#prince sitri

[jollmaster]

is there a demon named Sitri in the nobility?

Also i was the one to ask about the whole royal duties, aristocracy, events and spheres and the one to ask about Solomon n David😭 Just wanted to thank you for taking your time for my questions💜 it's really interesting how well detailed you wrote everything, especially to me Who's interested in Reading demonology so again thanks!♥️

hello oh very cool, I adore your questions 🖤 these are things that I've been thinking about while working on AU but haven't delved into, so these simple questions are very helpful! and I'm glad you liked it

about Sitri

• of course Sitri exists here!

• with one nuance: Sitri is a prince by title, but Sitri is a woman

• why I changed this? I had originally planned to keep Sitri as a man, but then I thought it would be interesting to change this demon's gender because of sphere of influence: there are many demons responsible for love and desire, but Sitri's sphere of influence is carnal-sexual and at the same time positive, which is often the prerogative of female deities in archaic cultures

• so I decided to use an image of a woman with less traumatizing than male sexual overtones; I'll release her full design later 🖤

• Sitri rips own mouth open with bare hands and shows bleeding human face, when she's turning from leopard to human

• she has a lot of birthmarks, like the leopard skin, and she's the one who gave birth to Ose and Haures

• Sitri doesn't get along with Asmodeus, as she's in charge of voluntary sex (yes, through seduction and charms, but mutual and injury-free), not violence

• Asmodeus has been chasing her for millennia, demanding that she return King Solomon's grimoire and staff (hey, Sitri, he's my brother, I'm entitled to those things!)

• Sitri just laughs at him

[sortiarus-de-naturas-daemonum]

Sytry-An Infopost 18+ ONLY Minors DNI!

Sytry Is a daemon appearing in the Livre des Esperitz, Book of Oberon, The Hygromancy of Solomon (as Sitros) Fasciculus Rerum Geomanticarum, Psuedomonarchia Daemonum, and The Lesser Key of Solomon.

Livre des Esperitz Entry 1-Bitur

Bitur is a great marquis who appears in the form of a beautiful, young man and gives the love of women from whatever place they may be, and destroys cities and castles if the master commands him, and removes great worldly honors and dignities if the master commands him; and has 36 legions

Livre Des Esperitz entry 2- Ducay

Ducay is a great marquis who appears very benignly and gives the love of women and makes all languages understood, and carries from one place to another; and has legions.

Book of Oberon- fewrayn a governour or marques, appeareth like the countenaunce of a woman, & seameth to be meeke & giveth the love of women & he teacheth all tongs & that marvelously, & truly, & hath under him 9 legions.

Fasciculus Rerum Geomanticarum- Beduch, or Bamone, a great marquis, appears in the likeness of a leopard; he has wings in the manner of a griffon, but assuming a human form he excellently grants the love of women, and makes them faint, feverish with [xx] love for anyone to whom they are attached; he eagerly reveals the secrets of women, and laughs at them if they are seen by him; and he makes them strip, and play luxuriously in the nude. He gives eloquence, and has twenty legions under his dominion.

Psuedomonarchia Daemonum- alias Bitru, is a great prince, appeering with the face of a leopard, and having wings as a griffen: when he taketh humane shape, he is verie beautiful, he inflameth a man with a womans love, and also stirreth up women to love men, being commanded he willinglie deteineth [discloses] secrets of women, laughing at them and mocking them, to make them luxuriouslie naked, and there obeie him sixtie legions.

Lesser Key of Solomon/Ars Goetia-

SITRI. - The Twelfth Spirit is Sitri. He is a Great Prince and appeareth at first with a Leopard’s head and the Wings of a Gryphon, but after the command of the Master of the Exorcism he putteth on Human shape, and that very beautiful. He enflameth men with Women’s love, and Women with Men’s love; and causeth them also to show themselves naked if it be desired. He governeth 60 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is this, to be worn as a Lamen before thee, etc.

What you can Work with him for:

♡ Sex Magice

♡ Love Magice

♡ Learning other Languages

♡ Baneful Magice/Curse Work

Offering Ideas:

Leopard Imagery/Leopard figures, Craft Feathers, Rose Petals, Lipstick, Sex Toys, Books

Sources:

Book of Oberon

Livre Des Esperitz

Lemegeton

Psudeomonarchia Daemonum

Fasciculus Rerum Geomanticarum

[devildevotee]

subtle goetic worship: six ways to worship prince sitri.

burning a blue candle

burning jasmine or cedar incense

practicing safety in the bedroom

baking foods that have cinnamon or allspice in them

practicing self-care and prioritising your needs

buying something you've been eyeing for a while

divider credit. credit to stag for this lovely series of posts. ✨

[blackdemonfoxshayerahart]

I made 3 Sitri designs. Which one do you guys perfer?

[k16is]

& also since i’m at it. a fun little redesign of mira’s halphas form ^__^

[rileylfox]

Prince Sitri; now King after his father; Azrael disappeared has become the new Satan.

