#i feel like leviathan’s h scene will be more suited to my tastes but satan was very enjoyable. especially for my first r18 app teehee~

[jessamine-rose]

*holds head in hands* _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

I’ve only known What in Hell is Bad? for twenty minutes and while I have no plans to play the game atm, I will say that I’d very much like to [censored] their version of Leviathan ^o^

[ikeromantic]

7+ Sinful Snuggles

Obey Me minis with the 7 brothers plus - approx. 4k words of fluffiness and spice.

I’m Not Asleep

It was supposed to be a cram session, but barely an hour in, Belphie is nestled against your shoulder with his eyes closed. 

“I’m still listening,” he sighs when you poke him. “Just keep reading to me.” He snuggles closer as you continue reviewing the chapter on 11th century Demon Accords - which honestly, is boring enough that your own eyes keep sliding shut. Belphie’s head slips from your shoulder to your chest. He sighs happily. 

Determined to press on, you keep reading. Or you try to. His hands slip under your shirt to draw slow, lazy lines across your skin, working their way down to your hip. 

“B-Belphegor?” 

He doesn’t respond, but his face is set in a blissful smile. You could try to wake him, but why fight it? His touch feels good, so good you lean back into the pillows with your own sigh of happiness.

Snacking in Bed

Beel shows up to your room with popcorn and snacks to watch reruns of Iron Chef with you. You both reach for the choco-crickets at the same time, bumping hands. 

“You can have the last one,” he says, blushing. 

“Ok.” You grin playfully and pick it up, noting the ways his eyes track the candy. It’s too cute and you’d honestly feel bad eating it, so you hold it out, touching his lips. 

Surprised, his mouth opens, taking your fingers and the chocolate. He licks the candy from between your fingers as you pull back. 

You can’t help but shiver a little at the sensation. It was . . . nice. 

“That last one was especially good,” he smiles. 

“Was it?” 

He nods, scooping up your hand. 

“W-what are you doing? I’m not holding anymore candy,” you tell him. 

He presses your fingers to his lips, kissing them from tip to palm. 

“Beel?” 

“Mmmm, you’re sweet,” he tells you, words muffled as his mouth works its way to your wrist and up your inner arm. You think your shirt will give him pause, but he nibbles right past it, up your shoulder, to your neck. His mouth is hot, and the way he suckles and nips your skin makes you feel faint -and pretty warm yourself. 

“I think I understand why demons eat human,” he whispers into your neck. “But don’t worry, I just want to taste.” 

You’d like to reply, but your brain is short circuited by his lips, tongue, and teeth working their way down your chest. In the background, Chairman Kaga takes a bite of his pepper. He looks almost as smugly satisfied as Beel does with your nipple in his mouth.

Too Slick

Asmodeus invites you to his room for a hot oil treatment. He swears it will add softness and shine to your hair. You agree - afterall, his spa treatments are always fun, even if they don’t seem to do much. 

When you get there, he hands you a robe. “You don’t want to get oil on your clothes, right?” He, of course, is already wearing one, seductively half tied to reveal his smooth chest and just a bit of his thigh. 

You slip into the bathroom to change. Asmodeus follows a few minutes later, just enough time for you to get the robe on. As the oil warms, he chats with you about new fashions and compliments your eyes, your skin, and the way you blush when he’s ‘just telling you the truth.’ 

When the oil is warmed, Asmo uses a ladle to trickle it over your hair and scalp. You feel it running down your skin, warm and slick. It’s a nice feeling, relaxing and *maybe* a little arousing. Then Asmodeus starts to massage the oil in. His smooth hands feel so good on your scalp, your neck, your shoulders . . . 

In your haze of happiness, you realize he’s pushed the robe down quite a bit. But you don’t mind it really. He’s still chattering away and the massage is nice. But when his hands slip past your lower back, you sit up straight. “Ok! I think you got my hair and then some!” 

Asmodeus laughs softly. “Still shy? Alright. It’s my turn then.” He takes the ladle and pours some oil over his head. “Ooooh that feels nice!” 

“Yeah, it really does,” you reply. Then you try to stand so he can have the chair while you rub the oil into his hair. Only . . . the floor is slick with drops of oil and you almost fall. 

