#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ daydreams — jingyi verslesss ꒱

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ the seven deadly sins : demon boyfriend x gn reader◞ ₊˚

. ˚◞ ꒰ jìngyí verseless x gn reader ꒱ demon x reader, alchemist x reader, necromancer x reader, cw: suggestive content, talks of sex, steamy at end ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. your demon boyfriend explains and demonstrates how he can be all seven deadly sins 

“I can be all seven sins.”

“and how might you do that?”

the demon smiles. lowers his brow and sight to the grimoire at his fingertips. he graces the parchment in such a delicate manner. an unspoken promise for how his hands might graze your flesh.

his former customer. his newest apprentice. oh, what a pretty thing you are to his maroon eye.

and to a demon, a pretty thing is a thing to keep.

“I can be pride. proud to sink my teeth into your flesh and have you bear my mark. proud to have you quiver, and shake and call my name out like a fervent prayer. like the ever devout follower. to melt beneath a single touch -” he traces along a paragraph with a dark nail. “proud to call you mine. and mine alone.”

from around the table he reaches. the flick of a finger draws the gold chain from around your neck. now it drapes from his two fingers. paired with the slew of rings that litter his right hand.

“I can be greed. want you to myself. all of you. every inch of your skin. beneath me - on me - all around me. your every breath, every beat of your heart. the very essence of your soul. to be the air you breathe, the only thing you see - touch - feel - want.”

his grip tightens around the necklace. slitted pupils only seem to constrict further. he turns the jewellery around in the light of a candle a few times. his head tilts, and one of his horns catch in the glimmery of gold.

“this is new.” he notes. “not your style either. who gifted it?”

shivers run along your shoulders and down your back. warmed only by the flicker of a few candle flames. what is the use of lying to a demon?

“a friend.”

“hmm.” jìngyí murmurs. a clink echoes the room as he drops the necklace without care. “just my point. I can be envy. want you all for myself. for me alone. wish for your eyes to be on mine. your hands on mine. your lips - your very being. on me. envy those that so much as glance at you. wish for your utmost loyalty and dedication. I can take it should you deny it. wrath is not out of my nature.”

he swipes the jewellery back into his hold. dangles it over a flame and tilts his head. his brow twitches at the melting of the chain.

“fake.” his tongue clicks. his grip tightens. “oh wrath indeed I can reign. on those that dare take your splendour and beauty for granted. on those who so much as wish to touch a hair on your head. on whomever is foolish enough to try. on those that adore you. those that dare to try.”

it melts in the palm of his hand and he wipes it off on a cloth. if only to scrunch the cloth in his palm and disintegrate it into thin air.

as if to sate his palette he snatches one of the pomegranates from a fruit bowl up ahead. without hesitation both of his thumbs dig into the centre and split it open. he feasts on the seeds with such grace, yet such -

“gluttony. my dear, do you not see?” he speaks after swallowing. barely a glance is sent your way. “how I can indulge.” the half-eaten pomegranate is offered to you and you accept with gratitude. “how I might indulge you. with trinkets and treasures and all that you might set eye on. with pleasures, and prims. all that you might desire. for to indulge in you is a temptation I am not above. to indulge in your sweetness. your touch - your body - your presence.”

his eyes rake over you. hungry. as though he has not already eaten.

“your eyes.” you murmur.

“what do you see?” he questions.

when did you get in front of him? when did you find your back at the threat of being pressed against his table?

“lust.”

the demon grins. his hands dip to your hips. your waist. they trail patterns you can only shiver from. tell tales you cannot wait to hear as his fingers trace along the hem of your pants. a tease. a promise.

his lips descend your neck and he almost groans at the sounds you spill. poetry, is what he will only describe them as. poetry - as though the lyrics that befell his lips only moments ago are nothing in comparison to the way you drape your arms over him. to the sweetness of your flesh that he tastes along the front of your throat.

yet as his skilled hands begin their next task at removing you clothes - you halt. hitch in breath and bring your hands to his shoulders. stop him.

“wait,” you breathe and his half-lidded eyes are on you immediately. a few questions. you spout immediately. “what of sloth?”

jìngyí grins. his pearly fangs catch in the light of the candles. his cold lips ghost yours.

“are you surprised that a demon is a liar?”

you raise your brows. and he answers, as always. but not before a kiss to your lips that has you gasping and your knees trembling. the sheer power of his magic overwhelms you. the throb between your legs is sated with a slot of his between them.

his mouth lowers to your ear. “do you not hear my heart? how can I possibly feel sloth when I have your pretty little self beneath me, my dear?”