Tangled with The Dateables

Request: Hello! I’d like to request a fluff of the brothers and dateables (maybe even Luke if that’s not weird? He’s like a tiny little teddy bear ). So when I sleep, I tend to wake up hugging anything in my vicinity . Like one time, my best friend and I shared a bed and fell asleep on opposite ends. When we woke up, we were TANGLED BRO so I wanted to see how the Obey Me characters would react to MC doing this .

A/N:I did dateables here first, but if you want the brothers just let me know how you like this one!! (also, i love luke so much, there was one scenario that I wrote that I wanted to add luke but i didn’t, i think it was for heavy thoughts) also! These are short, so sorry about that ^^’

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Barbatos:

• When you first see his room, you’re taken aback by all the stairs and doors to notice that there’s a lack of bed- or any type of personal belongings in the family. It’s not until later when you visit him and he’s in his room, that you actually take it in. Barbatos can tell that you’re upset- going on and on about how he needs sleep and when he counters that doesn’t really need sleep, at least not in the way that other demons do, you give him a pointed look and his mouth closes with a faint smile tugging on his lips. Whatever it is that you want him to do, he does so without a complaint, so when you bring up that he should spend the night with you, he taps the tip of your nose and promises that one night he will.
• After constant work around both your and his schedule, finally, you both find a night to share together. Due to him having no real bed in his “bedroom”, it’s unanimously decided that he would spend the night in your room. He knocks at your door with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth, a heavy feeling in his stomach that makes him shift his weight between his feet. You open the door, and greet him with a smile, and pull him inside. He’s seen your room before, entered to retrieve you or to leave something on your bed, but it was always a quick in-and-out type of deal. Today, he gets to see you in your room, free to look around and lift a book. Your room is so shamelessly you, your knickknacks littered over your desk, water bottles half filled on your nightstand and movie ticket stubs on your dresser. He likes how you’ve made this room your own.
• He’ll admit, he’s never been to an actual slumber party- the words that you’ve chosen to describe this nightly occurrence. He’s slept in a room with others, but he doubts that would actually be called what you want it to be. He sits on the bed with you, his shoulders raised and eyes dancing along your room. It’s one thing to tease you and give in to your whims, it’s another to actually spend the night with you, curled next to each other in bed. You gesture for him to come closer and with a held breath, he nods, slipping under the covers with you; the scent of your cream lingering on the blankets and pillowcases, filling in his lungs with something sweet that makes every breath pressured and weighted. He stammers on, clearly out of his element, so unable to think, his words quick as he discusses his day with you. You cling to every word, the movie paused and your eyes on him as you rest on the pillow, his hand held in yours as you trace every line on him.
• Midway through a complaint over not getting a shipment delivered to him, he feels your tracing begin to slow, only to quicken when he calls your name. Looking down, your eyes are half lidded, giving him a tired smile when he catches your gaze. You don’t mean to fall asleep, not when he’s here, but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. He pulls his hand out of yours, and stills when you clutch it desperately, bringing it close to your chest, his knuckles against you, feeling your heartbeat tap against him. He lies beside you, careful to not move as you fall into a slumber. You breathe softly, still holding onto his hand and he watches you, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your face, his thumb arching over your plush cheek, and hand curling over your neck. He’s stuck in bed with you, and there could be no better thing to happen to him at this moment. He’s given you no reason to lose your trust in him, but a part of him is overwhelmed with the fact that you still felt safe to fall asleep with him beside you, holding onto his hand and under the same covers that you sleep in. Ever so carefully, he reaches for you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before pulling away and closing his eyes. 
• Sleep does not come easily to him, but once it does overtake him, he can feel the weight of it envelop him in an unyielding hug. When he does wake, he finds it to be all the same. Barbatos is held tight, under the weight of the blanket and something interlaced with his own body. Stretching his legs, he rolls his ankles, feeling his muscles weak and soft, unable to do anything more than to yawn. He turns his head, trying to lift his arms above him, and he finds himself unable to move. Peeling back the blankets, he finds your limbs entangled with his, his eyes wide and face in shock for a moment until a slow smile graces his features and he’s laughing softly under his breath. The blanket covers him once more, his arms bringing you closer to him, and he lets sleep consume once more, knowing that it’ll give him more time to be with you. 

Diavolo:

• Diavolo is a jealous demon. He isn’t fond of sharing you with others, but he also realizes that you can’t be with him every second of the day. Not when he has work that needs to be done. Not when he knows that if you were to ask him a question, he’d drop everything to answer your question and then some. You’ve spent so much time with the others, parties and outings, breakfasts and dinners, study dates and celebratory outings. Caring for them in every intimate way that he can’t experience- sleeping beside them, cradling their head in your lap, and kissing their knuckles with your lips. He loses time spent with you, and he hates it. He hates how empty it leaves him. He decides that he needs to make up for lost time, that he needs to form a stronger bond with you. There’s a simple solution that he can offer without it being too forward, and he’s glad when you agree to have a sleepover with him.
• The castle can be quite lonely with just him and Barbatos around. While he’s grateful to have the other demon by his side, he isn’t you. When you come around, he’s forgotten just how lively it is with you around. You make things so much more interesting. The castle has always been stuffy, much too grand for just two, too rigid and cold, and he thrives off of interaction, wants to reclaim all the time that he lost when he was a child, and had to grow up far too quickly. However, when you’re here, it doesn’t seem like that. You wander around, his hand held tightly in yours, or arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you on his back, laughing and giving you a broken version of the tour he is supposed to give, much too giddy with you around to focus on the proper words. Even his study that can be so tiresome is brought to life with you there, and you have him describe his future plans and even if he doesn’t need your approval, he still craves it desperately when you nod along with every word that drips off his tongue, so eager to listen to him ramble about something so mundane.
• You stay up late, tucked in his room, your bag on his chair, and a blanket wrapped around your body. He’s beside you, laying on his back, listening to you talk about your current favorite show, and you’re so animated. Your hands are in the air, and your words are coming out faster than you can think, stuttering and backtracking, and you have this smile, radiant and stretched widely, and he’s admiring you from his bed, listening and nodding along, captivated, and he’s thankful that you’re here with him. That you’re making the castle feel more like a home than it has in a long time. You’re smiling at him, and he can feel the warmth in his chest sear across him, and if it’s you to leave such a scar on him, he’s happy for the reminder, wanting for you to be part of him in any way, shape, or form. 
• Soon, he’s joining your conversation, smiling when you lay beside him and turn on your side to watch him, and he sees just how tired you are- the way your eyes droop, how your smile is slow to tilt upwards. It’s selfish of him to try to continue the conversation, to press forward so you can answer and engage with him, but he doesn’t want this moment to end. He doesn’t want this night to end. He wants to talk to you, to hear what you have to say and make you laugh. He wants you to come back and not find this night to be a waste. But you cup your hand over his cheek, and he comes to a stop, staring at you with wide eyes, waiting to hear what you have to say. When you tell him that you’re tired, he apologies. He doesn’t want to waste a second of your time, but you’re tired, and you’ve humored him enough. You smile, and shrug, telling him that you liked hearing him talk, that you adored spending the night with him, and there’s something that stirs in him, that makes him go still, his lungs growing flowers in them, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to think, making him only able to focus on how you come close to him and wish him a good night with your arms wrapped around him. 
• In the morning, he gets to wake up late, getting the pleasure to sleep in with you. It’s another thing of you spending the night that he cherishes- waking up with you beside him even if he knows that you leaving his side is just a few hours away. He doesn’t want to move despite his body pleading for him to stretch, he wants to stay where he is, curled beside you, your face nuzzled to his chest, and arms wrapped around him. He can’t risk waking you- both out of care for you and selfishness for him; he wants you to stay as long as you can, to wake up slowly still pressed close to him. Your legs shift against his, and it’s a slow and dragging motion, and his brows furrow. Lifting the blanket over the both of you, Diavolo finds you tangled with him, and he smiles. Even in slumber, you’ve pressed yourself as close to him as possible, and in slumber, he allowed you to, and in his waking moments, he kisses the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping that when he wakes up, you’ll still be there, tangled with him.

