Belphie Being Mean And Pinching Readers Nose While She's Sucking Him Off And Not Letting Off Until He

Belphie being mean and pinching readers nose while she's sucking him off and not letting off until he finishes🥺?

-From: Goodgirly🔒

18+ nsfw, minors do not interact // dubcon, mean belphie, degrading bj, tears

"Mm...you can do better than that."

Belphie disappointedly looked down at you as he slid his cock out of your mouth and slapped it against your cheek a few times while you coughed and gasped for air.

He sighed. "Let's try again before I get soft."

Before you could take another deep breath, his hand found itself on the back of your head, while the other guided his thick cock between your swollen wet lips once more. He let out a small content hum as you gagged, your warm throat squeezing around him.

He peered down and grinned when he saw the tears in your eyes and the way you struggled to breathe. He could feel his cock getting harder. Now they're getting somewhere.

Belphie kept his hold on your head and with his other hand he pinched your nose, cutting off the only air supply you had left. You dug your nails into his thighs and struggled as your loud wet choking and gagging filled the room. Belphie let out a low groan as he fucked your mouth.

"Fuck! You look and sound so much fucking better like this."

The fat tip of his cock abused the poor narrow walls of your throat with each thrust. Big fat tears rolled down your cheeks as he continued pummeling into your face, balls slapping against your chin. You tried to push against his arm, his thighs, anything to at least let you breathe a little but his strength was unmatched compared to yours.

"Hah...! You can breathe when I'm done! Oh fuck, fuck, almost there—!"

With a few more harsh thrusts, his hand finally let go of your nose as he reached his peak. He moaned as he spilled his cum down your throat; while you desperately breathed in as much air as you could.

Once he was finished he slid his cock out and admired the piece of work left on the floor.

Your hair was a mess, tears still running down your cheeks, and drool covering your chin all while you coughed and gulped in globs of air.

Belphie could feel his cock stirring once more. ⬦

When MC Feels Burnout/Emotionally Numb THE DEMON BROTHERS 4.1k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Fluff & Angst A/N: The relationships between MC and the brothers can be read as romantic or platonic. The twins' sections are combined. ♫ [ MC's POV: Song Rec ]

─── LUCIFER:

Lucifer is concerned when you come to the dining room table for breakfast looking worse for wear; there's dark circles under your eyes like you haven't slept. You pour yourself a cup of tea and wrap your hands around the warm porcelain, but you don't drink it. Your breakfast plate remains untouched, and eventually you shuffle out of the room without a word.

He keeps an eye on you at RAD, but you're unusually withdrawn. You follow his brothers from class to class, eyes downturned and silent despite the lively conversations going on around you. Everyone walks home together that afternoon, but when he glances back to see how you are, he notices you’re lagging behind the rest of the group. He slows his pace to match yours, but you barely seem to notice; the walk home is silent.

When dinner time comes and goes without any change in your behaviour, he decides he needs to do something to snap you out of this little funk you're in. Later that evening, he invites you to keep him company in his study while he finishes his work. You accept in a monotone voice; it could be misconstrued as boredom, but he knows better.

Sometimes you read and listen to cursed records while he works at his desk, but tonight the random book you plucked off the shelf lays unopened in your lap. You stare unseeing into the fireplace, and your body is tense like you can’t relax.

He picks up something he was supposed to finish tonight—a folder full of documents to review and sign— but you barely notice when he sits beside you. He gives up all pretense of working when he places the folder and your unread book on the floor by his feet. He tucks you under his arm and pulls you against his side. You lean against him, a little reluctantly at first, until you start to relax. Your cheek is pressed against his chest and his heartbeat thumps gently beneath your ear.

He’s not sure how much time passes when you finally drift off to sleep. There’s something vulnerable about the way your body melts against his, and he wonders where he went wrong that led you to be in such a state to begin with.

He considers waking you so you can go back to your room to sleep. He contemplates carrying you somewhere more comfortable so he doesn't have to wake you—his room is closer, and maybe you won’t mind sharing a bed with him if it’s only for one night. Light and shadow from the fireplace dance along your skin, and you’re so warm in his arms; moving now seems like an impossibility.

A sore back in the morning seems like a fair price to pay when he decides to keep you exactly where you are. He maneuvers so carefully while he leans back against the armrest and holds you to his chest. He pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa and makes sure you’re covered before he closes his eyes. He doesn’t even notice that he syncs his breathing with yours, and he falls asleep not long after.

