#helluva smut

[chrolloluvr]

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

♡ Mammon w/ A Size Kink ♡

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

AFAB, Female!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like being my little slut, yeah?"

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

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

"Oh fuck... shit just like that"

"Ohh yeah- thats some good shit."

"Dont you dare fuckin' move."

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

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

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

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

[bloody-peach]

Snake Eyes (Helluva Boss: Striker x F!Reader smut fic)

(gif edit by me)

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Now Playing: Kaleo - Way Down We Go [headphones recommended]

Goodie Bag: flirting, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, masturbation (f), cursing, dirty talk, striptease, vaginal fingering, creampie [let me know if I missed anything].

A/N: Who doesn't wanna fuck Striker? Like, come on. When he pinned Blitzø to the wall in his debut episode, I wanted to be in Blitzø's place so bad. So I decided to make a fic. It's pretty short, but it's still good, trust me. Enjoy!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @pinkhimecat @moths-and-mantids @neonvehk @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered and all Striker simps!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Your life wasn’t the best at the moment. Your bitter ex put a bounty on your head for no reason, and this forced you to be on the run. You were currently in the Wrath ring, trying to outrun this bounty hunter that’s been on your ass for a while. It wasn’t fair that he was riding on a horse, but you were able to keep a good distance from him. Unfortunately, you didn’t know that he had a lasso on him. You gagged when the lasso wrapped around your neck tight, pulling you back and knocking you onto your ass. You tried to pull the rope off of you, but it was on tight. During your struggle, he walked up to you, looking down with a smirk on his face. His tail flicked in a flourish, making the same sound as a rattlesnake’s tail. “Gotta admit, you can run pretty fast. But not fast enough.” a rough male voice said. “I haven’t lost a catch in my entire life, and I ain’t starting today.” He pulled the lasso up and got you on your knees. You had a good look at him and recognized him immediately. This was Striker, the ruthless bounty hunter who hunted down and almost killed Prince Stolas. You were aware of his track record of bounty hunting, and you knew you were just another paycheck. ‘Fuck, he’s hot,’ you thought to yourself.

He eyed you up and down and said, “Hey, you’re a cute one. Not a bad body on you, either. Maybe I’ll have some fun with ya before I turn ya in.” You weren’t sure how, but this man just flipped your switch and you decided to flirt with him. When he loosened the lasso so you could speak, you smirked and looked at him with flirtatious eyes, saying, “Oh? Have I caught the eye of the famous bounty hunter, Striker?” Striker’s eyes narrowed, momentarily taken aback by your smirk. His grin remained plastered on his face, however, as he leaned in further, his breath brushing your cheek. “Famous, eh?” He repeated, drawing out the word. “Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t,” he chuckled softly, running a hand through his snowy hair. “But there ain’t no doubt that I’m the best around these parts.” He paused, looking you up and down with a predatory gleam in his golden eyes. “And now that I got ya, well...you got a few options.”

“Option one, sweetheart,” He began, gesturing to the lasso around your neck. “We could keep things simple and quick. I turn you in, you’re executed, and I pocket that hefty bounty on your cute little head. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?” He winked, a mischievous smile tugging on his lips. “Or option two, we have ourselves a bit of fun, see how much you enjoy it..or how much I do. And then I decide whether you’re worth keeping around or not. Sound good?” You liked where this was going, so you smile and say, “Personally, I like option two better, wouldn’t you agree? Maybe if we hit it off, we can fake my death and split the bounty. I got quite a bounty on me, so if we split it, we’d be richer than even those Goetias.” Striker’s eyes widened as he smiled, clearly surprised at your words. “Ya reckon? Now there’s an idea,” he said, running a finger along your jawline. “Well, alright. Let’s give ol’ option two a go, see how it feels. But understand something, sweetheart, if I feel like you’re lyin’, tryin’ to trick me, I ain’t above changin’ my mind and sendin’ you straight to yer maker.” As he helped you stand up, Striker adjusted his hat and walked closer to you, looming over you. “Now, don’t think you can run off, darlin. That ain’t an option.” He smirked, his voice low and seductive. “I’m in control here, always. Otherwise, we ain’t got no game here.” You were getting turned on so much the more this went, so you smiled and said, “Well, that’s good, because it wouldn’t be any fun if I was the one in control.” A sinister grin spread across Striker’s face, his eyes flickering with excitement. “That’s more like it,” he growled, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto his horse. Once he got on, he made you wrap your arms around his waist, saying, “Hold on tight now.” With that, you two were off.

It was sunset when he stopped at a hotel and got you two a room. Once he brought you in the room, he pinned you to a wall and gazed down your body, lingering on your chest, before locking back on your eyes. “I bet you taste real sweet, don’t cha?” He murmured, his finger tracing a slow circle on your throat. “Between those legs of yours, you prolly taste like heaven.” He grabbed you and pulled you close to him, his body pressing against yours, the hard lines of muscle evident beneath his clothes. You blushed, but felt so turned on as you said, “Well..only one way to find out.” Striker grinned, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed his groin against yours. “Oh, I’m gonna,” he growled, his hand sliding down your body and undoing your pants. “Real soon, darlin’. Real soon.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “But first, I wanna watch you squirm, feel your body shake with pleasure before I taste every inch of ya.” He broke away, stepping back and fixing his coat. “Strip for me,” He said, his voice deep and commanding. “Slow and sexy, darlin’. Don’t forget, I’m in control here.” He lit a fresh cigar, puffing on it as he watched you undress, his eyes never leaving your body.

