⋆˚౨whimsical wanderingsৎ˚⋆

This is an utter failure.

There are the only words you can think as you stare around the crowded ballroom.

You planned this ball with high hopes of finding a suitor, the perfect prince to whisk you off your feet. Looking around now, all the possible suitors seem either not interested in you, or too cowardly to approach. You hoped it was the latter.

Sighing, you wander to the table along the far wall laden with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. At least you can eat to your heart's content at this disappointment of an event.

"My lady." You hear the one voice you didn't want addressing you. And you really don't want to turn around.

"Lord Mineta." Barely holding back from grimacing, you bow as little as you could while still showing enough courtesy. That's what's expected of the princess, after all.

He's just as oily and perverted as you remember. "You look simply… ravishing in that dress, princess."

"Oh, thank you." You grit out through what you hope is a polite smile. Another hour or two and you can retreat to your room. He's disgusting, but he is right about the dress. It's a deep green, the tulle and lacy creating a gentle cascade to the floor.

Mineta begins to prattle on about his newest successful business venture, which you promptly tune out. Until he begins touching your dress, that is.

You tense as you feel his hand rest on your shoulder, messing with the lace of your sleeve. As you have been taught from an early age, you shift away at an almost imperceptible pace, attempting not to make a scene.

"And then, I told Lord Sero that to invest in his stock would be suicide! A rather smart move, if I do say so myself." He seems to move even closer, looking at you intently. Well, at some of you.

"Indeed." You try to pull away more firmly this time. But still, he draws closer.

Suddenly taking your hand in his clammy ones, he murmurs, "Care to take this conversation a little more… private, princess? I'm sure the party won't miss us."

You shake your head, attempting to pull your hand away. For such a man of small stature, he had a worryingly strong grip. "Lord Mineta, I don't think—"

"Is this man bothering you, princess?" A firm but concerned voice asks. In your shaky state and out of the corner of your eye, you notice it is one of the knights present at the ball. Typically they stay along the walls unless they need to interfere.

Blinking, you try to pull yourself together. You nod shakily.

Without another word, the knight grabbed Lord Mineta and began hauling him out of the room, despite his protests.

After a couple minutes and a few deep breaths later, the knight returns.

And your composure leaves you again.

Due to the nature of the situation, you hadn't really gotten a good look at him before. Now, you do. You really get a good look at him.

He's big, not particularly in height, but in bulk. Even in the heavy metal over his chest, you could tell he was muscular. His silky black hair shone almost blue in the light, and his glasses gave his serious but kind face an endearing quality.

In short, maybe the evening wasn't as much of a failure as you thought.

"Thank you." You say breathlessly, looking up at him.

He bows, back stiff. "Of course. Are you alright, princess?" His tone is overly formal, and you delight to see that he is feeling nervous as well.

Gods, it's been less than a minute and you're already attached. He's gorgeous.

You look up at him through your eyelashes with a smile. "Yes, thanks to you."

A blush blooms across his face. "Well- well I'm glad to hear that." He bows again. It seems like the only thing he's sure he's doing right at the moment.

Your eyes widen as he turns to leave. "Wait! I haven't gotten your name yet."

"My name?" His eyebrows scrunch. The princess, the beautiful woman standing before him, wants to know his name? "Ida. Tenya Ida."

You curtsy with a smile, allowing him to leave. He quickly scurries back to his post along the wall by the doorway.

You float through the rest of the evening, in a considerably better mood.

You're determined to see him again. No matter what it takes.

And if he found that he couldn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the night, no he didn't.

~

“C’mon, Megumiiii~” you whine, prodding at his shoulder for emphasis, “you’re being such a little grump.” 

“I’m not–I–what? I’m not a grump,” Megumi glares at you, not helping to disprove your statement. “I’m just telling you it’s not gonna work, so there’s no point in trying.” 

The two of you are currently sprawled out on the couch in the living room of your shared apartment. It’s a lazy Sunday, it’s early September, and it’s still hot out – meaning you’re in nothing but a tank top and sleep shorts, and Megumi is in nothing but a pair of dark plaid boxers. His whole chest is out, and you haven’t been able to stop staring. 

Megumi is lean but somewhat toned, his muscles only subtly visible under his pale skin when he’s relaxed. He’s beautiful all over, but the one thing really holding your attention captive is his nipples. They’re so pretty and pink, just sitting there on the gentle swell of his pecs – and you don’t think he’s ever let you touch them.  

About five minutes ago, you interrupted the show you two were watching with the out-of-pocket comment, “did you know that some guys can cum from just their nipples?” 

Megumi had instantly stiffened up, turning to look at you with an eyebrow raised. “Okay? Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know, I just thought it was interesting.” You shrugged innocently. “Did you know that?” 

Megumi had looked at you skeptically for a moment longer before turning back towards the TV. 

“No,” he grumbled. 

“Gosh, Megumi, you already sound annoyed! I didn’t even suggest anything.” 

“No, but you’re gonna, aren’t you? You never just think something’s interesting. Just go ahead, say it.” 

You laughed at him, pushing at his shoulder for his attitude. “Well, you’re a guy…and you have nipples.” 

There it is, Megumi thought. 

“No.” 

Megumi shook his head. You considered leaving the subject alone with how quick his answer was, but the noticeable blush that had crept onto his cheeks made you want to keep pushing a bit. 

“No? You don’t have nipples? Or you’re not a guy?”

“No, I do–I am. But I’m not…” Megumi flushed harder, clearing his throat. “...Not gonna try whatever you’re implying.” 

After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you had managed to convince Megumi to watch a video from your Twitter feed of a girl making a guy cum from his nipples, Megumi’s curiosity winning over his resistance. 

He watched the entire thing with a skeptical, almost judgemental look on his face, but you didn’t miss the way it made him squirm in his seat, or the way his cheeks got noticeably redder. 

However, even after the video proved you right, Megumi still didn’t seem any more willing to let you touch his nipples. 

This is what led to your current conversation that’s got Megumi’s feathers so ruffled.

“Okay, but how do you know it won’t work if you’ve never tried it?” You tilt your head at him, smirking playfully. 

“Because. I just…I know. It won’t work. It's not really gonna feel like anything, and you'll be disappointed." 

“Okay, fine, how about this,” you decide to try a new approach, “you don’t even have to think about cumming from it. Forget that idea. I just wanna touch them.” 

Megumi whines, his hands covering his face before he pushes them upwards to run through his hair, looking stressed. “Why do you wanna touch them so badly? They’re just nipples.” 

“Because they’re so cute! Plus I think they’re the only part of you that I’ve never touched, and that’s kind of evil if you think about it.” 