─── MAMMON:

Mammon eagerly tells you about his day—the things he bought, his wins at the casino, how his part-time gig is going—and he’s used to getting some sort of reaction from you (good or bad).

Today, you look at him blankly and tell him that’s nice in a quiet, emotionless voice that worries him. Having you scold him for being financially irresponsible (while you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge to smile) would be better than this. He’s stunned by your lack of a reaction, and you turn away from him when you’ve decided you don’t need to focus on paying attention to him anymore.

After dinner, he goes to your room and finds you laying in bed, staring at your ceiling and drumming the mattress idly with your fingertips. 

"Whatcha doin’?" he asks, even though he knows what you're going to say next.

“Nothing,” your quiet, flat tone replies.

“Good. Come on,” he says in a much chipper voice than yours as he grabs both your hands and practically pulls you out of bed. He leads you outside the front door where his car is parked, thrumming gently while the engine runs. He flips on the seat warmer for you and glances at you occasionally from the corner of his eye; he hopes you’ll melt into the warm leather soon.

“We're just goin’ for a little drive,” he explains, even though you don't bother asking where he's taking you in the middle of the night. The radio is streaming music from his phone, and he keeps the volume low. He nods towards his D.D.D. on the dash. “You can change it if you want,” he offers, and he’s not surprised when you decline.

He drives away from the bustling streets of the Devildom. The road is empty and the skies are clearer here, but he knows brief moments of tranquility aren’t enough to alleviate whatever it is that’s bothering you.

He’s never been good with words, but he rests his hand palm-up over the gear shift. He’s not sure you even notice since you’ve been staring out the window most of the drive. After a few moments, you surprise him and put your hand in his. He squeezes your hand gently before lacing your fingers together; it feels like a victory when you don’t pull away.

Every once in a while he squeezes your fingers between his, and he smiles at the dark, open road when you do the same.

─── LEVIATHAN:

Leviathan knows what it’s like to feel numb. Sometimes he feels that way when his self-imposed isolation wears him down. Talking to Henry and surrounding himself with his games and manga and toys isn't always enough to fill the black void of jealousy that makes his tone sharp and his fangs even sharper.

He gets that way when he thinks about all things he wants but doesn’t have—he notices you become this way from doing too much for everyone else until you lose yourself in the process.

Between the two of you, you should be able to find some sort of balance. He feels like you should both know better, but here you are, drowning in your own black void while he watches helplessly. He can barely help himself; how can he possibly help you?

For lack of better ideas, he invites you to his room to play games. Usually you’re so animated when you play together; you jeer at him when he spins out due to a perfectly-timed banana, or you toss your controller aside and tickle him when his shell knocks you out of first place.

That level of enthusiasm is gone today; you tap the controller pad in total silence. You don’t care when you come in last place, and you don’t care when Levi throws the match so you can win. He turns off the TV and shuffles on the floor so he’s facing you. You glance at him occasionally but go back to staring at your lap.

Levi hates it when you cry, but he hates this dead-eyed stare of yours even more. He grunts in frustration when he gets up suddenly and grabs a small tin off his desk.

“Come here for a sec, I could use your help,” he says, and he shakes the tin in your direction until you get up from the sofa and shuffle to his side. He leads you to the aquarium where Henry bobs peacefully in the crystal-blue water. Levi hands you the tin and unfolds a step ladder he keeps tucked away. He climbs the ladder carefully so he can open the window at the top of the tank.

You open the can of fish flakes when he asks you to, and he sprinkles a generous helping across the top of the water. You’re transfixed by the sight of Henry dashing through the water for his supper, and Levi can’t stop staring at you.

“Sometimes he’s good to talk to,” Levi mentions off-handedly. “Henry is a good listener.”

(Both his Henry’s are good listeners, Levi thinks.)

“What do you talk about?” you ask him quietly, still watching the fish eat the tiny flakes.

“All sorts of stuff. Anything you want—he doesn’t judge.” 

(You have that in common, too.)

Levi sputters a little, embarrassed by all the things he’s telling you, his little self-care rituals he normally keeps to himself. He thinks that even in your worst moments, like the way you are now, you’re still not nearly as pathetic as he is. You don’t deserve to feel like this, ever.

You glance away from the aquarium and meet Levi’s eyes just as tears begin to collect on his lash line. He clears his throat and takes the tin from you before putting it back on his desk. He pretends to organize things so he has an excuse not to turn around.