You nodded and you started to strip nice and slowly, giving him a bit of a show with a little strip tease. Striker’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight before him. Your slow, erotic dance had rendered him speechless, but not for long. He swallowed hard, his fingers drumming on his belt. Soon, you were completely nude, your arousal evident as he noticed your juices dripping down your thigh. “Damn, girl,” He muttered, his voice shaky. “Look at ya, drippin’ an’ ready for me.” He slowly approached, putting his cigar out and throwing it out as he reached for you. He wrapped an arm around you, his hand groping your ass as his other hand brushed against your wet flesh, a low chuckle escaping him. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he praised, his hand running along the curve of your hips. You let out a series of moans as he started to rub your pussy, his fingers skillfully playing with your folds and clit. Striker couldn’t help but chuckle as he felt how wet and responsive your pussy was beneath his fingers. “Just wait til I’m inside of ya,” he breathed into your ear, his words coming out heavy. “Ain’t nothin’ like havin’ you clench around me, feeling every throb and twitch.” He slid one finger inside you, feeling your walls contract around him. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He pushed in another finger, his cock straining painfully within his pants. “I’m gon’ fuck you so hard, baby. Make you scream my name when I reach that sweet spot.” His hand started moving faster, thrusting in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Feel that, darlin’? Imagine it bein’ me -- my cock poundin’ into ya, fillin’ you up.” Just the thought of his cock stretching your pussy out made you even wetter and made you moan more as he continued fingering you. “Fuck, baby,” Striker swore, his arousal threatening to burst through his jeans. “You ain’t no liar, are ya?” He chuckled darkly. “Your pussy’s so damn greedy for me, already wanting more.” He took his fingers out, watching as they glistened with your essence. You watched as he licked his fingers clean, a sinister look in his eyes when he looked at you, saying, “I was right. Your pussy do taste like heaven.” He cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, darlin’, do ya wanna feel me inside of you? Then get on your knees and beg for it.” He demanded, his voice thick with lust. “If I’m gonna take ya, you best beg for it properly.”

You nodded and got on your knees, looking up at him and putting on your best puppy-dog eyes as you said, “Please, Daddy..I want your hard cock..give it to me..I need it so badly..please fuck me...I’ll do anything you want..” Striker’s eyes darkened with hunger, his heart pounding in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he praised, reaching for his belt buckle. Unbuckling it, he let his jeans drop, revealing his thick erection standing tall and proud. He smirked, holding his cock and aiming it at your mouth. “Anything I want, huh?” He mused, running a hand through his hair. “Well, since ya asked so nicely, I’ll start easy. Take my cock in yer mouth and suck it like a good girl,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Prove how much ya want it.”

You nodded and gently grabbed his cock, stroking it and licking up the shaft. You then kissed the tip of his cock and slid his cock into your mouth, sucking on it as you moaned. Striker hissed, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him into your mouth. “Goddamn, that’s good,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily. “You got some skills with that tongue, that’s for sure.” He tugged your hair, guiding your movements. “Swallow me down, deep throat me,” he grunted, his pace picking up. “Make me feel that warm, wet throat around my dick.” His breathing grew ragged, his hips bucking hard. “Don’t stop, keep going. Show me how much ya need this cock.” You did as he said and took more of his cock in your mouth, feeling it go down your throat and slightly gagging until you were able to relax your throat, making things much easier. Soon, you were able to deepthroat him to the point of your lips touching his hilt. Striker’s eyes rolled back as he tilted his head back, his fingers digging into your scalp. “Fuck, yeah..” he moaned. “Take it all, darlin’, show me how much you love it.” His thrusts became more aggressive, his body trembling. “Keep goin’, make me lose myself in your mouth.” You sucked even more, making sure your tongue massaged his shaft. You reached towards your pussy and you started to touch yourself as you sucked him off, clearly turned on from the experience as your juices dripped onto the hardwood floor. Striker’s eyes narrowed, his breaths coming out harsh and uneven. “You’re gonna make me cum like this, aren’t ya?” He growled, his grip tightening on your hair. “I fucking love a woman who knows what she wants.” He pulled out, his cock glistening with saliva. “But I’m in control here, remember? So, enough of that,” He said hoarsely, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto the bed, soon pushing you down and hovering over you. “Time to get that pretty pussy stretched wide.”

He put his hands on your hips, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Spread your legs wider for me, baby,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Cause I’mma ride ya so hard, mark my words..” You spread your legs wider, your pussy twitching with anticipation. Striker grinned, his eyes gleaming with danger. “Perfect,” he murmured, positioning himself between your legs. “Now, tell me if you want me to be gentle or rough.” He teased, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Your choice, darlin’.” His eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for your decision. “Remember, you asked for this. Now choose wisely.” You smirked and wrapped your arms around his neck, saying, “That depends, sexy. How do you want it? You’re the one in charge here. I’m just here to take it like a good girl.” Striker’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Damn right you are, darlin’. I’m in control.” He growled, thrusting into you forcefully. “But don’t worry, I’ll give ya a taste of both.” He began with a steady rhythm, his hips grinding against yours. “Like that, huh?” He sighed, his voice tinted with satisfaction. “Worried you wouldn’t be able to handle me, but look at ya takin’ it like a champ.” As he pistoned in and out of you, his pace increased. You were tight, so fucking tight around him. You just lost it as his size stretched you out so good, moaning as he kept thrusting, “Ohhh fuck..yeah..!” Striker’s eyes heated up, his thrusting becoming even wilder. “You love it, eh?” He snarled, gripping your hips tightly. “Takes a real man to stretch ya out like this, don’t it?” He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “But I ain’t done with ya yet.” His grip tightened as he pulled out of you. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard now, got it?” Without waiting for an answer, he slammed into you again, his thrusts erratic and violent. “Like that? Wanna see how far you can take it?” He snarled, his pace unrelenting. “Show me how much you can take!”