Megumi covers his face again at this, mumbling something unintelligible. 

You drop your head on his shoulder dramatically. “Ahhh, you’re so mean, Megumiii~ I let you touch my boobs all the time… you hate meee…” 

“What? Come on, I love you, I just–” Megumi pauses as he processes your implication. “They’re not boobs.”

“Close enough,” you mumble, deciding again to redirect your approach. 

Turning your body into Megumi’s, still leaning on his shoulder, you throw your left leg over his thigh and place your left hand on his tummy, starting to draw gentle circles into his skin. Megumi sucks in a sharp breath, and you lean into his neck, placing a kiss right under his ear. 

Megumi stiffens up, but he doesn’t protest as your hand slowly makes its way up to his chest. You’re close enough to him that you can hear his breathing picking up. You can feel his pulse quickening as you gently press kisses into the side of his neck.

Megumi lets out a soft whine as you suck gently on his pulse point, shifting his hips uncomfortably. He whispers your name almost anxiously, his left hand grabbing at your thigh to ground himself. 

“C’mon, they’re right there,” you whisper to him, tracing your middle finger in a circle around his nipple, deliberately avoiding touching it. “Can I touch them just a little? Please?”

You can feel his resolve crumbling. As soon as he whispers out a shaky “okay,” Megumi can feel your sly smile growing against his neck. 

You press another kiss below his ear, whispering “that’s my good boy,” and dragging the pad of your finger over his left nipple, gently rubbing it in a circle. 

You don’t know exactly what level of reaction you were expecting, but your hopes certainly weren’t this high. 

Megumi jerks, letting out a sharp whine, his fingers digging into your thigh. You pull your head out of his neck in surprise, watching as his dick twitches visibly in his boxers. You look at him, an eyebrow raised in pleasant astonishment, and he can only meet your eyes for a second before he drops his head against the backboard of the sofa with a shaky moan, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“My god, Megs…” you mumble, eyes lit up in excitement as you sit up straighter, hand drifting over to his other nipple. Again, he jerks sharply, whining, his right hand gripping the blanket on the sofa. As the soft pad of your finger circles this one, Megumi starts to push his hips up against the air, his cock now straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

“Ugh, I–fuck-” Megumi curses under his breath, trying to stop himself from squirming. 

Feeling elated from his positive reaction, you bring yourself to straddle him, purposely sitting far enough down on his thighs that you aren’t making contact with his dick. 

“Hey,” You bring your right hand to gently tap at his cheek, prompting him to open his eyes. “Look at me,” you whisper. Megumi feels dizzy from the way your other hand is still circling his nipple, sending sparks through his body, but he forces himself to raise his head up. “Did you know they were this sensitive?” 

Megumi lowers his head, feeling his cheeks flush impossibly warmer. “Maybe,” he mutters. 

“How is this the first time I’m finding out?” You don’t sound mad. More like you’re in awe and genuine confusion. Megumi lowers his eyes, unable to meet yours with the way you’re looking at him so hungrily, like you just found a new toy, and you’re planning to play with it until it breaks. 

But he can’t stop himself from pushing his hips up, wishing that you would scooch a couple inches higher so your weight would be on his dick. Ignoring your question, Megumi decides to lift his knees so you fall further forward onto him. Realizing what he’s trying to do, you stabilize yourself on his chest, before pinching his nipple hard. “Stop that. Answer me.” 

Megumi whines loudly at the feeling, his whole body tensing up, and a strong shiver runs down his spine. He drops his knees, but his hips continue to rock upwards involuntarily. “Fuck–please, I…it’s too much,” 

You stop pinching his nipple, rubbing it gently in apology, and Megumi lets out a shaky breath punctuated by a soft whimpery noise that you don’t think you’ve ever heard come out of him. The corner of your mouth turns upwards as you let your eyes settle on his cock, now fully hard in his underwear, the whole outline clearly visible, twitching painfully every few seconds. You stare at it until Megumi squirms, pushing his hips up at you again, before you raise your eyes back up to meet his. “Answer my question.” 

Megumi drops his head in shame, his chest rising and falling as he pants. “Don’t know. I was embarrassed.” 

“Aww. Why were you embarrassed, ‘Gumi?” You take his face in your hands, and he looks up at you, cheeks burning, still with a bit of reluctance on his face. But you see how his eyes are starting to glaze over, how he’s looking at you like he wants you to take control; to rip away his last remnants of inhibition, so he doesn’t have to think about how embarrassed he is, so he’s just yours. 

“‘Cause it makes me act like this,” he mumbles. 

“Awh,” You gently rub his cheek with your thumb before pushing it softly against his lip. Megumi makes a soft noise, pushing his hips up again as you caress his bottom lip with your thumb. “Open,” you whisper, and his mouth falls open without a second thought, his eyes fluttering shut. “Thaat’s it,” you coo at him, pressing down against his tongue. 

Megumi lets out a filthy moan around your finger, his mouth closing around it as he starts to suck. “Pwease,” he whines around your finger, watery eyes meeting yours. 

“Please what, baby?” You coo, slipping a second finger in. As soon as Megumi tries to answer, you push your fingers back into his throat, making him gag. He looks at you with wide eyes, moaning again around your fingers, trying again to answer but it’s unintelligible. 

Taking pity on him, you pull your fingers out of his mouth, causing drool to spill out around them. “Please touch me,” he gasps as soon as your fingers have passed his lips on the way out. 

“Okay love,” you rub the wetness from his mouth between your fingers on each hand before you bring them down to his nipples again, rubbing over both of them at the same time. 

“Nghh–” Megumi jolts, arching his chest up into your fingers. “N-not there–” he pants, unsure whether to squirm away from your fingers or up into them. They’re so sensitive, he can’t even tell if it feels good or if it’s too much. 

“So pretty,” you marvel, completely enamoured by his reactions, never having seen him this squirmy and sensitive before. 

“Fuck, it’s too much–” he grits out, pushing his hips up harder as you alternate between pinching and circling his sensitive nipples. “Please!”

“Please what? I’m touching you, Megs. What’re you whining about?” 

Megumi drops his head again, whining harder, feeling overwhelmed, unused to having so much stimulation there. He knew his nipples were sensitive because he feels it whenever he takes his shirt on or off. He’s tried touching them once or twice while jerking off, too, but quickly decided it was too much and stopped. He’s never experienced anything like the way you’re touching them now, and at this point, he doesn’t even have the ability to process whether it’s too much or not because his cock is so hard. 

“N-not there,” he whines again, registering the embarrassment of his request in the back of his mind but feeling too desperate to pay it any mind, knowing exactly what you want him to say. “Please...can you touch my cock?” 

