Obey Me! Headcannons

Again, their touch was gentle but still violating nonetheless; they groped your breasts, sucking on your nipples and coiling around them. You try and keep as much dignity you have left, biting your lip to hold back your moans. The tentacles seem to sense your defiance and dislike it very much. They tear through your clothing, leaving only your thin panties to cover you. They curl around your thighs, spreading your legs to tease you, rubbing against your clothed cunt, and nuzzling your clit; their suckers find it and abuse the little bundle of nerves.

A blissful whine escapes your lips; you can’t remember the last time you felt this good. The tentacles stroke your body with satisfaction, assumingly rewarding you for your submission. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your sense of dignity is long gone by now; you’re a wailing mess. Hair sticking to your sweat-coated skin, tear-filled eyes rolled up into your head, and while your mouth hangs open with a bead of drool leaking from the side.

The tentacles can sense your arousal, not to mention your drenched underwear. They move your panties to the side and continue to toy with your aching pussy, stroking your wet hole and sucking on your sore clit until you cum.

The tentacles let you catch your breath, lovingly massaging your body. Soon enough, you’re suspended in the air as more tentacles hold you, creating a makeshift bed to place you comfortably. Another tentacle approaches your face again, latching itself to your mouth and pushing past your lips to curl around your tongue. Is this its way of kissing you? Is it showing affection?

It’s a bit gross, but the tentacles mean well. Your body suddenly jolts as you feel a tentacle push against your sopping hole. It uses its suckers to tease you again, but as you grind yourself against it, the tentacle penetrates you, pressing against your walls to search for your sweet spot. The tentacle in your mouth begins to thrust in and out as you feel another tentacle enter your ass. The tentacle in your pussy moves rhythmically with the others as it’s sucker hit your g-spot. At this point, your mind is nothing but mush. All you see are white spots as your legs quake under the tentacles, unable to hold yourself up longer.

The tentacles wrap around your waist and lift you. You’re now ass up, face down, and being fucked mercilessly in all three holes. You can’t take it; it’s too good, too much, too many. You feel more tentacles enter your already full holes. Doesn’t this monster know you have a limit?

It doesn’t care, really. All it wants is to see you cum, and cum, again. You can feel yourself getting dizzier after each orgasm, one after another. Before you know it, you’re waking up from your fucked out haze. The tentacles seemed to have stopped fucking your brains out a while ago; they’re all curled up around your protectively, some still inside you. You try and crawl towards the door, but you’re body is useless at this point.

The tentacles drag you back to them, curling around to massage your worn-out body. It seems you won’t be leaving this room any time soon...or ever.

...

disappointed but not surprised: lucifer, beelzebub, diavolo

They warned you, didn't they? Solomon is the shadiest sorcerer to ever exist. He's powerful and unpredictable and he can't even be called human anymore. Why in all the Devildom did you have to pick him? You could've had literally anyone else! Unheeded warnings about not getting too close to Solomon turn into vague reminders that the demons are there to save you from that white-haired menace if you need it. Lucifer sneaks behind your back and gives him the world's scariest shovel talk, which is a little silly since this was only supposed to be a casual arrangement for comfort and intimacy. (Of course, no one realized that you and Solomon managed to catch feels along the way.) Lucifer's thinly-veiled threats promising a painful demise should be enough to scare anyone away. None of them expect Solomon to abruptly end your casual relationship so that he can date you officially instead. He looks far too smug with himself when you hold his hand at RAD in front of the others and when he becomes a semi-regular visitor at the House of Lamentation. Your undeniable happiness is a constant reminder to the others that they underestimated both humans in the exchange program.

why didn't anyone stop them?! (yeah, they're jealous af): mammon, leviathan, satan, belphegor

This is awful. Isn't this why they were supposed to keep an eye on you, to keep you from getting mixed up with people like him?!

"Weren't you supposed to do that, Mammon?"