Your pleasure had reached its peak, crying out in pure ecstasy, “Ahh..! Ohhh..S..Striker..! Yes..! Harder..! Deeper..!” Striker roared, his thrusts becoming even more savage. “Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he gritted out, his breathing labored. “Ya like that, huh?” He reached down, rubbing your clit roughly. “Don’t hold back, darlin’,” he ordered, his pace not slowing. “Let me hear you scream.” His cock slid in and out of you like lightning, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Goddamn, I’m gonna paint your walls with my cum,” he promised, his eyes blazing. “Can’t wait to hear ya scream my name.” “Y-Yes..! Please...fill me up...make me yours...ohh fuck..!” You moved your hips to match his thrusts, intensifying the pleasure for both of you. “Ohhh fuck, your cock feels so good, baby..!” Striker growled, feeling you meet his thrusts. “That’s it, darlin’,” he encouraged, his pace increasing. “Fuck, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You kissed him back, moaning in his mouth as your tongues did an erotic dance. Striker broke the kiss and looked you in the eye. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he demanded, his voice raw with desire. “Do ya want me to fill ya up?” His thrusts became more desperate, his hips slamming into yours with all his might. “Tell me what you need, baby girl.” “I..I need you to fill me...fuck me in all of my holes...fill me up full of your cum until I can’t take any more..use me..break me..!” you cried out. Striker’s eyes flashed, his entire being focused on satisfying your request. “Goddamn, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he snarled, his thrusts becoming even more brutal. It’s not too long until he came deep inside you, filling your pussy up to the brim. “Gah, fuck..” he groaned. He quickly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, wiping his cockhead on your ass before aligning it with your back door. “Ready for another round, darlin’?” He asked, his voice thick with lust.

With a swift motion, he plunged into your ass, making you gasp. “I’mma fill every hole ya got,” he promised, his thrusts frantic. “Feel every inch of my cock inside ya.” His cock slid in and out of you, fucking you mercilessly. “How’s that, huh?” He panted, his grip tightening on your hips. “Need me to go faster, slower?” You gripped tightly on the bedsheet, your teeth gnashing down on the fabric as you lost your mind even further, moaning as he fucked your ass so good, “Ohh yeah...more..fuck me more...don’t stop..” Striker smiled cruelly, his thrusts becoming even harder. “Atta girl,” he praised. “I ain’t gonna stop until you drain every bit of cum from my cock.” He slapped your ass, hearing you whimper. “Scream for me, Y/N,” he commanded, leaning down to bite your neck. “Let everyone know who you belong to.” “S..Striker...ahh...Striker...I..I belong to you..!!” Striker smirked, biting down on your neck to make sure a mark would be left behind, a sign of ownership. “That’s my girl.” His thrusts grew frenzied, his cock stretching your ass to its limit. “So goddamn tight,” he snarled, his pace ruthless. “I’mma make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” You soon could feel the knot in your belly starting to wind up and soon, you moan out, cumming hard. Finally, he came inside you again, his orgasm shaking his entire body. He kept thrusting into you, elongating both of your orgasms.

“There ya go, baby,” he chuckled, collapsing beside you. “I hope I filled you up good.” You crawled up to him and laid your head on his chest. “Oh, you did so much more than fill me up, baby...” you said, your voice slightly slurred. Striker chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “Glad to be of service, sweetheart,” he said, his breath still slightly ragged. “Guess ya liked it rough, huh?” He put his hand on top of your head and nuzzled you, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he whispered, running a hand through your hair. “Next time, I’m gonna be gentler.” He watched you snuggle into him, making him smirk. “Unless you beg for more, of course,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “But for now, let’s figure out how to pull the wool over that bastard’s eyes and how we’re gonna split that bounty.”

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[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished: Honeymoon

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Word count: 2291]

[CW: dubious consensual sex, consensual sex, rough sex, light bondage, oral, alcohol use]

—————

Two weeks after Stolas and Stella’s wedding

Stolas did his best to maintain the peculiar balance of tension and blank focus. The sooner this was done with… he shoved away the thought of wanting this to be over. That was the quickest way to waste this evening with Stella. He felt himself reach the tipping point. His body shuddered with relief as he came, taloned fingers tearing into the sheets as he let out an involuntary moan. Stolas would have grabbed onto his wife’s thighs but she made it clear how much she hated his touch.

He’d tried to be affectionate on their wedding night. Just because they had a duty to conceive an heir, that didn’t mean the act couldn’t be enjoyable for them. Stella rejected that immediately, pushing him away when Stolas tried to kiss her. “Why would I ever want to kiss an imp fucker like you?” She then demanded they get the sex over with as quickly as possible until she laid their egg.