Normally, asking nicely works perfectly for Megumi, as you have trouble denying him anything when he’s like this. But this time, you just smirk at him, making his blood run cold. 

“Aw, but you’re doing so good for me, ‘Gumi! Don’t you wanna see if you can cum like this?” 

Megumi shakes his head frantically, continuing to push his hips up against the air. 

“No, no…Please, I can’t. It’s not enough!” 

“But you just said it was too much?” You tilt your head at him innocently, flicking his nipples faster under your thumbs. “Which one is it, ‘Gumi?” 

“I–I–shit…ngh…” Megumi fumbles around for something to grab onto, settling on your thighs. You giggle at him, letting him white-knuckle your thighs, seemingly unaffected by this whole display. 

“Look, Megs, you’re leaking so much,” you take one hand off his nipple, bringing it down to hover over his cock, smiling at the sizable wet spot that’s formed, emphasizing where his tip is straining against the fabric. Thinking you’re finally going to touch him, Megumi’s head shoots up, eyes wide and frantic. 

“Please, please. Please.”

“Shhhhh,” you ghost the backs of your index and middle fingers over the wet spot in his boxers, petting it softly like you would with a scared animal, trying to coax it into trusting you. Megumi almost chokes on the moan that rips from his throat, his cock jumping up to meet your fingers. “Relax, ‘Gumi. Relax.” 

Megumi tries to be good, to keep his hips down, but he can’t stop his cock from twitching, nor can he stop himself from squirming under your other hand. 

“C-Can’t–ngh,” he squirms harder, “Please!”

You pout at him, pulling your fingers away from his cock slowly, a small string of precum following them for the first inch before breaking. Megumi lets out a humiliated sob as the tiny bit of stimulation you gave him is ripped away, while you sink your teeth into your own lip, swallowing a moan at how wet he is.

“Megs, you can cum from this. You definitely can.” 

“N-No,” he cries, shaking his head. “Can’t.” 

“Are you close?” 

Megumi sniffles harder, feeling his eyes burn with tears, wiping at his eyes in frustration before they even fall. “Y-Yeah,” he huffs, “b-but it’s not enough.” 

You pout at him again, planting a soft kiss on his lips in pity, before kissing down his neck to his chest. 

“Wait, no, I can’t–” 

Megumi squeezes his eyes shut as you wrap your lips around his left nipple, still rubbing his right one under your finger. His brain freezes for a second before he lets out a debauched moan, hands flying to tangle in your hair without a second thought. 

“Fuck!” he gasps for air, practically writhing underneath you, feeling the intense tingling from his nipples start to spread into his tummy. He’s rocking his hips up rhythmically into the small space between him and your stomach, stopping each thrust just when the fabric of his boxers ghosts against the fabric of your tank top. 

You lower your other hand to rest on his waist, gently stroking the skin there, not minding that fact that he’s practically bucking you around like a mechanical bull given that he’s not actually grinding on anything. You alternate between lapping against his nipple with your tongue and sucking it between your lips, while you gently flick his right one under your finger. 

Megumi feels the knot start to tighten in his lower stomach, subconsciously mirroring it in the way his hands tighten in your hair. He moans your name, sounding panicked. “Shit, shit. Feels weird. I needa cum–please–” 

You hum against his nipple, pulling away for a moment to whisper “Go ahead, Megs, you can cum.” 

“Ca-an’t,” he cries, thrashing under you, “not enough, ahh–n-need more–” 

“Okay, then don’t,” You smirk against him, not stopping your ministrations. 

“Please,” Megumi has given up on trying to stop himself from fully crying at this point. “Please, I–need to cum so bad,”

“Then do it,” you whisper again. 

Megumi groans, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to focus on the feeling building in his stomach. He feels his muscles starting to tense, and his balls starting to tighten. He gasps as his hips stutter into the air, pulling you closer against his chest. “Shit shit–I’m gonna–”

“C’mon, kitty, you can do it,” you whisper, before biting his nipple between your teeth. 

Megumi’s whole body goes taught, his toes curling, and for a moment, he’s completely silent, sound caught in his throat. Then he lets out a delicious moan, cock jumping as he shoots white ropes into his boxers. 

“O-Ohmygod,” Megumi pants, feeling his vision go spotty as he successfully cums untouched, holding your head against his chest like a lifeline as he curls in on himself.

After about thirty seconds, Megumi lets out a harsh breath, and you feel him go slack underneath you, slumping against the couch. You plant one last kiss against his overstimulated nipple before pulling your head away from his chest to get a good look at him. You feel yourself throb at the sight. 

Megumi is sprawled against the back of the couch, head tilted back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly between ragged breaths. His hair is slightly matted with sweat, and his entire body is dewy and flushed. His cock is still twitching periodically, along with his stomach and chest muscles, from the aftershocks of his orgasm – especially from how intensely he had to tighten them to cum untouched. The wet spot on his boxers has tripled in size, some of his cum having gone through the fabric completely, the thick, white substance contrasting the dark, wet fabric of his boxers, only serving to further emphasize the picture of his fucked out state. 

Finally, your gaze makes its way up to his eyes, which are glassed over, staring at the ceiling, looking like not a single thought is behind them. You gently trace the backs of your fingers over Megumi’s tummy, watching his abs tense and relax at your touch, before gently cupping his cheek again. You rise to your knees, still straddling him, hanging your head over his to look at him.

“Hey,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his nose. “You doin’ okay?”

You watch as Megumi’s eyes lose their haze and focus on yours, and for a second, you’re unable to read his expression. Then, he lets out a breathy laugh, shutting his eyes again. “My god,” he groans. “I can’t believe that worked. Why did I let you do that to me?” 

You giggle, relieved that he's doing okay, and press a kiss against his lips, which he returns eagerly, bringing his arms up to wrap around your waist. 

“Because you love me," you grin at him.  

“Yeah, I do, yet look how you treat me” he whispers against your lips, still smiling. “You’re evil.” 

“Oh come on, Megs, you’re such a baby. You did such a good job! Didn’t I tell you you could do it? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

Megumi blushes, rubbing his face against yours like a cat. “Yeah, easy for you to say. I’m gonna be flinching when I take my shirt off for the next week.” 

You smile against his face before pinching his nipple one more time, making him yelp. 

“That’s what you get for keeping this secret from me for so long~”

ˏˋ°•*🕸 TAGLIST ♰ @sodomiie @koreluvsspring

©decayofalice

Belphie has parked himself at your feet.

He seems to have decided that constant exposure is the best way for the two of you to bond. Out of love for Beel, you have only firmly nudged him with your foot to keep him from touching you.