"Shuddup!"

They hate Solomon's guts. They don't think he deserves you. (They might not deserve you either, but you could do a hell of a lot better than him!) They roll their eyes and gag dramatically when Solomon kisses your cheek or cozies up beside you in the cafeteria at lunch. When you're not looking, they shoot daggers at him and make not-too-subtle gestures that translate roughly to I'm watching you and if you hurt them, you die. They're less subtle and more aggressive than Lucifer is, and Solomon thinks it's hilarious. He knows how lucky he is that he caught your eye first and not them. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy rubbing it in their faces just a little bit. Maybe he forgets to use a silencing charm on your bedroom door when he fucks you in the House of Lamentation. Maybe he wears low-collar shirts to show off the fresh line of marks you made around the base of his neck. He leaves a toothbrush in your ensuite bathroom and spare clothes in your closet. Sometimes you wear his clothes when you don't have class because they still smell like him. You don't notice the demons sitting beside you at breakfast twitch in their seats and suddenly lose their appetites. You feel so fortunate that you found friendship and love in the Devildom. Your friends tell you (and themselves) that they're happy for you too. You don't notice how fake their smiles are when they see you together (but Solomon does).

they're surprisingly okay with it and no one understands why: asmodeus, barbatos, simeon

They don’t know whether to blame fate or their own bad luck that brought you and Solomon together. They grudgingly admit you could do a lot worse than the white-haired menace that seems to adore you. As long as you’re happy and treated well, they don't feel it’s their place to interfere. The others might sulk and pretend they’re not disappointed, or they might be openly belligerent about it, but some of your friends still support you above all else. Asmo drags you into his room and gossips with you about Solomon while he does your nails. Tell me, you can be honest—how is he in bed with you? I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else! Oh, I bet he's so romantic, isn't he~ He’s curious about your relationship and teases you for intimate details that are too personal to share, but you know he's genuinely excited for you. Barbatos doesn’t say much about your relationship openly, but he enjoys reminding the others that if they were less distracted by their own foolishness, they wouldn’t have taken you for granted. Simeon welcomes you with open arms as a guest to Purgatory Hall when the atmosphere at the House of Lamentation grows too stifling. He does his best to make sure Solomon doesn’t completely ruin dinner when you visit in the evenings. He enjoys discussing books and your other shared interests when the sorcerer is busy; Solomon knows you're safe with the angels in his absence.

Mephisto spots you at the Demon Lord’s Castle when you’re both invited to one of Diavolo’s parties. When you end up in his proximity, he makes some snarky comment about how he thought he recognized that foul stench as soon as you walked in. He’s always using your humanity as an insult to make himself feel that much superior. You don’t realize it’s really a poor effort on his part to find reasons to despise you. He hates how attractive you look in your RAD uniform because it’s more flattering than some drab, grey suit has any right to be. It draws his eyes to all the parts of you he wants to touch and taste. These parties are even worse—you’re wearing something Asmo probably had made for you. It accentuates your best features and teases him with only the slightest bits of skin on display. Other demons openly eye-fuck you when you walk past them, and Mephisto tries so hard not to look as obvious when he does the same from across the room.

You’re completely oblivious to the attention and are too focused on the vitriol he mutters when you’re close enough to hear him. You try to be cordial with everyone, but with him it feels like a waste of time. Not only does he brush off your attempts to be polite, he seems to despise you more as time goes on. Diavolo tries to draw you both into friendly conversation and insists you share a dance when a new song begins to play. It would be rude of Mephisto not to offer you his hand with the prince watching nearby. He leans close to your ear and growls about how expensive his shoes are and warns you about ruining them with your clumsy footing. You want to kick him in the shin and stomp away, but his arm on the small of your back drags you closer to him instead. You get a whiff of his expensive cologne that’s a little smoky and spicy and faintly sweet. He notices your nose wiggling slightly (and he refuses to think it’s cute) when he asks what your problem is. You tell him that you’re grateful his cologne does a good job masking how bad his breath smells. It’s a lie—he smells faintly of Demonus and the cake they passed out for dessert—but you’re scrambling for insults to match the ones he’s thrown your way all evening.