[esotericjerks]

Absolution

Zepar has trauma and no healthy coping mechanisms. Sitri steps in to provide some tough love. It’s romantic, I swear.

If you want the soundtrack for this drabble, please go listen to Hypnosis by Sleep Token.

TW for violence/gore/general demon fucked uppedness.

Sitri is not often overtly cruel because there is something to be said about honey and flies, but when they are, it is always for a purpose. Brutality wielded as a scalpel, not a blunt object. Zepar needs cruelty, on occasion, Sitri has come to understand. Not the playful kind either; something truly egregious. It’s some byproduct of Falling: an unconscious drive to pay penance or daddy issues of literally cosmic proportions. The two of them are the same sort of creature, now, yes, but origin matters– Sitri was born in Hell. Zepar was not. It makes all the difference. 

The Prince recognizes the need asserting itself long before Zepar does. Little things, at first. A detail forgotten. A hair out of place. He gets listless. Unmoored. 

“You’re distracted,” Sitri comments, not for the first time in recent days. They stroll down a hallway of the palace together, having left a meeting in which, quite uncharacteristically, Zepar had needed information repeated. More than once. 

“I am no such thing.” 

Even his protest sounds far away. Sitri halts, looks down at him. “Liar. Your head’s in the clouds again.” 

His silence speaks volumes. 

“Oh, Birdy,” they say, chiding, acerbic. “Still missing the nest?”  

That gets a reaction. The Duke’s lips peel back in a snarl. “Fuck off.” 

So they backhand him. Hard. 

It’s not enough to really damage him, not yet; Zepar is nowhere near their level, but he’s still a demon of rank and sturdier than he looks. But the blow catches him off guard, and he raises a hand to his split lip in surprise. Sitri bends toward him to hiss, “We've entertained this foolishness long enough.” They grab one of his horns, and as they drag the smaller demon closer, the space around them shifts, air flexing, until they’re in Sitri’s own quarters. No need for anyone else to accidentally bear witness. This is a private moment– it’s reconditioning, not humiliation. 

They haul him up, lifting his feet off the ground. Zepar’s nails tear at their hand, trying to pry free of their grip. He always fights them when he gets like this. At first. Normally he is so keen to please that he submits to their will with a single-minded determination that would unnerve most. But the poor dear is off kilter. He is too proud for self-flagellation, and the effect is most profound when punishment is meted out by an authority figure anyway. He just doesn’t know how to ask for it, or can’t. That’s alright; Sitri will give it to him anyway. 

His feet kick out, aiming at their middle. In a flash, Sitri flings him across the room into the far wall. His head cracks against the stone. They are on him before he can try to escape, pressing their advantage with extreme prejudice. They grab a fistful of his scarlet hair while Zepar claws at their eyes; he manages to gouge one of four before Sitri ducks, maw opening wide, and gets their teeth around his shoulder. Their jaw clamps down, crushing the appendage into inoperability. 

He curses them in just about every language known to man and several others that are not.

One hand keeps him drawn up against the wall; their tail wraps around his still-working arm to hold it down. “Do you still hear them? Does the Host still sing when you close your eyes?” Their free hand works at peeling open the armor he wears like a carapace, digging for the sweet meat underneath. 

He does not want to say it. But their grip on his hair tightens and smashes his skull into the wall again. Answering is non-negotiable. “Yes.” Acknowledging this makes him feel shame in a way he no longer thought possible. The loss of Heaven looms over him even after millennia. It is a sorrow that Sitri is existentially incapable of understanding. Bottomless and exquisite. They can only fish around the depths and hope to drag up something useful. 

“They abandoned you. Your father turned his back on you. And yet you pine away–” they mock, all the overlapping harmonics of their voice dripping with sheer fucking disappointment. “For what? Forgiveness? It is pathetic.” They rip away the meager scale covering the front of him. “As if they would recognize you now. Have you even a sliver of grace left? Let’s find out–” 

The points of their claws easily penetrate his abdomen, sinking in as smoothly as any other part of their body into any other part of his. Zepar howls and thrashes, but Sitri holds him fast. Ichor flows free and dark, staining the alabaster of his skin as they rend through muscle.

Sitri hums, digging. Searching. “Interesting! I don’t see any. Not a single shred of the divine–” The hand in his hair releases, drops down to grip his pretty face. “Just a wretched, prurient creature like the rest of us.” Their claws twist, pressing further into his innards. Even in this, their touch is masterful; their carnage somehow still a delight to him. And Sitri knows it. The Duke can writhe and scream and spit at them, but they know. “An infernal whore who begs for Hellspawn cock and cunt and tongue. You’d take it happily right now if I wanted to give it to you. Wouldn’t you, Zethariel?” 

The name is the turning point. The one he left at the bottom of the Pit. It is necessary to remind him. He must be brought low to be built back up.

