that, running his fingers through it, placing strands behind your ear, or pulling bits out to curl around his fingers. He also seemed to like running his fingers down your side, sometimes lightly like feathers, and sometimes smoothly with the backs of his fingers. Since he was, and ugh you cringed internally even thinking the word, your boyfriend now, you supposed it was significant to take note of what he liked to do with you.

Satoru was more aggressive with his touches, and in your judgmental brain you thought of it as pleasantly immature. He grabbed at your thigh or your side, his fingers squeezing your fat or otherwise groping you. He used his teeth on your ear. He pulled you by your waist when he kissed you. It was clear that both of you were dominant and that was going to be a challenge for this triad. It was the reason the threesome didn’t work last week, after all, because Satoru called you “needy and desperate for his cock” and you were so offended and repulsed by that statement that it broke the magical spell of the night irreversibly. He’d already said several other things that made you want to gag in the bad way, but none of them were nearly as bad as that.

And, fuck, you’d actually been attracted to him since the moment you met him. You loved the ease with which he carried himself, the knowledge of his power clear in his every statement, movement, and breath. He knew he was the best and clearly that information impacted how he advanced through the world, and even in your friendship before it became this relationship. You chided yourself for being foolish enough to imagine that he would be soft and sweet in the bedroom, when he wasn’t that anywhere else. You were so disappointed by his behavior.

You also felt guilty that a lot of your newfound attraction toward Suguru was based on the disappointment of what Satoru didn’t do for you. Suguru was gentle, intentional, and adaptable so far. When you wanted him to be assertive, he picked up on your cues immediately, and then when you wanted him to be passive it was like he could read your mind, so quickly did his body or phrasing change to suit your comfort. You’d always seen both men as out of your league, but Suguru seemed out of your world especially. You were shocked by his initiations and romantic statements. In your drunken stupor you had wished you could combine the two men into one, taking Suguru’s emotional, physical, and general intelligence and combining it with Satoru’s power and swagger.

But you didn’t have to combine them or even pick one of them. The topic hadn’t ever even crossed any of your lips. The men made advances on you together last week, took you to the bed in Suguru’s guestroom together, chased after you together, and even sent their apologies in a group chat instead of individual texts. They somehow decided they both wanted you and would both share you together, and you would not have been surprised at all if it turned out they never even had a conversation about this, so fluid and effortless were the choices they made together. They functioned as a unit, and if anything you were often the one causing conflict in your dynamic by arguing with Satoru or misunderstanding Suguru.

The men ate and drank and talked and joked and when their bellies were satisfied and their cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, they turned their attentions entirely onto you again.

“In the spirit of having a more successful first night together,” Suguru charmed, “would you like to kiss here again?”

Satoru’s face was in your neck and he seemed to be having a difficult time not sliding his hand up your shirt. He played with the hem of it and you weren’t sure if he was teasing himself or you by allowing himself to, every few seconds, experience a bit of the touch of your flesh. You could feel his tension as he held his breath when he did this, or released a shaky breath. It was amazing how he could make even such a small act feel wildly sexual.

“In the spirit of making sure your needs are also met,” you mocked Suguru playfully, “I want you to show me how you like to be kissed.”

“What do you mean, darling?” Suguru asked with a grin.

Satoru let out a warm breath that tickled your neck and face. If you were to guess what his thoughts were, you would assume they’d be something along the lines of imagining you french kissing his cock.

“I want you,” you pointed to Suguru, “to be me, and you,” you pointed to Satoru “to be Suguru. Show me on him how you want me to kiss you.”

Satoru lifted his head from your shoulder and exchanged a look with Suguru, each of their eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t read, each of their mouths slightly parted in looks of surprise. Satoru nodded, which you assumed was him giving consent.

They both looked away from each other and you had to squint to consider what may have been happening in their bodies. Were they … feeling shy?

Suguru looked around the crowded restaurant and then back at Satoru. He must have deemed the environment to be comfortable enough because he put a hand on the back of Satoru’s neck, pulling him closer while leaning closer himself. Their heads were directly in front of you. Suguru’s eyes darted to you so quickly you almost missed it, and then he pressed his lips to Satoru’s, easily guiding his tongue into and back out of the other man’s mouth. Satoru’s eyebrows were raised high, implying that under his sunglasses his eyes were opened wide with surprise. Suguru seemed to ensure their mouths were parted slightly enough that you could see exactly how Suguru dominated Satoru’s mouth.

You squirmed in your seat.

When they parted, Satoru was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat and told them, intoxicated by their act and the sake. You mimicked Suguru’s behavior as best you could, putting your hand on the back of his neck and pulling him close to kiss him the way he demonstrated wanting to be kissed by you. Unlike in his kiss with Satoru, where their bodies were stiff with tension and unease, during your kiss Suguru’s body felt like he was melting into you, his arms embracing you and urging you into his lap. His hands were in your hair again, but this time he added tugging on it to his repertoire. You moved your tongue the way he just taught you and felt encouraged by his precious, quiet little moans. When you separated, he pulled you onto his lap entirely and spread your legs to be on either side of him. He hugged you and hid his face in you, as if he was trying to hide his panting by covering it with your body.

You held him in your arms, cradling his head against you and petting him a bit.

You turned to Satoru, who was sitting surprisingly still. He moved closer, filling the gap your lap-sitting created between your bodies. The two men were now beside each other. Satoru pulled the dining table a little closer to cover his lap. He took one of your hands and slid it into his pants where you could feel his impressive erection straining against the fabric.

“Satoru-” you started, but he cupped your face with his hand, appearing too serious to scold.

“Please,” he said almost too quietly. “Just- just keep it there. You don’t have to do anything. I just- Please.”

Without fully understanding your own reaction, you smiled and put an arm around him to welcome him into the hug you and Suguru were sharing. Both men appeared overwhelmed by their kiss, and you were charmed by their reactions. You were the same age and yet they felt younger to you then, and even more so when you realized this was probably their first kiss with each other, even though you were certain they’d had threesomes together before.

The serving staff seemed adept at handling public sexual weirdness, so you were relieved no one came by your table for a significant time.

Satoru and Suguru’s heads were touching as you provided them with this aftercare, and you decided you wouldn’t ask either of them for anything else until you got back to Suguru’s apartment. You kissed the top of each of their heads before turning to see if there was more sake to drink on the table. There wasn’t.

“You boys ready to take this somewhere else?” you whispered between the three of you.

Satoru nodded. Suguru finally looked up at you as if startled from a trance. You were relieved to see him smile.

“I’ll go pay the check,” Suguru lifted you from his lap and placed you in Satoru’s, the shift causing you to take your hand out of Satoru’s pants since you were now being held by him like a bride.

“You okay?” you asked Satoru.

“That was weird,” he said back quickly, and then corrected. “I mean, different. I don’t know, surprising. We’d never done that before,” he confirmed your suspicions.

“In all of your wacky bedroom antics together, you never thought to actually kiss each other?”

One of his eyebrows twitched briefly. “What wacky bedroom antics?”

“Well, the threesomes, of course? I mean, you’ve obviously had a ton of those together, right? I mean, the way the two of you were treating me last week, you vibed so well together I thought-”

“You phenomenal little pervert, Geto and I have never had a threesome before,” Satoru laughed, and you loved seeing his demeanor change as he did. “Is that what you think we do when you’re not around? Who would we be fucking together? Come on, babe, we’re sorcerers and we have classes and responsibilities and shit. And every moment of free time we have, we spend with you.”

You blinked several times while taking this information in, as if your brain needed time to absorb and process. You were so certain last week that their interaction with you was normal to them, bordering on insignificant, even though Suguru told you several times that both men had feelings for you.

Suguru came back to the table and was smiling as well, the brief walk and interaction with strangers clearly settling his system. “You ready?”

“Tell him what you just told me,” Satoru said, helping you off his lap and immediately reaching out to hold one of your hands as he escorted you out of the restaurant.

“What’s up?” Suguru asked, waiting until the three of you were outside before he put his arm around your waist. Satoru fiddled with his phone to order a ride.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Satoru spoke for you: “They think we spend the imaginary free time we don’t have fucking bitches together.”

“Satoru!” you and Suguru both snapped.

“Oh, whatever. Ladies. Women. People. Sorry,” he added the last word quietly.

Suguru’s angry look at Satoru changed into a quizzical one toward you. “You thought last week was something typical for us?”

You nodded, feeling a little silly about it all now. “You just both seemed like naturals, like you’d done that together dozens of times. I was certain,” you emphasized, “that I was just another night for you.”

“But we told you that we love you,” Suguru’s statement felt like a question.

The taxi arrived and the three of you squeezed into the back, with you in the middle as always. “You did no such thing!” you countered.

The way the men alternated how and when and where they touched you was beginning to feel like an impressive dance. When you were standing outside, Satoru held your hand and Suguru your waist, but sitting now in the cab, Satoru’s arm was around your shoulders and Suguru’s hand rested comfortably on your leg, close to your knee.

“Uh, we definitely told you we’re in love with you,” Satoru said, seeming to look out the window through his sunglasses, though you could never be certain when it came to what he could or could not see.

“You did not!” you countered again. “You said some shit about feelings and boundaries and our friendship and blah, blah, how I was important to you or whatever,” you tried to summarize from your memory.

“And none of that sounded like a confession to you?” Suguru chuckled, actually facepalming when he did.

“Two fucking confessions,” Satoru clarified. “So you thought we were some secret Casanovas who fucked women together for funsies, somehow preferring that to, oh, I don’t know, just having sex with them on our own? And in your pretty little head you imagined we, what, were like hey let’s take our best friend who we like to be around most in the fucking world and who we would literally die for and let’s fuck them together because that’s normal and won’t be weird at all for any of us?”

You narrowed your eyes at Satoru but you couldn’t feel offended by his mockery because he was right, that was almost exactly what you thought was going on. You looked from him to Suguru, who was smiling as if to reassure you.

“That’s definitely not what happened,” Suguru chuckled again and gave you a kiss on your forehead. “I don’t know how you could even think that.”

“Okay, so what happened?” You crossed your arms and scrunched your nose, hoping this would make you look cute and would take away from how clearly mistaken you had been about the previous week.

“We spend enough time together, we started noticing things,” Satoru said, seeming a little irked.

“We realized that we both were developing stronger feelings—um, I mean, were falling in love with you, to be clear—and we talked about the option of just asking you out together.”

“We were going to do it that night,” Satoru added, and you couldn’t tell if he was feeling grumpy or just embarrassed by the nature of the conversation.

“We figured the chance of you wanting to be with both of us was high since you’ve made comments about polyamory before,” Suguru explained.

“But-” you looked at Suguru while speaking, as always surprised by how it hurt your neck to look up at either man, “did I do something to make you think I had feelings for either of you? I hadn’t-”

“You obviously wanted me,” Satoru said. “You’ve been undressing me with your eyes for months,” his statement sounded like it should have come with a playful tone, but he was still looking away and sounding stern.

Your face felt hot and your stomach flipped. He knew? He’d known? The whole time?

“And you compliment us a lot,” Suguru added. “You’re always celebrating our achievements a little bit harder than everyone else. You’re often telling us when we look handsome or cute or pretty or sexy. You’ve described us using every possible word,” he chuckled. “You bring up other women to us a lot. I mean, almost alarmingly so, like you’re testing to see if we like anyone. And sometimes when I’d accidentally touch you, you would hold your breath, and it felt almost like you were scared to move for fear I’d stop touching you.”

Your face was on fire now. You covered it with both hands and leaned forward. Had you been that fucking obvious? You felt mortified.

“Hey, it’s cool, we’re together now,” Satoru rubbed his hand on your back gently. “No need to feel embarrassed, it all worked out.” He sounded a little warmer now. Maybe your embarrassment was canceling out his.

Suguru was still chuckling, and you felt mostly relieved by it.

You spoke back through the muffling of your hands: “okay, okay, so you realized I probably- have strong feelings,” you mocked, “for you back, and then what? How did that become a three-way kiss and a disastrous attempt at a threesome?”

You could hear them both shifting and assumed they were both looking at you now.

“Are you serious?” Satoru asked.