Asmodeus catches you, but he slides too. You both end up slipping and sliding across the floor, clinging to each other, until Asmo manages to grab the edge of the door. 

You realize then that your robe’s come undone, and Asmodeus’ is hanging open too. Not that either of you can see anything, pressed up close as you are. It’s not about seeing . . . it’s feeling that skin-to-skin contact. 

Asmo realizes it the same moment you do and smiles. He wriggles slightly, rubbing his oiled self against you. “Mmmm, now that is perfect. And good for your skin.” You have to agree, which you do, in a vocal little half moan. 

Bedtime Story

Satan invites you to a hotel grand opening in the southeast demon forest - one of his contacts is hosting a huge party there, with rooms for the guests to try out. It sounds like fun, and you’ve never gotten to see the dark forest, so why not? The trip does not disappoint. 

The forest is exactly what you’d expect to see in a demon’s woods, with flesh eating trees and deadly poisons. Even the squirrels look dangerous. The party is great too. Good music, dancing, and conversation. 

You are pretty sure some of the demons in attendance would see you as an appetizer if Satan wasn’t at your side, hand on your back. He is the perfect companion, making sure you have something good to drink and that you’re enjoying yourself. As it happens, you enjoy yourself a little too much. 

“I didn’t think about how strongly the Spiritus Punch would affect a human. I shouldn’t have let you drink that third glass,” he sighs. 

You giggle. His slight frown is so funny. And attractive. You grab his shoulders and give him a quick, surprise kiss. You meant to get his cheek - but your lips find his. 

Satan freezes for a moment, but your lips don’t mind the happy accident. And he can’t help but react to your warm, hungry kiss. He finally breaks it, his breath almost as heavy as yours. 

“You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s get you to our room and in bed.” 

You smile in a way you hope is seductive. “I’d like to get you in bed.” 

His eyes narrow and you can’t tell if that reaction is good or bad. He puts his arm around you and helps you to the elevator. You lean on him, holding tight as the movement up makes you feel dizzy. Of course your shared room is on the top floor. Penthouse suite with a view. He opens the door. 

Your eyes go to the windows, where outside the forest sparkles with a thousand tiny lights. 

“Oh my . . .” Satan sighs. Your gaze follows his to the center of the room. Where . . . there . . . was only one bed! 

UnConvention

Levi scores two tickets to the TSL Convention, which is, of course, the most popular fan convention in all of Devildom. And he could have invited anybody (or sold the tickets, as Mammon won’t stop going on about), but he invited you. And he even put together a Henry cosplay outfit, just for you. 

Levi is going as The Lord of Shadows, and it is going to be so much fun. The convention takes up two whole city blocks, full of panels from the film actors, several music shows inspired by or featured in TSL, and then aisles and aisles of merch. But before you get started, Levi wants to get some pictures. 

You could take them with your DDD, but there’s a photobooth and the face Leviathan makes when he sees it . . . you can’t say no. 

“I’ve never taken pictures with a f-friend in a photobooth,” he tells you. His cheeks are bright red and his eyes shine. 

The booth bench is really narrow, and the two of you struggle to fit. “I - I think we’ll fit if I sit on your lap,” you tell him. 

The scarlet spreads to his ears and down to his neck. “M-my lap? You want to sit on my lap?!” 

You can’t help the wicked, playful smile his reaction elicits. And you don’t wait for him to say more. With a little wicked wiggle you put yourself right in his lap, turning to wrap an arm around his shoulder. 

“H-hey! That’s not - why are you still moving?” His eyes are so wide. 

You lean close, lips brushing his ear. “You don’t like it? I thought you loved Henry . . .” Not that you’re really asking. You can *cough* feel how much he loves ‘Henry’ from your perch on his lap. 

“Oh!” His eyebrows go up as one of your hands slides down his side. He is too much fun to tease. “This is just like the scene in I Was A High School Succubus Teacher Season Seven! I know what to do!” 

You are about to ask what he’s talking about when he grabs you and pulls you even closer. His lips find yours, and his hands are all over you. Under your costume, grabbing your hair, unbuttoning your Henry outfit . . . 

