#mortal!reader

There were many perks to dating a demon...

No one ever knew her real face. Just you. The way her eyes darkened with lust. The way your life was wrapped around her finger for a deal you made long long ago when you were a teenager still. It had not come to fruition until you were eighteen. You asked for wealth. For everyone to know your name.

You got it all. People were almost killing each other for a chance to meet you. You were the talk of every gossip site every tabloid, people were obsessed with your music, like they couldn't physically not listen to you. And no one knew the reason behind your apparently fool-proof success.

It didn't matter what you sang. How your videos were. What crazy declaration you made. How many times you decided to rebrand yourself, switch genres, change stage name, change social media, go offline, disappear, come back, the second you got any music out people ate off the palm of your hands. You were the ruler of the world. No one could beat you.

Your numbers spoke for themselves. The way everyone cried about you, screamed, you were on everyone's tongues, bedroom walls, camera rolls... People even speculated, a lot of lunatics saying you had a deal with the devil. At first you dismissed them, always denying but eventually you began to play into it, agreeing, which made people start to question themselves. Maybe they were overreacting?

I know. Gaslighting the masses into thinking they were insane, when you were openly admitting for real to the exact thing they were accusing you of seemed dark. But you stopped caring a long time ago, five platinum albuns on multiple countries ago to be honest. If it had been when you just started, you'd deny it until you were out of air in your lungs. But now? You were too far above that, too untouchable for any of their critiques to matter.

You were almost... God.

But once you got home...? The story was completely different.

You had a lot of paying to do. Your soul was... one small part of the price you chose to pay for the rest of your mortal life for your dreams to come true.

"My queen...?" You asked, tentatively as you came into the big house on the hill, the skies outside dark, only brightening when you saw lightning strike. You soon spotted her, sat in her big ebony chair, her long slender legs crossed over one another as she eyed you up and down like prey You sighed, dropping to your knees, as you always did in front of her. At first it was what she commanded you to do, a subtle reminder that you would always be underneath her.

But now, after so many years of this dynamic, it felt like second nature. Snakes slithered all over the marble floor, many of which venomous, you could hear the screams of men in cells locked away begging for release. Her fingers tapped slowly and rhythmically on the arm of the chair as she watched you, her red lips slightly puckered as she tried to decide what would be your fate for the night.

''My puppet. You seem tired." Her words weren't a question. there was an undeniable coldness to her tone, one which you used to be scared of but it was also one of the sole reasons responsible for how insanely aroused you were for her. A few well placed pauses in her speech, the way her bifid tongue would slip past her lips leaving them to glisten was always enough to leave your clothes feeling like torture, and she knew.

Your head lulled from exhaustion, and she clicked her tongue mockingly before gesturing you to approach her. You knew better than to hesitate for a single second, she wasn't asking, it was an order. Her ringed fingers traced your hair slicking it back away from your weary face.

"You put too much effort into it again, didn't you."

"My queen, i-" You started but her hand covered your mouth and nose making you be unable to speak or breathe for a bit. She kept it up till you were a bit dizzy, and then when you were a bit more clouded in mind she withdrew her hand making a needy whine escape you.

"You don't have to work for a thing from them. only from me. Do i make myself clear?"

You were still reeling from the sudden rush of oxygen to your deprived mind. She knew every way to make your mind go blank, and she had not even used her powers yet. A snake trailed up your leg, and you could see the way Taylor's fingers were moving she was using her powers to control the animal. Intimidating you...

"If i tell you to stay still...?" She asked.

"i... s-st.. stay still." You said feeling the scaled against your skin you knew better than to move a single inch, your muscles twitched lightly as one of your lady's many pets made its way up your body, over your bare midriff...

"If i tell you to strip?" She added to her previous question. you almost cursed yourself for having picked such a revealing outfit for tonight's performance.

"i... strip.." Your words were breathy, laced with undeniable need. Everything about this was painful to you, the cold floor 'neath your bare soles, the scales of the reptilian crawling over you, Taylor's voice... you were surrounded by coldness and it was making your cells be brought to a level of heat that felt perilous. You couldn't think when everything felt so hot.

"Then do."

Her words were plain as day, leaving no margin for interpretation or doubt, You began to pluck away piece by piece of your clothes, exposing more and more of your skin, revealing goosebumps the fabrics hd kept hidden away from her prying eyes. The blue in them slowly began to turn into something darker, until all there was to them was a deep darkness which made you whimper.

The snake crawled from your arm to Taylor's as the demoness reached her arm to touch the pet. You moaned- stammering at the loss of contact, you needed something, anything at this point...