“Ugh, finally!” Stella said from above him. “Took you long enough tonight,” she continued in a scornful tone. She stopped riding him once his orgasm passed. She didn’t move off him right away and Stolas didn’t pull out either. The whole point of this marriage was to conceive an heir. Both of them wanted to increase the chances of a child so they stayed in position until Stolas’ cock softened enough to slip out on its own.

With a huff, Stella rolled off. She settled onto her side of the bed before bringing out her phone. She opened up her cycle tracking app to mark that they’d had sex that night. She was very thorough about it; logging any symptoms, notes on her mood and diet, tracking her basal body temperature. The regal demon wanted this heir business over as soon as possible.

Coitus logged, she started looking up activities for the next day. The newlyweds were halfway done with their month-long trip through all of Hell’s Rings. They had some formal events with the rest of Hell’s royals. But the next couple days in Gluttony were free. “Let’s see here, oh, Bee has a tasting of her new distilled Beelzejuice. There’s also a chocolate sculpture competition and the day after tomorrow the hotel is hosting a hors d'oeuvres sampling. Annabelle will love that and Gustav will jump at the chance to try Beelzebub’s newest brew.” Stella quickly texted her two closest friends to make plans.

“Three days from now we’re scheduled to judge a Hellforged Chef competition, so you’ll have to find something to occupy yourself until then,” she continued with a dismissive wave in Stolas’ direction. “But don’t forget you need to perform again in two days.” Her tone was haughty as she gave him a raking look. “Honestly this whole conception nonsense would be so much easier if you weren’t such a pathetic bore in bed, Stolas.”

The owl prince felt his face heat up with shame. Satisfied that she’d landed an emotional blow, Stella responded to her friends’ messages with a smirk.

Stolas turned away, listening to the rapid pings of texts. After a few moments he felt steady enough to get out of bed. He didn’t bother with the princely garments he’d worn earlier in the day; instead he grabbed casual shorts and a t-shirt. As usual, he wished her a polite, “Good night, Stella,” as he exited their hotel suite. As usual, she ignored him.

Once out in the hallway, Stolas slumped against the wall. He slid to the floor, hands gripping his scalp. We’ve been married two weeks. Get it together stupid bird. He’d signed on for a lifetime commitment with Stella. He had to shape up.

The pocket of his shorts buzzed, making Stolas squawk in surprise. Blitzø was texting him.

At teh bar. Dcikweeed bratndr won’t get me a dirnk. Sez im undregae

Stolas felt his beak twitch with a slight smile.

You are underage dearest. So am I for that matter. So is Stella, not that it’s stopping her. Or her gossipy friends that she keeps inviting at every opportunity on this trip.

Wuts teh ponit of royltea if you kant get bend rooles an shit?

Normally I’d advocate for not breaking the law but this is my honeymoon and I feel a drink or two is warranted in such situations. I’ll be there shortly to discuss things with Mr. Dickweed at the bar.

Fuk yes

Face to face with a member of the Ars Goetia, Mr. Dickweed promptly poured some top shelf Beelzejuice for them. The Hellhound’s paws shook a little as he slid the drinks to Stolas. The prince paid the demon double what the drinks cost to ease the bartender’s nerves.

Blitzø and Stolas claimed a high table. Stolas sat on the barstool with ease but the imp had to climb up. “Fuck I feel like a toddler in a goddamn high chair.” Fortunately once he was seated, the table wasn’t too high for comfort. “Thanks for the assist, Floof, didn’t think I had that much of a baby face. Gotta say it’s bullshit that you’re legally old enough to marry but not old enough to drink.” The imp continued to grumble as he tossed back some of his drink.

Stolas savored his drink. Blitzø’s running commentary had been a familiar constant on this trip. “I’m sure you’ll look more mature once your braces are off. They’re a sure giveaway to your underage status.” That set the imp complaining about the braces, his orthodontist, and his inability to eat certain foods. Stolas listened and made agreeing noises at appropriate times. He’d heard all of this many times before. He knew Blitzø was complaining for the sake of it.

By the time the imp’s rant ended, most of his Beelzejuice and half of Stolas’ were gone. He eyed the Goetia over the rim of his glass. “So. Stella got your feathers in a twist again?” The owl grimaced, nodded, and gulped down a huge swallow of the honey sweet alcohol. It left a pleasant burn down his throat; a good distraction from his wife’s opinion of him.

Blitzø didn’t let up though. “C’mon, spit out what she did. You’re gonna stew over it for ages otherwise.”

Stolas’ eyes narrowed at him. “I would prefer not to talk about this Blitzø,” he said, choosing his words very carefully to avoid activating the binding. The imp inhaled sharply at Stolas’ tone. He made himself relax and wait.

The silence continued as the prince nursed his drink. Eventually he gave in to Blitzø’s patience. “Am I a pathetic bore?” he asked quietly. “Am I that terrible a lover?” His four eyes heated with frustrated tears and he drained the last of his glass to distract himself.

Blitzø snorted. “Well, yeah, of course you are.” Stolas felt his heart drop in shock but Blitzø continued. “With her at least. I mean, you guys don’t even like each other. Why would you be good at fucking her?” Now Stolas’ jaw dropped. His heart rose closer to its home in his chest as Blitzø kept talking. “I’d have told you if you were shit in bed by now. Not to mention, you’re power bottom. Doesn’t really mesh with straight up bitch.”