“Maybe you can come by tomorrow night and help me feed him again,” he manages to choke out.

A pause, and then you whisper, “I’d like that.”

Levi bites his lip to muffle his sobs.

─── SATAN:

Satan watches you during class and realizes you’re not acting like yourself. You tap your pen idly on the desk and stare at nothing. This is your favourite class but you’re not even listening.

Sometimes you come to his room after dinner and read, but not today. After school, you brush past everyone else and head to your room. He’s worried about you, and he’s not going to let you blow him off tonight. He knocks on your door, and your lifeless voice asks why he cares so much. He gets tongue-tied deciding how to respond:

I like spending time with you. You like reading nearly as much as I do and I don’t want that to ever change. It kills me to see you like this.

“It’s important to me,” is all he manages to say, and you must sense his desperation because you finally agree to follow him back to his room.

You sit on the bed while he picks the book off the shelf for you. You make a quiet noise of surprise when he places a pillow in your lap and lays down. Normally he reads to you, but his eyes are gentle when he holds the book out to you instead.

“Can you read a bit tonight?” he asks quietly. You frown and look like you want to argue, but he pushes just a little more—”for only a few chapters, okay?”

You take the book from him and pull out the bookmark when you find the right chapter. You glance down at him and when he smiles encouragingly, you start to read.

Your tone is quiet and dull at first, and your speech is slurred; Satan has trouble understanding you sometimes. He wonders if this was a stupid idea after all, but then you huff in amusement when you read a funny passage. He peers up at you and the little smile still tugs at the corners of your mouth as you finish the chapter.

You read another whole chapter after that, and Satan nearly melts in your lap when your free hand lazily combs through his hair as you read. Your eyes are a bit brighter when you finally stop reading and close the book.

“I can read a bit more if you’d like,” he asks you when he sits up. He almost expects you to refuse and shuffle away, but you nod and lay down when he sets the pillow in his lap for you to rest on.

He reads another chapter, quieter and slower than usual, and he stops reading when you fall asleep. He sets the book aside and moves you gently off his lap so he can settle into the space behind you. He drapes an arm loosely over your waist and contemplates other ways he can help you feel better.

─── ASMODEUS:

It breaks Asmo’s heart to see you like this. Your lovely complexion betrays the long days and poor sleep you’ve had. Your warm, shining gaze is dull. Your brow is creased with little lines and your mouth is downturned—he misses your easy smiles the most.

Sometimes Asmo feels like a ghost when he smiles at you but it feels like you see through him, not really acknowledging him or anything else around you.

He switches apps on his D.D.D. when he sees your message ping the group chat. You say that you’re not cooking dinner tonight (no explanation given) and that Lucifer should use part of your allowance this week to order food for everyone instead.

Asmo doesn’t blame you for not wanting to cook for seven hungry demons, but he has a suspicion that you plan on locking yourself in your room all night and skipping dinner for the third night in a row.

(You might’ve been at the dinner table every night this week, but he noticed that you just moved the food around in your plate without eating anything.)

No, he won’t let you do this to yourself. He understands wanting space and having lazy days, but that isn’t what this is. This is isolation and sadness and exhaustion, and if he feels this upset seeing how affected you are, he can’t imagine what you feel—or don’t feel—inside.

Asmo sends a quick message to Lucifer and asks him not to order anything for dinner just yet. Worst case scenario, Asmo will cave and order dinner for everyone later—but for now, Asmo marches to your room with a plan instead.

You’re buried under the covers when he lets himself into your room. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights; he can see you perfectly without them. He sits down slowly on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on your hip.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” he asks quietly, and normally you laugh away his pet names for you, but today you shrug under the comforter instead.

“M’fine,” you mumble into your pillow.

“I could use your help with something,” he says, leaning down closer to your ear. He presses lightly against the side of your body like a poor imitation of an embrace. “How about you get up and keep me company, hmm?”

You’re quiet and don’t say anything, and Asmo’s hopeful smile starts to drop when he thinks you’re ignoring him. After an awkward minute of silence, you sigh and turn your head slightly towards him. “Help you with what?”

He’s not going to give you the chance to change your mind, and he stands up and reaches for your hand. “I’ll show you in the kitchen.”

Asmo steers you towards a barstool in the corner of the kitchen so you can relax while he makes dinner. He has an assortment of ingredients spread out across the counter. The family recipe book is opened to one of your own additions added to the back pages. 