Simeon:

• It’s become an unspoken routine for Simeon to spend the night with you- or vice versa- at least once every two weeks. It started off with you accidentally sleeping in his room after a study date, and it slowly turned into something where you come with your bag packed, and make yourself at home in his room. It’s calming. You sit beside him, and he just gets to talk to you without interruptions, without having to worry that you’ll be whisked away from him. Nothing special is done. There’s no big surprise that waits for you in his room- or yours on the off chance, he does sleep in your bed- it’s just you and him. You play on your gaming device and he finishes a manuscript with your hums and the clicking buttons as his background music. He reads a passage from an old book of his and you come to his side trying to peer at the words. There’s no greater joy than just having you by his side.
• Tonight, you’re in Simeon’s room. A bag is left sitting on a chair, empty of its contents and now spread across his room. Your blanket is folded neatly at the foot of his bed, your chargers left by the outlets. Your clothes for the morning are hanging in his closet and he smiles to himself when he sees that you’ve already curled yourself to the far end of the couch, focused intently on a book that he gifted to you the other day. He never thought he would get this much joy from sharing a room with you. For a moment, he can imagine that this is his life, enclosed in a space with you, uninterrupted and together. You’ve already made yourself at home, spread yourself in his room- your toothbrush against his, spare clothes tucked in his drawers, and two stuffed animals sitting close together on the bed. One for you and one for him, because they should never be separated, because you feared that they’d be lonely without the other and now, he’s unable to part the two.
• The night is still, time ticking forward without rush, and you’ve already tucked yourself under the covers, whining at him that you’ve forgotten to place the blanket over you, and he’s there at your side, tucking you in and slipping in beside you. The stuffed pair rests beside him, under the covers and staring unblinking into the ceiling. Your phone lays on the nightstand, uncharged, and he doesn’t say a word- too comfortable to go and charge it himself, and he knows that if you were to ask him, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Beside you, he has a book in front of him, and you inch closer to him, but you don’t try to peer at the words, you just lay your head beside his chest, an arm thrown around him. The corners of his lips tilt upwards and he begins to read from the book.
• You lay beside him, still and breathing softly, and he calls your name, memorizing the page number before closing the book and letting it rest on the nightstand. He peers down, craning his neck to see you fast asleep. His hands come under your body, lifting you gently to fix you in a better position. His hands flutter on the sides of your body, tucking you in and he lays beside you, staring at the ceiling. Even after so long with you, he’s still left unknowing what to do at this moment. He lets his own desire take over, twisting in bed, an arm wrapping around you, hand flinching at your spine when you let out a soft hum. He pulls himself closer to you, resting his chin above the crown of our head, lowering down for a moment to kiss where he rests. 
• In the morning, Simeon wakes with a yawn, stretching the arm around you, free from the confines of the blankets. His head buries further into the pillow, now moved to where his lips can kiss at your temple, and he does just that, giving you a feather light kiss before pulling away and laying for a few moments longer. He should prepare breakfast for you, and when stretches the rest of himself, he finds himself to be stuck. He moves slowly, lifting his legs, to feel weight above them, and on his back is warmth twisted in fabric. When he pulls once more, he’s met with resistance, your brows furrowing and you’re making soft noises of complaint still in your sleep. Lifting the blanket, he peers down to find that you’ve knotted yourself with him in your sleep. Giving you one more kiss, he succumbs to where you’ve trapped him, sleeping beside you for a few more moments.  

Solomon:

• You can see the bags under his eyes every time you go to speak to him. They grow darker by the day, his movements slower and wittiness absent as he spends his time burying himself into books. What he has left to learn, you aren’t entirely sure. You learn from the others that he’s been spending countless nights awake, staying up till the morning, drinking some sort of energy drink to give him just that little bit of push to make it through the day. During a weekly visit, you try to convince him to spend the night with you. You’re stubborn, threatening to not speak to him if he doesn’t take a break, and with that on the line, he gives in to your whims, placing a bookmark on the page and closing the book. Solomon turns to you, legs spread and arms crossed loosely over his chest.
• He looks so small in his seat, his hair ruffled and eyes already drooping, and you’re almost sure that he’s just seconds away from actually collapsing onto the floor. While you would prefer to sleep in your room with him- the lack of his books and his supplies, something that you’re sure would keep him from being tempted to wake up in the middle of the night to continue- he prefers his room. You give him a narrowed look and his smile is crooked, the usual teasing nature in it, dim compared to before, and he turns on his chair, ready to continue his studies until you call out to him. The pens on his table roll when you place your hands on top of the book, forbidding him from opening it once more. You make him promise that he won’t wake up in the middle of the night to continue his work and he sighs, leaning back into the chair, his pinky finger out to you.
• Without removing the covers, or waiting for you to pull them away, he lays on his stomach, whining and burying his face into the pillow. Once in the bed, he practically melts onto it, his whole body sinking and spreading out, as if this is the first time he’s ever been granted such rest and he gives you a peek from between the covers, catching your sad smile. You must know that at least for now in these past days, that much is true. His face is sickly pale, the dark circles under his eyes much too prominent for your liking, the only color that he’s given in his features is something that makes you frown. His whole body deflates onto the mattress, sinking into the familiar bed and he hums into the pillow, pressing himself further. You whisper under your breath, the words not holding as much power as the sorcerer before you, but the words still form, the magic in the air crackling as the blankets under him, are now above him, draping him in warmth. Slipping beside him, he’s still for a minute, until suddenly, he moves in a slow crawl over to your chest. 
• With arms curling around you, you call his name and he can only offer a noise in response. He uses his remaining energy to curl onto you, to rest his head on your chest and shift his arms until they hold you close to him. Your hand threads into the back of his hair, the silvery strands slipping between your fingers as you unknot the hair. He lays heavy above you, head pressed against your chest, and hands curling onto your clothes, holding the fabric loosely. Under his breath, he mumbles that he needs to work, that he has to continue onto something, and with a press of your lips above his head, he grows quiet. He wakes softly, coming to consciousness for a moment, and while he is still tired, he’s refreshed- every bit counts- and the spell still needs to be refined, all the kinks worked out and straightened. But, he’s warm against you, held and feeling the slow beat of your heart echo into his ear- his own lullaby granted to him. With a greater resolve than most, he moves away, trying to return to his work, telling himself that he’ll make up the broken pinky promise, but then you make a sound. It’s a low whine, tired and involuntary, and your hand tickles the nape of his neck. He is a weak man, and he succumbs to you and your whines, laying still on your chest.
• In the morning, he wakes up feeling refreshed, much more than he did when he woke up in the middle of the night. Sleep still holds onto him like a gentle lover, warmth and heaviness dragging him back into familiarity. He turns his head after a few moments, his lips pressed against the valley of your chest, close to where your heart drums against you, but not quite. Stretching his leg out, Solomon feels a tightness, a weight holding him down, keeping him still. Pulling on the cover, he finds you to be wrapped around him, legs knotted into each other, the legs of your pajama pants lifting to rest your bare skin against his. With a slow forming smile, he lays back down, and closes his eyes. 