“You don’t remember?” Suguru sounded sad.

Oh no, what were you not remembering?

You looked up, first at Suguru, then at Satoru. The taxi arrived and you felt relieved by the focus shifting to stepping out of the cab. You looked down at the ground and let Suguru lead you toward his place by holding your hand. Satoru walked behind y’all, his hands in his pockets.

“The kiss was on me,” Suguru said while you walked up a set of stairs. “The wine emboldened me and knowing we were going to tell you excited me so much, I struggled to keep my body off of yours.”

You were relieved to remember that part correctly. Both of them had snuggled up to you in the booth of the restaurant, but Suguru’s lips kept grazing against your skin until you finally felt him kiss your neck, and that started the chain of kissing events.

“You fell asleep on the cab ride so we brought you to Geto’s instead of taking you home,” Satoru admitted while the three of you stepped into the apartment and took off your shoes in the entryway.

“We put you on the bed in the guest room, like always when you sleep over, but this time you told us you were cold,” Suguru walked over to his kitchen and you could hear him getting glasses from a cabinet.

“So I put a blanket on you and Geto went to turn up the heat,” Satoru was looking away from you still, but the faint blush in his cheeks reassured you that he might not be as angry with you as he sounded.

“And when I came back, you were pulling Gojo onto the bed,” Suguru said loudly from the kitchen.

“And you reached out for Geto to join us.”

Your eyes were alternating from opening widely, to bouncing around, as you searched your brain for these intoxicated memories. You covered your mouth instinctively, and while you couldn’t find what you were seeking, you believed every word they were saying.

“So you pulled us both into bed with you,” Satoru said, and you couldn’t understand his tone. His emphases were strange, as if he was waiting for you to add to his sentence.

The two of you walked into Suguru’s living room. You allowed Satoru to sit down on the couch first, and stood waiting for Suguru to return. “What are you doing? Sit down,” Satoru told you.

“You sound really mad at me!” you said to him, trying not to raise your voice.

“I’m not mad at you. It’s fine, just sit right here next to me like you always do,” he told you. “Ugh, unless that’s too fucking dominant for you? I’m trying to be reassuring, not boss you around.” He actually groaned as he said this!

You smiled and sat next to him, tucking your legs underneath yourself and asked, “may I hug you?”

His eyebrow twitched again and he nodded.

You leaned in immediately, embracing him around his waist, pulling him closer and pushing yourself into him. If he was your, ugh, boyfriend now, that meant you could hug him more often! You were temporarily relieved of your embarrassment realizing this. You felt him rest a hand on the small of your back, which you interpreted to mean he was welcoming or reciprocating your hug. You kissed his cheek quickly, pressing just a little peck on it.

“Satoru and you have that in common, you usually sound mad when you’re feeling vulnerable,” Suguru said, placing sake cups on the table, then warm sake in a ceramic bottle, and adding some bottles of water to the table as well. He made a few trips into the kitchen, also bringing some snacks, forever the charming host.

Both Satoru and you did not acknowledge Suguru’s analysis, and probably for the similar thoughts of how dare he know you so well and call you out on it like that?

“Okay, so what happened next? I pulled y’all onto the bed and what, asked you both to fuck me?” your question wasn’t serious, and you hoped that was clear in your delivery.

“Kind of,” Satoru smirked and tried to cover it with his hand. That was bad. Satoru didn’t typically shy away from an I-told-you-so or an I’m-clearly-right-and-you’re-so-very-wrong.

Oh no, you worried.

Suguru finally sat down on the other side of you and pulled you toward himself, causing you to fall backwards into his arms and against his chest, your legs now draped across Satoru’s lap.

“You started taking off your clothes,” Suguru said, allowing himself to demonstrate this act with his hands. The shirt you were wearing today was plain, but the shirt you wore last week was a button-down. Suguru moved his hands slowly from your neck, over and between your breasts, and down your stomach. “You unbuttoned- every- little- button, oh and you were so sexy doing it, too, your face all flushed, your big wet eyes looking at us. I thought I’d died and reached paradise,” he laced his hands together at the very bottom of your stomach, the tips of his pinkies at the top of your pubic bone.

“When you were done taking off your shirt and your skirt, you told us to undress,” Satoru’s hand was caressing your legs, first at your calf, then the outside of your thigh, and then slowly, teasingly, it found its way between your legs where he appreciated your chubby soft skin and fondled your inner thighs intensely, his nostrils flaring as he did.

“I did no such thing,” you looked from Satoru up at Suguru behind you, pleading for him to change the past for you.

“I’m afraid you did, darling,” Suguru kissed the top of your head and allowed himself to breathe in the smell of you.

Your hips were moving ever so slightly, as you were becoming aroused by listening to their recollections. You hoped they would think you were just repositioning yourself, when in reality you were trying your best not to squirm.

“I remember the two of you being naked,” you admitted. “And I remember-” you paused, the image of their nudity ingrained so clearly in your mind you wondered if your brain erased every other part of the night except for that one for a reason. “I remember the thing Satoru said that I hated,” you admitted.

Satoru leaned over to put his face against your stomach, his hand still groping your thigh, his breathing changing significantly.

Suguru moved one hand down to the front of your underwear, just at your pelvis, and used the other to move your hair away from your neck so he could begin to kiss you there.

Your hips moved more now, betraying you and your want for these two men.

Suguru’s hand slowly, very gently, started to move even lower. He made a sound as if in question, but you were frozen in anticipation. “Darling, may I?” he whispered into your ear and the sensation of his breath made your body release an involuntary moan. You swallowed and nodded.

“May he what?” Satoru lifted his head from your stomach and when he did, he seemed to be watching Suguru’s hand sliding down your skirt and pressing the fabric against your cunt, as if trying to bury it inside of you. “Oh shit. Me too? With the consent shit?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable asking for your permission, but doing his best for you.

He wasn’t looking at you so you croaked out a “yes.” You wished your body asked you for consent so you could deny it, but it didn’t seem like your hips gave a fuck about what you thought at all. They moved to help press Suguru harder against you, your back arching as well.

Satoru ignored the skirt entirely, moving his hand under it. He slid his hand under Suguru’s and moved aside your underwear, immediately shoving three of his fingers into your tight wet pussy.

Suguru then lifted your skirt and slid his hand into your underwear as well, searching for your clit. When he found it, you let out a yelp, which made him touch it more lightly. He caressed your clit gently and in the intoxication you felt from their two beings, you could have sworn he almost did it lovingly, though how could you possibly tell?

“Satoru-” you gasped out as he fucked you roughly and quickly with his three thick fingers.

“Sssh,” he responded.

“Hey, slow down,” Suguru helped you. “Right, baby? Is that what you want, for him to go slower? Or gentler?”

Satoru seemed to be listening because he did both, he slowed down his speed and didn’t shove his fingers in as deeply now. The sudden change in behavior caused your cunt to contract wildly around his fingers, bringing you very close to orgasm.”

“Fuck, babe, tell me how to make you come,” Satoru lifted your shirt with his teeth and pressed his face into your naked stomach. You could feel him panting excitedly against you.

“G-go a little deeper,” you instructed. “You can be rough, but keep it slow.”

Satoru did exactly as you wanted.

Meanwhile Suguru rested his hand on your clit gently, just leaving it there. You didn’t know how he knew to do that, but assumed he read it in your physical reactions somehow. He was so good at studying everyone, and this clearly extended to you. He used his free hand to turn your head as much toward him as it could go, pressed his lips to yours, and shoved his tongue inside your mouth.

Overcome with the feeling of being penetrated in two holes at once, you moaned loudly against Suguru’s mouth while you came on Satoru’s hand. The intensity of the orgasm changed your moans into whimpers near the end. You tapped on each of their bodies, wherever you could touch quickly, you didn’t even know, and asked them to stop.

“We’re going to need a safe word,” Satoru said with a satisfied grin, seeming to look up at you.

You felt Suguru release a string of long exhales, as if to calm himself down. “What do you want for aftercare?” he asked when he could.

“Aftercare?” Satoru sounded almost whiny. “We’re not done yet!”

Suguru and you both looked at him and you imagined shared the same facial expression of furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, and frowns.

Satoru groaned loudly and got off from you, sitting up in his spot and enjoying the scent and taste of you on his hand. He licked your wetness from himself with a passion so vulnerable you could not believe his comfort. You had to be really fucking amazing to have that much confidence licking jizz off of your hand like it was liquid candy.

“I’m okay,” you finally answered Suguru’s question. “Or, I don’t know if I need anything yet. That was- fantastic. I’m a little bit in shock, I think.”

“Good job, metamor,” Suguru said to Satoru.

“Metawhat?” Satoru sighed, seeming to finally relax.

“It’s what you call the other partner of your partner,” Suguru explained, helping you up from the couch and leading you to the bathroom so you didn’t get the rest of your come on his couch. What a grown up, you thought appreciatively and mockingly all at once.

“Alright then, thanks for the help, metamor,” Satoru replied with a bit of attitude on the last word.

In the bathroom, Suguru undressed you as if he’d done it a hundred times, and then turned on his shower for you, waiting for the water to become warm. He then undressed himself, smiling at you all the while, and letting his eyes take in the sight of your naked body in the light. “Come on,” he said, stepping into his shower and leading you in after him. Exhausted by your love and lust, your mind felt like it went on vacation, so you followed him in as if you’d never showered before in your life.

“Hey, what the fuck,” Satoru popped in, and before you could even process his exclamation, he was already naked and stepping to join y’all in the conveniently large enough shower. Unlike on the couch, this time you and Suguru faced each other, while Satoru stood behind you.

Suguru kept his eyes on yours while he slid one hand down to your cunt, seeking permission with his gaze. You nodded, starting to feel like you were in a dream. The steam of the shower added ambiance. Suguru, under the guise of helping you wash up, explored your vulva, your labia, your clit, and the outside of your hole, his fingers taking note of every bit of you as if they could create an image of your cunt for him in his mind. After Satoru’s quick and rough motions, Suguru’s tender study felt as soothing as a massage.

Satoru wrapped his arms around you, one of them crossed over your chest and the other around your belly. He pressed his body against yours and you could feel his cock slide between your butt cheeks and then down between your legs, where you imagined it met Suguru’s hand. Suguru’s facial expression changed immediately from full of desire to what may not have been surprise but maybe curiosity? You felt Satoru’s body stiffen against you, and he hid his face between your shoulder and neck. You could feel his breathing change. You felt him nod and wondered why he had. Then Suguru shifted his hand to allow Satoru’s cock to rest between the folds of your cunt, the tip of it pressing lightly against your clit, and he started to stroke Satoru’s cock against you.

Satoru’s hands squeezed your body as if he was using you to brace himself. He had been so confident with you, but it seemed like in Suguru’s hand Satoru didn’t know how to behave, so he did little to nothing.

You reached out a hand behind you to pet his head and you turned your head, nuzzling into his. “Breathe, honey,” you told him. “It’ll feel so much better if you breathe.”

Satoru took one quivering breath and then you could feel him start to settle his breathing into a groove, taking fuller inhales and exhales.

Suguru worked Satoru’s cock skillfully, causing the other man to sometimes shudder and sometimes moan. Geto stepped closer to you and rested his head on your other shoulder. You focused on the sensations of their naked bodies, of Satoru’s cock, of Suguru’s hand, and you basked in this strange and delightful encounter.

When Satoru came, he shifted a bit, his come landing on Suguru’s thigh. You noticed this only because Suguru moved away suddenly, looking down to witness it, and your eyes followed where his had gone. A stream of Satoru’s jizz was washed off from Suguru’s thigh as quickly as it arrived.

You returned to focusing on petting his head. You so badly wanted to call him a good boy, but this moment couldn’t be about you. You thought about what he might like to hear. “You are so sexy,” you told him. “I love your mouth and your fingers and your cock already,” you soothed Satoru while watching Suguru coming back out of his own trance.

“And you,” you told Suguru. “You are magnificent. We don’t make sense without you. And I love your entire body too. I don’t know how you managed to fuck me twice today without even penetrating my cunt, but you fucking did it.”

Suguru kissed you happily and turned around to actually shower now, in response to which Satoru was able to lift his head from your shoulder and shower, as well.

