Only Forever

—what do you write for;

for x reader, currently genshin, honkai SR, Obey Me, & wuwa but i may add more in the future. You can also find my old nhl x reader blog here

I have several ongoing fics I am slowly updating on AO3 and i tend to crosspost my longer x reader fics there

—are there things you won't write;

I don't really take requests because I get overwhelmed. I just kinda write what I want, when I want about who I want and hope thats enough to keep from burnout

⏤extra info;

I write nsfw as i'm trying to get better at it. I tag each post containing it as such so you can avoid it if that makes you uncomfy

the underwcrld rambling tag is where i talk to myself and scream into the void abt things

i'll probably block you if you have a blog that looks empty/like a bot

*works are completed masterposts are tagged for works with >5 parts [these are also crossposted to AO3]

— GENSHIN IMPACT;

Childe;

—Circus* One Two Three

Cyno;

—desiderate masterpost [ royalty!au ]

Ayato;

—College!au jealousy oneshot*

Varka;

—Graves* masterpost [ hidden baby fic ] —Blood Prayer masterpost [ nobility!AU + arranged marriage ]

⏤WUTHERING WAVES;

theres nothing here yet :)

⏤OBEY ME;

Satan smut oneshot*

⏤HONKAI STAR RAIL;

theres nothing here yet :)

Liability;

—tags; sweet pea/oc, riverdale werewolf!AU, pack hierarchal structures, fated mates/soulmates, enemies to lovers One Two

Bloodshot;

Kaeya was well informed about the affairs of the court, at least he seemed to be in your eyes. His assessment had proved unnervingly correct, barely finishing your tea before you were summoned upon. You wondered what other information he was privy to as he escorted you into the Great Hall, your hand featherlight and stiff atop his. It was yet another reminder that the eyes on you extended far beyond those present in the Great Hall. You did your best to shake the thought lest it overwhelm you, saving it for the darkness of your bedchamber when you could finally do away with your mask of indifference. 

"Presenting Her Royal Highness Y/N, Princess of Mondstadt, and her escort; Lord Kaeya Alberich of Khaenri'ah."

You swore you felt Kaeya’s gloved fingers twitch beneath your own but when you glanced at him from the corner of your eye his charming smile remained firmly in place. You couldn’t seem to find the surprise in you. Perhaps a day preparing yourself to face your father had numbed more than just your nerves. 

Khaenri’ah, like much of Tevyat, seemed to be too busy fighting their own demons to worry about trivial issues like ambassadors and diplomacy so it was unusual for a Khaenri’ahn noble to visit another nation. Having the presence of a foreign noble in your retinue was enough to significantly boost the political power of a ducal house. Being able to send one as an escort for your bride to be was another matter entirely. You wondered whether Kaeya was aware the Duke had leveraged his lineage for his own gain. Though, remembering Kaeya’s sharp gaze, you supposed he was entirely aware. 

Kaeya’s demeanour didn’t slip once, shooting smiles to the assembled crowd as he led you deeper into the Great Hall. It was a much smaller affair than your first engagement, seemingly only attended by the most powerful and senior houses of Mondstadt, and it made the hall seem cavernous and empty. You didn’t try to make out individual faces, your growing apprehension as you drew closer to your father making them all blur together. You suppressed the urge to cling to the stranger’s hand beneath yours like a lifeline as you approached the dias at the top of the hall. Seated slightly above the crowd at the top of the room, your father's expression remained hard and unchanged as you approached and sank into a deep curtsy, releasing Kaeya's hand as he bowed low beside you.

"I humbly greet Your Majesty."

It was a moment before the King spoke. "I am gladdened to see His Grace treat his bride with the appropriate respect she is owed as a member of the Royal House of Mondstadt. I was concerned he'd send that squire in his place again." You kept your eyes trained on the glossy polished stone making up the floor, willing yourself to focus on the way the firelight danced across it and acutely aware of the sound of Kaeya shifting beside you. "I do hope he keeps that in mind when requesting I send my daughter to the provinces for her wedding."

The final sentence knocked all the calm you’d spent all morning carefully manufacturing from your body. It was all you could do not to choke out a gasp. The Duke had requested to send you from the Capital? Were talks of the marriage really so far advanced? How long had it been since the Duke had requested your father send you to him? What could he possibly hope to achieve by bringing you to the border regions? Could he mean to use your presence to influence your father or did he simply wish to see a royal princess survive the hard realities of military life for his own amusement?