When the two of you slide out of the booth, breathless, red-cheeked, and disheveled, you are greeted by a cheering crowd of fans with ‘shipper signs and offers to buy your NSFW photos. 

Greedy Bastard

You didn’t have plans this weekend, which is how most of your misadventures with Mammon start. This time, he lost a bet in a private card game. The price was his service for a weekend, but they’ll cut it down to one night if he brings a friend. Which is where you come in. 

You almost tell him no when you see the outfits for this night of hosting. Tiny little hotpants and a top made of black ribbons . . . but then you see the way Mammon looks at you wearing it and, well, it’s worth it just for that. Of course, he’s not the only one that appreciates you in those clothes. 

The demons playing cards keep looking your way hungrily and more than one tries to smack your ass or give you a pinch in passing. You’re too quick for them, but the more often it happens, the more annoyed Mammon gets. 

“They have no business touching what’s not theirs,” he fumes at the bar.

 “They haven’t touched me yet,” you laugh. “Besides, work is up in another hour. I can last that long.” You snag the latest round of drinks, ready to take them out, but Mammon gets between you and the door.

 “Let’s sneak off early,” he suggests. He takes the tray out of your hands and sets it down.

“They’ll notice when they run out of booze,” you point out. 

“Don’t care.” Mammon steps closer to you. You can see the effect you have on him in those ridiculously tiny shorts. “I’m the only one that should get to see you dressed like this.” He brushes a hand down your side, tugging lightly at the ribbons. “The only one that gets to touch you.”

And then his lips are on yours, his body pressing you back against the wall. His skin is hot against the cool satin ribbons that criss-cross your chest. His hands caress you like treasure and his kiss is possessive. There might be an hour left on shift, but this greedy bastard is going to keep you all to himself anyway.

Overtime

Helping Lucifer sort student records is not what one might consider fun. But someone has to do it and you offered to help so here you are. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of folders and loose sheets of paper. 

Lucifer is at his desk, making notations on records, and in the background, the TSL soundtrack plays. 

It’s just past midnight and your vision is getting blurry. Every time you blink, it gets harder to open your eyes again. But you’re not anywhere close to done and Lucifer is relying on you to have these sorted. This discipline record for Caacrinolaas should be in the C section under . . . under . . . 

“Falling asleep on the job?” Lucifer’s voice snaps you awake. He sounds amused more than annoyed. That’s probably good. 

“Ah, just, taking a moment.” You waive the paper in your hand. “I couldn’t find the C folder.” 

He smiles. “This one right in front of you?” 

You blush and pick it up, flipping to the discipline section. C-double-A . . . 

Lucifer takes both out of your hands and sets them down. “I think we need to call it a night.” 

“But I’m not done,” you protest. 

“Are you contradicting me?” One dark eyebrow lifts. 

“N-no.” 

“It sounded like it.” He bends down and scoops you up. “I will have to think of a suitable punishment for your insolence.” 

You try to wriggle out of his grasp, not because it’s unpleasant but because he makes you feel so helpless, holding you like that. 

Moving around only makes him grip you tighter, pulling you against his chest. “The more you struggle, the stricter I’ll be forced to be,” he warns. 

You go still. He carries you out of the office and down the hall. If you weren’t half afraid of what happens next, this might be pleasant. Lucifer smells good, and his chest is a perfect pillow. Despite your anxiety, you begin to close your eyes, lulled by the gentle motion. You aren’t sure when exactly that you fall asleep, but you can pinpoint the moment you wake.

 Lucifer’s fingers stroke gently through your hair. His breath is warm against your cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you work so hard you passed out from it,” he sighs. 

“I didn’t pass out,” you mumble. 

“You’re awake.” He lifts himself up on one arm to look down at you. “You should be resting.” 

“I thought you were going to punish me,” you reply, taking in the fact that he’s wearing pajamas now, and so are you. In his room. In his bed. 

“Looking forward to it?” He smiles and the heat in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. “I think it can wait for morning. But perhaps . . . just a taste before we sleep.” His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you toward him as he kisses you. His lips are spicy and sweet, and your eyes close, enjoying the moment. 