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” he grins and winks over his shoulder at you. “I’ll cook tonight, and if I get stuck, who better to help than you?” He taps his chin thoughtfully and takes his D.D.D. out of his pocket and hands it to you for safekeeping. 

Asmo might not be the most skilled cook among his siblings, but he’s confident enough that he follows your recipe correctly—for the most part. If you didn’t know him better, you would think he was exaggerating his movements and adding commentary to each step to be silly. But you do know Asmo, and you recognize this as his natural playfulness when he does something he enjoys. 

Nearly twenty minutes later, there’s splatters of sauce on the front of his apron and he adds more salt and pepper to the pot with a flourish. When he turns his head to check on you, his mouth purses in surprise when the flash on his phone camera lights up the room. He blinks rapidly when he realizes you took a picture.

He jabs the stirring spoon in your direction with a playful glare. “I hope you got my best side,” he jokes. He’s self-conscious about the spices he knows that got in his hair somehow, and there’s something sticky on his cheek.

You slip the phone into your pocket and slide off the stool so you can reach for a clean cloth. You run it under the lukewarm tap for a moment, and your lips twitch into a smile when you wipe away the smear of sauce near his mouth. 

“You’re doing great,” you murmur quietly, glancing at the pot simmering on the stove.

“Does it smell good enough to eat?” he asks nervously, and he beams when you nod.

He wraps his arms around you and laughs as he hugs you as tight as he can. He knows the apron is making a mess on your clothes, but he doesn’t care. Neither do you, apparently—you wrap your arms around him after a few moments and hug him back.

─── BEELZEBUB & BELPHEGOR:

Beel walks to his room dejectedly, and not even the bags of treats from Madam Scream's hanging off his arms makes him feel any better.

He invited you to go with him to the pastry shop after school today. He knows you're not eating properly, but that combined with your bleak mood and dull expressions convinces him that there's something wrong beyond not being hungry.

He watched you during meal times every day this week: you shuffled your food around on the plate and didn't eat anything, or you took little nibbles out of something then dropped your fork on the plate with a sigh and left the rest uneaten.

He went to the bakery after school today, alone. Even though he invited you, you said you weren't in the mood and walked home without him. He bought a few boxes of his favourites, and some for his brothers to share, and he bought a half-dozen Blood Velvet cupcakes especially for you.

He knocked on your bedroom door when he got home and told you he had a surprise, but he was met with silence. He heard the faint creak of mattress springs, but you didn't come to the door and you didn't respond. He frowned, but he explained in the cheeriest voice he could muster that he brought you some cupcakes.

“Thanks, you can have 'em, though,” your muffled voice replied through the door. 

It’s an understatement to say that Beel is extremely concerned about you.

He walks to the room he shares with his twin. Usually Belphie naps in the attic after school (more often than not, he convinces you to nap with him). It’s a surprise when Beel finds Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed with his pillow in his lap, and his eyes snap to his brother’s as soon as the door closes.

“They're not eating enough,” Beel tells his twin. He sets aside the boxes of pastries he bought, his appetite and mood completely soured.

“They're not sleeping enough either,” Belphie replies. He doesn't tell Beel about your sleepless nights, but his brothers would have to be blind not to notice your haggard appearance and the dark circles blooming under your eyes. You haven't napped with Belphie in over a week either, and he misses you—but he keeps that complaint to himself.

"What can we do?" Beel asks as he drops heavily on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and runs a hand through his hair.

Belphie is quiet for a moment, and he glances at the boxes of abandoned pastries Beel brought home. "What’s the plan for dinner tonight?"

Beel looks up and scratches the back of his head. "Some of the others are busy so Lucifer said it was a free-for-all night."

(That usually means everyone orders takeout while Beel eats whatever is left in the house himself.)

Belphie stands up and tucks his pillow under one arm while he wanders over to the stack of bakery boxes near the door. He rifles through the bags until he finds the one he's looking for, and he gestures for Beel to follow him. "I have an idea. Come help me in the kitchen."

It’s peaceful in the deepest corner of the House of Lamentation gardens. Even if the others were home, there’s enough distance from the house to offer peace and privacy—it's nice out there.

Belphie thinks a picnic might be relaxing enough for you to enjoy; the hard part is convincing you to join them. The twins are determined and they both go to your room and insist you have dinner with them.

