samera

Belphegor glanced around the empty room before making his way to the kitchen. Maybe Beel was grabbing a snack.

The kitchen was empty.

He checked the library next. Satan was almost always there.

No sign of him either.

Now fully awake, Belphegor wandered through the halls of the House of Lamentation, peeking into room after room.

Nobody.

As he rounded the corner near the spare bedroom, a burst of laughter drifted down the hallway.

Voices.

Lots of them.

Belphegor paused.

Oh.

Right.

Your room.

As he approached, he found Lucifer leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the scene inside.

Lucifer glanced over and noticed him.

“There you are, Belphegor,” he said. “You were asleep. We didn’t want to wake you. Everyone’s here.”

Belphegor looked past him.

The small spare bedroom was completely packed.

You and Levi sat on your bed, controllers clutched in your hands as a racing game played on the television. Your eyes never left the screen.

Levi looked moments away from a breakdown.

“No way! How are you this good?” he shouted. “You’re a normie! This isn’t fair!”

You laughed as your character sped past him once again.

To your left, Mammon and Asmodeus had appointed themselves your personal cheer squad.

“That’s it! Take the shortcut!” Mammon shouted.

“No, use the drift button!” Asmo corrected.

Mammon promptly began waving his hand in front of Levi’s face.

“Quit cheating!” Levi screeched.

“I’m not cheatin’! You’re just bad!”

The room erupted into laughter.

Belphegor found himself smiling before he even realized it.

Across the bed, Beel sat comfortably on the floor between your legs with a pile of snacks beside him. Every so often, he’d silently offer you something to eat while keeping one eye on the race.

At your desk, Satan sat with a book open in his lap. Despite appearing absorbed in his reading, he glanced up every few pages whenever the room got particularly loud.

Everyone was here.

Together.

Somehow, your tiny room had become warmer than any other place in the house.

Without realizing it, you had become the center of their strange little family.

Belphegor watched for a moment longer before your eyes finally met his.

Your face immediately brightened.

“Belphie!”

You patted the empty spot beside you on the bed.

“There you are. Come sit with us.”

The smile that spread across Belphegor’s face was small, but genuine.

ALL BROTHERS

“where did everyone go?” -sfw!

MAMMON

GOJO SATORU

REMMICK

“Let Me Eat You.” - nsfw one shot

🦇 i write x reader fics with poc readers in mind. everyone deserves to feel pretty, wanted, and included in stories.

🩸 some works may contain suggestive themes, dark romance vibes, obsession, sex, kinks, or emotional intensity

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🕸️ do not repost, steal, or “heavily inspire” yourself from my writing without credit.

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In a world where even breathing the wrong way could get you killed, love wasn’t just dangerous. It was a death sentence. You’d long since resigned yourself to loneliness, convinced you’d never bring a child into this broken world, and so you kept your heart barricaded, your body to yourself.

Until you met him.

The man who came banging on your door before dawn, bloodied and gasping, like a half-dead thing clawing for salvation. He was ragged, his eyes wild and desperate as they met yours, his hair slick with blood and sweat, sticking to his brow. He looked less like a monster and more like a lost boy, and against every survival instinct screaming in your head, you let him in.

You should have turned him away. You should have slammed the door shut. But when he collapsed against your floorboards, trembling, begging, “Please, don’t leave me out there,” you couldn’t say no.

You told yourself it was pity. But it wasn’t. It was the way his eyes met yours, not just pleading for help, but pulling something raw and aching from deep inside you. It was the way his bloodied hands shook when you cleaned him, the way he flinched from your touch but leaned into it a second later.

He seemed so helpless in that moment, wounded, shivering against your touch, but he wouldn’t fully surrender. His body leaned into you, but it was as though his heart remained barricaded, locked tight behind walls built from pain and shadows. You could feel it in the way his muscles tensed when you touched him, the way his eyes flickered with something deeper, darker. Something monstrous. Something dangerous. But instead of recoiling, you found yourself wanting to see it. You wanted him to open up, to let you into the darkness he was trying so hard to contain.

You knew this decision could get you killed. But in that moment, you didn’t care. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something sharp and alive stirring beneath the numbness. Something that made your blood sing and your breath catch. And when his eyes met yours, desperate and hollow, you realized that maybe, just maybe, he was feeling it too.