Zepar’s breath catches at the sound of it and he stills, going limp. It crosses a line. “–Stop.” 

“No.” They are long past boundaries. “They do not deserve your sorrow or your shame. You are more. More here than you ever were there. Stronger. More beautiful. Terrible and extraordinary. You. Are. Perfect.” Each word punctuated by the tearing of flesh, the wonderful squelching of impalement. “Just like this.” 

He begins to sob then, and it is the most beautiful thing Sitri has ever heard.

They lean in close, whispering fiercely into his ear. “I will not allow you to lower yourself by thinking otherwise– not in my presence. I, who lifts you up. I, who loves your wickedness. I, who holds your dreadful heart in my hands–” Symbolic and literal, with their hand buried so deep in his chest cavity. They grip the equivalent organ, squeeze lightly, and he chokes on the sensation. 

“Please- my Prince! I can’t–” 

“Pray for mercy, then.” He gurgles something; Sitri prods his viscera. “Louder, Birdy.” 

He sputters, sprays blood, but chants the words to Sitri’s demonic enn. Again and again, as they press soft kisses to his face, their claws wrapped tightly around the pulsating core of him until his voice gives out and he is a wheezing mess in their arms.

Satisfied, Sitri withdraws their hands and lets him slide wetly to the floor, gutted. They lift the blood-soaked hand to their mouth to taste him, the other set of claws toward their own abdomen to tear free a hunk of their soft tissue. Funny the way both sides get this part– the significance of consumption. A sacrifice of self; adoration in feasting and feeding. An exchange in energies. Sitri presses the meat to his lips where he kneels weakly at their feet, and Zepar takes it, swallows it down greedily and sucks at their fingers. Sitri can feel it: the draw on their vitality as he devours what they offer. They will always give him what he needs.

“Thank you,” he says, when finally curled into Sitri’s lap, both of them on the floor now and heedless of the gore. There is catharsis in reopening old wounds. Breaking up scar tissue, cutting away what is putrid, exposing the truth. Once so expertly flayed, he is shiny and new. His body has already begun to knit back together. Sitri pours their own essence into the work of making him whole again. 

“Anytime, darling.” 

They are a loving god, after all.

[inimeitiel]

Evil overlord prince. His name is Sitri.

[harunayuuka2060]

Devils of Hades, Tartaros, and Gehenna: *are glaring at each other*

Bimet: This is absurd. The descendant of Solomon is the Queen of Tartaros. They can’t have another child from Gehenna or Hades.

Eligos: Excuse me, Bimet. Do we have that kind of law?

Bimet: Yes!

Eligos: Okay.

Foras: I strongly disagree with you. The descendant of Solomon is the Queen of Hades. After all, how else could such an adorable princess exist?

Barbatos: It's clear that Princess Vesper takes after the descendant of Solomon!

Sitri: Doesn't she look like His Majesty Leviathan more?

Glasyalabolas: What about your Prince Zarif, Sitri? I don’t see any resemblance to Solomon’s descendant in him.

Sitri: *frowns* Can you say that again?

Mammon, Satan, and Leviathan: ...

Avaris, Zarif, and Vesper: *quietly observing the situation*

Satan: MC is mine.

Mammon: No. I won't be giving master to you, Satan.

Satan: Haaaaahhhh???

Leviathan: Given that we have a daughter, it’s only right that they stay with me.

Zarif: Can we stop this now?

Mammon, Satan, and Leviathan: *turns their head at him*

Zarif: Mom isn’t a queen of any country in hell. You might be surprised to learn that, besides us, there are four other children they have with each king who isn’t here at the moment.

MC: ...

MC: Huh?

Zarif: *looks at MC* So Mom, don't be bothered by these stupid men.

Satan: Haha, yes! Listen to my son!

Zarif: You're included.

Satan: Huh?!

Mammon: Looks like your son dislikes you.

Vesper: We children don't like our fathers. *said that while smiling*

Leviathan: ...

Avaris: Oh, but I have a good relationship with Father.

Avaris: But I sometimes hate him for monopolizing Mother.

MC: ...

MC: So... You all traveled here to spite them?

Vesper: No, no! We came here to see Mama!

Zarif: Mom, your birthday is coming soon and we want to celebrate it with you.

Avaris: We'll give you the best birthday ever.

MC: Oh... *smiles* Thank you.

Mammon, Satan, and Leviathan: *sensed that something's going on*

[fwoosheye]

A picrew where one can make chonky orcs? Heck yeah!

This is Kragh. I think he's on his way to stay a weekend at his sister's place...

I made "chibi orc maker"

It is a dressing up orc game.

You can chose from 250over parts!

Let's make cute orc!