A Bit Too Rough - Beelzebub and Diavolo

Request: hey gorgeous ! <3 i was wondering if i could request some writing about beelezbub or diavolo and a gn or fem mc and rough oral? or like deepthroating? the scenario is yours from there, whether it’s mc getting stuck under a desk, punished, etc? :)

A/N: I’ll do both!! I like these so i hope you do too!! I always feel like its been so long when I write and that makes my mood plummet but then i read the comments and reblogs over my other works and im like !!!

Beelzebub:

• Beelzebub is insatiable in every sense of the way. He can never have enough; he can never be full and that feels like a curse on its own. Many think that it’s just hunger that affects him, but it’s everything. It’s how he wants to do it all. How he feels as if he needs to do it all. It’s you being by him and kissing him, and never being satisfied when you pull away. It’s him never wanting to let go of you when you grind above him smiling into the kiss. When you do pull away, he’s left hungry, starving as if he has never had the pleasure to ever consume what he wanted. He’s chasing after your lips, bringing you back into a kiss, feeling your shortened breaths, how you mumble his name through meshed lips. Feeling the way that you nip at him in an attempt to breathe and he’s apologizing, kissing at your neck and playing with the hem of your clothes. You’re pulling him close with his shirt that’s moist with sweat. He’s leaned against his bedroom wall, a hand searching blindly for the lock on the door and clicking it shut. His breath fans over your neck, pressing long, heavy kisses against you, suckling osftly on your senstive skin watching as your body squirms and arches towards him.
• Your hands search for his waistband, dipping towards his crotch where you grab at his concealed erection. A hand holds you by the waist, nails scratching at the little skin that is visible between your shirt and your shorts. He breathes your name out like sin, hungry and wet as he tries to satisfy himself by just hearing the noises that you make every time he kisses your neck. You pull away and he lets out a scoff, trying to get you back to him, only to let you fall when you stand on your knees with your hands running up and down his thighs. The confines of his shorts grow tighter, unbearable even and he fears that he’ll have to buy a new pair if you don’t stop teasing him. His clothes pool around his ankles and he’s quick to kick them off to some far part of the room. Your hands touch his skin, curving around his thigh, and grabbing at his erection from the base. Pre-arousal drips out of him in gossamer strands, connecting thinly to his slit until they stain the floor beneath him.
• His cockhead is thick enough on its own, the detailed tip lined with rides that you lick so eagerly, swirling your tongue over the slit and drinking in his semen. Your lips purse around his slit in a kiss and you suckle sweetly, cheeks hollowing just around his tip and it has him bucking into your mouth. Past his cockhed enters you without much warning, and you choke around him, coughing and pulling away as you look up at him with a smile that tells him he has nothing to worry about. Spit dribbles out the corner of your lips and your eyes shine with fresh tears. He has to calm himself. You’re already down on your knees on your violation, holding his shaft in your hand and pleasuring him. Your hand can hardly wrap around him, his girth bulging out and thickening around his curve. Your mouth wraps around his backing, cheeks bulging out as you peek up at him, pulling them deeper into your mouth. Suction noises fill the room and covering his mouth with his hand, begging under muffled breath that it feels too good, and to just suck on him. You pop him out of your mouth and your hand holds onto his thigh, and you give him a wide grin, your chin wet with spit.
• Taking all of him is hard work. He curves and bulges out, the bumps that line down his cock, the swelling so near the tip stretching your mouth in a way that you voiced your concerns that your lips would split or jaw would break. He kissed away your concerns, but he always wondered if he’d even stop if you were in pain. Would he contain past your cry and slapping of his bare thigh? He’s certain that he would. Not out of malice, but just too stuck on searching for his own high. He’s lived a long time, and in the amount of years and partners that he has had, they can never hope to compare to you. He’s already so close when your mouth takes him, going down section by section. He can feel the graze of your teeth tickle at his cock, meeting every bump and vein with a sharp kiss. He holds the back of your head, taking short and labored breaths with every inch of cock that disappears down your throat. Your mouth is full, already bulging and he’s barely past halfway when you’ve stopped, choking and bobbing your head, tongue swirling on the underside of his cock.
• With the sounds that you’re already making, he knows he has to calm himself. He knows that he should be kind to you; treat you like you are porcelain, but he can’t help himself. It won’t be long, he’s already reaching his high, but you’re much too slow. His hand holds the crown of your head, hair knitted between his fingers and can feel the short, shuddering stop of your breath, and your eyes that peer past your lashes. With eyes glazed over, he smiles down at you, and bucks his hips forward. You gag, a wet sound that fills his ears and echoes in his head. Your mouth is still small, something of you that can’t be stretched like your sex, and it feels so good to feel that resistance, to feel your throat close around him. He thrusts quickly, meeting you at a fast pace that you aren’t quite ready for. This is mean of him, but he can’t stop, he’s insatiable, he just has to reach his high once and then he’ll pull away. He just needs to commit how you wrap so tight around him, how you choke and gag because of him, how you cry and look up at him with tears and a flushed face. Your hand meets his and he quickly intertwines with you, holding and feeling every squeeze of your hand while you cry beneath him, drool falling onto your chest, and making it that much easier to slip further down your throat. He holds himself still, buried to the hilt, seeing how your eyes close tightly and finally he pulls out, spit and semen connecting to your tongue. You cough harshly, rattling your ribs and spraying spit and seed onto the floor. He lifts you with ease and you run your nose along his collarbone, your hand curving around his neck and hiding your reddened face. He lays you on the bed, already making work of removing your shorts, and tongue already entering your entrance at a fast pace.