“Do you need a place to stay, sir?” Your voice wavered, the words barely a whisper. He intimidated you, towering over you, raw and bloodied, but for some reason, you wanted him to stay.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a burden to ya.” His voice had a thick southern drawl, the kind that melted like honey and curled low in your belly.

Your eyes softened instinctively, betraying your better judgment. “Don’t worry, you won’t be a burden,” you said quickly, voice hushed as if you were telling a secret meant only for him. “I actually get lonely here by myself.”

His lips twitched, the hint of a crooked smile almost disarming. “Lonely?” His voice dipped lower, rough and intimate. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here by yourself?”

You couldn’t help the way your thighs pressed together, a subtle reaction to his words. “Well…I’m sure a handsome guy like you has a wife worried sick about you,” you murmured, your attempt to change the subject coming out softer, almost shy.

“Mm, I ain’t married, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice dropping a note darker. His eyes swept over you slowly, the weight of his gaze almost physical, tightening the air between you. It wasn’t just a look, it was a silent promise of things he hadn’t said yet, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to run or lean into it.

For a long moment, the room held its breath. His hand twitched as if he were going to reach for you, but it hovered there, close enough that you could feel the ghost of his touch. His lips parted slightly, his voice dropping to a low, hoarse whisper. “But I’ll admit…I’ve been looking for something, someone, who makes me feel alive again.” His eyes caught yours then, dark and unreadable, and for the briefest moment, you could swear there was something ancient in his gaze. Something wild and hollow, as if he’d spent lifetimes searching for a connection he couldn’t name.

You couldn’t speak at first. His words—the weight of them, the ancient cadence in his voice stole the air from your lungs. But slowly, carefully, you found your voice.

“Who…who are you?”

“My name’s Remmick, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips curving faintly. Then his voice dropped lower, more intimate, and his eyes gleamed with a deep, unnatural red. “And I’m a vampire.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes widened, shock flaring bright, but still, you didn’t step back. You stayed quiet, watching him. He hadn’t hurt you. Not yet. And that terrifying, forbidden curiosity pulsed stronger in your veins than the fear.

“A vampire, huh?” you murmured softly, trying for levity though your voice trembled. “Are you…are you going to eat me now, Remmick?” You said it with a shaky laugh, as though humor might diffuse the tension.

His smile deepened, dark and hungry, his voice rougher than before. “Only if you want me to, sweetheart.” He stepped closer, closing the space between you, until you could feel the faint chill of his breath against your skin. Your heart was pounding so loud it echoed in your ears, each beat thudding like a warning, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. All you could do was stand there, wondering, fearing, what he was planning to do to you.

Then, he bent down, his lips ghosting a kiss to your forehead, so gentle it made your breath hitch. Another kiss followed at your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, each one lingering just a moment too long.

His lips hovered near your skin as he murmured into your jawline, voice low and rough. “I’m a monster, and you’re hated by this world just for existing. We’re hated for being us.” His words sank into your chest, heavy and sharp. “But don’t you see, sweetheart? We’re made for each other. We could be so happy together, my love.”

A flicker of pain gripped your heart, tightening around your ribs. The truth in his words, about the cruelty of the world, the isolation you both felt, tangled with something darker. Something forbidden.

“Mm, you think so?” you whispered, your voice trembling as his pull wrapped around you like chains. His temptation was too thick, too sweet, and you were struggling to say no.

“Baby,” he growled softly, “I know so.”

Before you could think of a reply, he slid his hands down to your waist, his grip both firm and reverent. Then he sank to his knees before you, his face pressing into your belly. His lips found the thin fabric of your linen dress, leaving a soft kiss against your abdomen, then another, slower and more lingering. When he looked up at you, his eyes were the same as earlier, desperate, pleading, dangerous.

You still didn’t speak. Instead, your hand drifted to his hair, your fingers threading through his curls, nails grazing lightly against his scalp. His eyelids fluttered closed, and with a sigh, he pressed his cheek against your stomach, as if seeking solace.

“In all honesty,” he murmured, his voice cracking faintly with need, “I need you. So bad. You’re so damn beautiful.” One of his hands slipped from your waist, sliding down to lift the hem of your dress, revealing the smooth expanse of your thighs. His breath hitched as he gazed up at you, his hunger palpable.

For a moment, the air between you felt suspended, every breath drawn thin and tight. Then his voice dropped lower, almost broken. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby. You make me want to forget what I am, forget the danger. I want to lose myself in you. Would you let me?”