Kaeya's voice was unshaken as he spoke. "Of course, Your Majesty, His Grace is eternally grateful for the honour you have bestowed upon him." You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but his head was still bowed, hair keeping most of his expression from your view. "His Grace is humbled to be of service to Mondstadt and is simply concerned of the impact of his absence should he travel to the capital for the marriage ceremony."

You heard a scoff above you. A noise that always chilled you to the bone. "Are his knights that ill-trained?" The King questioned, though it had little real bite to it. Still, Kaeya remained silent, not rising to the challenge. "It seems the Ragnvindrs raised you well, Lord Alberich." Another pause. "Fine. I shall grant His Grace's request."

"Thank you for your eternal understanding, Your Majesty."

You barely heard Kaeya's reply, an unsettling numbness feeding through your limbs. Surely, your father had not so easily granted the request. A painful lump of panic formed in your throat and you forced yourself to choke it down along with the burning beginning at the corners of your eyes.

Your father, obviously bored of the conversation now the matter was settled, brushed off Kaeya's praise. "Yes, yes, you may rise. I will send word of the date to the Duke."

You wobbled slightly as you rose, but whether it was from the prolonged curtsey or the shock, you couldn't be sure. If Kaeya noticed as he offered his hand to assist you up and escort you once more, he didn't show it in his expression. Instead he led you from the King without a word, flashing waiting nobles a charming smile as they came to offer their obligatory well-wishes.

“Your Highness,”

You turned with a slight start. The nobles had long since greeted you and grown disinterested, resorting to chatting amongst themselves. Kaeya too, had disappeared into the fray. He’d at least had the decency to offer a weak apology before slipping her company. At one point you’d caught a glimpse of him laughing much too hard with one of the old lords of your father’s entourage.

You blinked up at the newcomer; long, red hair gathered neatly at the crown of his head and a face you didn’t entirely recognise. “My apologies, My Lord, I don’t believe I have made your acquaintance.”

A small, almost rueful smile played on his lips. “No, I have been much too busy to visit the capital since my father’s passing. I am Diluc Ragnvindr.”

You held back your wince. The passing of Crepus Ragnvindr had been such a scandal even you had heard about it. “My deepest condolences on the passing of your father, Lord Ragnvindr.”

He waved you off with a dark, gloved hand. Unlike most noblemen in attendance you realised with a start that he was wearing leather. “It has been many years now.” He cleared his throat.

“Still, I apologise for not recognising you sooner.” You dipped into a contrite curtsey that seemed to only make the tall man look more uncomfortable. 

“Master Diluc, don’t tell me you are making Her Highness apologise to you at her own engagement?” Kaeya’s smooth voice practically slithered over you before the man himself appeared, offering an open palm to you. You glanced at Lord Ragnvindr. His posture now stiff, eyes hard as he trained his attention on Kaeya. Seeing the expression, you hesitated slightly before taking Kaeya’s offered hand.

“Have you now finished your courting of the entirety of nobles in attendance and returned to your charge?”

Kaeya’s eyes narrowed slightly, the first you’d seen his expression slip. “My, my, I thought you too old for childish insults, Master Diluc.”

“And I thought you swore off the gentry when I expelled you from the estate.”

There was a beat and for a moment you thought you’d finally see Kaeya bite back with something more than a carefully placed dig. Instead, he shrugged. “I think you’ll find I’m very forgiving, Master Diluc.”

“Hah…” Diluc didn’t dignify him with further response, merely turning to you with a polite bow. “My apologies, your Highness, I only wished to offer my congratulations on behalf of House Ragnvindr and yet you have borne witness to such petty squabbles.”

“Your greetings are much appreciated, Lord Ragnvinder.” You heard yourself squeak out. Never in all your years had you seen nobles do away with social niceties to insult one another so openly. You weren’t quite sure whether you should be appalled or fascinated.

Diluc shot Kaeya a final glance. “I do hope your Grandmaster knows exactly what is important. Afterall, his actions extend far beyond himself.. as he would do well to remember.” With that, Diluc excused himself.

“Good grief, the man seems to make the simplest of social interactions frosty.” Kaeya murmured, watching Diluc retreat back into the crowd as he took his leave.

Keen to avoid any misunderstanding that may arise should you agree with him, you changed the subject. “I had understood that you had grown up together, was I misinformed?”

As the avatar of pride, Lucifer is totally into exhibitionism. If ritual sex was still popular you know he absolutely would have used that as an excuse to fuck you in front of the entire Devildom. He doesn't want to cause any problems for Diavolo so he settles for making sure you are loud enough that everyone in the House of Lamentation can hear you. He takes great pride knowing that no other demon could hope to make you scream as well as he can.