Suddenly, the prince felt something sliding up his inner thigh. Blitzø’s hands were above the table but a seductive smile played across his lips. There was no denying the heat in the imp’s eyes as his tail tip slid under Stolas’ shorts. The spade shaped end stroked underneath the owl demon’s clothes, just barely brushing his groin.

“If you’re up for it,” Blitzø said with a purr in his voice, “I can give a demonstration.”

Stolas felt his face heat at the thought. Blitzø’s tail continued to tease until his feathers puffed up in excitement. “Mmm, please do.”

Moments later, they were in Blitzø’s room, a few doors away from the honeymoon suite. Like the other servants that accompanied the Goetia, he had a very basic hotel room with a single full sized bed. The imp had Stolas pinned to the mattress. His tongue swirled in the prince’s mouth, sliding far enough to touch his throat. His tail was wrapped around Stolas’ thigh, the tip still teasing the owl’s balls.

When Blitzø finally broke the kiss, Stolas was gasping for air. “Oh my- FUCK!” Blitzø had bit into his neck before he could catch his breath. Even the imp’s pointed teeth couldn’t easily sink through all Stolas’ feathers. Which was why he bit down hard. “You do like to be in charge, don’t you Blitzø?” The imp ripped the shirt off Stolas, tearing the fabric as he scratched the prince’s chest.

“You fuckin know it.” He slid his body up Stolas’ torso. His smug expression was full of rough desire. Blitzø flicked his forked tongue at the tall demon’s beak. Stolas’ mouth parted open as he leaned toward Blitzø’s tongue, desperately wanting it back in his mouth.

Blitzø chuckled. “And your lanky ass loves it.” He pushed Stolas back onto the mattress with one hand as the other grabbed part of the torn shirt. Using his teeth, he tore the fabric into a long strip. “Aw shit, thread in my braces. Hang on.” With his tongue and claw he tried to locate it until Stolas reached up to delicately remove it. Blitzø thanked him then grabbed the taloned finger in his teeth. Stolas moaned in pleasure as the imp then pulled the finger into his mouth and sucked on it.

“Oh, yes, I do love it, Blitzø. I love when you take command, when you’re in control. I love when you [redacted] my [redacted] [redacted] with your thick [redacted].” Stolas continued to list what he liked from Blitzø as the imp removed his finger with a ‘pop!’ He grabbed both of the prince’s wrists and used the t shirt strip to tie them together.

He flung Stolas’ bound wrists back over the Goetia’s head. “Told ya so.” With a lustful look, he stripped off his own shirt and pants. He left his tight black underwear on. Not that it hid his bulging erection. Stolas let out a soft whine as he eyed Blitzø’s hard cock straining against fabric. The smaller demon laughed huskily. “Nah, I don’t think you’re desperate enough yet.”

The teasing promise in the imp’s voice made Stolas tense and squirm. He could simply order Blitzø to strip fully but that took all the fun out of things. Keeping himself from issuing any demands also added an odd thrill to their liaisons. So he held back any words as Blitzø played with him.

Blitzø bit and kissed, stroked and scratched, teased and tormented Stolas. Blitzø brought him to the edge of coming before easing off. The imp snuggled up against him, gently nuzzling his neck feathers as Stolas relaxed. Then he sank his teeth into Stolas’ collarbone and began the delicious torment again.

Once he had Stolas whining in desperation, Blitzø took off his underwear and straddled him across the chest. His tail quickly wrapped around Stolas’ cock. The prince gasped and Blitzø took the opportunity to grab both sides of his head. The imp roughly pulled Stolas’ head to his groin and thrust his cock down the prince’s throat. Stolas was vaguely grateful he didn’t have much of a gag reflex. Then he couldn’t think of much of anything as Blitzø face fucked him.

Stolas closed his eyes in bliss. Blitzø’s thick penis filled his mouth. The owl demon used his tongue, stroking and tasting every hard inch as Blitzø kept thrusting. “Fuck, Stolas. That. Feels. So. Fucking. Good!” He punctuated each word with a sharp short thrust. Meanwhile his tail was wrapped around Stolas’ cock. Each thrust of his hips made his tail slide around the owl’s length.

Stolas moaned around the cock in his mouth. Blitzø started to thrust faster, grunts of pleasure and exertion escaping his throat. Suddenly he went rigid. His claws flexed as he held Stolas’ head against his crotch. Stolas could feel Blitzø twitching and pulsing in his mouth as the imp came. Warm cum filled his throat. The sensation of Blitzø orgasm in his mouth tipped Stolas over the edge. He came hard, coating the loops of Blitzø’s tail.

The two demons stayed frozen in place for a moment. Then as the tension eased away, leaving the soft pleasure, Blitzø let go of Stolas’ face. Stolas swallowed the remaining saliva and cum, his head relaxing onto the pillows. Blitzø unwrapped his tail to let it flop off the side of the bed. Then he shifted to lay next to Stolas.

With his arms still bound, Stolas brought them down, maneuvering to embrace Blitzø. The pair laid there for a time, basking in the aftermath of shared pleasure.

Then, once Stolas could think clearly again: “Thank you, Blitzø. It seems you were right.” Blitzø, not quite able to speak yet, waved a horns sign with one hand. Stolas smiled and nuzzled the imp’s forehead.