You break away from his grasp as soon as the dance ends, and you storm towards one of the doors to get some fresh air in the gardens. He’s surprised and more than a little insulted by your rudeness, and he feels compelled to follow. You roll your eyes dramatically when you realize he followed you outside and you’re tempted to tell him to fuck off already. He can sense how hostile you are to his presence and it irks him even more—you can’t get rid of him that easily.

"Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Someone has to teach you some manners."

He's within arm's reach in an instant, and you don't even care if he tries to hurt you at this point. Maybe it would give you an excuse to finally give him a good slap? But then he grabs you by the back of the neck and you stumble into his chest when he pulls you forward and crushes his mouth against yours. It muffles your surprised yelp, and a growl reverberates deep in his chest when you bite his bottom lip. It should be a hint for him to let go and pull away, but it seems to spur him on even more. His tongue bullies its way into your mouth and you hate the whiny, keening sound that rips from your throat when it glides teasingly against your own. His gloved hand on the nape of your neck tilts your head slightly so his lips slot against yours more comfortably. His other hand gropes the swell of your ass and pulls you close until you're flush against him. You feel the outline of his cock against your hip and desire pools in your belly. Your body trembles with need because part of you doesn't care that it's Mephisto grinding against you and tongue-fucking your mouth. Your fingers clench in the lapels of his jacket and you’re tempted to tear at his clothes and scratch your nails against his bare skin.

Lucifer is surprisingly tactile, but not in an obvious way. His small gestures can be perceived as platonic or innocent—leaning over your shoulder when he reads over your work, a hand on your back when he walks next to you on a busy street, his nimble fingers plucking a loose thread from your shirt. He doesn’t like it when you look away from him either. There’s a soft scratch of leather under your chin, and his fingers turn your head so you face him once more. His thumb presses down near your bottom lip and you can’t break his grip even if you wanted to. His stare pins you in place and it’s like his eyes pierce your soul. You tremble from nervousness at first, but later with anticipation.

When he takes you to bed, he cages you beneath him. His wings block other distractions from your view so all you can focus on is the blazing heat roaring in his crimson gaze as he stares down at you. Sometimes you turn your head when something embarrasses you—the way he murmurs appreciatively about the way your body feels, or how he licks his lips after feasting between your thighs, or the obscene squelch as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. But when you look away, he touches your cheek or under your chin, and the gloves he's still wearing smell faintly of your musky arousal now, and he directs your attention back where it belongs—on him.

(After he's taken you to bed for the first time, he doesn't mind if you get a little shy when you glance at his gloved hands and look away—he knows exactly what you're thinking of when you do.)

Mammon loves the way your heart races when he compliments you. You bite your lip while you try to think of something to say in response, and your eyes that dart quickly to his and then away again, but he catches the glimmer of happiness and affection that softens your gaze. He boasts proudly, to everyone that's listening or anyone that needs reminding, that he's your first. You don't need anyone else for anything.

He's greedy for everything you are and everything you can give him, and he wants you to be greedy too. He’ll lavish you with attention and gifts and praise and when you're ready, all the things he's desperate to do to your body. He's the only one that can give you what you want. The simplest fantasies are enough to drive him mad—whether he imagines your body moving eagerly with his, or your lust-thickened voice whining in his ear, it doesn't matter—he wants it all.

He'll gladly take the lead in bed if that will get things going. He wants you to use his body to satisfy all the urges you’re too shy to admit out loud. He encourages you to grind back against his tongue when he eats you out from behind, and he drags you onto his lap and helps you bounce on his cock. He gives you that semblance of control so it’s easier for you to relax. Once you're overcome with pleasure, he hoards all your blissed-out expressions and sounds for himself.