You're completing your homework, because despite everything you're still attending RAD and expected to be a good student. You're not entirely sure what lie the student council came up with to justify your absence. It doesn't really matter. No one's willing to question you on it. Your untimely death got you exactly a week off, some catch-up work, and a few looks of sympathy from the kinder demons at RAD. Nothing more.

Nothing more than another demon at your beck and call, anyway.

You made the pact with Belphie - who you must nudge away again, because he keeps trying to use the fluffy slippers Asmo got you as a pillow. Of course you did. Your neck still tingles, even as you try and focus on Devildom's bloody history. You can call him to heel whenever you need, should he try again.

He hasn't tried again, though. Nor has he shown any interest in trying again.

Mammon and Satan are the most understanding of your reticence around Belphie, and no one's outright questioned you, but you can tell most of your demons don't quite get it. It has been centuries since anyone could call any of them helpless. They don't know what it's like to be completely unable to fight back. To not even have a chance of facing death with defiance.

So they don't get why you're still uncomfortable with Belphie. A grudge they could understand, resentment, hate. But ongoing fear of their baby brother?

Their baby brother, who is currently drooling on your carpet?

You slam the textbook shut. Belphie wakes - a small jolt followed by feigned stillness, some instinct from long ago, or perhaps just a habit to avoid getting in trouble with Lucifer. You're not getting any work done. Might as well do something else productive.

"What do you want, Belphegor?" You don't look at him as you ask, staring instead at your desk.

He could be doing something else if he was going to hide under your desk while you studied. The thought comes whether you like it or not. Your pacts had tended to include one thing so far, and that thing often involves one of your demons on their knees.

You hear quiet shuffling sounds from under your desk. Belphie pokes his head out next to your knee, alert enough to keep some distance between you.

"I want to spend time with you... There's no hidden motive," he says, purple eyes half-hidden by his hair. He's been saying that a lot, lately. Assuring you he's not hiding anything. You suppose it's his way of trying to comfort you after all the lies he told you in the attic. It would almost be sweet, if your skin didn't crawl at the sight of him.

"You made a pretty quick turnaround," you mutter, pushing your chair away from the desk. You can see him properly now, sitting all curled up with his head propped up on his pillow.

The problem is that you liked Belphegor. You knew he was full of shit - you aren't, despite some opinions, a total idiot - but he was funny, and cute, and Lucifer locking his own brother in the attic while Beel suffered his absence downstairs made your blood boil with rage. You figured the two of you understood each other, at least a little. So you let him out of the attic.

And then he'd broken your ribs, your back, squeezed the air out of your lungs, and tossed you down the stairs. Laughing as Mammon screamed and the rest of his brothers cried.

Belphie wilts. His tired eyes, so similar to Beel's, look at the ground. The problem with Belphie - one of them, anyway - is that he really is pretty cute. Some part of you wants to hold him. More of you wants to break him.

"I just want you to know... that nothing will ever happen again," he says. You want to call him out, tell him that counts as a hidden motive, but it feels petty. Belphie clutches his pillow to him, squeezing it like a soft toy. Or like a soft, breakable human. "I want you to know I'm safe."

"Demons aren't safe, Belphie," you counter, resting your chin on your hands. "You gave me a good reminder of that."

Neither of you tend to talk about it. Not directly. The others don't either. It's clear no one's forgotten. They've only just started leaving you and Belphie alone together. But talking about it is too much for them.

"You, um..." Belphie hesitates. Eyes flick to you and away again. You nod, giving him permission. Might as well hear what he has to say. "You shouldn't be mad... at the others. Or scared of them. Because of me."

You laugh, and the bitterness in surprises you both. "Your brothers did quite a bit to get me to fear them before you got out, Belphegor."

Belphie frowns. He's heard some of it from you, in the attic, but Beel - Beel was your third pact, early on, and the twins' connection may have led him to a more rosy idea of your relationships. Didn't stop him from trying to rip you away from them. Maybe he was afraid of what happened to Lilith happening again.

"You're not scared of them anymore, though. Or you weren't." Belphie isn't quite arguing, but there's a stubborn furrow between his eyebrows. "You... I mean, you..."

His cheeks colour lightly. You tilt your head to the side.

"I what, Belphegor?"

"I mean... you slept with all of them." He pauses. "Except Lucifer. Good."

Not wanting to unpack that last statement for now, you sigh. "I did sleep with them. But only after they'd proven their feelings beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"So... I need to prove my feelings?" Belphie murmurs, nodding to himself. He slides out from under your desk and stands, heading for the door. He walks with purpose.

You have a bad feeling. But if you call after him, he won't leave.

You get back to your work.

***

There is a pile of bodies at your feet.

Belphie looks awfully proud of himself. Smug, if you were feeling less generous. You count at least six heads, though with some body parts missing it’s hard to tell exactly how many demons might have met their end. You recognise precisely none of them. They don't make for a particularly tasteful addition to the House's garden. Satan might be pleased if the meat attracts stray cats, though.

“Who are they?” you ask.

“They were against the exchange program, especially having humans here.” Belphie puffs out his chest. “They were making some plans. I stopped them. Even reported it to Lucifer, so he wouldn’t complain.”

That last part is said bitterly, but it doesn’t dampen his mood for long. He approaches you with a grin that only subsides when you hold out a hand in the universal gesture for stop.

“Did you have fun?” You step forward and rest that same hand against his chest, feeling his elevated heart rate - for him, anyway. Your gaze travels further down and you catch a bump in his slacks - not fully hard, but clearly excited.

The problem is so are you. Even as Belphie demurs, shrugs at your question, you know he’s a sadistic killer who would’ve enjoyed it. Hell, you’ve heard stories from the others about their early days in the Devildom. What they'd done to blow off steam.

But your demons have had an effect on you, as much as you'd had an effect on them. And one of those effects is getting wet at the sight of dismembered demons. They’ve Pavlov’d you.

You look at Belphie again, searching. His eyes have always been so pretty - a dead giveaway of his nature, being so like Beel’s. He looks proud, yes, but also hopeful.

“You would’ve enjoyed killing them anyway,” you say. Belphie sways backwards, hurt. You grip the fabric of his shirt and he freezes. “I have another way for you to prove yourself. Go clean up and and change. Meet me in the attic in half an hour.”

He nods eagerly and runs off. Well, running for him, which seems more like a halfhearted jog, but he’s trying to put the speed on. Trying to put in effort for you.

He’s going to have to, with what you’ve got planned for him.

***

You sneak up to the attic with your supplies. You’d rather avoid all the brothers, but particularly Asmo - if he sees what you’re carrying, he will try to follow you, and you’d feel awful about his pout when you sent him back downstairs.

