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pursuitseternal · 2 months ago

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“𝕵𝖚𝖉𝖌𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕯𝖆𝖞”

Archdevil Supreme Raphael x f!Reader | E | 2.3K

🎨 by the illustrious @marimosalad

Based on this 🫠 Audio by @ogyscrypt available on his Patre0n link

Summary: His beloved mouse… Raphael has given you immortality, his fallen, broken angel to worship at his feet. The reigning Archdevil of all the hells calls you to entertain him and help him send souls to their torment.

CW: public sex, throne sex, Dom/sub, master/slave/pet, vaginal fingering, lap riding, Cambion form sex, scratching/marking.

Ao3 Link | Masterlist

The echo of chains resound around the halls, the warm stone walls trap the heat of Avernus. It’s a misleading comfort, the warmth, a deceptively soothing temperature on the skin and in the air. It’s one single comfort that tethers you still to your mind… although most of your coherent thoughts have long since scrambled away. Rational thought is a struggle, a constant battle to focus your mind on anything but the heat of the hells that seeps in from outside and your unending need for pleasure… for your Master.

For Raphael, newly victorious Archdevil Supreme of all the hells.

Perhaps it was a lingering shred of his mortal ancestry, his predilection for Avernus as the seat of his power. Perhaps it was its proximity to the mortal realms from whence he loved to pluck souls for his collection.

You among them.

But to you… he’s so good to you. Good? Is that the word? You struggle to think… to question it. Generous, yes. You feel it in your bones, bones that he has broken and healed countless times already in your service to him.

You smile, at least you think you do, at the memories of being knit back together in those healing waters of his boudoir. But for now you are whole and your body and soul is demanded in his presence. Your bare feet make their way, one foot in front of the other, until you reach the grandeur of his hall. Those soul pillars hum with silent screams, the vibrant green and golds of their sweet, tortured souls makes you smile. You’re not one of them, and that means you are… special.

His mouse, his toy, his sweetling… his angel.

Since your victory, he claimed you, imbued you with immortality, an ember of the hells just for you. That spark of his power burrowed into your soul, changing you forever in his image. Your own set of wings, black and feathered like the fallen aasimars of legend. His plaything. His toy to break and mend and break again…

The weight of the wings on your back has taken some getting used to… you keep your head lowered, your hands folded so neatly before you, all while ignoring and thriving on the pain they summon that burns in your back. Heavy and flightless… just for the appeal. For the devil so does love the angel he has made to sit at his feet and serve his every ephemeral desire.

The mass of people part to let you through, and there his is, finest scarlet silk and darkest black brocade, the paragon of power as he sits enthroned.

A ready judge with the world at his mercy.

The glow of Avernus through the colored glass only makes his scarlet skin seem to glow. Even now, it makes you catch your breath. Those great leather wings stretch behind him, enthroned as he is high up on his dais.

His black and yellow eyes rove over the crowd, alighting on you. One single cherry red, long-clawed finger extends in your direction and crooks. “My dear, come join me. Let these damned get one last glimpse of near-heavenly beauty before they’re sent off to their ends.”

You slide forward, cautious, and careful, and yet undeniably eager. Since his victory, his conquest of all Nine Hells, you can’t fight the shiver it gives you to see him, cherry red in devil form, glinting crown to match his impressive horns, all while reclining on his opulent throne like the ruler he is.

You keep your eyes downcast, watching your bare feet step closer and closer… ascending those sleek black stone stairs until you see his own booted feet, his legs spread wide. The warm tendril of his tail wraps gently around your waist, pulling you down to nestle against his seat, your body pressing against his thighs. His tail cinches tighter, fastening you just right, just the way he likes you to be. Then, and only then, do you lift your gaze. A sharp toothed grin greets you, forked tongue licking his lips to wet them as he lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles. “My dear, you look sinfully tempting today. To think you might be the last beautiful sight these souls gaze upon,” he croons, that rich, velvet baritone wrapping its magic around you. Such damning, sinister words murmured so enticingly.

His hand winds it claws into your hair, pulling you higher, until you’re forced to look into his scrutinizing gaze. His lips smirk, parting to show those rows of teeth. “Come along, my dear, my sweet fallen angel, the hero of the realms under my power.” His chuckle overwhelms you, waves or rumbling velvet that caresses your ears as he pulls you on his lap.

Those large, warm hands grab the soft, squishy flesh of your thighs, pulling you on his knee. “Don’t fret, sweetling, none of these souls would know you, none are from your reckless days of adventuring before you became mine, little mouse.” That chuckle disorients you again, somehow even lower in pitch and richer in timbre than before. It seems to waver from one ear to the other, a tremor of bliss racing up and down your spine.

“Watch carefully, and enjoy how the Archdevil Supreme will exact proper payments for my magnanimous generosity. As these fools have shuffled off their mortal coils, it is time for my pound of flesh,” Raphael crows. His hands grip firmly into your bare thighs, the red of his skin a bright hue against where your smooth-skinned form buckles beneath his grip. That commanding hold on your body pries your legs apart, even the warm air feels cool on your cunt, the way you burn just to be near him.

You’ve long forgotten the feeling of underthings, your body growing hot and flushed and wet an automatic response now to just being in the devil’s presence. One whiff of his scent and you rub your thighs together for relief. One brush of that cherry red leathery skin on your supple flesh, and you whimper for more.

A single claw swept between your thighs, spreading your slick, loud enough to make the mortals before you raise their brows.