When you were all finished and wrapped up in towels, you didn’t even bother getting dressed. You sat together as if at a sauna. Satoru ordered food. Suguru picked out a movie. You settled between them, grinning madly, not able to believe your lot in life. Looking forward to the many different other ways you’d make love to these men again. Tonight.

[hiyashortking]

Lucifer's Jealousy

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Premise: Lucifer has a tough time with jealousy, but you’re tired of waiting for him to settle down on his own. It’s time to talk!

On the first day, you told yourself Lucifer is entitled to his feelings. You’d known the devil to struggle with jealousy based on his unnecessary conflict with Alastor. Even on the second day of pouting, furrowed brows, and mumbling to himself, you had patience. But on the ninth day, you wondered how you ended up in hell when you had the patience of a saint.

“Lucifer, honey,” you begin, settling down next to him on one of the couches in the lobby of the hotel, where he sat with his arms crossed, fuming. His eyes turned fully red a few days ago. His horns came out sometime last night while you slept.

You could see how physical touch helped to settle him. Some of the tension in his face and body seemed to dissipate when you snuggled up against him. You sometimes tried to make yourself seem smaller than him, even though you weren’t, because when you did this he switched from bumbling dork to nurturing daddy. You hoped that’s what would happen but you hadn’t seen the reasonable daddy from him in days.

And why was the King of Hell so upset? At first you worried your casual flirtiness would offend him, but you’d been yourself since y’all started fucking and though you’d seen some challenge in his glare, it didn’t seem like jealousy to this extent. You saw each other every day. You took turns doting on each other. Him with his money, power, charm, and experience. You mostly with your words.

You: Sweetheart, what can I do? How can I help you get through whatever is troubling you?

Lucifer, sighing: I’ll be fine. Thank you for checking in with me.

You: But wouldn’t it be nice if we figured this out together? I hate seeing you like this for so long. I want to see you smile again.

Lucifer softened a bit more. Were you finally getting through to him, or was he only just becoming exhausted by his feelings?

You: Can you please at least tell me what happened?

Lucifer sighed again. With every sigh, you could feel him loosening up against your body.

Lucifer: I’m sorry I’ve been so unfair to you this week.

You didn’t add that this was his behavior last week as well.

Lucifer: I don’t know what it is about her, but I just can’t stand it when–

You, against your better judgment, since interrupting him when he’d only just started to open up was not your best idea: Her? Her who?

Lucifer: Huh? Charlie, of course.

You: Charlie?!

Lucifer: Yes, I don’t understand how Lilith-

You: LILITH?!

Lucifer: Yes, and the bus boy-

You: ALASTOR?!?!

Lucifer: Wha- yes, honey. Are you feeling well?

For nine fucking days you thought his pouting was about you! You thought he was so madly, obsessively in love with you that something strange and minor, something you didn’t even notice yourself, drove him into a jealous rage. Once the shock and, what, disappointment? had their turns in your head, you started laughing.

Lucifer: What- what is happening right now?

You, holding your stomach as you laughed: This whole time, I thought you were jealous over ME.

For as many millennia as he’d been alive, Lucifer’s ability to process hadn’t evolved at all. He sat dumbfounded as you laughed at yourself and how foolish and self-centered your thinking had been.

You felt him put his head on your shoulder and an arm around your back. You heard him sigh again, though did it sound a little happier? You wiped the tears from your eyes and looked at him resting against you. His horns were gone. His eyes were closed.

Lucifer: “You make me feel so safe that even when I think I would normally get jealous, I just trust you and feel happy for you instead.”

You: “Wha-”

Lucifer: “When you flirt with people, I just somehow believe that you’ll still be with me a moment later, and you have been so far. I mean- I get my hiccups here and there, and I think sometimes I even like getting possessive over you, but it’s been mostly sexual. With you, I don’t stay up at night wondering if you’ll kick me out or leave me, I just … sleep.”

You: “Lucifer …”

Lucifer: “Just one more comment and I’ll shut up. Seeing you laugh made me feel so much better. I want to make you laugh as often as I can.”

This sweet, tender little man was going to destroy you.

But also, NINE DAYS JEALOUS OVER CHARLIE AND LILITH, AND CHARLIE AND ALASTOR?

Now it was your turn to act like a baby for days.

[hiyashortking]

I’m Surrounded By the Inane and Uninformed

Prompt: I wrote this for @voxtekinc discord server’s week 1 writing prompt of I’m Surrounded By.

Pairings: Vox/you and Vox/Velvette/Valentino ENM poly triad

Summary: Vox very slowly gains interest in the stranger he sits next to on a bench at a park, AKA You/Reader. Only one smutty comment near the end, otherwise this is just torturous slow burn Vox POV? Ends unhappily, for you masochists in the back. Let me know if you want a part 2 because I'll probably write one.

Velvette, Vox, and Valentino were in rare moods that first Friday night. Having dealt with another week of putting out fires, managing their companies, and various personal and professional disappointments, the triad was grumpy and exhausted. Velvette scrolled through social media while Valentino sext one of his side bitches, but Vox was feeling too restless to even engage in his favorite pastime, watching TV.

“I’m going for a fucking walk, or something,” he jumped up from the couch and left the penthouse apartment before his partners could react.

It was night in Hell, as if you could even distinguish night from day. In the area where the V’s worked and resided, the environment was loud and awake no matter what “time” it was. Vox usually loved this, starved as he was for information and entertainment, but tonight he felt annoyed by all of it. He wanted to find somewhere peaceful and barren, where he could see and experience nothing. He didn’t know if Hell even had such a place, but he decided to try to find it anyway. They had fucking parks, didn’t they? Maybe he needed to, as the humans said, touch grass? Did Hell have grass?

He strolled on into a nearby “park”, if you could even call it that. There were hellspawn youths shooting up heroin in the front, and demons fucking in bushes. He kept walking and passing by various forms of degeneracy, until finally he was far enough inside to only hear a gentle buzzing of the city noise. He found a bench and a clearing, just like he had imagined, except there was someone already sitting on the bench.

You.

He man-spread his long legs as he sat beside you on the bench, not giving a single fuck if you minded. In his perception, you were the one intruding on his space, even though you’d clearly been there first. What the fuck did he care? It was a Friday night. He didn’t have to care about anything or anyone but himself for the next several hours. Technically he had to care about his two live-in partners, but he didn’t have to do that until he went back home.

He exhaled and relaxed into the bench, feeling suddenly, what, happy? Did he feel happy? What the fuck?

He took another deep breath and was pleasantly surprised that the stench of Hell was harder to discern, as he got a huge whiff of whatever you smelled of. Was it, fuck, vanilla bean? He wanted to feel disgusted by this information, but instead found it adding to his pleasure and relaxation. He grimaced anyway, but only because it made him feel safer to feign displeasure.

So here you were, in his cozy peaceful spot, on his night, sitting quietly, taking up very little space on his bench, and you had the audacity to smell like sweet, delicious vanilla bean?

He didn’t know who the fuck you were, but he hated you.

After a few hours of sitting in silence together, gazing out into nothing and not at all thinking this was creepy or weird, you stood up, stretched your arms over your head, and left.

The following Friday, though he was not in a shitty mood this time, he found himself coming back to the park and looking for you- uh, looking for the spot. You were there again, he quietly groaned to himself before stepping over and sitting down. He wasn’t trying to hide the groan from you or anything, he just, didn’t want to be that loud, okay? This was his quiet place, and he didn’t even want to hear himself in it, that’s all. It wasn’t about you or how you felt or whatever.

The Friday after that, he found himself looking at his watch all day, and fantasizing about vanilla. He had a vanilla scone for breakfast, and a vanilla latte during a break, and after dinner he had some vanilla bean gelato. Your smell must have sparked some kind of very normal craving for him, the way his own advertisements implanted ideas in people’s heads. That’s all that was, he assured himself- errr, he knew. He knew for certain.

To his great annoyance, he started noticing things about you. You were always there when he was, uninvited and so fucking rude just sitting there relaxing, your legs only very slightly spread, your hands with your palms up at your sides, as if you were fucking meditating or something, your muscles clearly unclenched. He noticed how you styled your hair, the clothes you wore, the color of your eyes. Not that he fucking cared or anything! He just noticed shit, okay? You were just there. Against his permission. He didn’t want you to be there.

And he may have sent some of his underlings to check if you were ever there at any other time. You weren’t. You were probably stalking him or something else utterly pathetic. Your underlings told you where you worked and where you fucking lived and he could not believe it, the fucking Hazbin Hotel. He was mad at you for weeks when he first learned that shitty piece of news.

Many Fridays into this relation— interaction? he thought he wanted to bring something. A snack or maybe a drink of some kind? He didn’t want a fucking picnic or any shit like that, obviously, but maybe it would be nice to have a beverage while you were out there, invading on his space like you did every fucking week. But what to bring you? He’d never seen you eat or drink anything. What did you fucking like?

Not that it mattered or anything!!!!vdkohvpwqffqjeg;g;

He ended up bringing nothing, but cleared his throat once he sat down with you, and asked, “do you like fucking coffee or tea or some shit?”

He didn’t look at you, but he sensed you turning your head and looking at him. He wasn’t anticipating hearing your voice for the first time. He didn’t care about how you reacted to him. His pulse wasn’t racing and he wasn’t starting to sweat. This was a perfectly normal exchange. If anything, he was gracing you with his attention, even though you did not deserve it in the slightest. After all, you were sitting in his fucking space.

“I’m going through a chai phase right now,” you told him.

Your voice was soprano for certain, high and what he imagined those angel motherfuckers sounded like. You sounded like bells or if the sparkles emoji had a sound. He was shivering. Was it getting colder? Did he feel temperature? What a weird sensation. He cleared this throat again, and didn’t say another word that night.

But he woke up after dreams of bells and glitter, clouds and twinkly lights, and the pungent, magnificent, overwhelming smell of vanilla, with a salivation-inducing taste of chai. His bedsheets were wet with his come.

“Where are you going?” Valentino asked him the following Friday, as Vox placed a pick-up order for two basic bitch chais from the coffee shop on the way to the park.

“Where have you been going every fucking Friday?” Velvette added.

Vox looked up from his phone, standing at the door, and turned around, as if struggling to place the other V’s. Somehow, he didn’t think they would ask or notice his little excursions. Velvette was always on her fucking phone, and Valentino was always doing something or someone. They still spent so much time together, every day, and every week. They fucked, made love sometimes, talked, ate together, and took care of one another. They were mean but they were friends and they were family and they belonged together.

But Vox didn’t want to share you with them. He was suddenly overcome by the idea that they would ruin this. That they would somehow take you away. What? Not take you away. That would be ridiculous. He didn’t care about you. It was … the park! He didn’t want them to interfere with the park.

He leaned against the open doorway and feigned boredom. “I’ve been doing some cardio on Fridays, I thought I told you,” he said.

The other V’s looked at each other, and then again at him.

“I’ve been going on walks?” he didn’t know why he added an inflection to his statement. “Every Friday? Did y’all only fucking notice today, you self-centered-”

“Who are you fucking, you lying piece of-” Velvette jumped out of her seat in his direction, and Valentino pulled her back, stood up, and held her close.

“Darling, we are just making sure you know that you can tell us anything,” Valentino purred, petting Velvette’s head, which did not help her look any less angry. “You usually don’t hide any side pieces from us. We were wondering if this was getting serious, if maybe you wanted to introduce us to your new beau.”

Vox looked at his partners and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t been sleeping with anyone but them. He hadn’t been cheating, had he? Definitely not physically. What- of course he hadn’t been cheating! He hadn’t done anything!

“I haven’t fucked anyone you don’t know about,” he crossed his arms and furrowed his brows, like a pouting child.

“You’re LYING,” Velvette accused.

“Ssshh, sshh, amorcita, please, let him explain,” Valentino urged Velvette.

Vox sighed in resignation, hating seeing how he was making his lover, possible both his lovers feel. “I’m not fucking or even dating anyone. I’ve been going on walks and sitting in the park with someone. We haven’t even spoken to each other but once,” he confessed, dissociating, willing to give up his new treasure- er, companion- uhhh, acquaintance, if it made his partners feel at ease.