[aleafinacup]

Identifying Demons: Ars Goetia

Pretty random thing to attempt but I wanted to try it, mainly thanks to posts by @mintaikcorpse :]]

This is what I got so far and I’m gonna list why I think this is who’s who below the cut (also even if it’s revealed these are wrong or irrelevant I don’t really care that much bc there’s little chance I’m gonna write using the Goetia much

Vassago: Pretty simple start, it’s already confirmed

Raum: Described as an Earl ruling 30 legions of demons, his description mentions him taking the appearance of a crow and he is then also described to “steal treasures out of kings' houses, carrying them where he wishes” — so from the appearance of this bird guy, he seems to really like his gold since his anthropomorphised wing-hands have gold rings all over them

Sitri: Honestly my favourite look out of this group :] a Prince ruling over 60 legions of Demons, he’s one of the few Goetia depicted as having a leopard appearance, alongside griffin wings. Fits pretty perfectly for what’s in the picture

Shax: Marquis having power over 30 legions of Demons (on evil horses apparently) he is depicted as a stork, and I think with the long beak and thin neck that’s what he’s implied to be. His outfit also sort of looks like the uniform dressage riders wear (at least in my eyes) with the black coat and white shirt underneath, so that could potentially cover the “evil horses” thing

Botis: Pretty easy one as not a lot of Goetia appear to be serpent like. A President that commands 60 legions of Demons and depicted as an “ugly viper” aww poor guy :(( I think he’s silly looking

Ipos: Prince that commands 36 legions of Demons. A pretty hard one to figure out, but in this pic he’s very vulture like, so googling “vulture ars Goetia” brought me to Ipos’ page, as he is sometimes described as a vulture (although very rarely, he’s commonly a fuck ton of animals smooshed together)

Buer: President with 50 legions of Demons under his command. This was definitely the toughest one T-T the picture of this lil guy very much yells goat to me but looking through all the Goetia descriptions the only time I could see anything like that was in Buer’s text, which says “He has been described as being a wheel with several legs, or even as a lion head with multiple goat legs.” That was all I got, but given that there’s several Goetia already with lion features, I decided to focus on the singular goat part and leave it at that 💀

It’s fun and definitely satisfying to put names to faces, as for me I like to have things like this tucked away to potentially use in stories

I severely doubt all 72 Goetia are ever going to show up in Helluva or Hazbin, but given how many there are and how plenty of them have a surprising amount of description, there’s a lot of overlap in animal features and I do hope that if any more are shown they aren’t just all birds

Maybe I’ll make another post like these if they get more screen time?

[jazeswhbhaven]

base reference: https://www.pinterest.com/Kio_arts/

He's a sassy one. Meet Cain! Hell's first natural born devil. For my AU, Leviathan has the ability to get pregnant based on certain conditions and the compability of his partner. The only reason he can though is due to the experiments done on him while in Heaven.

Cain has a little bit of his parents in his design as you can see: -satan's fluffy hair (the color will be Levi's once I feel like actually coloring him lmao)

-has both parents eyes, however his two left eyes have satan's pupils

-has levi's horns

original things about him

-pointed ears

-forked tongue

-black claws

He stays in Hades for the majority of his childhood, his levels of jealousy and anger are balanced. His powers are unknown and experimental but all of Hell treats him like the prince he is. Beelzebub likes coming to visit him to bring him gifts (like that sweet he's holding in his hand) but Cain doesn't know how to properly say thank you so instead he just insults Beel each time.

Cain's favorite parent is neither. He actually prefers to be around Paimon while in Gehenna and Glas when in Hades.

He's met the other kings though and doesn't mind being around any of them. He's mostly interested in Lucifer, but it's usually because of his time around Morax who delivered him.

Cain's education and other things are taught by Leviathan, and by Levi's request, Sitri when he visits Gehenna. Though a few of Satan's bad habits slip in there...because why not lol

[principeestrella]

♡ stater for the lovely @prince-sytry ♡

The prince’s gloved fingertips gripped tightly onto the cold, stone, edge of the courtroom balcony. A wide-eyed look of pure horror had settled onto his features as the weak and disheveled form of the, once dignified and oh-so-gentle, owl prince was carried carelessly out of the courtroom by hooded wraiths. “…no, no, no…esto está mal…” (this is wrong) he muttered helplessly to himself as the heavy double doors swung to a close with a clang that reverberated around the courtroom — which had, for many minutes, been stunned into a tense silence. The kind of stifling silence where it felt like the very room itself had begun to hold it’s breath. At the slamming of the door, however, the spell of silence was swiftly broken by a wave of casual conversation. The pleasant, idle, chit-chat of a group of council members content that they’d been dismissed for the day. Eager to head off to lunch.