Leviathan is awkward, but he’s not shy in the same ways you are. Your kindness flusters him because he doesn't think he deserves it. You compliment him for the most mundane things, and you include him even when he lingers on the sidelines. He learns that it feels good to have a friend like you. You become the rare person that he can share his hobbies with, and he offers you imported snacks from the secret stash in his room no one else knows about. When friendship turns into more complicated feelings, he realizes it’s because of all the little things you do that prove you love him. It boosts his confidence so he can make the first move if you’re too shy.

He might be a little out of practice, but he starts slow: he holds your hand while you watch a movie together, and he kisses you quickly after you finally beat him at Devil Kart. He grows bolder and eager for more. He trails his fingers along your spine, tail curling around your leg possessively, when you cuddle together in his tub. He doesn't try to hide the blush that spreads across his cheeks when he rubs himself against you; he's so hard just from being close to you. He savors your quiet laughter when his fingers tickle your tummy as he tugs your shirt over your head.

There’s nothing cuter than the way you bite your lip when you wrap your legs around his waist and roll your hips against his when he starts to grind against you. Nervous smiles and teasing laughter fades, replaced by the soft, quiet groans and whimpers you both pant against each other's mouths.

Levi figures that it's fine if things are a little awkward or silly at first—you’re figuring things out together, and he wouldn't change a thing.

Satan has fucked before, plenty of times—meaningless encounters to blow off steam or scratch an itch. It’s so incredibly different from the romantic desire he feels when you looks at you. He craves more. He taps into all those cliched love stories he's read and the love songs he's listened to because he wants to show you how much you mean to him. He adores all of your cute, shy expressions when he catches you off-guard with a murmured compliment in your ear, or when he sneaks a quick kiss to your lips when no one's watching, or when he mouths I love you from across the room.

He's so sweet and gentle when he takes you to bed at first—there will be time to explore his rougher tendencies later. Your bodies grow hot and slick with sweat because he envelops you in his arms, blurring the lines of where he ends and you begin. He kisses you when he rocks his hips, teasing you with the slow glide of his cock moving gently inside you. He cups your cheek or the back of your neck when he rests his forehead against yours and you can't see anything but him. He would drown in the blurry sea of your eyes if he could because no one's ever looked at him the way you do. He murmurs his affection against the delicate column of your throat as he guides you both towards the precipice.

The soft, whimpered utterance of his name from your lips is enough to pull him apart at the seams. Before you bury your head against his shoulder to stifle your groans when you come, he catches a fleeting glimpse of your expression and he swears you've never looked more beautiful.

Asmodeus loves to be close to you and compliment you. He assumes it’s a human flaw when you deflect even the most simple praise like you don’t believe him. It confuses him—why would he ever lie to you? He loves you and thinks you’re gorgeous and so sweet. If he tells you that nothing brightens his mood more than seeing you smile, or that there’s nothing he wants more than to take you to pieces between his sheets, he wants you to know because it’s the truth. It’s his truth.

You don’t need to agree with him right away, even though he secretly hopes that one day you will. He can’t deny what he feels for you. It’s impossible. He’s too far gone to pretend what he feels for you is anything less than overwhelming love and admiration and desire. You make his head spin and his heart race and his cock ache, and everyone else can see that he looks at you like he’s never looked at anyone before.

When he takes you to his room and peels the clothes from your body, he stands behind you so you can watch yourself in his full-length mirror. He tsks when you squirm and try to look away, and he coos into your ear between soft barely-there kisses against your neck.

Don’t you see how lovely you are? Can’t you feel the way my fingers tremble because I’ve waited all day to touch you?