''You are so pathetic, thinking you're the one calling shots here."

"My queen, no- y-you are the one who controls everything"

"Damn right I do. I control everything. The snakes. The lust. Their thoughts. Your career. Your life. You."

You froze as you felt her nails rubbing against your abdomen... they were sharp and left red trails against your skin which burned. You rolled your hips trying to hint to her you desired her only for your face to be hit with a sharp slap.

''M-my- my lady?" You asked with a watery voice which made her scoff.

"how fucking ridiculous can you be. Crying? Because i won't please you? Is this what you've come down to? God you're weak."

"You're perfect- you'- you're everything. I'm nothing-"

"Say it again..."

You sighed, looking at her eyes, as much as it was tempting to let your gaze fall to her linear figure and the way her red dress hugged every last inch of her curves, you forced yourself to leave your eyes up there, respectfully.

"I'm nothing. You're everything. You're the queen and i'm a puppet."

Another slap hit your face and you let out a surprised yelp, but didn't pull away from the sudden impact.

"I didn't tell you to stop, doll... You do that when i say."

"i'm your plaything. I'm.. Without you i'd be a nobody. i.. am a nobody. I am... an object, you're the life i have."

"keep it up..." She coaxed you, her fingers lowering perilously further south, until they met your nub, which she began to rub in a slow tantalizing way, as you continued to praise her and remind yourself time and again of how she was the only reason you were as big as you were. It was about her, not you.

Your wetness kept increasing, coating her fingers as she continued to expertly stimulate the bundle of nerves making your body quake and tremble, eyes foggy and unable to focus on anything as your mind was now fully in autopilot. You began to ride her hand, and for once she allowed you so long as you continued to worship her for the 'favors' she's done for you.

I guess even demons want some gratitude from time to time.

"I need you- For everything- if i don't- you are the one in control, i'm- i need you. i can't do it without you because i'm just-"

"You're a stupid piece of beautiful mortality and dreams. It's I who knows better and knows how to get you there. in every sense." She said, and her words sounded very ambiguous, maybe a double entendre, or maybe the fact you weren't sure if that was meant as praise, an insult or even an attempt at comfort. you were too overstimulated as your second orgasm washed over you and her fingers slid inside your slit, pumping in and out of you in a steady pace for you to care.

"t-too- TOO MUCH- FUCK NO- FUCK. shit. Master-" You started to cuss, unable to keep the words from leaving your lips. It was like she knew you were a filthy little dirtbag once you got fucked properly. You dropped all your righteous acts and showed her your true colors. You were a gorgeous mess, sexual, bold, eager, everything she as a succubus could ever dream of finding in a mortal... And you were hers.

Her nails were sharp but she was so graceful in her motions, using only the padded bit of her fingers to rub the coarse bit of your wall just above your pelvic floors, a few inches in from your entrance, she hit it so smoothly you began to drool all over yourself, shamelessly, your spit falling over your nipples which prompted her to use her other hand to tug gently at your nipples and twist them.

It hurt. but even that pain was good. It only seemed to add to the pleasure you felt, your brain too drunk on the oxytocin and endorphins to be able to separate what was pain and what was pleasurable. No. It all felt like just more. Once she felt your walls tightening around her, swallowing her fingers and pulling them deeper inside you she smirked because that was also the time where you released a huge amount of viscous clear fluid, scentless, covering her hand and bit of her forearm, leaving the floors a mess as well. She snapped her fingers, dressing you up and with a few more motions of her ringed fingers every last remnant of the memory of the intimacy you just experienced was gone.

as you came back to it all you felt was tired, blissed out, and knew it had something to do with her. But what precisely you weren't sure. You rested your head on her thigh, asking for permission to drift to sleep as your body collapsed from the aftermath of the multitude of orgasms you had unknowingly experienced just moments prior. She nodded and as you knelt she played with your hands allowing you to fall asleep. Her only response to your requests to spend time in her arms was a short and sweet whisper.

Caliban always insisted he didn’t feel the cold. Yet, somehow, he looked personally offended by the frosty wind as it bit across my cheeks and pushed stray flakes of snow into his perfectly styled hair. 

“This is… unnecessary.” He muttered, brushing snow off the shoulder of his coat as if the flakes were deliberately targeting him. 

I grinned and tugged his gloved hand. “It’s festive!” 

“It’s freezing.” 

“Festive.” I repeated, firmly. 

Caliban leveled me with a dramatic look, the kind reserved for mortals who clearly didn’t understand his suffering as a Prince of Hell. I would’ve felt bad, really, except for the fact that his nose was just the tiniest bit pink, which was honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Besides, I had a plan. A magical, mortal plan. 