A few moments later, Blitzø extracted himself to clean off his tail. He brought back a towel and bottles of water for the two of them. Cleaner and hydrated, he untied Stolas so they could cuddle better. They chatted idly for a bit, brainstorming activities for the next couple days. Blitzø wanted to visit an all-you-can-eat hot dog bar while Stolas was interested in a local bookstore that specialized in works on local cuisine.

Plans made, Blitzø shifted on top of Stolas again. “Well, Mr. Power Bottom. Ready for more?”

With a smirk of his own, Stolas rolled them so he had Blitzø pinned. “Very much so,” he murmured, kissing his lover softly.

—————

A/N: This is what Stolitz nation wanted with The Full Moon right? I’ve been wanting to write this bit for awhile and after the emotional damage of Full Moon I needed this feelings bandaid.

Side note, updates have been slow due to Striker still not vibing with my brain and our kiddo being on summer vacation. Writing mature audience content with an elementary schooler around all day does not compute for me. So new parts are coming out slower but the tale must go on!

Tip me through Ko-Fi if you’re enjoying my content!

🖤🩶🤍💜

[sleepingdeath-light]

a better use ; 18+

kinktober day nine

pairing ; mammon x non binary amab!reader insert

fandom ; helluva boss

masterlists ; fandom | kinktober | ao3

content ; dominant!reader, submissive!mammon, brat!mammon, brat tamer!reader, oral sex, deepthroating, slight breath play, semi-public sex acts

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

Mammon, the arachnid prince of greed, is a brat.

A brat with a remarkably foul mouth and an even fouler temper that only seems to be remedied when his mouth is stuffed with your cock. Of course you aren’t always around to shut him up and calm him down — you have a life of your own and being your boyfriend’s full time babysitter just isn’t feasable for you… or most people, honestly — but, thankfully for everyone around him, today you managed to free up your schedule enough to attend his little competition which meant you got a front row seat to both the incredible performances on the main stage and to the explosive temper tantrum your boyfriend had about halfway through the third group’s act.

Which then led to you promptly dragging him away to somewhere a bit more private to properly punish him for his outburst. Granted the area you’d settled on was by no means private — shit, the only thing separating you from the main seating area is a decently thick bit of fabric that is muffling fucking nothing from your side or theirs — but at the very least there weren’t any prying eyes to watch as you put your bratty boyfriend in his place… for the second time today.

Christ he really doesn’t learn his lessons does he?

Mammon’s unending stubbornness and immense ego aside, you have to admit that there’s something particularly attractive about seeing him on his knees for you like this: lips sucked in to cover his sharp teeth as you fuck his mouth, drool trickling out of the corners of his mouth, jaw hanging slack, hands weakly gripping at your wrists in a weak show of defiance even as you can see how much he’s enjoying himself from the imprint of his cock as it strains against his pants. He looks so delightfully pathetic that you can’t help but laugh over a moan even as you continue to mercilessly, messily, fuck his face.

Usually you’d be much more vocal, degrading and scolding him until your voice was so hoarse that you could barely even hear yourself talk, but you reluctantly bite your tongue for the time being in favour of not drawing attention to yourself and risking someone interrupting you. The scolding can wait until you get home, for now you’ll just focus on showing him your disapproval instead of verbalising it.

Then again between the low sounds you’re trying desperately to bite back, the faltering of your neutral facade, and the telltale throbbing of your cock against his tongue, it’s unlikely he even feels like he’s getting disciplined at all. And when you look down you can see a mocking glint in his eye that both steels your resolve and, more annoyingly, sends another shockwave of heat straight to your leaking dick — so, to get back at him for his bratty attitude, you tighten your grip on his hat and shove his face so far forward that his nose is buried in your pubic hair and you can hear him choking and sputtering around your length as the leaking tip hits the very back of his throat.

You leave him there for a few seconds, just long enough to hear and feel him struggle to adjust to the new position, before loosening your grip and pulling him far enough back along your cock that that he can breathe properly again.

He looks far less cocky now and you almost want to pat yourself on the back for a job well done: his costume is all askew, his white eyes are watery and unfocused, two sets his hands now rest limply on his lap while the other two paw helplessly at your waist, and you can see a damp spot on his pants where he’s clearly enjoyed his punishment far more than you intended (maybe you ought to choke him more often). It’s messy, its debauched, its so delightfully sinful you wish you could take a picture of it and keep it with you forever.

But before you even get the chance to reach for your phone Mammon pulls a devious little trick with that devilishly dextrous tongue of his and sends you sharply careening over the edge of climax — the feeling so toe-curlingly, eye-wateringly intense that you’re barely able to stop yourself from crying out in ecstasy and alerting the crowd of exactly where their dear prince went with his lover... which seemed to be exactly what he wanted to happen.

Brat.

[antisam96]

If y’all actually want some decent spicy rp from bots just download SpicyChat, I’ve been using it the past few months and it’s got some good stuff on it, currently being delusional with Sebastian from Pressure ✌️😚

[j0ytheartist]

Hello all 🩷🤍 ~

I am Joy! I’m a new smut writer on this app!

Some fandoms I’m apart of:

Obey me.

Hazbin hotel

Helluva boss

I’m new to this app be kind ><

Feel free to give suggestions!!! ^^

[1sourlemon]

Fandoms

Rarepairs are perfectly fine, so feel free to ship any of the available characters together if you want to request a ship! Just because it's not listed in "Fav Ships" doesn't mean I won't write it.