Diavolo:

• There’s far too much paperwork to be done, least of all finished today and as the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, Diavolo is already exhausted, leaning back onto his chair, legs spread and hand covering his eyes. He wonders for a brief moment if having an assistant would be a good investment. The door to his office opens and by your footsteps, he can tell that it’s you. You talk without asking him what’s gotten him in such a sorrowful position, and perhaps it’s because you already know. It’s not as if he prefers to be locked up in his office. Your hands curve over his shoulders, and your nose brushes along his cheek. His hand drags down his face and you move back, and he can feel your breath against his knuckles as he turns to look at you. Your smile isn’t soft, it isn’t the usual giddiness that you have when you see him- it’s different, more perverse if he were to guess.
• Before he’s able to ask you a question, you’ve scampered beneath his desk, your hands on his clothed thighs and energy surges through him. His pants pool around his ankles and before his briefs can join, your hands slide up his bare thighs with your fingertips under the dark cloth. You kiss at his thighs, soft, and quick, peppering upwards, your nose brushing along his base as you kiss at his package. You’ve nestled at his cock, kissing it through the cloth as your hands cup over his pubic bone. He’s already hard, pre-arousal staining his briefs in a dark color that’s barely able to be differentiated. He’s calling your name and your hand cups around his shaft, messily jerking him off as he tips his head back. The pleasure is weak, but compared to his stress, he’s letting out heavy breaths, hoping that it’ll urge you to quicken your pace, to finally take him in your warm mouth.
• He knows that he’s bigger than average- bigger than the average human and demon. He’s an intimidating size and he isn’t shy about it, he’s proud in a humble way, smiling softly at you, watching as you press your lips against the cloth, looking up at him with such an amorous gaze. His hand tucks under your chin, and with a soft raise, you’re looking up at him. You’re teasing him and it’s so cruel of you. All of this light touches just to get him riled up, to buck into your touch and beg for you. You know his position, just how much power he truly has. He’s a demon born, feared and powerful, and yet, you’re the one who acts like you’re in control. He calls your name in a warning tone, tutting at you for playing with him, and when he leans back to his chair, your hands are making quick work to remove him of his clothes. He springs in front of you, his erection leaking with pearlescent beads that glint under the light of his office and you’re quick to kiss at his cock, worshiping it like he should be. You take it in your hands to kiss him, to have the flat of your tongue leave a wet strip from his package to his slit where the arousal slides down your throat in honeyed strands. You make a noise of approval, smiling and taking his tip into your mouth to taste him once more.
• Your lips wrap around his head in a kiss and you pull back, kissing down his shaft, tongue tracing over the ridges and bumps, and he’s looking down at you with a soft, waiting smile. The tip of your tongue traces over his veins, a hand wrapped around his base- or at least what you can fit into your palm. He calls your name and you squeeze your hand around him in acknowledgement, moving back to his cockhead, and when you look back up at him, your eyes widen when his palm meets the back of your head in a firm hold. You suck in a quick breath and quickly, he guides you down his cock, taking every section, every inch and ridge, pushing past the sweet, gagging noises that you make. It’s such an ugly, erotic sound that it only pushes you further down his cock.
• There was a time when you looked at him with awe, and his cock with fear, wondering how you could ever fit him inside of you, and he made sure with proper care, that he would fit inch by inch, feeling your entrance tighten around him as you squealed, pinching your nails into his skin, muttering about how it hurts, but he never wanted to pull out, he’d just rub your sex and kissed you until you were shaking under him. Now is no different. You gag and cry, tears and drool sticking to your skin and not once does he catch your eye. Diavolo guides your movements, making sure that you take a little bit more of him with every thrust. He’s sure that if you were on your back, he’d be able to see the outline of his cock in your throat, bulging and pushing past what should be normal. The pace isn’t quick, but he certainly is the one who is in control, pushing you further and further your limits, cursing under his breath as your nails scratch into his thighs and he keeps you buried, your nose pressed against his pubic mound, teeth bared and grounded as he releases his seed into your mouth, and it burns down your throat. When you pull away, your face is flushed and wet with tears, drool, and arousal. You cough and his seed spits onto the floor. You sound ragged. Under the desk, you sit in an awkward position with your legs spread and taking heavy breaths as drool drips onto your shirt. And he can smell your own arousal, can practically hear how your sex beats in anticipation for something more.

Arranged Marriage - Diavolo

Request: I just saw your arranged marriage with diavolo and I loved it! But it had me thinking :00000 how would their “night of the wedding” be like, I’m pretty sure awkward as hell cause reader would probably consent cause uhh like they started catching feelings?

A/N:I went looking for this only to find that it was like near the top:’)