Tense and unmoving, Vassago could barely hear anything through the deafening of his own heart in his ears. The rest of the council members within their area had long begun to wander off yet he stood still, frozen in his spot by his own sheer disbelief at the events that had just passed — then, all of a sudden, the quiet disbelief and sadness was overcome with a burning anger that flickered in his scarlet-gaze. “¡Qué puto espectáculo de payasos!” (what a fucking clown show!) he exclaimed, perhaps a little too loud considering the raised eyebrows that he got from the lingering Goetia. Vassago didn’t seem to notice, or he simply didn’t care, because he continued without pause. “¡Ese pavo real pomposo, arrogante y bastardo!” (that pompous, arrogant, bastard of a peacock!) the barrage of venom-filled spanish slipped from his beak as he narrowed his fiery gaze into a glare as he gazed across at Andrealphus. “A prince? Vete a la mierda (fuck off)… I would sooner die than acknowledge that icy wretch as a prince,”

It became clear that, even within his haze of anger, Vassago had been keeping half an eye on Sitri. When he turned to gaze at his fellow prince the movement was swift and precise, indicating that he even though the other had wandered slightly from where he’d been stood during the trial, he’d been aware. The look in the birds eye was a familiar one — it was the indignant anger that burned when he senses that he’d been witness to an injustice…it was also the look that so often came as a warning that he was about to do something incredibly stupid. “…Sitri, you must see that this is wrong…incredibly wrong…” he shook his head a little to punctuate his disapproval, “I must speak to Satan. Speak reason to him…make him realise that his judgement was flawed.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

♡ Starter for my lovely friend @prince-sytry ♡

The ice-cold peacock had eyed the invitation wearily as he raised an ornate silver letter opener, slicing the edge of the envelope with a clean and precise cut. Unfurling the letter and allowing the calculating gaze of his turquoise eyes to scan across the cursive writing. Suddenly, the, frankly absurdly garish, snowy leopard-print paper that had decorated the accompanying gift began to make sense. Prince Sitri. The revelation didn’t lessen Andrealphus’ wariness any — you see, while the scribed words were a sweet message of welcome and a plea to get to know him better, the Goetic Prince had always left Andrealphus a little…well, ‘on edge’, for want of a better term. After all, the refined Prince had his domain within deception and desire. A demon with the ability to evoke truthfulness and force desire was a rather frightening proposition for a man who lied as easily as he breathed and was attempting — very successfully mind you — to pretend he didn’t desire men. Still, to decline would not only be frightfully rude but also highly foolish. What was that old saying? ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’ Prince Sitri was the kind of man that Andrealphus would benefit from befriending — so, without delay, he kindly accepted the invitation.

Andrealphus arrived at their designated meeting place not a moment too soon or a second too late. Precise, as always. The peacock was outfitted in a fine white cloak that shimmered slightly in the ruby-hue of the mid-day glow almost as though made from woven-together snowflakes. The richest cup was a fine establishment reserved for only the elite. As Andrealphus glided gracefully past the glass doors, opened hastily by a pair of imps, he was hit by the familiar aroma of fine tea and freshly baked goods. An eager servant led him towards a table at the back of the quaint cafe where he could already see the regal figure of the leopard prince seated. Andrealphus painted a smile onto his beak as he approached, “Your Highness,” he let the formal greeting slip pleasantly from his beak as he bowed slightly in accompaniment of his words. Andrealphus moved to elegantly seat himself on the chair opposite that of the intriguing Prince, his posture rigid and pristine as always, his gloved fingertips lacing together as his hands rested upon the fine tablecloth, “It is a pleasure to be graced with your company, Sitri. I was rather surprised, albeit pleasantly so, by your invitation.”

[salubriwrites-blog]

My self indulgent fanfiction. You Chose Sitri

This is only the first half, I'm writing the 2nd half in a feverish haze. But I KNOW THAT THERE ARE SITRI ENJOYERS OUT THERE AND THIS IS FOR YOU BABY GIRLS UPDATED: Here is the full story, on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/59305870

ANOTHER UPDATE: My demons won and I wrote a part 2. It’s in the above AO3 link ^^^^^

“How long will you be gone?” 

His eyes, red like guilt, now smiled at you as Satan stepped back into your space. You thought you’d have gotten used to it by now, but it was like a string was tied to your naval, reeling you in as the devil placed his hand on the small of your back. An undeniable magnetism parted your lips as his breath poured down your face, close enough to kiss-

“Shorter than you think, longer than you’d like,” he laughed as he pulled away from you. Unsure if he was laughing at his own cleverness or the flush on your cheeks, you folded your arms to guard your heart. “I need to meet with the other Princes to form a union. We won’t be able to combat Heaven if we all fight as separate nations.”

“I understand, but what if,” you purse your lips, thinking of the best way to pose the question without blushing anymore. “What if I need more, you know.” Your body still felt tight from your first encounter with the devil. Throwing your legs over his shoulders, bending you in half as you gasped for air. Gasping for more pleasure than oxygen.

Face tightening with knowing, the devil laughed and pinched your chin endearingly. “The energy I transferred you is pretty potent, you shouldn’t need more for quite a while.” Satan’s eyes traveled from your face to the attendants who stood behind you. “As long as you don’t push yourself, you will be able to hold out until I get back.” Looking past you as he spoke, and in turn you could feel another pair of eyes on you. Softer ones that didn’t feel quite right on your shoulders, not yet anyway. 