The moment the word left your lips—a trembling, breathless “yes”—Remmick froze. His breath hitched against your skin, as though the air between you had turned electric. Then a low, almost broken groan slipped from his throat, and his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Oh, sweetheart…” His voice was raw with hunger and gratitude, as if that single word unlocked something primal inside him. His lips trailed kisses up your belly, your ribs, until they hovered just below your lips. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He whispered “mine” into your skin as if branding you, as if your whispered yes gave him permission to claim you in every way he’d ever dreamed of.

Remmick moved quickly, his hunger sharp and barely restrained. He scooped you up into his arms like you weighed nothing, his grip firm but reverent. Without hesitation, he carried you down the hallway, as though he already knew where your bedroom was. As if your scent and presence alone guided him.

He laid you down gently on the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight, his eyes devouring every inch of you. Then he straightened, his fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt, the leather straps of his suspenders slipping off his shoulders.

But you stopped him with a quiet, breathless, “Wait.”

He froze, his hands stilling, his eyes locked onto yours, trying to read the swirl of emotion crossing your face. His lips parted slightly, as though the words forming in his throat were too big to speak.

“Let me do it for you,” you whispered, voice trembling with a mix of boldness and vulnerability.

His heart ached, a sharp pang in his chest that felt far too human for a creature like him. His breath caught, and he nodded, stepping closer.

You scooted down to the foot of the bed, your fingers fumbling lightly over the buttons of his shirt. With every button undone, the tension thickened between you, the anticipation crackling like a storm in the air. When you finally slid the shirt off his broad shoulders, you let it fall to the floor, your breath hitching as you took him in.

His body was all hard lines and muscle, his skin marked with old scars and stories you could only imagine. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his lips parted slightly as he watched you. You reached up, your fingertips tracing along the ridges of his chest, marveling at the strength beneath your touch. Without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the spot over his unbeating heart.

Remmick’s gaze softened instantly, his red eyes dimming to a smoldering glow. For a moment, he looked almost human—like a man instead of a monster. You made him feel alive.

Your hands drifted lower, fingers working at the waistband of his pants. You slipped his belt free with a quiet rustle, unbuttoned and unzipped them slowly, your movements deliberate, teasing. The air between you tightened as you eased the fabric down his hips, revealing more of the man who was already beginning to undo you without even trying.

Before you could slip the fabric further, Remmick’s hands covered yours, his grip firm but not harsh. His breath trembled against your skin, his voice soft but thick with hunger. “Sweetheart, you’re making it hard to be gentle with you.” But then he eased your hands aside, brushing a tender kiss against your temple. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Slowly, he stepped out of his pants, his body revealing itself to you fully, every inch of him tense with need. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Lie back for me,” he murmured, his tone low but coaxing, as if he couldn’t bear to hurt you. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel, baby. You deserve to be worshipped.”

His hands roamed over your body like he was memorizing you, his touch alternating between rough, possessive squeezes and delicate, reverent strokes. His body trembled with restraint, as though he were barely holding himself back from devouring you whole. “You feel so fucking good under me,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ve been craving you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

With practiced ease, he slid the thin straps of your nightdress from your shoulders, letting the fabric slip down your body like water until it pooled at your feet, leaving you in only your bra and panties. His breath hitched as his gaze swept over you, hunger flashing in his dark eyes.

He whispered something low under his breath, words you couldn’t quite catch, thick with need, but the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears drowned it out.

Before you could dwell on it, he gently lifted one of your legs, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your ankle, his lips warm against your skin. Slowly, methodically, he trailed his mouth down your calf, your knee, your thigh, each kiss a silent promise of what was to come.

By the time his lips reached the delicate skin near your center, you were already trembling beneath his touch. His breath was hot against the thin fabric of your panties, and his voice was a low, aching growl. “I can smell how ready you are for me, sweetheart. Let me show you what it feels like to be wanted.”

His hands slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, dragging them down with agonizing slowness. He kept his eyes locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with desire. His lips ghosted over the inside of your thigh, his tongue tracing lazy patterns against your skin as though he were tasting you with his mouth before even reaching your core. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, voice low and raw. “So perfect, all for me. Let me make you come apart, baby.”

Then he dove in, his mouth sealing over you, his tongue making one slow, agonizing lick that sent a shudder rippling through your entire body. It was slow, deliberate, designed to make you feel every inch of his mouth against you. It pulled a soft, helpless whimper from your lips, your body surrendering completely, offering yourself to him without resistance.