“You have to eat something,” Beel says in a pleading voice, eyes sorrowful with worry for you. It wasn’t quite enough to convince you to get out of bed, but you swallowed around the lump in your throat as your eyes burned with emotion.

Belphie crawled onto the bed next to you, dangling over the edge precariously while he reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “Please,” he whispered, eyes just as sad as his twin’s, “it feels like I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

You can’t possibly say no to both of them, not when Belphie’s face is so close to yours and his lower lip trembles with too much emotion. You know he can be manipulative, but even in your bleary-eyed daze, you realize he’s being unusually honest now.

You wipe away the stray tears that pool in the corner of your eyes and nod your head. Belphie slides off the mattress so Beel can help you up, and they both hug you before they lead you outside. By the time they take you to the garden, you’re all sniffling quietly, but the twins are smiling a bit now, too.

The blanket Belphie lays across the ground keeps you from getting too cold, and you all share portions of the improvised picnic the twins packed: sandwiches, a thermos of warm soup, a container of diced cheese and poison apple slices. You don’t eat as much as the twins do, but they look content that you finished eating everything on the small plate you made for yourself. 

Beel offers you one of your cupcakes next. He brought the whole box—optimistic, Belphie said earlier, raising his eyebrows before shrugging and putting the box into the basket.

You sort of remember Beel knocking on your door earlier and asking you if you wanted one, and you know that you refused. You accept one now because you can’t bear to say no to him twice.

When the food is eaten and the dishes cleared away, Belphie lays back on the blanket and gently nudges you to lay beside him. He rolls onto his side and lays his head on your shoulder, and you can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye. 

“Have I told you the story about that star?” he asks quietly, pointing towards the sky.

He probably has, considering how much time you both spend in the planetarium together, but you lean your cheek against his brow. “You can tell me again if you want to.”

He tells you the story about that star, and the other stars near it, and when your eyes start to droop heavily with sleep, he smiles and keeps going. He whispers more stories until your breathing slows and you start snoring gently in his ear; he hopes the stories follow you into your dreams.

Beel sits nearby on the large blanket, watching over both of you with a keen eye and soft smile; his belly is warm and full from a pleasant meal and your company. Belphie carefully maneuvers himself to his knees without waking you, and he stands up and stretches out the kink in his neck. Beel stands and lifts you so gently into his arms, and he cradles you to his chest while Belphie hurriedly packs up the picnic basket and blanket. 

The house is dark and quiet when they slip back inside, and Belphie leads Beel to your room. They both tuck you in—Belphie pulls back the covers and Beel lays you down and slips off your shoes. Beel squeezes your hand and waits for his twin by your door; Belphie murmurs a final goodnight as he brushes his lips across your forehead.

The twins head back to their room, and all three of you have the best night's sleep you've had in days.

You don't realize what you have until it's gone.

Too Late Now | Lucifer x gn!Reader

Content Warnings: Major character death (Reader), Angst with No Happy Ending. Unrequited love, memory flashbacks and a dream sequence, brief mentions of blood/fatal injuries (cause unspecified).

Word Count: 2.7k words

Lucifer will never forget your last night in the Devildom. He knew long before that moment that you wanted a pact with him. You reminded him often with your not-so-subtle comments about how it felt like something was missing, that you wished the two of you could be even closer.

Unlike Solomon, Lucifer considered your request seriously, debating giving part of himself to you the way his brothers had. But he was proud, and he wanted to make absolutely sure you were worthy of having a pact with him. He resisted you to the very end, even though your persistence was charming, at times.

Lucifer was sitting at the dining room table reading the morning’s paper when you shuffled in, still wearing your sleep clothes like you just crawled out of bed.

When you realized he was there, you yawned and stretched your arms up high above your head. The cropped shirt you wore rode up your belly and he could see some of his brothers’ pact marks etched into your skin. He averted his gaze before he was tempted to stare.

“Good morning, Lucifer!” you said cheerfully, trailing off into another quiet yawn.

You pat your stomach and rested your hand over Beel’s pact mark. “I was just thinking that I have room for another pact mark somewhere, maaaaybe right-” you paused, patting the space above your heart, “here. What do you think? Know any demons interested in making a pact with a ‘lil human like me?”

He scoffed and flicked his wrist, turning the page and barely sparing you another glance. “I’m sure you can find several willing demons if you parade yourself down the street like that,” he suggested dryly.

“Aww, Luci, you’re no fun.” You pouted your lips and he refused to smile, no matter how cute you looked.