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• Diavolo isn’t sure if during the wedding, if Lucifer had grazed you- just enough to let some of his Pride seep into you- to give you the courage and grace to get through the ceremony. Lucifer must have given how nervous you are now. He can smell it off of you- even behind the door that separates the both of you. The fear, the anxiety, the way that your sweat almost overtakes that of the cream and perfume that you wear- the one that he bought you. He can hear your footsteps, and the soft muttering you give to yourself- the sound of you skin slapping, and he’s sure that you must be patting your cheeks or surely pinching at them to regain some sense of control.
• Worry oozes off of you in thick waves of aroma. He’s glad that he had used the beach house for the honeymoon portion of the weekend. He’s calmed you down plenty of times before. Once when you got lost in the plaza of Devildom, another when you made your first appearance and stuttered over the words, or when you had woken up from a nightmare that you couldn’t quite place why it felt so real. But it was never anything like this. It was never because of him. During the first month or two, it was, but you were always in front of him where he could reassure you that there was no malicious intent on his end. And now, you’re stuck in a bathroom, fretting over him.
• You’re taking far too long in the bathroom, and he’s unsure if he should knock against the door and check in on you, or if he should just stand there. You’ve locked the door, so surely you must want privacy. You told him to give you just a minute, but it’s been so much longer than a minute. If it weren’t for his hearing, he would have broken down the door to make sure that you were still there. But, on the other hand, you could be waiting for him- hoping that he would come and knock on the door, asking for you and cooing you out into the room. You might just need that little bit of reassurance and here he is, standing in his suit, wondering if he should knock against your door, or stand like a fool.
• Calloused hands drag down his face, and he can feel the age wearing upon him. He wonders if he looks like his father at the moment. He should be calming you, but he’s the one who’s giving you anxiety. All he has to do is knock on the door and ask if you’re okay, but then he can hear your breaths- the short, labored ones that he knows all too well. The sniffling and desperate attempt to keep your cries silent even if you do know it’s all futile. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. You’ve always been like this- at least for as long as he’s known you- and sure, there are moments where he’s peeking past your guard, where you aren’t so tense and you’re clutching onto him in fits of laughter, but you’re still nervous around him. Despite how much he promises he would never harm you. He’s failed you once, and it’ll forever be seared into him. He’s always hated how you cried, never knowing if him comforting you made it any worse or better, and now he’s simply stuck.
• The tie around his neck chokes him and stops him from breathing. As surprising as it may be, he’s grown far too hot in his suit, the fabric sticking to his skin and he finally understands just how taxing worry can be. It knots in his stomach, and makes his chest tight. It makes him clammy and unable to think properly, and he hates that you have to feel this way. His hands undo the tie, and he’s taking in a rasping breath, stepping closer to the bathroom door, hoping that you’d open it for him once you saw his shadow on the other side. Once you felt him coming in and wanting to be with you. Perhaps he should have changed into his nightly wear, but what if you had mistaken that for something else? He doesn’t want to force anything out of you. He just wants to see you. He wants to know that you’re still there.
• You step out of the bathroom, a matching pajama set where you pull on the hem of the shorts. Your face is flushed, and eyes are wet with tears, and his anxiety be damned at the moment. He’s by your side immediately, crouching down and cupping your face. There’s no reason for you to cry. Not on the night of the wedding- the night of his wedding, and the night of yours. You shouldn’t feel how you do- scared. This is meant to be a happy day, and he’s calling your name, and even with your head held by his hands, your eyes refuse to meet his. Your face is hot, burning with tears and shame, and he’s wiping what he can with his thumbs, asking what’s wrong- to just talk to him and he can make it all better. You step closer to him and your hands clutch at his dress shirt, wrinkling it in your hands. You look down and he lets his hands lift away from your face, hesitantly going to hold your back. He wants to push you closer to him, but he knows that you need to go to him, that you need to understand that he really won’t do anything more than listen.
• Finally, you begin to speak. You wrap your arms around him, your head turned and hands splayed across his back in a desperate attempt to simply keep him there with you. He wraps his arms around you, trying to restrain from giving you too tight of a hug. You want this to be a memorable night for him, and yet you’re here crying to him over being too nervous to do anything. You know what a wedding night means- at least in human customs, and slightly in demon customs. You want to share that moment with him, and you so desperately wish you could just take the step, but you’re unable to. There’s too many variables that could go wrong and- and you’re clinging to him, trying to mute your cries into his chest.
• All that he can do is smile softly down at you, and move you to the bed. It dips under the shared weight and you lean onto him, and you’re lowering your head, your eyes stuck on the reflection to see him and he smiles at you, lowering his head to kiss the top of your crown. He grasps your hands in his, leans into you. It’s an expectation- but it isn’t necessary. Whatever it is that you want to do, he will gladly follow suit. And if that action is simply doing nothing, then he’s willing to do nothing. He’ll do nothing for the remainder of his life if it meant you wouldn’t cry. The marriage is already set, there’s no need to do anything. You don’t have to worry about anything. He’s a demon, but he’s your demon. Even without a pact, he’d gladly follow your orders without hesitation. Whatever it is that you want him to do, he’d gladly do it as long as he could remain by your side. Slowly, he grabs your hand and lifts it to his lips, your knuckles so much smaller than his, dances across his lips in small kisses and when your smile returns, he lets your hand rest once more on your lap.
• With a kiss pressed to your crown, he rises from the bed, stating he’s going to change in the bathroom. The door closes behind him and he can still feel your warmth against his lips. Your wedding attire is neatly placed on a hook, hung onto the shower rod, and he smiles, letting the tips of his fingers trace over the designs. He’s glad he got to see you dressed in something so ornate. He places his own attire besides yours, giving it a final glass before he exits the bathroom. Once changed into a matching pajama set, he returns to the room, a smile meeting his eyes as he sees you have already cuddled under the blankets. He stands on the empty side of the bed, and you motion for him to join you. You reach out with your hands, rising from your comfortable position to grab onto him. You’re so much warmer when you reach for him.
• There’s still something on your mind, but you’re by his side, clinging onto him, your head resting on his chest, and you’re silent. But he can feel how your heart beats so rapidly, against his own torso. His hand is placed above yours, and he’s staring at the ceiling, listening to your breaths- how soft and deep they’ve gotten with him just being there. He’ll regret what he’s about to do, but he has to let you know, let you go to sleep with worry free from your mind, with any doubt erased. Diavolo calls your name and it stirs you from your slumber. You can barely make out a sound, your hand tapping at his side in a tell to show him that you’re listening. He tells you that nothing has to happen- not now or tomorrow- it could be years, or it could be decades, but nothing has to happen. You simply have to be by his side, he’ll ask for nothing more as long as you show him the same softness you always have, as long as you believe and know that he’ll never hurt you. It must have taken all of your strength to rise to a sitting position, eyes barely open, and heavy with sleep, and your name is whispered on his lips, only to be silenced with a press of your lips against his own, and you smile so sweetly at him, one that makes his face warm and a shiver run its course through his body. You tell him goodnight, and he spends the rest of his waking moments, with his fingertips over his lips, committing the feeling to memory, not wanting to forget the mint on your lips and your warmth breath.

voltagesmutter:

Kink:Masochism || Hair-pulling ||Orgy 

Pairing: 7 Demons x MC (F) [Lucifer x MC, Mammon x MC, Leviathan x MC, Satan x MC, Asmo x MC, Beelzebub x Belphegor x MC]. 

Fandom: Obey Me.

Warning: Fingering, Oral (Male and female), vaginal sex,   over-stimulation, breath-play, multiple-partners, spit-roasting, marking, rough-play, internal cum-shot, aphrodisiac. 

Day 14 of  @alloveroliver​.

Including prompts from @xxsycamore​​​

Thank you once more to @theinariakuma​​,@crystal13unny​​ and @andinewton​​​ for beta-ing (You are all angels).

Part 2

Tags:@thequeenofotakus-blog​, @kumovii @fairstival @acr2m @lilliansstuff @coldnachopeace @omg-mz-fanfic @mammonsmainsimp​​​ @0-miles-away

Keep reading

I’m just back to re-blog this for hitting 3500 followers

Thank you for the support - and if you haven’t checked out part 2 it’s right here (featuring more demons, some angels and a twisted sorcerer, and of course much more smut)

And as a thank you, just enjoy some hot gifs to think visualise as you read!

Catnap {Diavolo x Reader/MC}

A/N: a fic in which i wanted diavolo to experience PAIN but also know he is L O V E D because i couldnt help but remember that he once said asmo never invites him to parties and it broke my frozen heart,

{Diavolo x Reader/MC}

Diavolo’s eyes were downcast as he walked along, listening to Barbatos drone on about his schedule for the rest of the day. Of course, he knew it was important and definitely something he needed to do as it was his duty, yet, he couldn’t help but long for a sense of freedom. He longed for a time he could simply be himself, not worry about his princely duties—he longed for something, he just wasn’t quite sure what. Of course, he knew Barbatos was simply doing his own job, but it didn’t stop the prince from zoning out. He could hear the shorter man give an exasperated sigh before repeating his last few sentences. Maybe a walk around R.A.D.’s campus would help him focus.

It wasn’t helping. He sighed during the entire walk, each time getting a little more dramatic; he hunched his shoulders and slouched a bit more with each heave, dragging his feet along the ground as though he were a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. His pitch was whiny, and he secretly did feel bad for his unbecoming behaviour towards Barbatos, but he couldn’t help himself.  

As though it were a beam of light on a cloudy day, something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and turned his entire mood around. Without raising Barbatos’ suspicion—or so he thought—his gaze honed in on a small, stray kitten walking along the path behind the shorter man. His face instinctually turned to one mixed with shock and adoration, both attempted to hide behind the thin veil of collectiveness. Golden eyes kept flickering from his butler to the tiny mammal behind him.