Lucifer catches a glimpse of you from his room, and promptly closes the door.

When you get there, Belphie is already shirtless. Optimistic of him. Not a bad guess though. You dump what you’re carrying on the table.

“Here’s the thing, Belphie,” you begin. You’re not trying to be seductive, but Belphie seems into it anyway, a flush creeping down his pale chest. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you taking those demons out, but let’s face it, it wasn’t exactly hard for you, was it?”

Belphie shrugs. “It’s hard to find tough enough opponents for us. Unless you want me to fight one of my brothers, but I figured you wouldn’t be happy if I did that.”

“I’m glad you know that much.” Belphie has clearly thought about this. His overtures weren't always obvious. Feelings didn’t always come across clearly from him. But he is trying to take your thoughts and feelings into account. It is sweet, annoyingly, and if it weren't for your history, you would simply find it endearing. “I also know you’re a sadistic asshole, so I don’t think it was difficult or upsetting for you to do. And to prove yourself, I want to see you push beyond your comfort zone a bit.”

Belphie eyes the things you've brought up to the attic. He looks wary and excited. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, and then your voice hardens. “This will be the only order I give you tonight. Safe word if you need to. Green if you’re fine. Yellow for slow down or pause, red for an immediate stop.”

Belphie gulps as the order settles in, the pact flaring between you. It’s rare for you to call on his power. You’re both still getting used to it.

“I think I’ll like the kind of games you want to play, but got it, Master.” He says the title with an almost manic glee in his eyes. You wonder how long it will last.

“Everything else that happens tonight will be on your own willpower.” You lift up a yoga mat and a towel. “Bed or floor. I suggest floor. You’ll be less tempted to sleep, and it’ll be easy to stay balanced.”

Belphie scrambles off the bed in a rare show of speed. He's confused, but taking your suggestion. He can be a good listener when he wants to be.

You lay out the mat and the towel on the carpet for him, because fucking his knees up is not on your agenda for tonight. The rest of him is fair game.

“Next, pants off.”

Belphie grins, taking it slow. You wonder if he got advice from Asmo. In clumsy, unpracticed movements, he inches his pyjama pants down, revealing more and more of his stomach. It’s sort of cute, and you suppress a smile. You don’t want to give him too much encouragement.

“Hands and knees.”

You don’t take much time to appreciate his body. It’s nice. Soft. You settle behind him, carrying with you lube and a box full of options. You're not sure how experienced Belphie is - he's lazy, but he's also thousands of years old. You're trying to push him in very specific ways, and tearing his ass apart is not one of them. Tonight, anyway.

You still don't bother warming the lube up before shoving a finger in his ass. You're not being that nice. The choked sound Belphie makes sends a thrill down your spine.

After the initial shock of the cold and intrusion, Belphie quickly settles on his elbows, relaxing into your touch. When you lean over you see the soft, dreamy smile on his face. He makes soft, quiet little noises. He's clearly enjoying it, so you work up to two, then three fingers. His muscles seem naturally relaxed which helps, possibly due to his Sloth. You decide against any of the smaller toys.

You take your time, working your fingers until he's a puddle on the floor except for his ass, which he's still holding up for you. He groans in protest when you remove your fingers. He tries to push himself back, chase you, but you spank him, hard.

He jolts, a smaller reaction than a human would've had with the amount of force you put into it. You remind yourself you're dealing with a demon, so there's little need to hold back.

You smack him again until he reluctantly sits up.

"Here's the deal, Belphegor," you tell him, setting up the base upright on the mat for him, and selecting a good, mid-sized dildo to mount on it. "I want you to work to prove yourself. You're going to enjoy this for a while. But you don't get to stop when you cum. You're going to keep going until I say stop."

Belphie glances between you and the dildo. "That seems more like a reward."

You smile. It draws a shudder out of him. "We'll see how long you think that." You wave your DDD around. "Every so often a chime will go off, and I'll add something to the experience. Sometimes it might help you. Probably it won't. If you get through it all, I'll know how you feel. If you safe word out, we can change things up and try again. If you just give up though, we're done. And I will know the difference."

Belphie swallows. Nods.

"Great! I need to get some homework done for the first part, so you get comfortable, okay?"

You stand up before he has the chance to protest. As you head to wash your hands before touching your homework - you don't hate your Devildom History teacher that much - Belphie calls after you.

"You're still fully clothed." He's pouting at you, reproachful. You can see why his older brothers indulge him so much.

"You're not in a position to make requests right now," you reply.

You settle in. It's going to be a long night.

***

You chose right. Belphie groans and grits his teeth while he sinks onto the plastic cock. But he's not in obvious pain, his cock remains standing upright, and he begins rolling his hips soon after.

You glance between him, your timer, and your homework. Belphie is clever. He knows you're planning on leaving him like this for a while, so he paces himself. Doesn't chase his orgasm, doesn't bounce up and down, instead goes slow and steady, rolling his hips. One of his hands rests on the bed for balance, the other on his knee.

You're wet. Your body, now very used to regular sex, is ready to go. You find yourself hoping Belphie does well tonight, so you can both have what you want.

Because you do want Belphie, despite everything. You know he's no threat to you anymore. You know his body would feel sweet against yours. You imagine him making that flushed, breathless face over you, or under you, or in the mirror while you fuck him from behind.

You have to be careful how your pen moves on the paper, because you do not want to explain any doodles to your teacher.

It's probably a sign that something inside you over the course of the exchange program has been fundamentally altered. That there's even a possibility for the two of you after what he did. That your body could react not with fear, but desire. Is this the cultural exchange Diavolo had been looking for? You doubt it.

Belphie's still going strong after five, ten, fifteen minutes - he's biting his lip, cheeks red, eyes watery, determined. He hasn't come, but his cock is heavy between his legs. His hands white-knuckled, digging indents into the skin on his thigh, pulling the blanket half-off the bed. His pillow lays far away, out of the splash zone.

"You can cum as often as you want," you remind him.

He groans and glares at you. Instead of intimidating, it looks adorably pathetic. Verbal complaints are apparently beyond him. It startles a laugh out of you, which makes him smile for a moment before the first chime goes off at twenty minutes.

You turn it off - and turn down the volume of your DDD. You'd rather the other brothers don't show up, though they're usually good at giving you your privacy.

"Stay there," you order without using the pact. Putting your homework to the side, you walk behind him to find your box of tricks. "I've found the others have a high pain tolerance. I wonder how you'll go, as the seventh-born?"