Realizing your attempt to seduce him - badly - into a pact had failed, you gave up the ruse and headed towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some coffee!”

You faced each other that last night in his private study, the cursed TSL album played softly in the background while the fireplace crackled next to you. Both of you were bathed in shadow and flame. He finally gave into temptation to bind you to him and he made you his, his mark etched into your skin forever, but you still looked dissatisfied. 

Lucifer realized there were emotions swirling in your gaze that you always tried to hide from him - hope, longing, desire. He knew what else you wanted from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the rift between you. It was his last line of defense, the only thing keeping him from becoming yours completely. You were going home, and whatever relationship you wanted with him was about to come to an end. He thought it would be easier this way.

“Lucifer, I–” you started to say, but he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him. Whatever you tried to say next was muffled against his chest. He looked down at you and pretended the tears pooling in your eyes didn’t hurt him.

“Don’t,” he warned you quietly. “You have your own life to live, and I promise you that your friendship is more than enough.” He held you like that while you cried quietly against his chest. When he finally convinced you to go to your room to sleep, he stayed up drinking in front of the fireplace and wondered if he made the right choice.

The next morning, it was like nothing happened. You still greeted him in that sickeningly sweet and cheerful voice of yours, and his brothers hovered around you for your attention while they said their goodbyes.

When you promised Lucifer you’d see him again soon, eyes fiery with determination, he believed you would find a way to make it happen. He wondered if things might turn out differently the next time you meet; he wasn’t sure he had the power to resist you a second time.

During the first two weeks after your return to the human world, Lucifer tells himself it’s not bitter regret that swirls uncomfortably at the pit of his stomach and makes his heart ache. His brothers aren’t handling your departure very well, and he refuses to let himself be made a fool by his emotions. He has to be strong and set an example for the rest of them. He can’t let one mere human ruin him. He’s determined to carry on as normal, as though you were never there to begin with.

He will not visit your old room until your scent fades away.

He will not trace the outline of his pact mark with you and wonder if you can feel his fingertips on your skin when he does it.

He will not miss you.

Lucifer doesn’t dream often. Sometimes he does, and he dreams of white feathers burning around him while he falls into a dark abyss. Other times, he dreams of random memories of his brothers, or his long lost sister. In the three months since he last saw you, he’s dreamt of you, too.

But the dream he has tonight is different from the others. You’re both trapped in a grey void. He wants to go to you, but Lucifer can’t move no matter how hard he tries. You’re so close, just out of his reach. There’s something unsettling about your expression - your small, bittersweet smile lacks the mischievous humor he’s so fond of. Your eyes are serious and sad; he thinks you look defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly, like you’re talking to him from the opposite end of a tunnel even though he’s only a few feet away from you. The words echo in the empty space around him even though you’ve grown silent.

He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and he wants to ask you what you mean, but he’s unable to speak. You flicker before his eyes, fading in and out of focus like a projection. It’s eerie at first, and he realizes he’s looking at different versions of you because you keep changing.

In one moment, you look like you did the last time he saw you. Then suddenly, your image becomes distorted. All he sees is that one of your eyes is swollen shut and blood drips down the side of your face, a gnarly gash split across your temple. Your teeth are bloody when you open your mouth to speak again, but there’s a roar building in his ears, and suddenly you’re gone and he can’t see you anymore–

Lucifer wakes up with a gasp. There’s searing pain behind his eyes and he groans while he holds his face in his hands. He’s trembling, and he feels cold and empty, and he wants to forget the haunting image of your broken face. Eventually the sleepy fog lifts from his mind, and he realizes someone is pounding on his bedroom door. His brothers shout his name outside his room, and he thinks he can hear someone crying.

It’s only then that he glances down at his bare chest and realizes that his pact mark with you is gone.

Lucifer was working on his third stack of documents to review and sign when there’s a quiet knock on his door. He glanced at the clock - 9:48pm. He thought he told his brothers he was busy this evening and he didn’t want to be disturbed.

He was prepared to string up whoever had the nerve to interrupt him, but he froze when he pulled the door open and found you instead. Your hand was raised like you were just about to knock again, and you dropped it hastily and grinned at him.

“Hi Luci,” you said in that cutesy sing-song voice of yours, “I brought you something.”

He realized that you were holding a large bowl out to him. He sniffed the air and couldn’t contain his surprise. “Shadow hog stew?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Beel said it was your favourite. I made it earlier, but you never showed up for dinner. Your phone must be broken, by the way. I only tried calling and texting you like, a million times to tell you to come eat with us.”