“As I said before, after meeting with Lucifer to go over the budget for…” Barbatos scrunched his nose before interrupting himself. “My lord, you aren’t paying attention again.”

“What?” Diavolo’s shoulders stiffened as he let out a half-hearted laugh, “Of course I am!”

“…..What are you distracted by?”

“It’s nothing! Wait–”  

Before Diavolo’s outstretched hand could stop him, Barbatos turned to lock eyes with the kitten that had caught his liege’s attention. He held his stare as if the two of them had a contest going without so much as a word, until the kitten had meowed up at him.

“It’s talking to you!”

“I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be mean to it, it’s cute!”

“My lord, we do need to get through this schedule for the day–”

“I’d much rather sit with this kitten.”

Diavolo quickly jumped at the chance to get down on all fours to level with the kitten, ignoring Barbatos’ pleas for him to not ruin his uniform. He cooed as the kitten rubbed against his face, meowing softly at him in response to his badly-attempted meows, and rolled onto its back to play with one of the pendants hanging off of his coat. A genuine laugh erupted from the man as he pet the creature.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Lord Diavolo, however we do need to get going now–”

“I’ve decided to keep it!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What!”

Like a child who was told no in the toy store—or a better comparison would have been a kicked puppy—Diavolo looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pouting lip. He mumbled to himself, about being the prince and frankly doing whatever he’d like, as though he truly were a child.

“My lord, a cat in the castle would be a terrible idea. You are too busy to see to one–”

“You could do it!”

“–and I’m too busy ensuring you’re taken care of to worry about the cat as well.”

Diavolo groaned and rose to his feet, keeping his back towards Barbatos. After agreeing that he would be right, he attempted to walk off and change the subject towards the schedule Barbatos was so adamant about, only to jolt to a stop as the butler cleared his throat.

“My lord–”

“I thought you said we were busy!” Diavolo chuckled, attempting to continue again, “Let’s go!”

“The cat, my lord.”

“It ran into the bushes–”

“Please take the cat out of your coat pocket.”

Hanging his head as he was caught, he placed the kitten gently onto the path, watching it scamper away, chasing after some sort of bug. He crossed his arms and jutted his lip out into a pout, keeping his glare just a tad icy towards Barbatos. Again, he was aware he was just doing his job, but the kitten was so adorable and just the distraction he felt that he needed, and his friend simply just wouldn’t allow him to have it; so, he listened. He listened intensively, absorbing each word Barbatos had thrown him and repeated key points to prove he had listened. His eyes, however, flickered to the small animal who kept running in and out of the bushes, tempting his willpower and attention an embarrassing amount.

Before he had realized it, however, one of the seven brothers had also been walking along campus. Noticing the two of them talk, Satan minded his own business and only stopped as a kitten randomly appeared in his path. Without so much as a second thought, he scooped the animal up and kept on his way, not realizing the heartbroken, utter shock that had washed over the Devildom’s prince.

“That seems to be the end of it, Lord Diavolo. Shall we move on to our meeting–”

“Did you see that!”

Barbatos tilted his head and looked behind him where Diavolo had been pointing; he used all of his might not to raise an eyebrow at his boss.

“See… what, exactly?”

“The–”

“If you’re going to mention the cat again, then please forgive me for cutting you off. We simply cannot have the cat.”

“But Satan took it!”

“Ah, then you should take solace in knowing that cat is well taken care of. Now, moving on to our meeting, my lord.”

Without so much as another word, Barbatos ushered Diavolo off towards their next location, the cat never left his mind.

***

By the end of the day, MC had noticed something weighing on the prince. He seemed sluggish, lost in thought, a million miles away in those eyes as they sat across the room from him. During the rare moment he sat alone, MC approached him casually.

“Hey,” they leaned against the edge of his desk, “something on your mind?”

“Oh? Was it obvious?”

“I’m just a really good guesser.”

Diavolo leaned back in his chair and shot them an award-winning smile, the hearty, whimsical laugh he’s known for followed suit.

“Then that must be your version of magic, interesting. I’ll admit there is something on my mind that I just can’t shake.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

Before MC could even get the last syllable out, Diavolo slammed his hands on the desk and stood instantly. He leaned in towards them with wide eyes and a slight pout, not noticing that his sudden closeness caused MC to swallow hard.

“Satan took my cat!”

“….. I’m sorry, what?”

“My cat! He took it!”

“You… had a cat?”

“Yes! No! Kind of?”

“Diavolo, not to sound rude but… I’m really not following.”

He sat back down and bit the inside of his cheek, sighing heavily before explaining himself.

“There was this kitten, outside, it was absolutely adorable. The roundest little face, big eyes, soft fur—it was tiny, too! Just the perfect little thing, and I wanted to take it home! Take care of it! But–”

“But?” MC dragged out their syllables.

“But,” Diavolo mimicked their actions, “Barbatos said it was impossible to take care of a cat as of now. He refused to let me take it, and not only that, but I had to watch in silence as Satan came along and took the cat as his own!”

“Well, if Satan took it–”

“Then it’s in good hands, yes, Barbatos said the same; that isn’t the point!”  

Diavolo held his tongue on what truly bothered him, hoping that MC-the-great-guesser wouldn’t take notice that his burst of emotions dug much deeper than just a little cat he met outside. A thought passed his mind and it clicked for him—a plan—he’d have to think more about. He composed himself, stood up and straightened out his coat before shooting another large, fake smile towards the human.

“Anyway, I have other meetings to get to, unfortunately. It is my duty, after all. My apologies for being so… emotional, but thank you for lending me your time.”

MC’s eyes followed as he stiffly walked from the room. He may have been the prince of Devildom, but MC couldn’t hide the smile on their lips towards his childish behaviour they grew to find endearing. They did wonder what deeper emotions were hidden behind his need for the cat, however.

***

Relaxing by the window, MC was startled to hear a light knock against the glass in the middle of the night. Terrified, they very slowly turned their head to meet face to face with a disheveled prince, smiling from ear to ear. Tossing fear and confusion aside, they rushed to open the window and called out to him in a hushed tone.

“Diavolo? What are you doing here? I mean… here, and also, at my window.” They grabbed his hands and helped him start to climb in. “There is a front door, you know. I’m pretty sure Lucifer wants you to use it. Should I let him know you’re here–”

“No!” Diavolo cried as he fell forward through the window. He sat up as though nothing had happened. “I’m here in secret, please keep it between the two of us!”

“Al…right, but why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it is the middle of the night, and you know it seems…” They couldn’t finish their statement due to nerves and turned away to keep the red on their cheeks hidden.

“Hm? Oh, about that!” He stood up suddenly, “I’m going on an adventure! Come with me!”

“Shh! You’re the one who said this was a ‘secret visit’, so keep your voice down!”

“Right!” He lowered his voice, “I’m going on an adventure, so come with me.”