Jujutsu Kaisen

- Characters: Mai, Maki, Mei Mei, Miwa, Shoko, Utahime, Nobara

- Fav Ships: MaiHime, MakiMai, MiwaMai, ShokoHime, NobaMaki

Demon Slayer

- Characters: Daki, Fem!Muzan, Kanae, Mitsuri, Tamayo, Shinobu

- Fav Ships: KaneShino, ShinoSuri, ShinoTama, DakiZan

Genshin Impact

- Characters: Amber, Arrlechino, Barbara, Beidou, Candace, Chiori, Clorinde, Dehya, Eula, Furina, Ganyu, Kokomi, Kuki, Layla, La Signora, Lisa, Miko, Navia, Ningguang, Raiden, Rosaria, Sara, Shenhe, Sucrose, Xinyan, Yelan, Yun Jin

- Fav Ships: ArleFuri, BarSaria, CanDehya, Clorivia, EulAmber, MikoAll, NingYan, SaraAll, ShenLan, YunHe

Hellaverse

- Characters: Barbie Wire, Carmilla, Charlie, Emily, Lute, Martha, Rosie Mayberry, Sera, Velvette, Verosika

- Fav Ships: BloomingGun, EmiLute, RoseDoll, SeraEmi, VelMilla, VerBi, VeroVel

My Hero Acadamia

- Characters: Camie, Jirou, La Brava, Mei, Midnight, Mina, Momo, Nejire, Pixie-Bob, Ragdoll, Reiko, Ryukyu, Saiko, Toga, Tsuya, Miriko

- Fav Ships: MinaJirou, NejiKyu, PixieDoll, TsuToga, MomoJirou

Persona 5

- Characters: Ann, Caroline & Justine, Futaba, Haru, Hifumi, Kasumi, Kawakami, Makoto, Sae, Takemi

- Fav Ships: MakoAnn, MakoHaru, MakoSae

One Piece

- Characters: Boa, Bonney, Hina, Nami, Perona, Reiju, Robin, Shirahoshi, Tashigi, Vivi, this will probably increase as I keep reading...

- Fav Ships: NamiBin, TashiNa, RobVivi, ShiraNami, PeroNami

Fairy tail

- Characters: Lucy, Levy, Erza, Wendy, Juvia, Mira, Ulter, Minerva, Yukino, Angel/Sorano, Aquarius, Aries, Virgo , Bisca, Cana, Kagura, Evergreen, Sherria, Ur, Meredy, All Mentioned Characters Eclipse and Edolas Versions

- Fav Ships: MirZa, YukiSot, YukiErva, YukiSoraErva, ErzGura, UltEdy, MerVia, SoraRies

[chrolloluvr]

💰Things you do that make Mammons heart flutter 💰

Note: Female!Reader 🩷🩷, not proofread!!

Warnings: Cussing, mammons got a HUUGE ego but i love him🥺

Calling him cheezy nicknames. Things like Mamm, Mammy poo, big daddy (his favorite), MooMoo, sugar daddy etc. Its embarrassing for him, especially when you call him these in public. Because he wants to come off as powerful, but when you say these to him, it is guaranteed to give him a noticeable pink hue to his cheeks

Giving him an imnense number of compliments. Or in particular, purposely pandering to him. Lets say you compliment how good of a partner he is, or how he treats you so well. He will be taken aback by your overly suckle comments towards him. He knows he treats you well, but by you telling him just fuels his already large ego, and proves that you truly see how much effort he puts into you.

Wearing or using his merch. If this man ever catches you wearing any of his merch, he will be like a happy, doting 9ft tall puppy. He will say how absolutely irresistible you look. 'Jesus, y/n. Cmon, do a little spin for me, yeah? M'baby looks so fuckin' cute.' He most likely will make you wear Mammon themed panties around the house.

Wearing his clothes. Lets say he gets home from a long day of planning and saving, and he sees your adorable self, covered in his giant clothes, especially big on you, covering your body. He will go absolutely feral. He thinks you are already the most stunning woman in hell, but when he sees you in his jingley clown hat? He feels his heart beeting out of his chest. And my god, what a woman you are. He will grab your waist with both of his hands, and snuggle the shit outa you. And he wont let go.

The size difference. It. Is. So. Obvious. People point it out all the time in the media and on Sinstagram. He's probably at least 10ft tall, so your basically shorter than him. He absolutely lives for it. He will constantly tease you for it. And he loves that it makes him feel more dominant. He loves that you have to literally break your neck to look up at his face, or that he has to reach down to give you a smooch. He will put things on higher shelves, just to see you struggle and ask him for help

Speaking of so, he adores when you ask him to help you with things. Such as asking him for help opening a Nutella jar, all the way to asking for help unclipping your bra. It shows you need him. And that churns out a feral side to him. 'Babe whats with all the ruckus- ohhh your trying to reach the top shelf? You're so cute, always needin' my help' Sometimes, he purposely wont help you, just to see your precious reactions he is always so greedy and eager to see.

Carrying you. His favortite ways to carry you is over his shoulders, under his arm, and facing him, with his hands under your plush thighs. He loves holding you close to him, because I, ( along with other authors ) believe he is naturally cold. So holding you close to him lets him tear his walls down for a bit. You feel like a small flee while being carried by him. If hes carrying you over his shoulder, he will slap your ass, and listen for the sweet sound of your squeaks every time he does it.