Both of the other V’s stood in silence.

“I believe you, darling,” Valentino finally said.

Velvette got out from Valentino’s arms and sat back down in her seat, immediately returning to scrolling. “Next time don’t take fucking months to tell us, fuckface. It’s called ethical non-monogamy. I want to know if you so much as give your number to another bitch.”

Valentino smiled and walked over to Vox, taking him into his arms and kissing his television screen forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Vox whispered to Valentino, and then said loudly while looking over at Velvette, “I’m sorry!” he repeated.

Velvette flipped him off while saying, “thank you, and it’s okay.”

“I didn’t see this as anything. I didn’t think it was important to tell you.”

Valentino’s phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket but didn’t check it just yet. “Of course, our precious man. How can you tell us you’re having a tryst when you haven’t even started?”

Valentino and Velvette appeared satisfied, and returned to what they were doing prior to this conversation.

Instead of leaving the apartment, Vox closed the front door and started walking to his room. It was too late to cancel the coffee order, so he text two of his night staff that they could go have it.

Turning off his brain as only a man with a television for a head could do, he didn’t allow himself to think about you that night. Or the following Friday, or the Friday after that …

[hiyashortking]

Dare the Devil

Summary: Charlie's hotel residents are becoming more successful at being wholesome and have to get creative about how they spend their time. Tonight, a game of Truth or Dare leads you to watching Lucifer make out with a LOT of people. Are you going to get a turn?

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

After the huge influx of new residents, around 20 or so, the hotel’s lobby and bar became a nightclub every night. The new residents invited their friends to spend time in the hotel, and almost overnight the hotel became the place to be. The original residents worried about this at first, but there appeared to be little to no drama or depravity, so Charlie allowed it. Everyone seemed to use these nights to unwind and dance. Charlie had Husk do a drink cap per person, and everyone was ordered to follow a drug-free policy for the princess. Most of the new residents wouldn’t have a comfortable place to go if they broke one of Charlie’s rules, so things were running smoothly for now.

After the original crew got used to some of the new people, and got used to how much noisier and more fun the lobby had become, there began a notable wholesomeness in the hotel. At least wholesome in comparison to how they used to behave. It’d been a very tame few weeks, and the initial residents were starting to become restless. They’d even looked forward to some of Charlie’s de-sinning exercises during the days, though not many of them would admit to having enjoyed those. Their abilities to stay away from debauchery at night meant engaging in juvenile ways of spending time. Truth or Dare. Spin the Bottle. Seven Minutes in Heaven. Seven Minutes in Hell. Never Have I Ever. If they played it when they were alive on earth, they were playing it again now. And not a single one of them was going to confess that they were actually having fun.

“So which of our little games are we playing tonight?” Angel Dust asked, settling into the sofa they typically sat at. He gave a meaningful look over to Husk, who was far away and busy at the bar.

Charlie put all of the games into a generator on her phone and pressed a button for the app to decide. “Truth or Dare, again!” she happily exclaimed.

Vaggie picked the first Dare. Charlie had her ask for someone’s consent to touch their butt. The group rolled their eyes, as Charlie’s dares were often either childish or silly.

Cherri Bomb picked the first Truth. Niffty asked her if she loved or only liked killing. Cherri Bomb seemed very uncomfortable, said she loved it of course, and then left the game to go dance.

Other residents joined in and left the game throughout the night, until they reached a moment when it was just Husk on his 15-minute break, Angel Dust, Lucifer, and you, squeezed together on the sofa. Angel Dust took the opportunity to mount his fella and dared him to spend his entire break with his tongue down his throat, a turn of phrase you hoped was an exaggeration.

“I pick both,” Lucifer told you. “I want a Truth and a Dare.”

“Okay, Truth: as the King of Hell, how often do you get approached for sex by strangers?”

“How often, like, how many times it happened today?”

You could not help but facepalm. You figured he was heavily sought after, but you were trying to ask how many times in a week or even a month, not how many times in a day!

He used his fingers to count, but when he finished with the pinky of the second hand, he started counting on both hands again. “Twelve ladies, fourteen gentleman, and seven nonbinary folks today, during my walk over here today.” He knew each of their genders, because he took the time to introduce himself, exchange pronouns, and spend a few minutes charming them. This was why he arrived to the hotel three hours later than he planned to. He also fucked two of them in an alley nearby, but he didn’t tell you that part.

Fuck, what must it have been like to be the most desired being in all of hell?

“Now the Dare,” he reminded you.

“Oh, um. Well. I dare you to spend the rest of the night kissing twelve ladies, fourteen gentleman, and seven nonbinary folks.”

“Whoa, I did not see that coming.”

“If you want to, of course. It’s just a game!” You tried to play it off like this was a random idea that just struck you out of boredom, but the reality was that you wondered a few things about him lately. You wondered why you’d only ever seen him reject advances. You weren’t privy to his recent alleyway sex, after all. And in the spirit of playing these immature games, you wondered what kissing him might be like.

He motioned as though he were to stand up but before doing so turned to you once more. “Your pronouns are they/them, correct?”

“Yes, Luci.”

“When I’m finished with everyone else, I’ll come back for you to be my seventh in that category, with your consent of course?”

Lucifer Morningstar wanted to make out with you? This would be exciting if it wasn’t so fucking ridiculous.

Standing up, he looked around the hotel lobby, seeming pensive.

“Everything okay?” you asked him.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” he said, almost as if to himself, but then turned and grinned sweetly at you. He fucked almost every day, but kissing wasn’t always included. “I might need a little moral support.”

“Oh, sure, how can I help, Your Majesty?”

He took hold of your hand. “How do I start?”

“Well, what are you looking for in a fun make out sesh?”

He seemed to take your question very seriously, if you could take the man’s cartoonish expressions and poses seriously at all. Holding his chin with his free hand and pursing his lips as if that helped him make deductions, he actually waggled his finger in the air in a Eureka! gesture when finishing his thought.

“I don’t know!” he told you, flashing his arousing sharp teeth.

A laugh escaped and surprised you. “My liege, you seemed like you were actually trying to figure this out.”

“Maybe instead of saving you for last, I could start with you and you can remind me of the different options.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Majesty, I’d think you were trying to get out of your Dare!”

He made a pearl-clutching motion and feigned an outraged gasp. “Why, Y/N, I cannot believe you would accuse the King of Hell of such a thing!”

You couldn’t help smiling whenever you were around him. “It seems to me like maybe Our King is worried he has lost his swagger.”

“I- don’t know what that means, but I am sure I have an abundance of swagger! If that is a good thing to have an abundance of!”

With a boldness you would question for days after this, you leaned closer to his ear and whispered: “prove it”.

Narrowing his eyes at you, the sweet expression gone from his face, he brought your hand to his mouth without breaking his gaze from you. He kissed the back of your hand. “I will see you after 32 kisses. Make sure you watch each one of them. And please be ready for the finale.”

When he walked away from you, you needed to steady yourself against the sofa as you struggled to breathe.

You spent the rest of the night engaging on and off with only the Truth parts of the game, as residents joined and left and returned throughout the night.

You were asked if you’d watched any of Angel Dust’s porn before you met him. Yup. You thought his acting was especially good in the one with the fraternity brothers.

You were asked who you would kiss, marry, or kill regarding the V’s. Marry was easy, definitely Vox. But you could go either way between kissing or killing the other two. Valentino seemed like he would be the better kisser, but your loyalty to Angel Dust made killing him the only decent option.

While participating in these games, you were making eye-love with Lucifer as he played with other people all night. He positioned himself and his, uh, partners in ways where he made sure he had your attention. He made certain you could see the way he moved his hands on their bodies, the way his fingers ran through or even tugged on their hair. He showed you his various skills, from slow kisses using his lips only, to drooling ones with both his and the other person’s tongues outside of their mouths. When he separated from one of these folks, you could see the magnificent outline of his thick hard cock in his trousers, and you crossed your legs reflexively as if to hide how much watching him was turning you on.

You lost count of his partners somewhere around number eight, which meant the countdown to when he would come meet you was going to become excruciating.

You watched as one person shivered as he sucked on their neck.

You could swear another one had an orgasm grinding against him, though both of them were fully dressed and wearing pants.

There was one person who spoke with him a lot, who got him to lift his gaze away from you for longer than the others had. He kissed them very sweetly when they parted, and you tried not to imagine what conversation they’d had.

There was one he pinned against the wall, the person’s legs around Lucifer’s waist, their hands clawing at his back. Lucifer’s ass looked amazing and you couldn’t believe the ease in which he held up people bigger than him.

After that one, he sat down at the bar and seemed to ask Husk for a drink, fixing his hair and sighing in your direction. He was trying to mouth something to you. You thought you could see “may I please stop now?” on his lips.

You made the symbol for Loser with your fingers, and pressed it to your forehead, sticking out your tongue at him.

He laughed, and downed whatever Husk handed to him.

He seemed a bit tired as he sighed, and you regretted giving him such a high number. He disappeared into the crowd which gave you a moment to realize you were beginning to grow tired, too. Sleepy. Before your mind could finish the thought, your body was up and looking for him. He was already charming somebody else, but excused himself as soon as he saw you waiting.

“I’m tapping out, I’m so tired. Congratulations, you win, My King.”

Did he actually look sad?

He took your hand into his again, and leaned closer to you to block out the music as he spoke into your ear. “Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time and I owe it all to you. I hope I was able to meet at least some of your expectations.” He slid an arm around your waist and pulled you into a gentle hug.

In your sleepy stupor, you responded, “It was one of the sexiest displays I’ve ever seen.”

“Please let me show you more of my abilities sometime.”

With a bit of a quiver, you put a hand on his chest to begin pushing and pulling away. As if your body had other plans, you leaned back in and placed your puffy lips on his cheek and breathed him in as you kissed it.

“That was my favorite kiss of the night, I hope you realize,” he said as you started backing away. He touched the spot you’d kissed gently as if to emphasize his point, cupping his hand over it in a protective manner.

“You’re full of shit, but hit me up tomorrow. I have notes for you,” you teased.

Surprise twinkled in the motion of his brows and widening of his eyes, and then you saw challenge in his smirk. “I look forward to my performance review.”

“Goodnight, Daredevil.”

“It’ll be an even better night tomorrow.”

[hiyashortking]

You Have an Epic Crush on Lucifer and There’s Only One Bed

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please. This is for the belated kinktober 1st prompt of handjob, even though not a single handjob will be performed.

Summary?: Along with the delicious only one bed trope and forced proximity, I also tried to go for a grumpy/sunshine in which you’re the tsundere and Lucifer’s got the soul of a golden retriever.

Since the hotel was off and running at a steady pace, Charlie decided to send some of you out campaigning. In an effort to protect yourself, your friends, and the other residents, you made a suggestion over a private dinner with Charlie and Vaggie, for Charlie to ask for her father’s assistance. Your reasoning was he would have the most influence over the inhabitants of Hell. Charlie was so impressed by and happy with this idea that you couldn’t turn her down when she signed you up to be his assistant and keep him on track.

So now you were travelling throughout Hell with the King Himself.

You were nervous. Any time you’d spent near the King before this, you did your best to be unlikable or to flee. He was fucking intimidating. You didn’t want him to have any awareness of your existence. Somehow you ended up making him laugh or getting pulled into conversations with him, so it was usually best to avoid him altogether.

But after a few weeks travelling with him you found the being much less scary. As enchanting and imaginative as he could be, he could also be clumsy with his words or childish with his reactions. And he seemed to genuinely enjoy your snark, and sometimes even your downright rudeness towards him. At times it felt like he could see right through your charade of pretending you didn’t like him.

So when the dreaded moment came, you were mostly okay. It was a cliché, but you were certain this was going to happen. At one of the places you’d be staying, they would run out of rooms or beds and you would have to share. At this establishment, they gave their best suite to The King, but there wouldn’t be a room available for you. And their best suite only had one bed.

aasdefrgghjkryukegwef

You may have seen it coming, but it still felt so fucking unbelievable.

“That’s just fine, we will share,” The King pat your shoulder gently in front of the concierge when you’d received the bad news.