"I'm -ngh- I'm still an Avatar," he moans. He's shaking. Eyes slipping closed. Now, twenty minutes in, he's starting to waver. He's lasted for longer than you thought, but his sin is creeping back in. Time for you to help him out. Wake him up.

"Back straight," is all the warning you give him.

You crack the whip against his back.

He folds over himself. It's a mistake - instantly, the toy is forced deeper, striking all new angles, and he cums. painting the towel in white. A red welt rises on his back - you've learned a lot about how to wield this thing right.

You give him a moment. "Back up, Belphegor."

He struggles to pull himself upright once more. You can't see his face, but you can see the tension in his muscles, and you can just spy his still hard cock, barely softened.

The whip splits the air again, meeting his skin with a sharp crack.

He responds better, only a small jump. Belphie chokes down his noises at first, but he quickly gives this up after a few more. You draw a latticework of red raised lines on his back, watching his muscles twitch, his shoulders heave, his ass bounce. You don't bother to count. That's not what this is about.

You keep going until your arm is sore, and then keep going after that. You go until Belphie cums again, with a hoarse cry, and you wait until he manages to push himself back up before striking him more.

You can't remember ever letting yourself be this vicious. Not holding back your anger, your strength, your desire to hurt. It makes you want to do worse.

You keep going until you're both breathing hard, until you physically cannot hold the whip anymore. You drop it to the floor, watch as Belphie flinches at the sound.

"Colour," you say between heavy breaths.

"G-g-" Belphie takes a deep breath, curled in on himself. It must hurt too much to sit up straight. "Green."

You walk by him back to your desk, ruffling his hair as you pass. "I hope," you breathe, "that woke you up a bit."

"F-f..." You raise an eyebrow, and Belphie trails off.

"I didn't say stop."

Belphie's hips stutter into motion again. His movements are jerky, painful, and it takes him another few minutes until he gets into stride again. You start your reading, unable to hold a pen until your arm recovers from the workout you just gave it. Your view now gives you no hint of the mess you left on his back - only a hint of redness around his shoulders, and cum splattered on the towel in front of him.

"I'm going to be good," Belphie mutters, and you're not sure if he's talking to you or himself.

***

You let him go slow for the next ten minutes. Demons heal fast, which is part of the reason you were willing to go so far - further than you ever could've gone with a human. That, and the satisfaction of seeing those marks on him and knowing you put them there.

"I've learned a lot about myself here," you muse, putting your textbook to the side. Kinks you'd have never had the opportunity to try. Experiences you never would've had. Survived things you never imagined you could've - including, as it turned out, your own death.

"Like that you're a sadist?" Belphie asks dryly. His hips stutter, still sensitive, but he does seem more aware. It seems he's recovered enough to talk back.

"Not hearing that from you," you say shortly, "and besides, I'm surrounded by masochists."

Belphie snorts. He doesn't argue because you both know he doesn't have a leg to stand on. It's quiet for a while.

Then, "How long h-has it been?"

His hips drop mid-sentence, a gasp interrupting his words. He struggles up again.

You glance at the time. It's been almost an hour, counting the whipping, but you have no desire to tell him that. You do, however, stand and grab a couple of pillows off the bed.

"Up," you tell him. Belphie stares at you blankly for a second before raising his hips, hissing through his teeth. You notice, as you kneel in front of him, that he hasn't fully lifted off the toy. The effort is making his legs shake.

"I'm not trying to trick you, Belphegor," you say. You tap one of his knees. "Lift."

He raises one knee. You shove a pillow beneath it. You repeat the process on the other side.

"...I don't get it," Belphie says. He settles down, sighing as the toy enters him fully again. With the pillows he can lower himself down both more comfortably and further without much effort - when his hips start to move, they roll with a new smooth motion that flows up his stomach, to his chest, his arms steadying him against the ground.

"This isn't about hurting you, Belphie." You stand over him. You wonder how you looked to him when he threw you down the stairs. When he dropped you after crushing your ribs. "This is about you proving yourself."

Belphie doesn't look like he believes you. Fair enough - you did whip his back into a maze of red lines, even though they've faded by now. Demonic healing strikes again.

"I can be good," he says. He arches his back, as if that will show you how sincere he is. Belphie's nipples are painfully hard, begging for you to play with them. You don't. Not yet.

You lean over him, one hand cupping his cheek. "It's not about taming you, either, Belphegor." You press your thumb into his mouth to shut him up, and to see if he'll bite. He doesn't, starts to suck instead - a mistake on your part, maybe, because his eyes instantly go half-lidded, sleepy.

You pull your thumb away, wipe Belphie's spit on his cheek. He scowls at you and wipes it off.

"This may be surprising, but even though you were full of shit, I did like you back then."

Belphie freezes. You nudge his knee with your foot. You didn't tell him to stop.

"You're funny, even though I don't think you mean to be half the time. You're cute, too, though part of that is definitely you playing it up." Belphie stares at you, eyes no longer in danger of slipping shut. They look shiny all of a sudden, wet. His cock twitches.

"I even liked that you were sort of a jerk. If that was a hard no, I wouldn't have fucked most of your brothers."

"You..." Belphie groans. He's close again. His hair is starting to stick to his forehead.

"Are you cold?" you ask, watching sweat cool on his skin.

"I don't get you," Belphie groans, shakes his head. His movements take on a faster, more frantic pace. "If this isn't a punishment, then..."

"I said this wasn't about hurting you." Belphie hasn't earned you touching his cock yet - not even by stepping on it - but you can't resist pinching a nipple meanly, your other hand fisting into his hair and forcing him to meet your eyes. "I didn't say it wasn't a punishment."

Belphie cums again with a gasp, looking straight into your eyes. He's pretty. Soft lips inviting you to stick your fingers in again, make him choke. Sunset eyes pleading with you for more touch.

"You might want to pace yourself, Belphie," you say, releasing him. You turn back to your desk. "We could be here for a while."

"You..." He catches his breath. "You called me Belphie again."

You don't reply, and you don't look back.

***

Belphie is starting to get a glassy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he looks more like he's dozing, only habit driving his hips forward. At some point in the last thirty minutes he came again, cum now dribbling down his thighs. He has made no attempt to wipe it off.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes he gets that distant look that tells you he is here, but not quite here. So focused on obedience that he's forgotten about anything else - including his pleasure. including himself.

Belphie returns to himself with a gasp when your phone chimes again.

You stare into your box of toys. You put one thing to the side for later, but keep it out of Belphie's view.

"How are you feeling, Belphie?" you ask him. He looks at you, no longer wary, just curious.

"Good," he says quickly, then thinks about it longer. He wipes drool from his chin and clears his throat. "My knees hurt less, but my hips hurt real bad. And I'm getting sleepy again. I don't want to fall asleep, though."