Remmick groaned low against you, the sound vibrating through your core as he continued. He didn’t just lick—you felt his lips, his tongue, his need pressing into you like he was tasting salvation. He feasted on you with slow, sinful strokes, savoring the slickness of your cunt, his mouth so hot and skilled it drove you to the edge of sanity.

Quiet whimpers escaped your lips, each one coaxing him to go harder, to push deeper. His free hand slid up, fingers teasing at your entrance, tracing the sensitive folds, spreading your wetness with deliberate intent. His touch was maddening, soft yet commanding, pushing you closer to unraveling.

Then, abruptly, he pulled back, and the absence of his mouth on you snapped you back to reality. His lips glistened with your slick, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice dark and reverent. “All wet and trembling. You’re perfect, baby. So perfect for me.”

Before you could respond, he gripped your thigh, spreading you wider. His voice was low, a dark promise against your skin. “From now on, I want you to look at me. Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart. If you do, I’ll stop.” His breath ghosted over your sensitive skin, and the heat of his mouth made you ache for more.

“But I don’t want you to stop,” you whimpered, dread curling in your belly at the thought of him withholding your pleasure.

“Then be a good girl for me,” he growled softly, his eyes locked on yours, a dangerous tenderness flickering in their depths. “Keep your eyes open. Watch me while I make you fall apart.”

With a low groan, he sank his fingers into your dripping entrance, two thick digits stretching you open while his mouth descended again. His tongue flicked against your clit with maddening precision, his fingers working in tandem, curling to hit that perfect spot inside you. Every movement was calculated to tear the breath from your lungs, to drive you higher. His eyes burned into yours, demanding your attention, as if he were memorizing every inch of your pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against you.

Your head fell back instinctively, but his voice—low, commanding, threaded with hunger—pulled you back. “Eyes on me,” he growled, his free hand tilting your chin so you couldn’t look away. His eyes locked onto yours, glowing with a mix of possessive hunger and something almost tender. As his fingers curled deeper inside you, his mouth sucking your clit with sinful precision, you shattered. You came apart under his gaze, your body convulsing, your voice caught in a helpless cry that tore through the room. But even as you broke, even as your vision blurred and your body trembled, you kept your eyes on him, and the way he drank you in made you feel like you were his entire world.

“That was just a taste,” Remmick growled against your thigh, his breath hot, his lips slick with your release. His fingers didn’t stop—if anything, they moved faster, curling deep inside you, his thumb circling your clit in maddening, relentless strokes. “I need to feel you break for me one more time.” His voice was a rough whisper, a demand and a promise all at once, and the desperation in his tone sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. Your body tensed, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the pleasure built higher and higher, winding you so tight it felt like you’d snap. And then you did—your climax hit you hard, rippling through every nerve, pulling a helpless cry from your throat. Even as your walls clenched around his fingers, even as you fell apart, you could feel his body shifting against yours, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh, a silent threat that this was far from over.

Remmick’s lips trailed back up your trembling body, his mouth catching yours in a kiss that was almost bruising with its intensity. His hands roamed your skin like he couldn’t get enough, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you before he lost himself completely. Without a word, he pushed his pants down the rest of the way, his cock pressing hot and heavy against your slick entrance. His voice was a low growl against your lips. “I need you now, baby. Can I have you?” His tip nudged against your soaked folds, his hands gripping your hips like a man on the verge of breaking. When you gave him the softest nod, whispering a breathless, “Yes, Remmick. Please,” he lined himself up and pushed in, slow and thick, stretching you open inch by inch until you were filled with nothing but him.

“Remmick, please go slow,” you pleaded, tears starting to form in your eyes. It hurt so good. His heart skipped a beat—you looked so angelic under him, begging him to be gentle, the tears glimmering in your eyes. He just couldn’t get enough.

“Yes, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough promise against your lips. “I’ll be gentle with you.” He moved slowly at first, his hips rolling into yours with controlled precision, his hands framing your face as he kissed you deeply. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin there, leaving marks that claimed you as his. His body trembled with restraint, fighting the urge to completely lose himself in you. You were too perfect, too soft, and he wanted to savor every second.

You let out the prettiest moans, each one like music to his ears, each breathless sound a confirmation that you were his and only his. No one else would have accepted him like you did, no one else would have surrendered so beautifully to the monster he was.

Your hands slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You can go faster now…Please, Remmick. I want all of you.”