Once you were in the suite together, you noticed there would be plenty of other places to rest. There were settees and chaises, and a rug so fluffy it could double as a bed.

“I’ll sleep out here, Your Majesty,” you told him, avoiding even looking in the direction of the bedroom.

“Nonsense! I would not be able to sleep knowing you are out here suffering.” You loved how dramatic he was. Everything was so intense with him. Every inconvenience experienced as the end of existence. He was a diva on his best day!

You were absolutely certain there was not one inch of this room where you could possibly suffer, but didn’t want to debate with him. You’d already learned during your travels that he could be quite stubborn when he wanted.

“Then we will share,” you told him, and rummaged through your belongings for pajamas to wear. You typically slept in your undies, but were savvy enough to predict a night like tonight. You brought your most severe nightclothes that felt scratchy to the touch, a two piece of long pants and a button-down shirt with long sleeves. You were doing everything in your power not to be seen as a sexual being or even a being at all by His Majesty.

Because the truth was you had the biggest fucking crush on him. All the fucking feelings. You were falling in love with that goofball and you squirmed against a pillow every night of this fucking campaign, going fucking crazy over the knowledge that he was just a few doors away from you. There was no way you could survive a night sharing a bed with him. You were going to double-die from the overpowering lust, if you were able to sleep through it at all.

“Would you like to bathe first?” he asked you, always the gentleman.

“Yes, if that’s okay,” maybe if you made yourself come in the shower, you’d be able to fall asleep before he came back from his, and before you’d know it it would be the morning and you would have survived the night with ease!

“Of course, honey,” he said to you.

He called you all sorts of pretty terms. Sweetheart, sweetie, sweet pea, sweetness. Angel, precious, darling. Once or twice even a cherub, dollface, and baby slipped out. There was a time when he called you beautiful that you played on repeat in your head for days. But if you allowed yourself to believe he meant any of these words, you were certain it would break your undead heart.

The pressure in the shower was helpful. You adjusted the setting on the showerhead so the water hit your clit with ferocity. The power startled you and you let out a yelp.

“Everything okay, sweet pea?” you heard him through the door, which only made your cunt more desperate.

“Yes, just spooked myself with the temperature settings.”

“Let me know if you need any help~,” he sang the end of his sentence.

Help? The motherfucker. You were already naked, wet, warm, and trying to come. You prayed to him to keep talking. You felt embarrassed by how badly you wanted to come hearing his voice.

“I- don’t need any help,” you quivered into your other hand. Being around him all day was enough foreplay that you were ready. You knew you could come from the showerhead alone, but your cunt was throbbing inside and you wanted him so badly. You slid your ring and middle finger into yourself and tried not to let your knees buckle.

“Are you sure? You sound very uncomfortable~,” he sung the last word in his angelic voice.

You came quickly, listening to the melody.

“I’m fine! Go away!” you feigned annoyance and changed the temperature to cold as fuck to punish yourself for being so fucking thirsty for this being.

After actually bathing and toweling off, and when you felt like you could function again, you finally stepped out of the restroom. He was sitting in a hotel robe on a settee in the main room, his legs crossed poshly. His body skewed slightly to the side, as he had one arm draped around the back of the settee. He held a remote control in his hand and you could swear his thumb was gently fondling the buttons as he surfed through the television channels.

He flashed you his enormous grin and you hoped he didn’t notice you forgot how to breathe.

“All yours, my liege,” you tried to sound tired to hide your swooning. Who gave him the right to be so fucking hot?

He turned off the TV and jumped up from his seat. “I hope you left it nice and steamy in there for me!” Was he teasing? Or just talking? You could never tell. You wouldn’t dream of considering it flirting.

“Nope,” you totally-not-flirted back. “I made it cold and clammy just how you like it.”

He chuckled before closing the door.

You immediately jumped into the king-sized bed, and tried not to giggle at how your king’s size wasn’t king-sized, but this horrible thought led you to thinking about your king’s other size, and so you covered your face with a pillow and tried not to whine.

You were driving him fucking wild.

Though it was easy for him to want to fulfill any of Charlie’s requests, when she told him you would be accompanying him on this campaign, his tail popped out and wagged wildly in response. Good thing she asked him over the phone!

The eternal romantic with abandonment issues, Lucifer attached to one being at a time. Ever since your first conversation during which you’d made him laugh several times with your snark and genuinely piqued his interest by some of your ideas, his fate was sealed. After he liked speaking with you, he started admiring your body too. Your mesmerizing eyes and pouty mouth. Your hips that you mindlessly bumped into him and others, as if you had no concept of where your hips ended and the rest of Hell began. He even liked how you feigned disinterest, thinking he couldn’t see the way he made you blush, the way your undead heart would race when he charmed you, and the way you inhaled his smell when he was close enough. He tried his best not to toy with you or let you know he was aware of your affections. He wanted to give you the time to come to him on your own. After all, y’all had all the time in Hell …

As smart as you were, you seemed to have forgotten that he could portal or fly the both of you anywhere in seconds. You seemed not to have clocked how instead of doing that, he choose to stay in various hotels with you, from the luxurious to the quaint.

As patient as he was, this was the night he had been waiting for. He thought surely you would confess your feelings if you found yourself in forced proximity. He’d read enough romance novels to know tonight’s setting was perfect for a first fuck. He would have even settled for a kiss- okay, no, he would not have. He would have begged for more and would have had to excuse himself into another territory completely if you turned him down. But surely it would not come to that, he thought. He heard you coming in the shower while he spoke to you! Surely you would not be able to keep your hands off of him tonight!

Wanting not to waste time, he bathed with urgency, toweled off, slid on a pair of boxer briefs for the annoying appropriateness of it, and pulled on the hotel robe.

But when he came into the bedroom, it was too late. You were sleeping sweetly, your breathing even and your mouth open. You hugged a pillow in your arms and one between your legs, and you looked so precious and comfortable.

He actually felt angry! How had he managed to fuck up this perfect scenario?!

With as quiet a groan as he could suppress, he tossed the robe to a nearby chair, lied down on the other side of the bed, and turned off the light.

He tried not to notice your luscious ass in his periphery, his cock already straining against his briefs.

He turned to rest on his side in your direction, sighing softly and deciding he could not wait anymore. Once you returned to the Hazbin, he would tell you how he felt about you. Or maybe he would plan a dinner this week, to set the mood. Or maybe he would just blurt it out tomorrow morning over breakfast. Or maybe-

You shifted in your sleep from lying on your side to being on your back. One of your arms fell to the middle of the bed, your palm facing up, only inches from his cock.

Lucifer, you disgusting creep, you absolute degenerate, do not even think for a moment about violating this precious angel’s hand, he scolded himself.

Oh, but you could make it seem so innocent, another part of him retorted. You could just slide it in so gently, and just leave it there. No one would get hurt. They wouldn’t even notice. They’re sleeping so soundly.

Hating himself, he abruptly jumped from the bed and began to stomp back over to the other part of the suite.

“Luci-” you mumbled.

He stopped by your side and whispered, allowing himself to gently caress your head. “Ssshhh, I’m sorry for being noisy, go back to sleep, beautiful.”

You reached out and held his hand. “Where are you going?”

“I unfortunately can’t share a bed with you, my darling,” he admitted his disappointment. “I find you far too attractive and I can’t fall asleep.”

You scowled a bit and started opening your eyes. “What?” you asked him.

He sighed. “Nothing, sugar. Please, sleep sweetly,” he leaned down to kiss your cheek.

But when he lingered, you kissed him quickly on his mouth.

His eyes still open, he was frozen.

You kissed his mouth again. And again. And again until what was happening finally reached his brain.

He was on his knees between your legs in a flash, throwing away the pillows and comforter from all around your body, making sure nothing could prevent him from having access to you.

While snaking his tongue into your mouth, he ripped open your pajama shirt completely, buttons popping off with ease, but also tearing it clear across the back. He cupped one of your breasts and then the other, before moving a hand to your ass and lifting you effortlessly to grind you against himself.

“I don’t know what you were thinking with these,” he pulled away from your wet kisses, ripping your pajamas pants into pieces and throwing them away.

“Fucking Hell, Luci, what if those were my favorite or something?”

“Shit-” he growled, forcing himself to stop what he was doing to pull away from you, running a hand through his hair and trying to catch his breath. “I am such an asshole, I am so sorry-”

“I’m kidding!” you told him.

“Please don’t toy with me,” he exhaled with relief. “Those pajamas deserve to be in hell, but not on your gorgeous-”

He fixed his gaze on you.

“Soft-”

He slid his briefs down, exposing his majestic swollen cock.

“Thick-”

He rubbed his cock against you. He slid it from your clit to your wet, and back again.

Your moans sounded otherworldly, as if to match the way he made you feel.

“Irresistible body.”

“Oh my Lucifer, are you still talking?” you taunted him.

He grinned like the fool he was. Or had he been a genius? His elaborate fantasy coming to fruition just as he’d planned and hoped.

“You are so cruel to me,” he leaned down and kissed you again, prodding your entrance. “Tell me, sweetness, why do you pretend not to care for me? Is it your goal to break my undead heart?”

“You know? How long have you-”

“Oh please, like anyone can resist-”

“Be serious,” your body disconnected from your mind. The top of you was in this conversation, but the rest of you was moving a hand to hold his penis and continue prodding your wet, tight hole with it.

“O-okay, darling,” he loved the way you dominated him with your hand and played with him as if he were your sex toy.

“How long have you known I’m attracted to you?”

“About as long as you’ve been attracted to me I-I fathom?”

“That’s fucking embarrassing, I thought I was hiding it well!”

“Oh, precious,” he put both hands behind his back to keep from taking the sexual control from you. “I am not a regular being. I can smell how wet I make you from several rooms away.”

Mortified, you dropped his cock and covered your face, whining and whimpering into your hands.

He laughed and with gentle touches encouraged you to move your hands away.

“I hate you!” you lied to him.

“Yes, of course, darling. I am known for being incorrigible. It would only make sense if your arousal was mixed with hate.”

“Ugh, you know I don’t hate you at all!”

“Then why do you say so, dearest? I know you don’t want to hurt me. Why are you so desperate to push me away?”

You looked down to check if he was still hard. This was the first time you’d actually seen his dick. It was just like the rest of him: gorgeous, alluring, intimidating, and as he noticed you observing him, eager became something he and his cock shared as well.

“Maybe we have sex first and we argue after?” You suggested.

“Oh, but I am such a sensitive soul,” he teased with his words and again with his cock, putting his free hand on his chest to feign offense. “I would not be able to handle it if I gave myself to you only to be rejected and abandoned.”

“You’re such a fucking drama king,” you tried not to let him make you moan, but it was becoming more difficult to breathe regularly as he played with you.

“I love the way you talk down to me, like I’m not the fucking King of Hell,” his eyes changed color and his horns came out, as well as his tail and wings.

“Holy shit,” you sat up, sliding onto his cock completely and pushing him slightly back with a hand on his chest. Your excitement from seeing him in this form coupled with the excitement of feeling his erection finally inside you, filling up your cunt the way you’d needed him to for days. You fucked yourself with his dick, riding him slowly, while also fondling his horns and caressing his wings.

“You- you’re not scared?” he let himself grab your ass to help support you and with hope that it would quicken your movements. It did not.

“Were you trying to scare me, Sire?” you mocked. You were enamored with his wings and pulled them close to feel them against your face. You contracted around his cock from the pleasure of contact with these magnificent and unique parts of his body.

“Only to play with you, but my ruse didn’t seem to work,” he was intoxicated by your facial expressions, how you panted, your brows responding to the pain and pleasure of his length filling you and his girth spreading you. But also by the awe in your eyes when you stroked his feathers and especially when you once again let yourself handle his horns.

He lifted his hips into you while you lowered yourself onto him, causing a startled moan to escape you without your permission.

You wanted to tell him to stay still, to let you do the moving, but he felt so good inside you that you forgot how to speak. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tried to keep up with his movements, even when tears filled your eyes from being overcome by the sensations. You laced your fingers through his hair and pulled his head back with it, forcing him to watch the pleasure on your face.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said as he pumped into you.