Tea and Biscuits

You agree to meet Barbatos at the demon lord’s castle for tea. Just the two of you. The way he says it makes it almost sound like a date, but surely a demon that can see past, present, and possible futures wouldn’t be interested in a short-lived human. 

When you arrive, he leads you to a balcony overlooking the garden. There’s a small couch for two and a little table with a samovar for tea and several plates of biscuits, cakes, and sandwiches. Your favorite flavored biscuits, cakes, and sandwiches, to be exact. 

Barbatos smiles. “I hope it’s all to your liking.” 

“You know it is!” 

He laughs, and pours you a cup of tea. You both sit down, hips touching. It makes you blush a bit, but Barbatos doesn’t seem to notice - or care - so you decide to just ignore it. It’s hard though, to ignore the way his hand brushes yours and the press of his leg against you. The way his eyes never seem to leave you, going from your eyes to your face down your body.

 “Is it alright if I kiss you,” he asks suddenly. 

The question takes you by surprise but you nod. You like him but you’d never expected him to return the affection. 

Barbatos leans forward, his hand gentle on your thigh. His lips meet yours in a slow, sensuous kiss that spreads heat through your whole body. 

You’ve kissed before, but never like this. Never with someone that has millennias of skill and knowledge of you that even you don’t have. He slides his other hand behind your back, pulling you onto his lap. The kiss melts you against him. Silk and sweet and hot. You aren’t sure how long it lasts, only that when it ends, you want more.

Theater

When Diavolo invites you out to see the newest movie, I Was A TeenAge Witch’s Familiar and It Was Awful, you imagine going to a crowded theater, getting some popcorn, and sitting in a slightly smelly, stained chair that you wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole if you saw it in broad daylight. 

Instead, you end up at his castle, sitting on a wide, comfortable plush velvet couch. The only two people in front of a theater-sized screen, where the as-yet-unreleased movie plays. 

Diavolo starts out on the opposite side of the couch, but keeps getting closer. To share popcorn, to offer you a sip of his drink, to point out some funny line in the film. Then his arm snakes around behind you, settling on your shoulders. 

You hop up, surprised. 

“I guess this means you don’t enjoy my company,” Diavolo says, looking up at you with big, sad eyes. 

“No . . . I do . . . just, I didn’t expect -” 

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m sure you find me quite frightening.” 

“I don’t!” You sit back down and set a hand on his. “You don’t scare me at all, Diavolo. And . . . I think you’re cute.” 

“Is that so?” He grabs you with both hands and lifts you up. “What about now?” 

“Still not scared,” you say, though you are a little. 

He grins and stands up, still holding you above him. “Not even a little?” 

“No?” He tosses you into the air and you feel like a little kid, half-afraid and half-exhilarated. You let out a little shriek on the second toss and as you come down, he catches you in his arms. “Your reactions are so entertaining. Much better than any movie.” 

You can’t help but blush at the look in his eyes. Adoring and sensual. 

“It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you, just to see what you’ll do next.” 

You gasp as he begins to tickle you, his fingers finding all the sensitive spots on your sides. You reach out to tickle him back, surprised to find that Diavolo is absolutely ticklish all over the place. Both of you end up on the floor, laughing and panting in waves of tickle-attacks. 

“Truce!” You finally shout. 

He stops, his fingers in mid-wiggle. “But I am having so much fun . . .” His lips turn up in a slow, evil smile. “I’ll stop on one condition. You have to promise we’ll do this again.” 

You nod. “It’s a deal.”  

Like Magic

You agree to meet Solomon for a lesson in pacts. He knows more about them than anyone besides a demon lord. And he’s willing to share. For a price. You had to bring him the latest Madam Scream’s Scarlet Tarts as a trade for his secrets. A small price to pay. 

The two of you meet at a park in the Devildom. It’s almost as bright as a day in the real world, from the brilliant glowing mushrooms, tree fungi, and floating flowers. 

“You know, I could almost call this spot romantic,” Solomon says as he spreads out a picnic blanket to sit on. 

You raise an eyebrow. The sorcerer has been a little secret crush of yours, but you know when someone is out of your league. And an immortal genius definitely is. “Huh,” you reply. Great response, you think, but Solomon laughs. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you speechless.” 