“Where exactly is your adventure going to lead us? Does Barbatos know–”

“No, he does not and he doesn’t need to!”  

Diavolo’s eyebrows were drawn together, nose scrunched in irritation. He sighed and shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile on his lips.

“My apologies, I mean, this isn’t a matter that concerns Barbatos. I came to you for assistance this time, I thought perhaps we could have some fun; what do you say?”

MC twisted their lips to the side, eyeing whatever the tall man was hiding; it didn’t take much to see that he was, in fact, hiding something… but what was it? They nodded, agreeing to whatever plan he may have, knowing they couldn’t just let the prince of Devildom run off and make childish mistakes on his own. MC would get in trouble with Barbatos at that point, and they shivered at the thought of being on bad terms with him. Once they silently agreed, Diavolo captured their hand in his—blind to the eruption of blush across their face—and quickly slipped into the hall.

They were dragged along as Diavolo tiptoed dramatically, peeking around corners and hiding in the shadows. MC was flung around as though they were some sort of paper doll. Diavolo seemed way too out of his element to sneak around properly, so MC called out to him quietly to have him take a moment and explain just what he was doing.

“Stop, stop. You’re terrible at this. Where are you going anyway? The front door isn’t up the stairs–”

“Our destination is, though!” He said in a hushed shout, his movements a bit antsy. “We have to go up.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Hush!”

He covered their mouth with his hand, oblivious to how it caused their heart flutter, he focused his attention to the sound of walking in the hallway behind them. Diavolo rushed them along, stopping at a door and quickly attempting to jiggle his way through the lock. MC faced the hallway, wary of the approaching footsteps and faint voices as they kept watch; Diavolo simply used magic to unlock the handle, and pulled MC in so quick he literally swept them off of their feet. Both of them held an ear against the door and heard as two of the brothers made their way back to their rooms. Before MC could give a sigh of relief, they could hear Diavolo cooing at something in a baby tone. A light bulb went off in their head as they slowly turned to face the room, a look of distaste, disbelief, and irritation graced their features.

“We broke into Satan’s room.”

“Yes!” Diavolo held the kitten up to his face, laughing as it give his cheek a few kisses.

“A cat.”

“Yes!”

“We broke in… to Satan’s room,” MC put heavy emphasis on Satan being the owner, “to steal a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Diavolo!” MC shouted before quickly quieting back down, “We’re dead if we’re caught in here! Well, I will be. You’re the prince of Devildom, you probably won’t be. But I will be. Satan is going to get pissed, oh my god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I am. I’m going to die. I’m–”

Diavolo held the kitten up to MC’s face, the latter stopping their rant in their tracks as the kitten gave their nose a few kisses. They couldn’t stop themselves from getting red at how cute the prince seemed to smile at them, but they forced disapproval on their features.

“He had the kitten I wanted. I couldn’t simply ask him for it, even if he agreed, Barbatos would make me return it.”

“What difference is that opposed to stealing it?”

Diavolo sat on the ground and stared at the kitten in his hands, a faraway look of longing replaced his usual cheerful smile. MC refused to let him play it off again.

“What’s actually eating at you?”

“The difference, I guess…” he couldn’t meet their eye and instead focused on petting the cat, “is the adventure. The ability to do something so ridiculous for the thrill and fun of it all. Throwing aside the fact that I’m the prince, for once. Just being a person, since people don’t tend to treat me that way. I thought… if I could have this cat, even after being told no, I could have a sense of freedom. It sounds absolutely ridiculous hearing myself say it out loud. Definitely not the presence a ruler should have, huh?”

His sad smile broke MC’s heart in two. Without a word, they moved next to him; he thought they were going to pet the cat so he offered it to them, but their hand landed on top of his head instead. Their voice was quiet and filled with honey, each word dripping with sincerity.  

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty neat. I like hanging out with you, as you are.”

It was Diavolo’s turn to look dazed with wide eyes and a blush across his face. He quickly composed himself with a tender smile and a whimsical laugh; there were quite a few things running through his mind that he wished he could say to MC, but nothing would come out clear enough. Instead, the two of them resided in a peaceful silence, his smile and relaxed shoulders showed how thankful he was to hear that from them. They had gotten lost in the peace, petting the kitten and playing around with the spunky little thing, they hadn’t heard anything come up behind them, nor had they felt the frightful aura shift in the area.

“What are you two doing in my room?”

In a pickle

I’m sorry I haven’t been able to post any requests but I’m really low on time, in the process of writing other things and just frankly tired.

However, last night I thought of this short little story and I couldn’t get it out of my head so I’m writing it down.

Fandom: Obey Me!

Pairing:Diavolox reader (x Barbatos)

MC: Gender-neutral

Words: 1800

Warnings: Suggestive.I wouldn’t recomment this to anyone below 15.

Read the fanfiction below!

It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon when you received a message from Barbatos.

Barbatos: Can you come to the castle? I’ve ran out of ideas on how to get the young master to eat his pickles.

MC: Why is it so important that he eats them?

Barbatos: Young master’s meal plan needs to be balanced. Furthermore, pickles are full of vitamins and bacteria that are good for the gut.

Barbatos: Please, we need you at the castle. Young master is in near hysterics after he found my latest pickle surprise.

MC: Okay, okay, I’m coming right away.

So with a sigh, you left the House of Lamentation and made your way towards the castle.

Standing in front of the tall castle doors, you knocked determinedly. You already knew Barbatos could probably tell it was you from the way you knocked as you visit the castle rather frequently.

Shortly afterwards Barbatos opened the doors with a hint of nervousness in his usually sombre deep green eyes.

“MC, do come in.” he ushered you in, placing his hand firmly on your back.

“Where is Lord Diavolo?” you questioned as Barbatos lead you by gently pushing you through the castle corridors.

“He’s still in the dining room, refusing to budge. You will see soon enough what I mean by that.” Barbatos sighed. He was clearly stressed out.

Eventually you made it to the large and extravagant dining room of the castle. The table was laid with many mouthwatering dishes and fancy dinnerware. And there sat Lord Diavolo, well, more like crouched on the dining chair, hugging his own large frame, a shattered plate and some food on the floor next to him.

“The traitor has made his return.” Diavolo snarled, glaring daggers at Barbatos.

“Young Lord, I must ask you to calm down, it was only pickl-” Barbatos was swiftly cut off by the forementioned demon.

“Exactly! It was pickles! I hate nothing in the three realms more than pickles!” he cried out with desperation.

“They are good for you, My Lord. I only have your best interests in my mind.” Barbatos sighed yet again, shaking his head.

“If you care about what’s best for me, why do you try and trick me into eating the food I despise?!” Diavolo looked like he was about to throw the grand hell turkey sitting on the table at his butler at any moment now.

“Um, please calm down, Lord Diavolo..” you chimed in, hoping to diffuse the heated situation.

“MC!” Diavolo gasped, only now noticing your presence. He quickly composed himself, sitting down normally, “I apologize for having to see me in such a ungentlemanly state.” he mumbled an apology, his cheeks blooming a beautiful red.