Your moans were starting to sound monstrous, as if fucking this beast of a being was changing you from the inside.

“You better fucking mean that,” you told him, letting out squeals of surprise when he hit against your cervix. “Call me all those- aahh- ridiculous fu- fucking pet names again,” you growled through your teeth.

He ran through the list every other thrust. “Darling- baby- angel- my queen- my king- sweetheart- mmmfff beautiful- lovely- precious- my fucking everything- my love-”

“I’m coming!”

He pulled out of you once your cunt stopped throbbing with orgasm, and asked if he could finish on your chest. Rolling your eyes, you nodded and made a motion with your hand for him to hurry up, which made him laugh as he unloaded his golden jizz all over you.

His wings and horns retreated, and his eyes returned to normal.

Absent-mindedly, you dipped a finger into his come and smeared it across your lips for a taste. You licked your lips while he watched, and then the rest of the liquid from your finger.

“It tastes like apples!” you groaned, exasperated. “Sweet apples!”

Still on his knees, he started shifting between your legs. “And what does yours taste like?”

You tried to squirm away, attempting to close your legs.

“My darling, please let me taste you,” he pleaded. “Let me at least clean you up.”

“Are you not satisfied?” you grumbled in annoyance, assuming he wanted to continue being sexual because what you’d already done wasn’t enough to please the King of Hell.

He tried to gauge from your face whether you were teasing him or serious, but he struggled to discern this. “My love, I will not be satisfied until I bring you to orgasm enough times that you forget how to think entirely, as clearly your thoughts are preventing you from being here with me.”

He spread your legs again, and slowly leaned between them, keeping his eyes fixed on yours.

“Tell me what troubles you, my darling, and I will make it and everything around it violently disappear.”

“Like you did with my pajamas?” you laugh, your body relaxing as he rubbed his cheeks against your thighs, first one, then the other.

“Exactly, sweetness,” he said between kisses. “If I can make you love me,” his lips brushed against your clit. “I will make sure you never feel,” he licked it, “an ounce of suffering again,” harder this time, “unless it’s mixed with pleasure and happening in our shared bed.”

You gripped the sheets with both hands and lifted yourself up into him.

He pressed his tongue against your cunt and you felt its strength and thickness. You moved again to encourage him to shove his tongue inside.

“Tell me what I am allowed to do, my love.”

You groaned in embarrassment. “Fuck you, you already know.”

“I’m sure I know nothing,” he could sense you contracting already. It pleased and excited him to know your body wanted him his badly. But he wanted your heart, mind, and soul, as well. He was greedy and gluttonous; he wanted all of you entirely. And right now he wanted your permission.

“Then you won’t get to taste me any more than this,” you threatened.

Fuck, he shuddered, and allowed himself to palm his cock. He pressed his face against your crotch harshly, inhaling you and swooning with lust.

Why had he thought you wouldn’t be difficult?

“Tell me to eat you, darling, please,” he whimpered, writhing against you with his face and against his hand with his cock. “Let me devour you. I promise I’m so good with my tongue. It’s even longer than you’ve seen. Please, please, please.”

“No,” you couldn’t believe what you were saying. Your body was moving against his face, begging you to see reason.

You wanted him; he wanted you. What the fuck else was left?

“UGH, FINE!” you responded.

He rose from you, still rubbing his cock. “Enthusiastic yesses only,” he teased.

“I have never fucking hated someone so much in my entire living and undead lives!” You absolutely did not hate him. You wished he hadn’t thrown the pillows off the bed, because you desperately wanted to throw one at him.

“Why is it so difficult for you to just say you want me?” He stopped holding himself.

Whoops, you fucked up.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” you got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom for a towel, smearing his come all over you, causing your skin to glow. You’d have to take another shower. You left the door open but turned the water back on and hopped in.

He followed you and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind. “I need aftercare,” he said.

Some of your frustration dissipated. You turned around to embrace him, warm water caressing your back. You pet his head, fingers through his hair. You kissed the top of his head. Taking care of him was so much easier than having him take care of you, as long as he didn’t want you to talk.

“What can I do?”

He looked up at you with glistening, watery eyes. “Tell me you love me, even if you don’t.”

Your heart started pounding from the anxiety. This fool. Of course you loved him.

“I love you,” he told you, with strange emphases.

“Is that real,” you startled. “Or are you training me on how to say it?”

He tilted his head to mirror his golden retriever soul. “Did I not say that earlier?” He looked up as if digging through his memory. “I’m positive I confessed my feelings earlier.”

“You definitely did not tell me that you love me.”

“But-” he looked at the doorway and back at you, and at the doorway again. “I am so absolutely positive I said it.”

“Nope,” you felt ridiculous, naked and covered in golden ejaculate, arguing with the most feared creature in existence, whose face was eye-level with your tits, about whether or not he had told you he loved you.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m in love with you. I cherish you. I adore you. I love you.”

You stood in shock. Somewhere along the way you had realized he wanted to fuck you. You heard him say some pretty things, but thought that’s just what he did, like it was a kink or something. You didn’t for a moment imagine he could love you.

He looked up at you, his face so darling and precious. Sweet. Beautiful …

Wait- is that what he thought when he looked at you? Is that why he used those words when he spoke to you?

“You are not doing great with providing aftercare,” he deadpanned.

“What?”

“Tell me you love me!” He sounded exasperated! Him! With you! What was happening?!

“Oh my Lucifer, yes! Obviously!”

“Yes, what?” aaaand he was for sure crying. You were certain that wetness on his face was not coming from the shower but his fucking doe eyes.

“Yes, I love you, you motherfu-”

He pulled you down by your neck to be able to engulf your mouth with his.

“Say it a million times,” he pleaded, between kisses. He wrapped your legs around him and pinned you to the shower wall. Having your crotches aligned like this solved the height discrepancy and let him reach every part of you he wanted.

Your face was hot with embarrassment, but you finally conceded. With every confession, you felt your body relax more against him, his kisses feeling more nurturing than arousing as he focused on your neck and cheeks and the top of your chest. You recounted how you felt when you met. You told him why you avoided him. You told him every humiliating thing you thought and loved about him, until the nurturing kisses became ravenous again.

“I want you to fuck me again and then I want you to eat me out and clean me up with your tongue and then, only then, can you bathe me and take me to bed to sleep.”

“Wow, you’re really an all or nothing sort of person, aren’t you, darling?”

He did as he was told.

[hiyashortking]

Charlie Compersion Headcanons

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Summary: We interrupt the Lucifer spam with some super sweet headcanons regarding the most darling patootie in all of hell and what she would be like if she practiced ethnical non-monogamy.

Not to be cheesy, but you know our girl loves some cheese, so: if compersion were an Olympic sport, you already know who would win the gold.

She wouldn’t be able to feel jealous if she desperately tried, with brainstorming notebooks and red-string theory boards and all.

Charlie would just feel so happy for you, or for Vaggie, that you are having a good time with other people, and she would feel so happy those people get to experience the magnificence that is you.

She’d be the quintessential "kitchen table" metamor. She would look forward to setting up breakfast and coffee for everyone and would sit too closely to your new lover(s), leaning over with her chin in her hands and her elbows on the table, hanging on their every word with puppy dog eyes.

She would have a million questions. What did they like about you or Vaggie? Why did they like it? Did they want to know why she liked that exact same thing? Did their common interests in their shared lover mean they should immediately, no holds barred, become best friends?

She would ask if they wanted tips regarding how to pleasure you, since she explored your body so thoroughly in every possible way she could imagine, that she was certain she could be helpful to your new lover.

But she wouldn’t want to impose! Since maybe your lover, like her sometimes, enjoyed the act of exploring on their own.

Speaking of sometimes, she would sometimes accidentally begin a threesome, out of sheer excitement over you and your date spending time together in close proximity to her.

If you or Vaggie had a new crush, she would want to hear every detail. She would hope you’d let her read your text exchanges or let her listen to y’all talking on the phone. She would feel like human pre-teens felt when they had crushes on celebrities.

She would check y'all hell-birth charts to make sure you would make a good pair!

She would sometimes become more attached to them than you did, making break-ups or de-escalations strange when you or Vaggie would be helping her through her grief over your lover.

But if you were heartbroken, she would be the absolute best at helping you recover. Her empathy knowing no bounds, she would feel every feeling with you, from denial all the way to acceptance. She would ready all your favorite food, media, and beings. She would treat you as if you were a sickly child, doting on you and enlisting everyone in the hotel to prioritize you until she determined you were ready to make your own sandwiches again.

She would definitely have scheduled weekly check-ins about everyone's thoughts and feelings, complete with templates and pre-determined questions that she learned from seminars and workshops for ENM folks, which she would attend with the gusto of a rich housewife getting her nails done.

[hiyashortking]

Your Good Boy, Lucifer

Summary: You have some soft dommy thoughts and perform some very fleeting soft dommy behaviors with your precious angel Luci between your legs. You're AFAB and implied to be pangender. The scene begins in the middle of sex.

Note: This fic ends with my favorite sentence I've ever written and ever will write. I cackled like a demon for several minutes and had to take a walk around my home to come down from that line. I hope it fucks you up similarly.

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Your cunt was dripping wet and aching from arousal and when he finally slid his long and thick cock into you, you wrapped your legs around him and held him tightly so he couldn’t move.

“Lucifer, I’m coming. Please don’t move, I’m coming. Fuck.”

Coming? From barely one stroke? Lucifer watched you orgasm. Your eyes were shut, your brows were raised, your mouth was open and groaning out the most beautiful sounds. He could feel you coming on his dick, contracting and pulsating around him, your pussy squeezing him first tightly, then gentler and gentler, until your muscles finally relaxed.

Had he ever made someone orgasm in one thrust before? Surely, Lilith, since they’d been more intimate than not. But anyone else? He couldn’t recall.

He also couldn’t entirely take credit for this. You were so wonderful at telling him what you wanted; at instructing him; at ordering him.

He started to slide his cock out of you, when your relaxed state immediately shifted and you seemed wanton, your cunt beginning to contract around him again.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged, worried you would tighten your hold around him again to enjoy another orgasm, as tended to be your pattern. “May I please move now?”

You bit your lip, squirming against the feel of him inside you. He was so big, he filled you up so completely, and sometimes the way he hit your cervix hurt even when it felt amazing. You’d teased him about his size, telling him he could fuck you if he could make his dick smaller or if he could keep himself only partially erect. But even when he secretly tried to do this for you, his cock would swell against his wishes and he’d open you in ways your body loved but your mind hated. You may have been a top in your mind and soul, but your body was a bottom.

“Darling, love of my eternal undead life, my queen, my king, the light of my morning star,” he couldn’t even hear himself over his own begging. He moved his hips and you would stop him each time, pushing him back in where you wanted him and keeping him there with the strength of your thighs alone.

There was a dissonance in you between wanting to nurture and adore this man, wanting to give him everything and fulfill his every caprice, and the reason you were in hell. That reason was your impulse toward sadism, especially bullying. Sometimes you would even swear you couldn’t control yourself, your want to hear him beg overcoming your want to hear him satisfied. Fuck, you loved being able to control him. You loved knowing you owned him and his body and that his sickeningly sweet little heart would never, ever, let him do anything against your wishes.

How is it that the first time you ever felt safe was in hell?

And again, there was the disconnect. If you continued to warm his cock this way, you would connect with your control. You had the power. But if you allowed him to move again, the way he felt and his eons of skills would overpower you, and you hated it. Even though you gave it away with your squeaks and gasps, and with each of the orgasms, you did everything you could to not let him know that he turned you into a pillow prince/ess, in love with getting penetrated by him.

You didn’t even let him call it fucking you; and he was such a good boy he always remembered to call it getting fucked by you. Even though you made him do all the work. Even though he wanted to do it all to serve you.

Starting to lose what was left of his composure, he let himself lie down on you and pleaded into your chest, rubbing his face between your breasts and using both hands to press them into him, the way you only once told him you liked. You loved that he remembered.

You ran both hands through his hair and leaned down to kiss his head. “You are such a good boy,” you told him.

He groaned.

You loosened the grip your legs had around him. He lifted his head to look at you with those big, pleading eyes, and his flushed face. He was so fucking cute.