Resting your head between the nook of his neck. He loves when you do this, and you know he does. Sometimes, you will whisper in his ear how much you love him, and how he is the best thing to come in your life, and watch as you swear you can see his eyes soften and look at you lovingly. You are probably the only person to ever see that from him. He also has a thing for sniffing you (which I get into in my future hcs), so he likes to smell your hair, as he grabs the back of your head. He would never usually be that vulnerable around you, so you must know his weaknesses extremely well.

Hearing you brag about him. He knows you show him off to your friends, as well as the rest of Hell. But let's say he walks into your shared master bedroom, and your on the phone. 'Sarah, I'm being serious. Mamm treats me well, stop worrying about me. Im fine, yes. Yeah he a bit of a control freak, but who isnt? I love him for him. Im not joking, no-' He is in utter shock. you are talking about him, and your defending him? Yeah, be prepared for a looooong night. He will never forget about you saying that. And he will never bring it up, since he doesn't want to come off as a wuss. You genuinely love him. The fact that you said that and you didn't know he was in your vicinity is wild to him.

If you look up at him with your big doe eyes. God, you better stop it if you don't want to be manhandled and praised. You just look so innocent and cute, and he just wants to come up and squish your puffy little cheeks like the gif below ⬇️ .His heart feels like it's running laps, but he wont let you see that. He keeps his cool demeanor, as he tells you 'Babe, you think that shits gonna work ok me? Really fuckin' smart arench'ya?

[shapard]

Tantrum🕷️

Satan x Succubus!fem!reader

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

6k

Satan is so Hot

Part 1 > Part 2

The story begins after the cut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sex.”

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

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

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

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

The thought was dangerous, forbidden—and utterly intoxicating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you next week, Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💫

Masterlist

[voxslays]

WRAPPING PRESENTS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[antisam96]

Hello everyone I made a Facebook group for Hazbin and Helluva fans, you can share memes, videos, and pictures of Hazbin and Helluva related content! Also fair warning there will be nsfw in the group<3

[lqveharrington]

Lucky King? | L.M.

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

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x wife!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[voxsremotec0ck]

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

𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐩.ᐟ

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

— Verosika, Vox, Beelzebub, Velvette

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

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

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

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

The girls and Vox lol

[1sourlemon]

Rules

About Me

- Hey!! You can just call me Sour. I'm an 18 y/o Lesbian, and use She/They (Demi-Girl). This blog is primarily for me to post my HCs for a multitude of fandoms. I do have an Ao3 where you follow me for full fics.

General Rules

- TW for—but not limited too—Incest, Adult X Minor, Non-con, Blood, and more Dark Content

- Well this blog is primarily NSFW, I don't mind writing SFW

- NSFW Works are exclusively for Fem characters or Fem/NB!Reader

- I primarily use mobile, so formating may not be the best

- This blog tends to be spoiler-heavy

Writing Contents

- Age-Gap, Incest, Adult x Minor, Abuser X Abused, etc are all perfectly fine

- List of fandoms can be found here

- What I don't write: Specific types of body horror (gore and blood tend to be fine, but I'm a bit specific about it), infantalization (I'll write underaged, but I hate making characters act or appear younger, idk why), Self-Harm, Body Dysmorphia, Furry (Some exceptions, but unless stated otherwise assume it's a no), M/M or M/F NSFW (SFW okay!)

- You're free to request as many characters or ships as you want, however, the more there are the longer the post will take to write

[littlepputo]

Hb head canons of how they would be during yk 🫣

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

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

Stolas

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I see stolas as a soft dom or a switch.

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

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

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

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Asmodeus

Heheh

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

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

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

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

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

Andrealphous

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

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

ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ

Blitzø

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

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

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

[chrolloluvr]

Just read the size kink with Mammon and you mentioned the web thing? The big web...the ....

please elaborate on that when you feel like it

♡ Yes I can elaborate! Mammon Size kink 1.5 ♡

Note: I may not be able to post tonight! I will try to get two posts out tomorrow!! also sorry if this is kinda short... also if anybody wants to request any add ons you can!

Warnings: NSFW, cock warming

(anon is talking about this post)

The big webs around the stadium.

Like I said in the Size Kink Hc post, he likes cock warming on the webs, or just in general. For example, during one of his annual clown pageants. So like during the Juggling Iz Cool song, or Klown Bitch.

He will have you sit on his lap, with his cock inside of you, and just have you stay there. He wont let you move, make any noise whatsoever, or make it obvious what you two are doing.

I think he will purposely try to provoke you. Like for example, he will shift around a bit while trying to adjust himself, and end up arousing you even further.

So he likes teasing you basically. And after the pageant, he would probably ignore you tbh. And if you ask him for that sweet sweet release you have been craving?

He will act like nothing ever happened. He will probably say

"What the hell? Why would I ever do that in public, you sick little fuck."

If he ever needs to teleport on stage, (like how he does after Juggling Iz cool), The green smoke will cover mostly you. Because he does not want the attention taken off of his performers, he wants money, not any crazy news headlines.

Heres an image ⬇ (he looks so elongated here lol, ALSO WHY CANT I BE ONE OF THE ROBO FIZZ'S????? PLS ONE CHANGE MAMMON)