You didn’t have to ask twice.

A guttural growl rumbled from his chest as he gripped your hips tighter, angling himself to thrust deeper, harder. His pace quickened, each stroke powerful and deliberate, as if he were trying to reach parts of you no one else had ever touched. It was like he was trying to touch your very soul, branding himself into your body, into your mind, into every part of you he could claim as his.

Remmick’s thrusts deepened, each one slamming into you with a need that bordered on desperation. His hands framed your face, his breath hot against your ear. “Say my name, baby,” he growled, his voice raw, thick with hunger. “I need to hear you say it. Please. I need to hear you screaming it.”

Your lips parted, but the words tangled in the air between you, lost in the pleasure coursing through your veins. He snapped his hips harder, deeper, grinding into you as his lips found yours in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth, messy and unrestrained.

“Remmick,” you gasped finally, your voice breaking around his name, as if speaking it anchored you to him. His name became a mantra, a prayer on your lips as he drove into you again and again, his pace relentless.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. “Say it again. Say my name while I make you mine.” His cock filled you completely, hitting every spot that made you see stars, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t decide where to touch you next—your breasts, your hips, your throat, your jaw.

“Remmick,” you whimpered, louder now, your hands clawing at his back, your nails digging into his skin as your climax built higher and higher, tightening around his cock like a vice.

“Good girl,” he growled, his pace quickening, his hips slamming into yours. “That’s it. Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

And you did—your body tightening, your breath hitching, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you shattered beneath him. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing with the force of your orgasm, and the sound of your voice calling his name echoed through the room like a song.

It didn’t take him long to finish after you, his hips stuttering, a low groan tearing from his throat as he spilled hot against your chest, his breath ragged. For a moment, he just hovered there, his forehead resting against yours, his body trembling with the force of his release.

Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft brush of lips that felt more intimate than anything else. Your eyes fluttered open and shut, heavy with exhaustion and bliss.

“You tired, baby?” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough, but softened with a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him.

“Mhm,” was all you could manage, your voice a faint whisper. Your body ached in the best way possible, but it also felt empty without him. Even now, you craved the weight of him inside you, the feel of his hands, his voice. Your mind spun with fragments of his earlier words—how he said you belonged together, how he looked at you like you were salvation. And now, lying here, you felt it too. You felt that same aching pull, that connection that was deeper than flesh.

Remmick let out a shaky breath and gently pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. His large hand moved slowly up and down your back, his touch soothing as he held you close. Your ear pressed against his chest, and you listened to the quiet hum of his breathing, the steady rise and fall that lulled you into a peaceful daze.

In the silence of the room, with your body warm against his, Remmick stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. Is this what it feels like to be human? he wondered, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your spine. Is this what it feels like to be in love?

Moonlight spills in through the slats of your blinds, silver and soft, casting pale ribbons across the bed. It’s the only light in the room, and it bathes everything in a hush, like a secret being told in the dark. Your thighs tremble around his head, your breath catching as he continues to feast on you like he’s been starved for centuries.

His face glows where the light touches him—cheekbones sharp, lips glistening, eyes smoldering as he looks up at you. The kind of gaze that leaves you bare in more ways than one. You let out a fragile whimper, your fingers twisting in the sheets, overwhelmed by how much he wants you.

Slowly, he pulls back from your heat, the loss of him making you shiver. He rests his head against the plush of your inner thigh like it’s the softest pillow he’s ever known. One hand lingers, rough palm caressing the curve of your opposite leg with a touch that is both reverent and possessive.

“I’ve been starving, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and aching. There’s something feral in it, but also tender—like hunger wrapped in silk.

You reach down, threading your fingers into his hair, stroking gently before letting your palm rest against his cheek. He leans into your touch like a prayer being answered. Then, with a slow, almost worshipful movement, he lifts your wrist to his lips.

He breathes you in, his lashes fluttering closed. “Let me eat you,” he whispers into the delicate skin, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your pulse. Then come the kisses—slow, deliberate, like he’s marking you as his with each one.

You know what he is. A monster, yes. But under the hunger, under the roughness and ruin, he’s soft with you. Gentle. Loving, in his own dangerous way.

His grip tightens just slightly, his fingers curling around your wrist like he’s afraid you might vanish. Like if he holds on hard enough, you’ll say yes.

SINNERS

CHALLENGERS

SKINS

JUJUTSU KAISEN