He knows you can feel his cock trapped in the confine of his pants—it twitches against your back and he rolls his hips slowly so it grinds against the curve of your ass as he undresses you. Once you’re naked and a little breathless, he finally leads you to his bed and crawls on top of you, or he leans back against the headboard and settles you on his lap so you can straddle him. He whispers his feelings for you against your lips and trails his fingers along your warm, soft skin. He’s patient and he waits while he holds you in his arms, prolonging the inevitable. When you finally beg for him to move, to give you what you both desperately want, he rewards you with all the pleasure his body can give you.

Beelzebub mistakes your shyness for fear—not just fear of living in the Devildom, but fear of him. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were afraid of him in the beginning. Humans are so frail—you could be as tall as him, as broad as him, or as muscular as him, and you still would seem so small in comparison. His strength made him a formidable angel and it makes him even more threatening as a demon. Eventually he gets to know you better, and friendship turns into something more, and he realizes that he never wants you to be afraid of him again.

He tries to understand your shy nature and how to make you comfortable. Sometimes you can't enjoy dinner parties or Diavolo’s dances without being bothered by the other curious guests—you like to pick and choose when you want to be sociable. He tries to draw unwanted attention away from you so you can escape for some fresh air. He’ll even bring a plate of desserts to split while the others wonder where you’ve both snuck off to. 

Things change when he admits how much he wants you, and it's not long before chaste kissing simply isn't enough to satisfy either of you. Dark, hungry thoughts are difficult to control when passions run high, and Beel knows he could hurt you by accident if he's not careful—the thought terrifies him. He's not timid when he undresses you or lays you in his bed, but he's hesitant when he touches you with his hands and his mouth and eventually his cock. He glances at your face to watch your reactions and he asks you what feels good. Above his own needs, he desperately wants to please you.

You whimper or groan his name, or you whine when he touches the most sensitive parts of your body. He stops to remind you—with his rough voice thickened with lust—to use your words when he asks if you’re okay. All you have to do is tell him what you want, what you like, what you need, and he'll give you everything you ask in return.

Belphegor is surprisingly protective of you. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that you squirm or avoid eye contact in public settings. Your voice wavers when you have to present something in one of your classes, and you don’t like being the centre of attention at Diavolo's parties. He tries to help and take some of those burdens off your shoulders. He sticks close to your side so he can deflect away unwanted attention, and he glares at the other demons that might try and approach you.

Somewhere along the way, friendship stops being enough for him. He disguises his genuine desires as teasing remarks or jokes to test the waters and gauge your response. He invites you to nap in the attic, and he strips down to his boxers and suggests you do the same. It’s cute when you stammer and insist that you’re going to keep your clothes on.

(For now, anyway—eventually you agree to take off some of your burdensome layers as long as he turns the lights off first. He obliges because he can still see you perfectly, but he figures you’ll be more comfortable believing he can’t.)

Sometimes when you sleep cuddled together, your dreams bleed over into his. It happens by accident, but he doesn’t do anything to prevent it either. It gives him a glimpse of the world through your eyes, and he realizes that his face flickers across your dreamscape more and more often as time passes.

Those dreams of yours encourage him, and he starts teasing you just a little more. He wakes up half-hard and pressed against your side, but he pretends not to notice when he asks how you slept. He wears nothing but a loose towel wrapped around his hips when he walks past your room after showering. He leans close and wipes at the corner of your mouth with his thumb, claiming you have something left there from dinner. Your breath hitches when he lets his eyes trail down to your lips, and he pulls back with a smile when you try and fail to hide your disappointment.

One day he might grow impatient and finally close the distance, but for now he tries to be patient—he’s curious if you'll overcome your nerves and kiss him first.

Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @haezen @xpixie @lemonivall @meggsngrits @flemmingbamse @tortibomb @amberrskiies @angelsdilf @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @a-hidden-gem @lust--on--my--lips @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @cosmicstarlatte @alexxncl @sirimirihiro @i-am-empress-irish @ezraiix @bizarrebankai @devildomd0ll @alexxavicry @moon-i-v @ablondehoe @vinsmouke