“Uh, it’s okay!” you quickly forgave him with a nervous grin, feeling the situation grow more and more awkward every passing second.

“Do something.” Barbatos mumbled into your ear, gritting his teeth.

“What am I supposed to do?!” you whisper-yelled, your gaze rotating between the two demons.

Barbatos replied, “Young master has a soft spot for you. If anyone will be able to calm him down or even eat his pickles, it’s you.”

You took a deep breath, a risky yet intruiging plan forming in your head. “Please don’t hold this against me.” You muttered to Barbatos.

Barbatos threw you a curious glance before simply nodding.

You fixed a sultry gaze and Lord Diavolo and walked closer to him with your hips swinging teasingly. You saw his adam’s apple bob up and down as his eyes widened ever so slightly, unable to tear his eyes away from your nearing form.

“MC..?” He managed to splutter.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright now..” You spoke to him soothingly, putting your index finger on his lips. He looked up at you in awe, his amber eyes sparkling.

“What are you-?” he tried to ask you when you slyly pushed his chair back and made your way gently onto his lap. You caressed his warm cheek with adoration, your gaze never faltering.

“You’re such a strong, powerful and handsome demon, My Lord”, you grinned, licking your lips, “You have nothing to fear.”

Lord Diavolo’s eyes drifted to your moist lips for a second, “‘I know..” he agreed absentmindedly, his big hands finding their way onto your waist.

“So why wouldn’t you at least try a pickle for me? The pickle cannot be stronger than you, Diavolo..” you breathed out, wrapping your arms around Diavolo’s neck, your face so close to his you could feel his quickened breathing on your skin.

“Uh-huh..” he nodded with a dazed gaze, “Will I get a reward from you if I manage to eat one?” he asked, so tempted to just throw you on to the dining table and kiss you absolutely everywhere. That’s just the effect you had on the demons around you.

You chuckled, “If you’re a good boy”, you got closer to his ear, “I guess I could make it worth your while.” you whispered into Diavolo’s ear, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

Diavolo was just putty in your hand, not moving as his hands trembled slighlty from holding back from you.

With another dark chuckle, you took one of the pickles from the table. You felt Diavolo’s body tense up at the sight of the green monster of a food.

“Be a good boy for me, won’t you?” you gently pushed the pickle against Diavolo’s lips, but his mouth remained sealed, “Come on, just the tip?” you winked, watching the blush grow darker on Diavolo’s cheeks.

Diavolo shyly gave the picke a small lick, a disgusted look forming on his face right afterwards as he pulled further from you. You needed to work harder to get him to take a bite.

You felt something hard pressing agains your ass, so you ever so slightly grinded your ass against the hardness. Diavolo left out a surprised gasp and you realized that that was your moment to strike.

You quickly pushed the pickle into Diavolo’s mouth, who froze and just stared at you with wide eyes, refusing to bite down.

“Good boy… Now you just need to finish…” you spoke huskily, running your free hand through Diavolo’s red hair. Diavolo just shook his head, unable to speak due to the circumstances.

“Hm, want me to show you how to do it?” you smirked before you wrapped your pretty little lips around the girthy pickle. You kept your eyes on Diavolo, who was looking at you with growing interest.

You tried to speak despite your mouth being filled, only scrambled words coming out of your mouth, as if you were gagging onto something. With a challenging and heated gaze, you took more of the pickle into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing around it. Diavolo’s grip on your waist suddenly felt tighter.

And you pulled slightly back before taking even more of the pickle in, hooking Diavolo even further into the moment before…

You took a large bite of the pickle before pulling back, chewing it with grace, letting a little bit of the juice run down your chin as you smiled wickedly at the demon prince.

“It your turn, handsome”, you said after swallowing, “Remember, I promised to reward you afterwards..” you reminded him, licking your lips again.

This time, Diavolo nodded enhusiastically before taking the smallest possible bite of the pickle in his mouth. You removed the rest of the pickle, making sure he swallowed the whole bite.

Diavolo swallowed with a thoughtful look on his face, “That must have been the sweetest pickle I’ve ever tasted.”

“Does that mean you liked it?” you snickered.

“Goodness, no! It was still disgusting… But more bearable than usually.” he admitted with genuine surprise in his voice.

“Hm, maybe I’ll try and feed you more often~” you shrugged before getting up, Diavolo’s grasp on your having loosened due to his surprising reaction to pickles.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going? You promised to reward me!” Diavolo shouted after you, shifting uncomfortably at his seat.

“I’ll reward you.. Tonight. I just have to grab something from the House of Lamentation!” you replied cheerfully, walking back to Barbatos. During all this time he had just stood there, watching you, but now he had found a silver tray from somewhere and was holding it in front of his crotch, avoiding your gaze.

“Do you need help with something else, Barbatos?” you smiled at him and brushed away a stray strand of his hair. His breathing hitched at the contact.

“N-No, thank you for your service, MC.” Barbatos quickly replied, trying so hard to keep his composure.

“No problem! You know I love to serve..” you trailed off for a second, biting your lower lip seductively, “If you need my help, you know you can call me any time..” you spoke lowly and winked at the demon butler, brushing your arm against his arm as you walked past him, out of the dining room.

Barbatos hated to see you go, but loved to watch you leave, his eyes glued to your swaying ass in a trance. Lord Diavolo creeped up to him, also looking after you with a forlorn look.

“MC is really something else, aren’t they? Maybe I should just give them an A from seductive speechcraft as default?” Diavolo chuckled.

Barbatos turned to look at Diavolo, not having noticed him walk up to him. Both men were deeply aware in of the state they were both in but neither of them spoke up about it.

“Young Master, may I join your reward ceremony tonight?” Barbatos asked very quietly, not sure if he actually wanted Diavolo to pick up on his question or not.

Luckily or unluckily for him, Diavolo had an amazing sense of hearing, “What?! It’s my reward for eating a pickle!” he scoffed.

“You only ate a small bite, not an entire pickle, My Lord”, Barbatos reminded him, “Furthermore, both MC and I worked hard together to get this result. I pulled my own weight.”

“You haven’t done anything to sway my opinion, that was all MC.” Diavolo shook his head in disapproval.

“I’ve tried to get you to eat pickles for hundreds of years, My Lord, just let me have this one victory.” Barbatos smiled forcibly.

“Well, then you’re just a loser.” Diavolo blew a raspberry at Barbatos, causing the butler to gasp.

“Where are your manners, Young Lord?!” Barbatos complained, horrified of Diavolo’s childish antics.

“W Diavolo, L Barbatos!” Diavolo proclaimed, “And I’m getting lucky tonight, no cap! Maybe some Netflix and chill…”

“Stop talking like Leviathan this instant. It is highly inappropriate for a prince.” Barbatos cut Diavolo off.

“Oooh, someone is salty!” Diavolo chuckled, “But seriously, if you want to join… I guess we can ask MC.” a dark grin formed on his face.

Barbatos raised his eyebrows in amusement, “I’m positive they won’t say no, my lord.”