“I-I could just, you know, get it from another devil, if necessary?” You asked, and his eyes snapped like a scope on you. Asking why you would want it from another devil.

“We will attend to Solomon’s every need with the utmost importance in your absence,” Sitri said, you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to see him bowing deeply. Those crimson eyes glared at the sharply dressed attendant, you were still standing close enough to see his jaw clench at Sitri’s words. Did he not trust Sitri with your care? 

Instead of contesting the devil’s promise, a great red wind swept over the cobbled streets and the King of Gehenna was out of sight. 

A part of you went with him when he vanished, you had no emotional attachment to His Majesty, but something felt amiss when his laughing eyes weren’t following you. Just as you were about to hold yourself as compensation, a foreign pair of fingers caressed your elbow to get your attention. 

“Shall we, Solomon?”

“That’s not my name,” you replied uselessly, knowing that he was going to reply with something quietly snarky like, “my apologies, Solomon”. To your surprise, he didn’t, just nodded in acknowledgement before ushering you from the ruins of the town square.

Together you returned to the palace that sat high at the valley’s edge, looking down on Gehenna as the city was already buzzing with reconstruction. Of all the places to find yourself relaxed, sitting in a layer of Hell, drinking tea on a balcony, and looking down on a nation of devils was not it. You were left to the quiet, replaying the mere hours that you’d been down there over and over. Has it really not even been a day? So much happened already, and you felt so at ease amongst the attendants who waited on you hand and foot, it was like you had always been here. It was less of a welcoming and more of a homecoming. 

All the while, waiting in the wings, Sitri patiently stood in preparation for your next breath. You knew that if you so much as whispered to yourself, he would be there, as if he could hear your thoughts even before they formed on your tongue. Once you wondered why he didn’t come to sit beside you, he had been so eager in Satan’s presence to always be walking on the other side of you. Now that the King was away, you had thought that Sitri would be at your elbow the whole day. Hells, you even hoped that he would badger you with stories of Hell, the history of Gehenna, the 72 devils. Any excuse to watch his eyes glimmer with life and his hands animate. Instead you settled for Ppyong’s attention, allowing him to massage your feet on the promise that he would not kiss or hump them.

“Are you content? May I get you anything?” The devil asked once, his voice a welcome interruption to your peace. It turned out, Ppyong had a firm grip that was good for working the balls of your feet. 

You pretended to think, though you knew exactly what you wanted. The answer was him, Sitri, to pull up a chair beside you and listen to how homesick you were. Maybe even to stroke your hair while he talked. What about? Anything, you would listen gladly. Instead you asked for a glass of wine, not having the confidence to ask him for his time. 

“Sit with me?” You asked when he returned though, rushing the words out before they could hide back in your belly. “I want your company.” 

Instead of yielding instantly to your request, Sitri hesitated while putting the empty glass on the table beside you. The tense silence as you watched him uncork the bottle and pour a sample for you made your stomach hurt. 

“I’m afraid I cannot, I have to see that your dinner preparations are underway.” He excused himself, hurrying off before you could find an excuse for him to stay. You drank the whole glass in one breath, and then hurriedly poured yourself another bottle. The wine was delicious, but it did not overpower the traces of vinegar and turpentine that sat at the back of your throat. Is this what rejection tasted like? 

It was worse that night. 

Of course it had to be Sitri who led you to your quarter that night. High ceilings with hand painted murals depicting galaxies, and stationed on a raised platform was a bed large enough to sleep all of Hell. Sheets made of velvet whispered seductive ideas as you dragged your fingers over them, feeling the draping tassels of the canopy that obscured it. 

“Is it to your liking?” Sitri asked from the doorway, filling it with his sharp figure instead of just coming in to follow you. You wondered if devils were like vampires and he could not enter unless invited. “All the amenities and pleasures you may desire have been provided.”

“It’s gorgeous,” you called back, feeling the satin that hung from the bed’s canopy like sweet dreams. “Big for just one person, though.” When you cast your gaze backward, Sitri wasn’t looking at you as if he anticipated your suggestion. Those pink eyes were scrutinizing his boots rather than watch you return to the doorway. “Sitri.”

“I’m glad that you like it, if that’s all I will retire for the evening, and bid you sweet dreams.” He said quickly, excusing himself before you could reach out to stop him. 

“Hold on, wait,” you called, but he walked with purpose out of sight. Closing the door behind you, you let out an exasperated sigh and stripped. You didn’t care if he heard your frustration, you wanted the devil to know that he had left you wanting. Maybe if you huffed and puffed enough he might come back to check on you.