“Go ahead, my darling,” you permitted.

Immediately, he was back up on his knees, sliding out of you as he fixed his position, and slamming his cock back into you so quickly that you let out a surprised yelp.

“My sweet man,” you praised him. “You’re doing so good for me. You’re so good at helping me fuck you. That’s it, yes, pace yourself, my angel. You’re- oh fuck, aah, I wish you could fuck all of my holes at once-”

“I can!”

“Ssshh, mommy’s speaking.”

You could feel his cock throbbing when you made him laugh.

He had lifted your ass off the bed and held you by your hips to move you into him as he thrusted and told you exactly how he felt.

He loved your cunt so much. He loved making you wet and feeling how tight your pussy was. He knew he was big, but you made him feel like the majesty he was. He felt so lucky to be allowed to give you himself like this, to fill and feed you. He wanted to serve you so well that you’d never want anyone else but him. Oh, fuck, he wanted to tend to you and be praised by you. He wanted to be your good boy. Your pet. Your fuck toy. If he had a soul he would sacrifice it and fall into a deeper hell in exchange for every day revolving around pleasuring you. He would do anything for the gift, the fucking privilege of being inside you, of making you pant and moan and yelp like this, of making you come, of making you want him, need him, fucking love him.

You let out a sound that mixed a scream and moan together, coming on his dick for the third time tonight.

“Make yourself come for me, darling. Cover my mouth so I can’t stop you anymore.”

“A-are you sure?” he hesitated, shifting one hand from your hip to your ass, and moving you that way, while the other gently covered your beautiful open mouth. You kissed and licked at his hand instinctively, and nodded.

He let himself speed up, loving and hating the way your eyebrows raised and eyes welled with tears. He hoped this wouldn’t be too painful, told himself he would take such good care of you afterwards, that you were rewarding him by letting him move faster and harder. You were so good to him, giving him permission to come. He felt like he mattered, and fuck, that brought him closer to the edge. His pleasure mattered to you. He mattered to you. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

You whimpered when he came, sobbing and groaning, feeling him throbbing and filling you with what hopefully wasn’t going to become a sibling for Charlie.

[hiyashortking]

Texting With Lucifer

Summary: A very short text message exchange between you/the reader and the King of Hell, after y'all already had sex.

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

(Image source: a still of this gif)

Lucifer: Good morning, beautiful!

You: Hiya, short king.

Lucifer: >//< May I please come over to feed you this morning?

Lucifer: Or may I please take you out to eat somewhere wildly expensive? Where the portions are tiny, but the flavors are bordering on the surreal?

Lucifer: I’m so happy and relieved you’re awake so early, by the way!

Lucifer: I hope I didn’t wake you with my text! 😅

You: I was going to ask for a day off from you, so my insides can arrange themselves back into place after what you’ve been doing to me.

Lucifer: Oh no, my precious darling!

Lucifer: Please tell me you're exaggerating.

Lucifer: I would hate to know both that I'd harmed you and that my punishment would be the withholding of your presence.

You: They sure do not talk like this up on earth, at least not to me.

Lucifer: Fools, the lot of them. The entire world!

You: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's get breakfast, but sex is off the table. I need to heal.

Lucifer: It will be masochism to spend the morning knowing the only thing I can put inside you is delicious food, but I will still enjoy every moment.

You: STFU. Oh my YOU, Luci. Oh my literal you. I won’t go out with you if this is how you plan on talking to me today!

Lucifer: I won’t speak another word!

Lucifer: I’ll be completely silent, if that’s your wish!

Lucifer: All I ask is to be able to see you and smell you and only touch you lovingly! Safely! Unarousingly!

Lucifer: (Unarousingly, my device tells me, is not a word.)

You: I don’t know what’s less believable, that your touch won’t arouse me, or that you can stay quiet an entire day!

You: Are you text-whispering to me in parentheses??

Lucifer: I love the way you taunt me 💕

Lucifer: There is almost always a compliment hidden in your teases 🫠

Lucifer: I hope you love knowing you make The King of Hell a mess.

Lucifer: (And yes, I was!)

You: ffghjktejrheg come get me, you charming and ridiculous little imp

Lucifer: Please don't mention come 😭

You: LUCI!!

Lucifer: 😇 I’ll pick you up in 30, my future queen

Lucifer: That was okay to say, right?

Lucifer: I was just flirting!

Lucifer: I hope I’m not scaring you?

Lucifer: Y/N?

You: I’m getting dressed. Stop flirting and go get ready!!

Lucifer: 😁 Will do, my love!

Lucifer: Well, not love love!

Lucifer: Fuck, I didn’t mean that I love you!

Lucifer: Unless you don’t think it’s too soon to say?

You: 🤦🏼‍ Please stop thinking. I’ll meet you in the lobby. I love you too, you phenomenal clingy mess. DO NOT REPLY TO THIS TEXT!! And hurry up, I’m hungry!

[hiyashortking]

You Catch Lucifer Masturbating

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Premise: Inspired by @venomhound's prompt list found here for the prompt: you catch them masturbating. My tenses are all fucked up in this one and I've chosen not to edit it to make sure it all matches ✌️.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He’d forgotten that he asked you to stop by when you had a moment this week to drop off some bullshit he didn’t actually care about. He was just looking for an excuse to see you again, especially against the backdrop of his room. But depression and trauma do some fucked up shit to one’s brain because he forgot this scheme and left his door unlocked, and you came wandering in when he had his cock in his hand and your panties on his face.

How did he get your panties? A story for another time …

On the bright side, he temporarily cured himself of his desperate want to be around you. If someone had told him last month that he’d be actively avoiding you and would actually go back to his old place to get away from you, he would have put money on it. Unless it was Husk, of course. He was bordering on being obsessed with you, so desperate for just a glance at your face most days. And now? Hiding in shame.

The King of Hell, hiding from a simple little undead. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.

You knocked on his door.

Like the true diva he was, he was in his bed eating ice cream and chocolates, surrounded by the fluffiest of his duckies. The only thing he’d managed to get out of bed for every day was his long, hot as fuck shower, during which he would not allow himself to stroke his cock. Punishment was something Lucifer had been taught well, and now he was enacting it on himself.

You knocked again.

He cleared his throat. A “who is it” came out with a squeak, which made him clear his throat and ask again in a tone with more authority.

“Hey, it’s me. I will never not knock again, I promise.”

How could you even joke about this?

W-wait, it was YOU at the door?

He jumped out of bed and fumbled around, trying to make his room look cleaner. He opened the window for fresh air, but the air of hell wasn’t fresh at all so he’d closed it again.

“I hope it’s okay, Charlie let me into the palace."

“Y-yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Is-is Charlie with you?” Where were his clothes? He wore the same fucking outfit every day for millennia, one would think it would be easy to get quickly dressed. The closet! Of course, that’s where clothes would be!

“She and Vaggie are downstairs. I didn’t tell her what happened but she got worried when she called you and you didn’t pick up. She said you’d done that in the past but that you’d been really attentive to her lately so she wanted to make sure you were okay …”

Running a hand through his hair, he opened the door and leaned with the other hand on the doorframe, trying to obscure your vision of his bedroom. He looked as gorgeous as always. Since you hadn’t seen him in a while, his smile seemed even prettier today. His hair looked so soft, you wanted to reach out and run your own fingers through it. He smelled amazing. Why hadn’t you ever realized how form-fitting his clothes were? You felt as if you were seeing him for the first time.

“Hey, bitch,” he says, and immediately regrets it. But his smile only falters for a second.

You chuckle. He always makes you smile and laugh like a fool. “Well, you seem to be doing just fine! I don’t know why Charlie and I were so worried!”

He imitates your chuckle and tries to push away memories of why he is avoiding you. But wait- shouldn’t he be apologizing? His smile disappears when his thoughts race of what you must have thought and how he probably made you feel and-

“Y/N, I am so, so, so, sososososo sorry,” he lets out, almost as if his body deflates with each sound. His tail is out and literally between his legs.

“It’s o-”

He steps toward you abruptly and closes his door behind him. “Let’s sit down,” he takes your hand absent-mindedly as he focuses on which room to bring you into. Not his office. Not the librar- maybe the library? Didn’t you love reading? Maybe he could distract you with all the books!

He only realizes he is holding your hand when you’re at the center of one of his smallest, coziest libraries. “Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize-”

“Lucifer, stop!” You plead.

He takes a deep, sharp inhale, his face awake with surprise, holds the breath, and releases it slowly, tilting his head up and relaxing his shoulders as he does.

“Thank you,” you say in unison, and then grin like the fools you both are.

“Please sit down,” he says as he does the same on the sofa across from yours. “May I get you something to drink?”

You noticed there were servants downstairs who were catering to the princess and her partner but who did not follow you up to the second floor.

“I’m just happy to see you, I’ve been struggling to think about anything else since you left.”

You’d been thinking about him since he left? He’d been gone for weeks!

“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean-”

Fuck, you missed him. One second the picture of elegance, and the next tripping over his words. When you caught him stroking his cock, with your used underwear on his face, you let yourself lean into all of the thoughts you hadn’t allowed when you assumed it would be impossible to be on his radar. And then he had the audacity to disappear, leaving you alone with just your fantasies.

Though you called him several times, you did doubt the situation you had seen. He was the King of Hell! Why would he be interested in you, all of being in hell? Maybe he just had a panty fetish and it didn’t mean anything that they were yours. Did this feel personal because it was, or because you desperately wanted it to be?

Wait, what was he saying?

“I’m so sorry to have worried you. As you can see, I am fine and dandy. Well- not entirely dandy, I’m obviously very much attracted to all the genders- I mean- wait- is dandy still an insinuation of being gay? Was it ever? Anyway, I’m not fully gay! Obviously! I mean-”

He was so fucking cute. You could listen to him ramble all day. “I honestly didn’t think you were going to see me, so I didn’t think about what I would say if you did. I’m just really happy to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t think this through more. I just want to be in the same room as you again.”

It wasn’t difficult to stun this man into a moment of silence, but the silence rarely lasted. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I wanted to give you some space. I am obviously deeply apologetic for my behavior.” 

Was he struggling to look at you? Is the most powerful man in all of hell blushing and avoiding your eyes? Fuck, why was this turning you on?

“Please tell me if there is anything, anything in all of Hell I can do to gain your forgiveness. I will, of course, entirely understand if it would be impossible for you to forgive me, but I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t at least ask.”

“Luci, may we be blunt?”

He nodded.

“What exactly do you want me to forgive you for?”

What? What exactly? For being a creepy, rude, disrespectful, vile, impish-

“I think I want some clarity about why you think I’m upset with you,” you added.

“Well, you- … I- ... wasn’t what I did bad?”

“Bad?”

He hated how the thoughts I’ve been a bad boy intruded into his mind, but here he fucking was again, with his fucking trauma getting in the way of a new relationship, not to mention how fucking cliche. Wait- a possible relationship? You were here, seeking him out, confessing to thinking about him, not being mad at him for crossing boundaries, maybe not even wanting those boundaries to begin with? Was he letting some fucked up negative core belief about being "bad", whatever the fuck that meant, ruin something he could have with you?

“Oh, Luci,” you rose from your spot and kneeled in front of him as you would if you wanted to help a child feel less intimidated. “Can we just forget this happened? Maybe not all of it, because it led me to assuming I might have a chance with you. So, I guess, let’s maybe just keep the part where you might be attracted to me, and forget any other misconceptions?”

“A chance with me?”

You nodded and waited patiently for him to process.

“You would want a chance with me?”

You nod again, smiling. Waiting.

How had he only then realized you were on your knees in front of him?

He slid from the couch to join you on the floor, and scooped you up with ease to settle you sideways in his lap. He couldn’t think of you on your knees just then.

He felt welcomed by you, but realized that wasn’t consent. “Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Luci, you can touch me anytime you like and you can touch any part of me you’d like to touch. I love, love, love being touched,” you emphasized. "Is it okay if I touch you, too?" you asked him.

Baffled, he nodded. "Yes. My word! Yes, enthusiastically! Yes, please!"

Did this grown ass man just quiver?

Oh shit, were you feeling him getting hard?