Mammon is the avatar of greed and for that reason I feel like he'd constantly wanna fuck just because he can (AKA quickies galore). But his biggest kink is marking you up. He's covetous and he NEEDS everyone to know you're his and the best way he can think to do that is by covering you in marks, mostly hickeys.

I thought long and hard about Levi but I think that being the avatar of envy would express itself through a HUGE praise kink. Nothing would be more addictive to him than you telling him how good he is and how none of his brothers could ever feel as good as he does.

Being the avatar of lust, the chase is just as fun as the act itself for Asmo. But once it gets down to it out of all his kinks, edging is his staple. He'd prefer to extend the act and the thrill as long as possible.

You guys probably think I'm gonna give you some basic answer for Satan like 'hate sex'. WRONG. We all know that Satan absolutely tries to rise above his baser instincts and seem calm and sophisticated. I personally feel that his wrath is directed at himself most of the time. For this reason, his kink is his own orgasm denial. I feel like he'd also be into brat taming

No hate to those who say Beel is into cunnilingus because they aren't wrong but I just feel like it comes from the game constantly not knowing how to write Beel's character except for....hungry. As avatar of gluttony, Beel is into overstimulation. The man is absolutely lost in the sauce ok and is not stopping until he physically has to.

The unrecognisable face in the mirror grimaced back at you as you braced yourself against the wall beside it. Behind you a maid tugged ever tighter on the lacing of your ridiculous ballgown, knocking air out your lungs unbidden. You heard the faint noise of the maid sucking her teeth in disapproval but were too preoccupied steeling against her next assault to even attempt to gasp out a defence. You swore that they must be giving incorrect measurements to the royal dressmaker.

Too preoccupied by your plight, you didn't bother at the sound of the door opening, even when no announcement preceded it.

"Are you still not ready?"

You did your best to glance over your shoulder as your maid yanked once more, finding the haughtiest of your ladies-in-waiting storming impatiently into your chambers. Lady Lawrence, sister of your ex-fiance and most senior of your ladies, was already dolled up, dressed in jewels and fabrics that likely cost the as much as your entire wardrobe. She flounced onto the antique chaise lounge behind you and set about arranging the skirts of her deep purple gown. She was lucky her house's colour matched her so perfectly, unlike the blue of your own dress that always seemed to wash you out.

"Don't tell me that was the work of the royal seamstress." Despite her seated position, she tipped her chin up to study you down the bridge of her nose. "Though I suppose with the state of her talent, it was lucky you even got that on such short notice."

You decided it was better to placate her, managing to breathe out a compliment in her direction between yanks. "Your gown looks very finely made, My Lady."

"Of course, my father would never let me be seen dead in the kind of rags you wear." She sniffed. "Though I suppose the King didn't want to waste money on a second engagement." She tossed a perfectly coiffed curl of dark hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, I only came here because father prepared a gift for you." She made a lazy motion with her hand and one of her attendants appeared at your side. The box was thin and plain compared to the Lawrence's usual ostentatious shows of wealth. As soon as the hinged lid was open your heart dropped. You recognised the necklace inside immediately.

"Is this not-?"

The youngest Lawrence held up a hand to stop you. "After there was such a fuss, what better than to give it as an engagement gift?" She eyed the necklace with distaste. "Besides, father was only going have the stones made into something more... fashionable. He does hope you'll wear it today."

It was clear why Lord Lawrence had insisted his daughter deliver the gift to you personally. If your father was here, he would have burst a blood vessel. You stared at the piece in silence for a moment. It wasn't that it was awful, even if it didn't fit Lady Lawrence's tastes. At one time it had been your favourite item in the royal treasury. No, it was that it had once been part your dowry. A dowry kept by the Lawrence's after your father ended the engagement. It had been their right to. After all, even the king can't terminate a formalised engagement without consequence. Not that it meant your father had simply forgotten the matter. The fact the Lawrence's had crown jewels in their possession was always a sore spot. Yet they had used your new engagement to return a single item to you. It was clear the animosity had not dissipated, no matter how close Lord Lawrence now seemed to the King.

"Truly," Lady Lawrence drawled behind you. "you do deserve a gift for marrying that man so none of us have to." She placed a melodramatic hand to her cheek. "He went on campaign simply for the fun of it. They say he is so bloodthirsty the King had no choice but to return his title to placate him."