Lucifer put his phone on do-not-disturb for a reason: you and your incessant nagging.

“I’m busy,” he said irritably, and he glared when you just smiled and shoved the bowl at him anyway.

“Well, you’re pretty clever. I’m sure you can figure out a way to eat a bit of food while you finish your work.” You headed back towards the stairs leading to the main floor. “There’s more in the kitchen if you want some!” You called to him over your shoulder, waving him goodnight before you disappeared from view.

Lucifer sat at his desk and stared at the bowl before he picked up the spoon. He decided that wasting something as decadent as shadow hog stew might not be proper form, and he tried a hesitant mouthful. And then another. And another after that.

He waited until he was sure you were in your room and fast asleep before taking the empty bowl to the kitchen for seconds.

The familiar scent of shadow hog stew catches Lucifer’s attention and he leaves his office to visit the kitchen. It’s a rich, hearty dish that was normally reserved for special occasions. He is very picky with how it’s prepared, and most of his brother’s don’t have the patience to make it properly. He hasn’t had it since you–well, he hasn’t had it in a long time.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asks Satan, who is stirring the large pot of stew on the stove.

“I - I mean, we - thought you might like to try having something different tonight,” Satan says carefully, glancing at his older brother from the corner of his eye. “There’s some concern that you’re not eating enough.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to argue, because he is not some child that needs to be coddled, but he looks closer at the open recipe book on the counter. There are notes scribbled in the page margins where ingredients and measurements are crossed out and re-written. There’s also a pink sticky note on the side of the page, and he can still make out the familiar writing:

☆ one of Luci’s favs! ☆

It feels like there’s a heavy stone in his stomach, and Lucifer turns around and storms away from the kitchen before the feeling makes him nauseous.

“Where are you going? This is almost ready!” Satan calls to him.

“I’m not hungry,” Lucifer snarls, heading to his study and slamming the door behind him.

Lucifer startled when you dangled a paper bag in front of his face. “Can’t you see that I’m working?”

You sat in the chair across from him at his desk. “Yes, yes. All that important paperwork, I know. But I think it’s time to take a break, don’t you?”

He took the bag you offered him and pulled out the black…whatever the item is supposed to be. He held it up with his fingers. “Am I supposed to know what this is?”

You clapped your hands excitedly. “It’s a bath bomb!”

Lucifer gave you a deadpan stare. “It’s a what?”

“A baaaath boooomb,” you exaggerated the pronunciation slowly for his benefit. “It’s like fancy bubbles. You drop it into the water and it makes baths 500% more fun. You should try it.”

Lucifer sniffed at the black, strangely shaped item in his hand. “It smells like roses.”

You nodded. “Yep, and citrus, too. You’ll smell amazing afterwards, don’t you think?”

He glanced at it warily. “It has glitter in it. And this dark colour can’t be good for the porcelain tub. Don’t you think this will stain it? Who do you expect to clean up after this?”

You waved away his concerns with a grin. “Okay, so maybe glitter’s not your jam, and the cleanup might be a pain, but I promise it’s worth trying. I’ll even help you scrub the mess after.”

He put the bath product back into its paper bag and tossed it to you. You weren’t expecting it, and you just managed to catch it before it fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces. “I’m not interested in childish nonsense. Give it to Asmo instead.”

You stood up from your chair with a resigned sigh. “Fine, you win this round. But for what it’s worth, I do think you’re working too much these days. You should take a break. A bit of relaxation won’t kill you.”

Lucifer knocks on Asmo’s door. When his brother answers, Lucifer pushes a basket into his hands. “These were in the bathroom. I assume you can find some use for them, since no one else will.”

Asmo opens the basket and smiles at the small collection of colourful bath bombs you purchased during your stay in the Devildom. “I forgot they bought these. Did you know that they gave Solomon money to buy them in the human world? You can’t even buy these on Akuzon.”

Lucifer can’t imagine why you’d go to that much trouble for something so trivial. “I didn’t know they liked baths enough to spend their hard-earned money on such ridiculous frivolities.”

Asmo glanced at his brother and hesitated before speaking. “Well, they didn’t like baths. They bought these for…someone else to use.” Asmo reached into the basket and picked up a black rose-shaped bath bomb and held it out to his brother. “I think you should keep this one.”