We’ve been dating for almost three months, long enough for me to get used to the casual way he conjured flames, snapped his fingers to summon cocoa, or occasionally muttered about reshaping the Earth like it was a weekend project. But short enough that I still caught him studying me like I was something rare and confusing. A mortal girl. His mortal girl. Which, for the record, still made my stomach flip. 

But something else had been flipping lately, winter depression. The town of Greendale had been buried in snow for days, and I’d been climbing the walls. I needed air. I needed something magical… And I had the perfect idea. 

“Y/N.” Caliban sighed, letting himself be tugged along through the snowy woods. 

“Mortals do realize that we have broomsticks and portals, right? If you wanted the thrill of speed-” 

“Nope!” I said. “Today, Caliban, you learn about mortal holiday magic!” 

He blinked. “I thought mortals got their holiday magic from… stress? And capitalism.” 

I laughed. “Well, okay, yes, but also… this!” 

I stopped, triumphant, in front of the object of the day’s adventure. A sled. A bright red, slightly beat-up wooden sled. Caliban stared at it as though I had just unveiled a cursed relic. 

“That…” He said slowly. “It's a plank of wood.” 

“It’s a sled.” 

“It is… unimpressive.” 

“Wrong.” I said, picking it up and brushing snow off the bottom. “It’s iconic.” 

He looked at me. Really looked like he was trying to understand where the magic was supposed to come from. 

“So…” He said. “What do you do with it?” 

“We ride it.” 

“Down… the hill?” His eyebrows shot up. “Voluntarily?” 

“Yes.” 

“At… high speed?” 

“A thrilling speed.” I corrected. 

“And you don’t die?” 

“Not usually.” 

Caliban’s eyes widened, and I snorted. 

“Relax, it’s safe. Mostly safe. Ninety percent safe. Fine, like… eighty percent-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Trust me, you’ll like it.” I said, softer this time. 

His shoulders loosened. The faintest smile tugged at his lips. 

“I tust you.” He murmured. 

And that right there warmed me more than any winter coat could. 

Getting Caliban on the sled was a victory of its own. He inspected it. He tested its weight. He muttered about mortal physics and snow density. But eventually, he sat behind me, arms gingerly wrapped around my waist as if the sled might explode. 

“This position feels… intimate.” He said near my ear. 

“That’s how you know you’re doing it right.” 

He huffed out something that might have been a laugh…. Maybe, if I squinted. 

“Ready?” I asked. 

“No.” 

“Perfect!” 

I shoved off. 

Caliban’s shout echoed down the hill, half horror, half exhilaration, as we picked up speed. Snow sprayed around us, wind tore at our hair, and he tightened his arms around me so fast it forced a giggle out of me. We hit a small bump, and Caliban cursed, in Latin, obviously. But then… then, I felt it. He laughed! A real laugh. Bright and breathless, shocked by his own joy. 

When we slid to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the world spinning slightly, Caliban looked… different. Eyes wide, hair full of snow, and mouth pulled into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on him. 

“That was-” He gasped. “-impossible. Mortifying. Completely irresponsible and-” 

“Fun?” I teased. 

He paused. 

“...Fun.” 

I lit up. “See? Mortals have magic too.” 

Caliban shook his head slowly, then he touched my cheek. His thumb brushes away a snowflake. 

“You are the magic.” He said, voice soft in a way he rarely let it be. 

Before I could even respond, he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were warm, the snow was cold, and our breath mixed with the winter air. My heart did a while firework display in my chest. When he pulled back, he whispered. 

“Again.” 

I laughed. “Again?” 

He nodded fast. “Again. And again. And- Y/N, why are mortals not doing this constantly?” 

“Oh, they do.” I said, grabbing the sled. 

An hour later, Caliban was shouting ‘MAKE WAY FOR THE PRINCE OF HELL!’ as we barreled down the hill on our fifth ride, and I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. He tumbled off the sled dramatically at the bottom, limbs splayed, and groaned. 

“I have never felt so alive.” 

I flopped into the snow beside him. “Welcome to mortal joy, Your Majesty.” 

He turned his head toward mine, eyes warm despite the cold. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly. “For showing me this.” 

“For sledding?” 

“For… everything.” 

Warmth bloomed in my chest again, gentle and glowing, the exact kind of magic I wanted him to feel. Snowflakes drifted around us, and the hill glittered. Caliban laced his fingers with mine, and for once, he didn’t look like the Prince of Hell. He just looked like a boy in love. And honestly? That was the most magical thing in the world.