You hand him the pastry box from Madam Screams. “I’m not speechless. I said ‘huh.’ 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think that counts as a word.” 

“And I guess you’re the final authority on that,” you mutter, feeling annoyed. 

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. “I didn’t mean to sound like a know-it-all. Forgive me?” He presses a light kiss to your palm. 

It surprises you so much that all you can do is nod, actually speechless. 

Solomon smiles. “Good. I wanted this to be a nice date.” 

“Date?” The word leaves your mouth before you think about it.

“What else would you call two people having a picnic in the park?” You think of a lot of things you might call it, but he’s smiling at you so sweetly that you just agree. 

He opens a grimoire across your laps and settles a hand behind you to lean over it. “This was my first real spellbook. I thought it might be a good place to start.” 

You realize as he talks that he isn’t just teaching you - he’s sharing something he’s never shared with anyone else. It makes you feel special, which must have shown in your face when he looks over at you because whatever he sees there makes him smile widely.

“We should do this more often,” he says, and before you can reply, his lips brush lightly against your cheek in a gentle kiss. 

With your heart beating so hard you’re sure he must hear it, you say, “Yeah. We should.” His fingers curl around yours, linking the two of you as you look up at the Devildom sky. 

Gossip Girl

You take Simeon up on an offered afternoon of looking at forbidden photo albums of the brothers from their celestial days. He promises to dish on the best stories, provided you never let on that you know about any of it. 

The two of you meet at Purgatory Hall in one of the unused rooms. It feels a little odd to be alone with the gorgeous angel, especially like this. One kiss away from an illicit affair. But you soon feel comfortable as Simeon settles next to you, flipping through pictures of Lucy, Mammon, Beel, and the others in their childhood and younger years. 

“Once, Lucy tried to make Michael happy by baking him a poppy-seed cake. But he used baking soda instead of powder . . .” Simeon’s eyes crinkle with laughter. “It came out more like a poppyseed brick. Lucy was so mad he threw it - right through the Metatron’s study window.” 

You giggle, imagining a furious Lucifer. 

“You have such a nice laugh,” Simeon says, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I’d like to hear it more often.” 

“Th-thanks,” you stutter. Taking compliments has never been your strength. He turns his head to face you. 

“Did I make you blush just now?” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t mean to.” 

You nod, blushing even more furiously. 

“You don’t have to be shy around me. But . . . can I admit something to you?”

“Sure?” 

“I like that I can make you blush.” His fingers brush across your lips. “I’d like . . .” He stops himself and his hand drops away. 

“I’d like that too,” you say, unwilling to let the moment escape. You lean forward and give him a quick kiss. Now it’s his turn to blush.

The Incident

“No one must ever hear of this,” Luke tells you sternly. As sternly as he can, looking up at you and waving one little hand. 

“I swear to tell no one,” you promise. 

The two of you stand in the middle of a kitchen. At least, there’s a kitchen somewhere under the clumps of batter, berry jam, and soft butter. The results of Luke trying out spellcraft on his baking. 

It was *supposed* to be mystical muffins - a breakfast food that actually makes you look forward to the day. But it turned the mix into a growing, bubbling mass that eventually burst. Which is when Luke texted you to come over. The two of you set to cleaning it up. 

It takes hours to scoop, wipe, rinse, and dry everything in the room. You’re in the middle of a final wipedown on the cabinets when you realize Luke hasn’t said a word for awhile now. 

You turn and see the little guy with his head on his arm, a rag in hand. His eyes are closed and a light snore whistles from his nose. He’s so cute. Like a puppy. He can’t sleep on the floor though. 

You finish wiping and set down the cloth, then go to wake him up. 

He mumbles and rolls over, but his eyes stay shut. Finally, you decide to heft him up and carry him to his room. He’s a bit heavy, but you manage to lift him. His head settles on your shoulder and his arms wrap around your neck. 

He smells like warm milk and cinnamon, you think. And he is so soft, like a fluffy little poodle. You carry him to his room and lay him down. He doesn’t stir as you pull off his shoes and tuck him in. 

“Sweet dreams, little baker,” you tell him. He smiles.