You are honestly impressed he can be so articulate after bouncing on a plastic cock for so long. The pleasure must have become secondary to discomfort by now. You're not sure how coherent you would be after almost 90 minutes.

You take his words into account when choosing your next move. You decide on two things now. Your patience might be an issue here - denying Belphie while keeping an eye on him means denying yourself, too, because he hasn't earned watching you get off. Belphie is working on it, though. He hasn't complained much.

"You're a good boy for being honest, Belphie," you tell him. He can't properly see what's in your hands, but he tenses nonetheless as you approach. "If you need to stand up and stretch, you can."

Belphie thinks about it but shakes his head. "Still a demon. Not doing any damage yet. Have to tell you if it would."

You accept his judgement, because he's right. But just to check, you ask, "Colour?"

"...Green," Belphie replies, but there's some hesitation.

You kneel to his level, nudging the towel to fold over so you're not just sitting in dried cum. Belphie sways forward, towards you, but stops himself.

"I want to help you stay awake," you tell him. Belphie is smart enough to tense a bit. The look in his eyes isn't fear. "If I make something else hurt, would that push you to yellow or red?"

"No." His answer is so quick and sincere you laugh, and he smiles again. "Pain isn't a problem."

"If you keep being such a masochistic brat, I'm going to have to think about more creative punishments," you tease, but Belphie's eyes widen.

"You mean we can do this again?" Belphie asks, all faux innocent hope.

You lean forward. Smile gently. "We'll see."

You let the clamp bite down on his nipple.

Belphie cries out, chokes, throws his head so far back you think he might topple over. A small dribble escapes his mouth as he tries to catch his breath.

You've never used them before, although Asmo had mentioned them a few times. In truth, the angry-looking steel teeth had you wincing in sympathy pain. It seems even a demon's higher tolerance wasn't enough to ignore hard steel biting into delicate, sensitive flesh.

Belphie gasps again as you touch him, one arm wrapping around his back to keep him in place. He is disbelieving, unable to comprehend what you're about to do even as he watches you begin to do it.

Your mouth latches on to his other nipple. He bucks, moans, presses his chest forward, into your body, into your mouth. You suck and lick and nip until it's wet and hard and-

And he cums, weakly, into your lap. You're pretty sure the pants you're currently wearing were originally Levi's, so probably not the first time they've been cum-stained. You can't really blame Belphie for it. You put yourself in the line of fire, after all.

It still feels like a punishment to him when your mouth leaves his nipple with a pop and the second clamp comes in to replace it.

He screams, curses, voice hoarse as his cock bounces in the air, his body spasming. You keep your hand on his hip, steadying him, grounding him, making sure he doesn't collapse to the floor.

You look into his eyes as he takes quick breaths through his mouth. His breathing slows, deepens, as he adjusts to the pain in his chest. You can feel the pounding of his heart. You're not sure if it's through the bond or through your hand. His breath hitches in time with each beat.

You do not understand the look he gives you. It's not one you ever saw in the attic.

"Is that better? Are you more awake, Belphie?" you ask.

"Yes, Master." You've never heard his voice sound like that, either. The way his mouth curls around the title makes your heart beat fast. Makes you want to push him down right now and enjoy yourself.

You deny the both of you for a little longer though.

"Good boy," you say, and that face you recognise - not on Belphie, but from all your other demons, the hazy look they get when you praise them. "You said your hips hurt too, right? I'll help you a little bit, but you'll still have to sit up."

You take the remote you hid in your pocket and switch it on.

The base vibrates to life.

Belphie's reaction is... everything.

He bucks, tries to arch his back, but that tugs on the clamps. He tries to hunch over, relieve the pressure on his chest, but that forces him further down on the toy that is now vibrating along with the base. Belphie twitches, hands gripping the sheets of the bed next to him, looking for a position that's less pain, less pleasure, less feeling.

He doesn't find one.

"There. Now you won't have to ride it. You can relax a little. Does that help, Belphie?"

"Y-y-y-" He chokes, bouncing involuntarily - hips up to try and escape the pleasure, collapsing back down in exhaustion. "Yes, Master! Thank you, Master!"

"...Colour?" you ask him.

He hesitates. You feel the pact flare lightly, and you reach for the remote the same time the word is forced out of him: "Yellow."

You turn the vibrations off. "What's going too far?"

"Strong." Belphie blinks, trying to force the feelings he experienced into coherent thoughts. "The vibrations were strong, and they went through the clamps, and it was too much."

You nod. "I am going to turn them on weaker. Let me know if that helps, or if it's still too much."

You pause with your finger over the button. Belphie is blatantly staring at you, brows drawn together in confusions.

"Yes?" you prompt.

To your horror, Belphie's eyes go shiny and wet. His body is shaking from exertion. You've pushed him tonight - pushed him beyond anything you've tried before - and for the first time you're faced with the possibility you may have pushed one of your demons too far.

"Why?" Belphie snaps. Hunched over, naked, he looks like a cornered animal.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Why are you being nice?" he snarls, and then his shoulders hunch further, shying away from you. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't mean to talk back, Master."

"Belphie," you prompt, gently. "Normally I would punish talking back. But right now, I need to know what's going on. Why do you think this is me being nice?"

Tears start to spill over, making tracks down his already red cheeks. "I don't understand. You said this wasn't revenge but what else could you want? Anyone - demon, human, whatever - would want revenge after what I did to you. I said sorry but what the hell is that worth?" You don't disagree with him. He's got a point, after all. "I thought if I let you do what you want you might feel like you've gotten even, but I have to follow your order and tell you when it's too much, which means you can't take everything out on me! I don't know what you want from me!"

You reach out, and Belphie holds very still as your hand covers his cheek, wiping away tears. "You're right, Belphie. Sorry wasn't enough."

He tries to pull away but you grip his chin.

"What you did was unforgivable. Beyond cruel. But I'm not looking for revenge, because revenge would be exhausting. Revenge would be hard work for me and painful for Beel and I don't think it would actually make you feel better. I don't think it would even make me feel better."

It's not like you hadn't thought about it. Hurting Belphie had been a fantasy for a while. But with how tough demons were you'd have to cross a lot of lines to hurt him half as much as he'd hurt you. Or involve his brothers, which you never wanted to do.

"So instead, we're going to try and start fresh." Finally, Belphie looks back at you. His eyes are still wet, still confused, but he's smart, your demon. He's starting to get it. "In the attic, I was your lifeline to the outside world, and you were a manipulative bastard. Now, on the outside, you're my demon, and I'm your master. Tonight is about making those roles clear."