You seemed to share a brain cell in that moment because he apologized again, his arms loosely around you. “I haven’t- … done what you’d seen me doing- … since that day, so my body is-”

Whenever he got shy and apologetic, you wanted to respond with nurturing, but this time a second feeling won over and you laughed and hid your face in his neck.

“Lucifer Morningstar, you were so upset that I might think the King of Hell is immoral that you haven’t come in weeks?” The ridiculousness was too much to bear. Fuck, and he smelled amazing. You let yourself nuzzle into him, enjoying the feeling of his flesh. Did he have flesh? What were y’all made of down here? You rubbed your nose gently against his neck, enjoying how even the slightest touch connected you.

“That is correct,” was almost the truth, as he did not take responsibility for the things his body did while he was sleeping.

He let himself lean against the sofa a bit, enjoying you snuggling against him. He closed his eyes and tried his best to relax. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in-

“You amusing, wonderful little fool,” you whispered, and when you did your lips brushed against his neck, and you were certain then that he had shivered.

You were not making it easy for him to settle down. You often wondered how he managed to go from tense to relaxed and then back to tense so easily. And these were his reactions when you were on your best behavior. How would he respond if you intentionally teased him? Shhh, brain, not now, you pleaded with yourself.

“Not everything about me is little,” he said back with some confidence.

“I know, remember?” You move your head to see his face. Fuck, you weren’t supposed to bully him! The man was vulnerable! Could you just chill for today?!

“Ugh!” he groaned. Had he been blushing before that remark, or was it only just now?

Seeing your smile helped ease him again and he wondered aloud, “maybe I need to walk in on you touching yourself thinking about me, so we can be even?”

“That would be challenging since I don’t really masturbate.”

“You don’t mas- what?”

“I prefer fucking.”

“You prefer fucking?”

“Yes, or being pleasured by someone else. I must just not be good at it or something, I’m not a big fan of solo play.”

“You’re not-”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” You chuckle, realizing you’d been obliviously playing with his hair. You had the fingers of one hand at the back of his head, tugging gently and releasing, while the other battled with his hair's softness in the front, refusing to stay put where you'd wanted it to be.

“I might just, until something you say doesn’t wildly surprise me.”

You take pride in being able to surprise someone who came into existence at the beginning of time.

You’re also glad he positioned you this way in his lap, so you could more easily hide how wet this exchange was making you. What the fuck was your kink, powerful men being vulnerable? You couldn’t have just been into feet or something? Great, now there was an image of Lucifer kissing your feet in your brain. In boots. That he bought for you. With his endless hell currency. Fuck.

“I guess I’ll have to abstain a little longer," he mused. "Because now all I want is to turn you on so much that you can’t stop touching yourself.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[hiyashortking]

Drunk Dialing Lucifer

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Extra warning for this one: There are two suicide comments in the forms of “dark jokes” from the you/reader character. These comments are not challenged and they might hurt to read. Take care of yourselves, darlings. Suicide is not funny and if this was a full novel I would make sure to address that.

Summary: You drunk text and drunk dial Lucifer. He does the same for you later to help you cope with your embarrassment.

Text Message Exchanges

You: i want to duck you so bad, and ducking call you daddy the whole ducking time

Lucifer: Angel, are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?

You: this is not angeldust

You: duck, luci, it’s y/n

Lucifer: Yes, of course, darling. Where are you? Are you with someone? I tried calling but you’re not picking up. I’m worried.

You: im drunk

Lucifer: It appears so. Where are you?

You: i dnt know

Lucifer: Who are you with, darling?

You: vag char ad nifffff f f ty

Lucifer to Charlie: Cherub, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Charlie: They’re fine. Should I take their phone?

Lucifer: No, that’s okay, sweetheart. Thank you! Have fun!

Lucifer to Vaggie: Maggie, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Vaggie: Yes, Sir.

Vaggie: They are intoxicated. It appears 3 Long Island Iced Teas have been fully consumed. With their weight and height, this does not appear to be concerning, though I will prevent any further intake. They appear to be in good spirits, though unable to stand without assistance at this time. I will provide ongoing monitoring and support. Is this satisfactory?

Lucifer: 👍

Lucifer to Angel Dust: Angel Dust, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Angel Dust: oh no Y/N and I are in big trouble, we need a powerful, strong, sexy man to come save us

Lucifer: Are you serious? Tell me where you are and I’ll be right there!

Angel Dust: relaxxx, daddy, all of your princesses and princes are just fine, but hmu later if you’re feeling lonely

Incoming Call from Y/N

Lucifer: Hi, sweetheart. I’ve been reassured that you are safe and well.

You: You are so pretty. Do you know that? I hope you know that.

Lucifer: Why, thank you. That is very sweet!

You: You have gorgeous eyes and I love your teeth. I bet it’s easy for you to make someone bleed; I bet you can’t even nibble on someone without piercing their skin.

Lucifer: Oh my. I should be sitting down for this.

You: I should be sitting on your face.

Lucifer: That- that can be arranged, darling. I didn’t know you felt like this about me. Or is it the alcohol talking? Shoot, should I be ending this conversation to prevent any miscommunication or possible embarrassment? What is the social protocol here? Oh- well, I guess you can’t tell me that right now-

You: Ssssshhhh

Lucifer: Oh! Of course. Yes, shushing. Shushing now.

You: You talk SO MUCH.

Lucifer: Ah, yes, sometimes I do.

You: I love listening to you talk.

Lucifer: You did just shush me, but I’ll try to believe you.

You: Oh fuck, I’m sooo sorry-

Lucifer, laughing: I’m joking, darling, it’s okay.

Lucifer: You okay? Are you still there?

You: Yeah, hold on.

You, muffled: Huh? I’m talking to Luci. I’m trying to tell him how much I want to ride his dick.

Lucifer: Oh my!

You: What do you mean am I sure? I don’t know. Are you sure? Wait-

Call Ended

Text Message Exchanges

Vaggie to Lucifer: Sir, I believe Y/N to be making poor decisions. I have confiscated their phone and will bring them home shortly.

Lucifer: You’re the best!

Vaggie: Update. Y/N has been properly hydrated and brought to their room. They have fallen asleep.

Lucifer: Thanks, Magz. Charlie home okay, too?

Vaggie: Yes, Sir. Getting ready to sleep, as well.

Lucifer: Excellent, you rock! 🔥🔥🔥

The Day After

Text Message Exchanges

Lucifer to You: Good morning, beautiful. I hope you’re feeling well. Would you like me to bring you some breakfast?

You: I’m grounded. I’m not allowed to eat or drink and I’m definitely NOT allowed to text you. I am fucking mortified. Vaggie said I had the audacity to call you? I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.

Lucifer: Oh, stop! I was wildly flattered by what you were saying, but surely you didn’t mean any of it and it was just the alcohol speaking.

You: You’re too kind. I’m a degenerate and I will punish myself accordingly.

Lucifer: Hey, now! All you said was that you wanted to duck me! I’m not even sure what that means. I am so very old, you see. 😜 For all I know, it means you’d like to hold my— hand.

You: I wish I wasn’t already dead.

Lucifer: Beautiful, please stop! I will wipe the night from my memories if that is your wish.

You: PLEASE.

Lucifer: Okay. Can we start over?

You: Yes, please.

Lucifer: I think you’re very pretty.

You: Stop!

Lucifer: And I’d very much like it if you sat on my face.

You: AAAHHHH delete my number, I’m blocking you and setting myself on fire.

Lucifer: Nononononono I’m joking, please don’t!

You: 😭 How am I ever going to be able to look you in the eye ever again? I am MOVING and changing my name.

Lucifer: Okay, okay. I have an idea.

Lucifer: I’m going to get drunk and call you tonight.

You: That … might actually help.

Lucifer: Excellent! I’ve been known to make a huge fool out of myself while intoxicated, so this should cancel out your behavior, and even earn you some credits to say plenty of lewd things to me in the future.

You: 🤦 We’ll see about that.

Later That Night

Incoming Call From Lucifer

You: Wow, you’re really doing it, huh?

Lucifer: I did not think this through.

You: What do you mean?

Lucifer: Well, now I’m drunk, and I’m alone in my room, in the hotel, very close to where your room is, and I’m having a really hard time not just walking over to you.

You: Oh yeah, and what would you do then?

Lucifer: I would ask for permission to kiss you.

You: Damn, even drunk you are polite.

Lucifer: Not polite, just bare minimum decent.

You: I’m wet.

Lucifer: What?

You: I said, I bet.

Lucifer: Hm, well, you see, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to kiss you. Your lips seem so plump and soft. You once struggled to lick something off of them at dinner and I’ve come to that image of you in my mind.

You: Oh shit!

Lucifer: Is that okay?

You: Yes. Fuck yes. Tell me more.

Lucifer: I love the way you smell and desperately want to taste you.

Lucifer: I want to taste your lips and your tongue and your face, your neck.

Lucifer: I want to feel your skin and squeeze your ass. Fuck, I can’t talk about your ass.

You: Yes, slow down. What do you want to taste after my neck?

Lucifer: Your tits. I want to see and inhale and touch and tongue and gently pinch. I want to worship your body. I want to make you come by sucking on your tits.

You shake a little as you let out a breath.

Lucifer: I want to fucking devour your thighs. They are magnificent. I want them around my head, around my waist. I want my hands and tongue all over them, every inch. I want to see your fat jiggle when I slap my cock down on them.

You, whispering: Oh for fuck’s sake …

Lucifer: Darling, I think I’m out of liquor.

You: Wha-

Lucifer: Have I done a good enough job for you tonight, or would you like me to continue? I could go down to the bar and get some more.

You: …

Lucifer: Precious, are you there?

You, clearing your throat: I-I’m here. It’s okay. I have completely different reasons now to feel embarrassed and like I can’t look you in the eye.

Lucifer: Oh no, that was not the intention.

You try to settle your breathing.

Lucifer: I’m outside your door.

You: No. No, go away.

Lucifer: My safe word is Duckling. Use it and I’ll go away.

You: …

Lucifer: Open your door, beautiful. I want you to be comfortable around me.

You: I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming.

Lucifer: You are entirely in control. Say the word, and I will go back to my room, or I’ll go downstairs for another drink. Tell me what you desire and I will make it real.

You twist the handle and pull open the door.

Call Ended

[hiyashortking]

Disclaimers

Rule #1:

If you are a minor, do not interact with me or any of my content.

Here are some details about me that inform my writing. I am:

36 year old

genderqueer, under the nonbinary umbrella, under the trans umbrella

pansexual

demisexual

wildly alloromantic

poly/open/ENM with two long-term nesting partners

a European immigrant who grew up in NYC; white

bilingual; English is my second language but I’m fluent with an unfortunate lack of accent

late in life self-diagnosed and therapist-confirmed autistic

medicated for OCD and MDD

being treated for C-PTSD

physically disabled; in chronic pain

fat

and most importantly an Aquarius sun/Sag moon/Libra rising ;p

What content can you expect from me?:

Almost anything can be a triggering topic, so please go into my reading assuming I will have written about your triggers and you are not safe here. Enter at your own risk, have your armor on, or feel free to go elsewhere. Your mental health is important and my fanfiction is likely not an important part of your journey.

Since I write fanfic for Hazbin Hotel, I’ll be leaning into very common but easily triggering shit like addiction, depression, anxiety, sex, selfishness, dissociation, trauma responses, trauma bonding, love bombing, manipulation, immorality, dark comedy from characters who are not healthy or moral, mentions of suicide or suicidal thoughts, and so on.

I’m going to focus a lot on my own kinks so you’ll see a lot of the reader as a dom, power bottom, or just not a sub if I can avoid it. You’ll see a lot of Lucifer as a service!top and/or sub with love for things like being your good boy, pet, toy, etc. I also like that he has power and money, so even I am not immune to some daddy moments.

I love writing about mental health, so it will be likely for me to suddenly shift from fluff or smut into angst or trauma processing. There will probably be more comedy, fluff, and angst in my writing than downright smut. I love a fade to black tease and a happy ever after.

I like breaking the fourth wall.

Credit

The MDNI banner I use was made by arlerts-angel.