And Raphael laughs. “You pitiful lot, doomed to my judgment. You dare to stand there in judgment of my precious pet?” He bares his pointed, yellow teeth. Right hand reaching out, he beckons the first unfortunate mortal to the bottom of his dais. That one crooking curl of his finger commands the first soul forward for judgment, a slender male… but you barely register his features as the rush of sensations pulls you under… fingers in your cunt… devil-hot breath on your neck…

It’s through this haze you hear that silken baritone, a wash of contract details, of violations… that’s when the razor sharp tone of your devil lover bites through your blissed out state. “Do not toy with me, human. A breach of terms is mine to decide. You, mortal, you seem all innocent, but your contract would prove to the contrary. A goodly apple, rotten at the heart….”

Suddenly his warm lips suck on your ear, making you squirm on his hand buried inside you. The loud, wet suckling sends you into instant orgasm at his discretion. And Raphael only laughs. “What think you, oh apple of my eye?” He runs that forked tongue up the pulsing side of your neck. “Does your still-beating heart quiver with mercy for those who have broken their word to your master… or…”

He lets the sinuous rumble of his voice fade into silence. But you know better than to show any mercy… that kind concept is but a distant memory of a word. Its meaning is lost. “Damn him to the Styx,” you rasp, your voice cracking from overuse screaming in bliss for hours in your service to him.

A deafening snap of his fingers and the mortal vanishes into ember-ridden smoke, a puff of ash and his fate is sealed.

All thanks to you. It’s a heady rush, to be such a plaything and yet… with one capricious utterance, a mortal’s fate is yours to decide. You shiver at the thrill.

And the devil knows it as your squirm on his lap.

“Eager little mouse, aren’t you?” he purrs. “Just how eager, sweetling?”

A challenge issued, one you are in fact more than eager to meet head on. Turning in his lap, you face the devil, hands running over the dry, scaly skin of his form, scoring your nails to make even those black and yellow eyes roll back slightly in arousal.

“Take care, or these mortals doomed for eternity will have more than an eyeful as a parting gift. Or is that what you want?”

You answer with small, little rolls of your hips on his lap. That ridged and twitching devil-cock already pushing perfectly between your thighs. You let your wings unfurl a little, the brush of their raven-black feathers tickles his skin, and you pout, pretending it is nothing more than an accident.

A contrived accident.

And he knows it. He knows your mind and soul better than you know them yourself anymore.

“Oh ho,” he rumbles a laugh in his chest pressing into you, arms wrapping roughly behind your back to grab at the joints of your wings. The pain, the pleasure of his yank arches your back and summons a mewl to tear from your throat. “Careful, my dear, lest you think I’ve given you wings to be free. No, they are but another way for me to possess you, to hold you down and break you even further.”

You whimper once more, hips rocking harder against his clothed erection as it twitches forcefully with each little broken moan you make.

His gaze lifts to the crowd of souls again, one hand reaching to free himself as he calls forward the next for judgment. It’s tedious, the words he spouts, and they are lost on you. All you can think about is taking him again… and again… and again. Somewhere in the middle of his sentencing, you line him up and sink mercilessly on his cock.

Somewhere between article and clause numbers, he groans, great horned head thrown back and hips snapping up at your sudden warmth and wet.

Claws rake down your back, red welts raising as he grips into your hips. “Eager thing, you decide to make all the hells your stage, and you but an actor upon it. Very well,” he growls in your ear. Two arms wrap tightly around you, wings and all as he thrusts up hard inside you. “You have my undivided attention, little mouse. And these fools can wait for their fates. After all, I have eternity to perfect their torments.”

Smoke fills the halls, the mortals sink back into shadow and flame as they disappear… nothing but the stink of sulphur and cherry musk on your Master’s skin remains. Hells, it makes you bounce hard on his cock.

“Recalling when you were my favorite client, hmm? Those fated days that drew you on your inexorable path to my feet… my lap… my bed,” he gloats, that velvet voice roughed in his throat, each scrape in his voicebox timed with the rough thrusts he makes. “And just as you fell from your almighty pedestal, the hero of the city and mortal realms, you landed so softly, so squarely in my arms.” That last word is a monstrous growl, barely understandable anymore. But the way he squeezes you down on him in his searing embrace leaves no room for doubt. “My sweet, corrupted, broken angel…”

One hand roughly scores round your front. “They say that music is the fruit of love…” he hisses in your ear, forked tongue wagging from between his lips to wet the shell of it. “But I think your screams make the most pleasing, sonorous symphony I could ever hope to savour.”

Pointed teeth nip at your ear, a kiss of fangs and hot breath as his large clawed hand clamps around your breast. You arch, you keen, you shatter into a million blissful pieces as you ride his cock. Suddenly, he feels massive inside you, your walls fluttering and gripping him, every ridge along his shaft scrapes you. Those devil-ridges deliciously score your walls, overstimulating your gripping muscles. They flutter, they spasm until you can’t take any more. Your body tightens in ecstacy only to go limp as your climax wanes.

Nails slice into your skin, digging into your breast, Raphael draws one last shattered groan from your slack lips. Down come the claws… the line seems to laugh inside your broken mind, a threat and a promise wrapped in sinful, agonizing bliss. His grunts and snarls are rough in your ear, his thrusts up into you split you apart. A chorus of feral grating noises, crescendos until you can feel his rhythm growing stilted as he’s close. You gasp and writhe in his grip with what little energy you can muster until that searing hot seed fills your belly.

He breathes a heavy sigh of pure satisfaction into one ear, tingles racing down your spine at the deafening blast of breath. “Let those unfortunate souls languish in torment a little while longer…” he stands, arms around your body, cock still buried deep in your cunt. “Shall I give you more of the same torture and pleasure that made you mine… that granted me your body and soul?” He chuckles deep and rough in your ear. “Shall we have a little repeat performance, little mouse, of the way I left you dangling on the precipice of bliss for days… for tendays?” Long strides cross the distance from his throne to the halls… And bliss or torture, pain or pleasure, you crave both as you cling to his neck, waiting for your judgment with a smile.

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