"You're my master," Belphie repeats, nodding. You raise an eyebrow, waiting. "And I'm... your demon?"

You pick up his cow-print pillow, left on the bed. "You don't rip apart your things, do you? Not the important ones, anyway. I'm going to play with you, because you're my demon. I'm going to use you, because you're my demon. I'm going to hurt you, because we both enjoy it."

Belphie snorts.

"But I'm not going to break you, Belphie," you say, voice soft, caressing his cheek, brushing back his hair.

"Not unless you give me another reason to."

Silence falls in the attic.

After a time, Belphie whispers, "I want to keep going."

***

When your phone goes off next, you decide it's the final time.

You gave Belphie permission to fully lean against the bed, his arms pillowed against the mattress. He is awake, but his body is mostly relaxed. Only his shoulders are tense, upper back rounding to avoid the clamps from brushing against anything.

"Belphie," you begin gently, "I think this is going to feel very odd."

You pinch open one clamp, prompting a shudder and a groan. His nipple is puffy, red, angry, painful. You blow on it lightly and he hisses.

The other one comes off and Belphie collapses fully against the mattress, a gasp of pain when his sensitive nipples hit the fabric. He quickly straightens up enough to lean away.

You turn the vibrations off. "On the bed, Belphie," you order, keeping your voice gentle. You know he'll be a good boy and listen. "Do you want to keep your toy in for now?"

He shakes his head.

You help him up on shaky legs, let him flop onto the bed. He crawls up onto the pillows, propping himself up even as his whole body melts into the mattress. Including, unfortunately for you, his cock. Next time you try something like this, you'll have to keep that in mind in case you want to ride him later.

For now, you pick up one of the clean toys still in your box, throw off your pants, and settle on his stomach. You're so wet - and the toy so within your limits - that you don't worry about lube. You use Belphie as a pillow, supporting your hips as you ride the toy against him, feeling his muscles tense beneath you.

Belphie grumbles. "You could've ordered me hard again."

"I told you there would only be one order today," you remind him. Your breath only hitches lightly - you're in no rush, aiming for a slow, sweet orgasm rather than moving your hips at a desperate pace. "Don't worry, Belphie. You'll have plenty of chances to fuck me later."

He fumbles with the buttons on your shirt - you didn't bother taking it off, and he can't be bothered to reach up further, so he just rests his hands on your bare stomach, fingers brushing across your skin.

"Love you, Master," Belphie says, all quiet, as if someone might overhear you. "Love being yours."

You tip over the edge with a sigh. Your orgasm rolls through you slowly. You'd been waiting on it most of the night, but it still doesn't feel as good as whipping Belphie did.

There is still a bit of work to do. You get wet wipes for yourself and Belphie. Mostly Belphie, whose thighs are streaked with cum, and whose stomach is covered in your wetness. You're pretty proud about your ability to think ahead and pack wipes as well. You like to think you're getting good at this.

You prompt Belphie to sit up a bit, check his back. The angry red lines have faded into a pale pink, and he doesn't wince when you press against them. You force his pyjama pants back on him, because you have RAD tomorrow, and you don't want to risk temptation making you late in the morning.

Now, you rearrange yourself and Belphie under the covers, cuddle up nice and warm. Almost immediately Belphie attaches himself to your chest, mouthing at your nipple. It seems the twins share an oral fixation.

Exams are soon. The year is coming to an end. You'll have to return to your humdrum human life in barely over a month. And a much less active sex life.

Still, you've long since accepted the relationships you've made here will be for the long haul. Not just because of the pacts, either. Mammon, Levi, Beel, Asmo, Satan, and now Belphie - all have shown you a level of devotion you can't imagine from a human partner. That would be undesirable, repulsive in a human partner. They're yours, and you're theirs - their human, and their master.

feitan is not gonna make it easy for you. he’s never gonna come to bed saying “i want you to fuck me.” instead, he mocks, provokes, makes sarcastic comments—his way of pushing you into dominating him. he’s a textbook brat, proud even when he’s on his knees.

a full-on masochist. he enjoys pain almost as much as pleasure; honestly, he needs you to mix the two. spanking, biting, scratching him raw, burning his skin with rough touches… his body reacts instantly to punishment.

breath control drives him insane. your hand on his throat, squeezing just enough so he feels your dominance, watching him tremble with his face flushed red—it’s the fastest way to shatter his façade.

he hates to admit it, but he loves being tied up. cuffs, ropes, anything. he’ll say “i can get out whenever i want,” but deep down, that helplessness humiliates and excites him like nothing else.

you call him “puppy” or “bratty whore” just to provoke him, and he’ll grit his teeth denying it… but his cock always gives him away.

orgasm control is brutal on him: feitan resists, fights back, insults you… until after the third denial he’s crying, begging in a torn-up voice he would never let the rest of the troupe hear.

the knife is always there. he might even hand it to you himself, with that twisted smile, like saying “go ahead, dare you.” dragging the cold blade over his skin makes him tremble, vulnerable.

semi-public sex: feitan has a fixation with risk. the idea of someone in the troupe overhearing (or worse, walking in) turns him on. he’ll insult you if you suggest it, but still shoves himself into dark corners or leans against the wall like he’s daring you to use him right there.

heavy overstimulation: his pride won’t let him be the first to break, so even when he’s trembling and leaking, he won’t say “enough.” he holds out until he’s wrecked, and honestly, that’s exactly what he wants.

cockwarming wrecks him. he’ll say it’s “a waste of time,” but sitting on your cock, forced to stay still, makes him twitchy and desperate. and the way his body squeezes down unconsciously always gives him away.

huge size kink. feeling smaller, weaker in your hands makes him dizzy. he’s fast and deadly in a fight, but in bed he loves that contrast—being tossed around, manhandled like he weighs nothing. he hates admitting it, but it drives him crazy.

sharp tongue, filthy mouth. even when he’s begging, he won’t stop insulting you. “slow,” “useless,” “you’re boring”—every insult is just a mask for what he really feels. gag him and his body speaks instead: trembling, desperate grinding, quick messy orgasms.

toys and objects break him. at first he laughs when you pull something out, but plugs, vibrators, clamps… they ruin him. he hates the lack of control, but secretly he craves it more than anything.

he won’t say it, but he loves when you finish on him—on his face, chest, marking him. he’ll wipe it off fast with fake annoyance, but in the dark he’ll touch the mess like he wants to remember.

before he cums, he fights, insults, resists. after… he’s different. quiet, pliant, eyes downcast in a way that seems impossible for him. it’s the only time he’ll ever whisper “do whatever you want” without sarcasm.