There was something knowing in Asmo’s gaze, and something inside him cracked. He shook his head and walked away before he said - or did - something stupid.

Lucifer’s still not sure how he ended up outside your old bedroom door. He felt numb and he wasn’t paying attention to where his feet were taking him. When you left the Devildom, he resisted the temptation to visit your old room. Since your death, he pretended the room didn’t exist.

The door hinges are creaky from lack of use, and he opens the door just enough so he can slip inside before closing it behind him. Judging by the dust in the air, he doesn’t think his brothers have visited your room since your passing either. The room has grown cold and desolate in your absence. He has the urge to board it up and lock it away so that no one else can ever use it.

Lucifer’s not sure what he expects to find when he examines your empty shelves and starts opening random drawers in your vanity. Maybe you left something behind, something he can keep to remember you by; it’ll remind him years from now that you’re the reason why the hole in his heart exists.

There’s a blue sticky note inside one of the drawers. He nearly glances over it, except he notices that the writing is still legible, not yet faded by time. He assumes it’s an old reminder to yourself about homework you had to do, or maybe a shopping list on a night when it was your turn to cook.

He wonders what kind of note you would write today if you could see him now. You were always leaving notes all over the house for him and his brothers to find. He used to hate the ones you left in his office that reminded him to take breaks and to drink something other than coffee. 

He misses those notes now. He misses you.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, and the note shakes in his hands when he summons the courage to read it:

Are you rummaging through my old room because you miss me? I’ll be thinking about you from the human world. Love you! ♡

Something inside him finally breaks. He can’t stop himself when he finally confesses his feelings for you in a hushed whisper, heard by no one else except the memory of you that haunts him.

Read more: Lucifer Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

Why ths 😈 look so mad 😭😭😭

「 I’ll Keep You My Dirty Little Secret 」

the demon brothers’ dirty little secrets

smut kinda- afab reader in all but lucifer’s and satan’s (sorry </3)

a/n :: some are shorter than others dont mind that…. butttt, dateables next??

Lucifer #

Lucifer loves how you sound when you please yourself. Would he ever tell you you’re a little loud? No. (Hence the dirty little secret…)Your beautiful moans and sweet whines of pleasure. Imagining your face contort as you do yourself so well. He sometimes records them to listen to when he gets too stressed while working. But that usually ends up with him a horny mess…

Mammon #

He’s very greedy and can’t help it. He takes and takes and takes. He’ll take anything- including your recently worn panties. (Verrry cliche I know *sigh* but I love it…) Anytime he’s on laundry duty he won’t hesitate to shove the first pair he sees directly into his pocket. Later at night he finds himself fucking his hand while smelling your dirty underwear. Secretly wishing you’d just walk in on him, call him greedy and degrade him.

Leviathan #

Levi will pump his large cock to photos of you he took without your knowledge. His favorite are the shots under your skirt, the way he can see the outline of you pussy through your small panties gets him going. He’d do it when the two of you were home alone “accidentally” leaving his door cracked open hoping for you to walk him. Like Mammon he’ll want you to call him gross, tell him he’s a perv!

Satan #

When you look up at him as he stands above you, he can’t help but imagine you with his cum coating your sweet face. He’ll imagine it’s your hand rubbing him off, he’ll moan your name then bite his lip. He wants to see you with his seed dribbling down your chin. When you notice the blush on his cheeks as you look at him, he’ll wave you off and tell you you’re seeing things.

Asmodeus #

The avatar of lust would kill to feel how your breasts feel in his hands. He’d gift your with shirts and dresses that accentuate the chest and would ogle at you when you lean over to help him with some schoolwork. At night when he felt impossibly alone, he’ll think of you and how your tits would bounce so beautiful as you ride him. He sighs hoping one day you will let him live out his imaginations~

Beelzebub #

What this man would do to just once, go down on you. He wants to peer at you from his place at the bottom of your body. He wants to taste you, your beautiful cunt, he wants to feel you squirming. (Bonus: if the two of you were dating he wouldn’t hesitate to just: “mc, can you sit on my face?” no matter how big you are- he’s a strong man!!)

Belphegor #

Belphegor thinks you look delectable as you sleep (he’d never act on his thoughts without your consent ofc!!!!). The way your shorts rolled up from your unconscious moving, showing the curve of your ass and the edge of your panties. He’ll shamelessly stare at you, wishing he could indulge in his cravings.

<Requests Always Open>

some Thirteen hair doodles!