Crawling between the sheets, you thought that you would be out in an instant. As you walked around the bedroom, sleep sounded exquisite. There would be time to go looking for all the pleasures that Sitri had alluded to later. Sleep had been calling your name since you were allowed to enjoy the peace that Satan’s absence bestowed on you. Now that the time had come though, sleep teased you. The sheets grazing over your nipples reminded you of a man’s tongue, and you caught the moan just as it was bubbling on your lips. 

You tossed and turned in the velvet embrace, your skin tantalized by the snagging of the fabric. You couldn’t sleep, because no matter how decadent and soft this bed was, it wasn’t really yours. No bed of yours was complete without company. Staring at the swirling stars and winking nebulas that watched over you, you thought about what you would paint on it instead. Satan, maybe, undressed and using one finger to hold up his erect member. Leapfrogging through all the devils you had met, you landed on Sitri last. Though perhaps not because he was the last on your list of devils you would touch.

Sitri, on his knees wearing only those gold and black boots, white leather squeezing his chest tight. Hair curling gently around his face, frizzy with sweat and slack jawed as he stared up at you. Soft Sitri, panting hot breath on your mound as his tongue lolled over your thighs. His pink eyes complimenting the flush on your belly as he watched you writhe at his technique.

A bolt of feeling struck your core and it was like a bubble had popped inside you. Your thighs coated with arousal as you squeezed them together, wondering if the devil could smell as well as he could hear. Wait- why were you thinking of him still?

The answer was simple, even though you were stubborn to realize it.

Satan was a perfect specimen, you fit perfectly in his arms and your legs landed nicely around his hips. Except he was too much, too intense. He had grabbed and thrown you around like a doll, pushing you against walls and bending you in half. Your pleasure wasn’t what he had been after in that comfortable place, it was your cries and your discomfort. 

An idea that boiled in your belly reached up and took control of your arms, forcing the blanket out of your way. The chamber floor was cold, but it only strengthened your resolve to do something about the heaviness in your belly and the tingle between your legs. You were horny, plain and simple. You spent some time navigating your room, looking in the furniture and admiring all the toys and clothes. Plotting out your plan. 

When Sitri had explained that this was your room, he hadn’t told you that this was Solomon’s room, but as you investigated the walk in closets full of sex toys and clothes, your epiphany took shape. Solomon had one whole walk-in room devoted to sex. Toys, harnesses and leashes, lubricants, clamps and leads of rope adorned all the space. Dragging your fingers over the leather, you wondered how many devils he had had in his bed. If all of the restraints were designated to different ones. Whether he had favorites. You certainly would, you thought as you admired a white harness with matching butt plugs adorned with exotic fevers and furs. 

You played dress up in the old wraps, the black and gold accentuated your lilac hair. Twirling like a princess in front of the mirror, you watched the way the togas trailed behind as you strutted. Beads to thread your locks into lay out perfect and uniform on the dresser, and you fed a few of them into the braids you weaved. It was pretty, you tilted your chin back and forth and admired how the gold and turquoise caught each other. It had been fun, you felt irresistible doing a slow turn in the mirror. Would it be enough though?

Outside the full moon shone so bright it didn’t feel like midnight at all. The breezeway of the palace was well lit, your naked feet slapping the marble and echoing off the walls. He didn’t tell you which room was his, but you followed the smell of dry tea leaves, the aroma curling its fingers for you to follow. The closer you got to his room, the bigger the rock in your stomach formed. Your thighs were soaked with excitement and your stomach was heavy with nerves. 

Standing in front of the tall, white wood you put your fingers through your hair, feeling that the accessories were secure. What exactly were you hoping for, you asked yourself as you smoothed down the folds of your ensemble. That, by presenting yourself as an echo of your great great great grandfather whom he had once greatly adored, he would fall to his knees before your irresistible silhouette? 

Yes. You thought with finality as you reached out to knock on his door. That’s exactly what you were hoping for. 

Before your knuckle could rap against the wood, it was opening for you. Had he been standing just on the other side of it? He had to have heard you coming, your heart was pounding in your throat, a siren song that he could not restrain against. He looked exhausted on the other side of the door, eyes cast down and looking weary, unable to recompose himself as he addressed you.

“What can I,” he began to say, but his voice trailed off as his eyes began at your feet, taking in the dark nail polish you had painted on your toes. It was an onyx black that twinkled against the moonlight. “What have you done?” Sitri choked on his own voice as he took in the rest of the outfit, the black and golds that embraced your hips, the twinkle of gold and precious gems in your hair like constellations. His expression was illegible, though his eyes had widened and you could hear his heartbeat for once. 

“Do you like it?” You asked, looping your hands behind your back. In all the poses you practiced in front of the mirror, you hadn’t rehearsed what to do with them if he didn’t immediately grab them to drag you into his room. Which he wasn’t doing, so this was the next best thing. Your heart raced the longer he just stared at you wordlessly, looking at you like you were out of your mind. “I thought that it might make you more… comfortable with me.” 

“You did this for me?” Sitri demanded, though his voice didn’t harshen as he leaned out of his bedroom. “You shouldn’t let anyone see you like this, let me walk you back to your room-”

“No,” you insisted, standing square in the threshold. At your new proximity, those big eyes of his stared down at your chest, which the toga did a wonderful job of accentuating your cleavage. “I won’t go back… unless you join me,” you added, remembering how you were trying to bully around a devil. A devil who lent his power to another, probably because he was an overwhelming font. That only made you wetter, and wetter still when he drew in a deep breath. Could he smell how much you wanted him?

“I should not be seen with you.”

“Why not?”

“Should Satan find out,” he stopped himself, biting his lip as if he had something he shouldn’t. “If His Majesty were to know about this, there would be consequences.” 

“Why would there be consequences? You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?” You asked, stomach churning at the break in his composure. 

“No, no, no,” he insisted, reaching out for you, but stopping himself short of your hips. “I would revere you, give you whatever you asked, hear your heart’s desires and do everything in my power to fulfill them.”

That sounded just fine to you, still he stepped back when you tried to advance. “Then what’s the problem? What consequences?”

“His Majesty has chosen you.” Sitri said, nearly shouting it like an incantation. He had squeezed his eyes shut when he spoke, as if afraid of your reaction. 

“Chosen me?” You echoed, thinking back to all of Satan’s behavior that day. His extreme possessiveness, literally beating away other devils when they tried to touch you, was all behavior you would expect from a romantic visual novel game. “But I don’t choose him.” 

Sitri didn’t seem to hear you though, too caught up in his own worry. “Satan has deemed that he is the only one to adore you. If he saw this, or heard about it, he would forbid me from ever seeing you again.” 

“Sitri,” you said softer, trying to be patient as the devil seemed to be scaring himself with something that would never happen. So caught up in his own fear that he didn’t notice you stepping closer, your toes pressing on top of his boots. 

“I could love you so much better than he, but he is the King of Gehenna and will have his way. He could make it that I never see you, or hear you, again. If I couldn’t… If I wasn’t… I might-”

“Sitri,” reaching to touch him, the devil’s eyes snapped to attention, pupils dilating at how close you were. “I don’t care, because I don’t choose Satan. I choose you.” What had begun as a hormone-fueled rash decision that you may regret later, was evaporating into your heart pounding so loud in your ears it might have deafened Sitri. You were starting to understand the significance of choosing Sitri. 

Before he could question you further, you leaned in to silence him. How soft his lips were, they trembled and a sound that started as a moan strangled itself into a cry in his throat. Unlocking your fingers from behind you, you pushed your way inside, and closed the bedroom door with your foot.

[darkmodechaoticlight]

Accidental

Satan was all bluster when he told Evie that he wanted her to bear his children. But that night when they were attacked by Angels in Gehenna- his daughter came into the world. I hc that Satan and Evie were in a dangerous battle when Evies water broke. Evie had hidden the pregnancy during the previous battles of Gehenna, knowing that Satan would worry more of her than his people. -Evie had an extreme pain tolerance and like her family rarely expressed pain. A small twinge in her leg or up her spine was all she felt as she was killing the angels with the other devils. Their blood seemed to fuel her rage. -She was able to rip one angel apart before she growled in pain. Something truly demonic. Satan and the others recognized the cry of pain being the Call of a Prince. The Angels, alarmed shift aim to Evie and her incoming child. She was able to summon a barrier as she was ankle deep in angel blood. -Satan heeded the call immediately, answering in a soothing tone even if he could barely be heard over the rush of battle. Sitri openly offers Satan his blood to make the weapons of his king. Ppyong was able to stay by Evie's side before Satan made his way over to the protective bubble. -Satan only saw her blank face, the pressure was there, the pain that had flared up not so long ago was now gone. But the babe was incoming (Ppyong: It was the first time I had ever seen a head coming from that place.) Weirded out by her apparent no reaction to labour he had to scramble to catch his daughter. She was alive, and filled with the same rage as her parents. Her cries seemed to have heralded the end of the seige. -Satan got first skin to skin contact with the baby. He is very protective of his daughter, being very active in her care. Evie chuckled when he only let her feed the infant before taking care of her. -Satan allowed his first born be named after Evie's mum, another devil called Maia. -Maia was fairly average compared to her incoming siblings. A soild seven pounds even. She looked like Satan, down to the blinding red eyes and pale pink hair. Bonus: Satan: *Sharing the news that he had an heir, sending a picture of a sleeping Maia in his arms to the King Group chat.* Asmodeus: Lucky for you and our dear Evie, I love milfs Satan: Keep your lubed up hands away from her! Asmodeus: Don't be so coy Satan, don't you remember Woodstock? I'm sure we could come up with a compromise Beelzebub: Does this mean shes free? Belphegor: So shes been broken in. Thank you Satan. Lucifer: Now that was uncalled for. Belphegor: Well, if shes keeping her side of the bargain with bearing our heirs she better enjoy her free time now.