You didn't dignify her with a response and instead motioned for the Lawrence's attendant to give the necklace to your maid, who had finally finished lacing you into your dress. Bowing your head as she placed it around your neck and worked to fasten it behind you. The metal of the setting was cool against the exposed skin of your collar and you did your best to still the shiver it elicited.

Seemingly satisfied she had fulfilled her chore, Lady Lawrence rose from the chaise. "Good. I'll tell father you were pleased with the gift." Without another word of goodbye, she stalked back through the doors of your chambers. The doors seemed to slam shut behind her, the sound amplified by the silence in her wake.

There was a man already inside the tea room when you finally arrived. He stood from his place seated on the plush velvet longue and dropped into a deep bow as you made you way inside, long blue hair falling over his face slightly. Nobles did occasionally attempt to win your favour despite the little power you wielded, but no one had ever gone as far as to wait outside the Great Hall for the chance a private word with you. Your surprise had you stumbling slightly in your shoes, which had already begun to rub uncomfortably at the backs of your ankles in the short journey from your chambers.

The guard at the door cleared his throat and glanced, almost disapprovingly at your visitor. "Your Royal Highness, this is Sir Kaeya Alberich."

You studied the blue haired man quietly as you stopped before him. While the rest of his outfit was in line with what you recalled nobles wearing at your previous engagement, his shirt bared much more skin than you remembered being fashionable. Where there had been buttons, the crisp collar of his shirt instead topped a bare section of his tan chest exposed by a missing section in the fabric deliberately eschewed from the design.

You cleared your throat slightly, already uncomfortable with how long he'd stayed bowing. “Please rise, Sir Alberich.”

The knight rose and as he did, you caught sight of his most striking feature. His right eye, which had been hidden by his asymmetrical bangs, was completely covered by a dark eyepatch.

His remaining eye, an unusual blue-grey, watched your reaction keenly. “Your Highness, the Alberich name means nothing here, just call me Kaeya.”

The feeling of his sharp gaze prickled your instincts and you quickly schooled your features. “If that is more comfortable, Sir Kaeya.”

The corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly, seemingly finding your reply amusing. “The Grandmaster has sent me to escort Your Royal Highness in his stead. If this pleases you, of course.”

It took you a moment to process Kaeya’s words, doing your best to recall the title amongst the many drilled into you in your etiquette training. “The Duke did?”

When you'd been informed your betrothed would not attend your engagement celebration, the last thing that you expected was for him to send someone in his stead.

Kaeya dipped his head slightly. “Yes, Your Highness. Forgive me, His Grace prefers the use of military titles on campaign, it seems my manners are out of practice.”

You winced internally. Of course you had already made a blunder. “No apology is required, Sir Kaeya, please pardon my ignorance, I did not mean to disparage the merit of a military title.”

Kaeya watched quietly, expression unreadable, as you rose from your contrite curtsey. “Don’t fret, Princess. You mustn't have had much to do with the knights in your life here.”

Kaeya's tone was light but you were sure there wasn't complete friendliness in his observation. You were sure that if your new fiance was concerned he was getting a spoiled princess, Kaeya's observations would not help matters. After all, you were positive the reason the Duke had sent you an escort was to assess you. Why else would he dispatch Kaeya, who seemed entirely too competent to not be missed, all the way to the capital?

"The Lord's assembly should be finished soon." It was Kaeya who broke you from your musing. "I believe His Majesty had matters of much importance he wished to discuss, so I hope Your Highness will not be too disappointed your engagement festivities have been delayed."

He was gauging your reaction again. You wondered for a moment whether to play the petulant daughter of the King that he and his Grandmaster expected, but you felt that would do little except prove what they already believed of you. So far, that belief had yet to dissuade your engagement and you supposed your betrothed saw it as little more than an expected irritant. Proximity to the royal family was worth far more hardship than enduring the whims of an immature little princess.

“Mika has returned, Your Grace.”

The Commander, stood over the sprawling map in the centre of the tent, glanced up slowly, as if he hadn’t been awaiting the moment on tenterhooks all morning. “Good. Send him in.”

The knight nodded in acknowledgement, ducking back out through the canvas flaps of the command tent’s opening. The fabric wasn’t thick enough to hide the murmur of low conversation, but they spoke quietly enough that individual words were unintelligible. Then the canvas parted again for the familiar blond hair of the squire, who bowed quickly upon his entry.

“Grandmaster Varka, I have returned as requested.” Mika’s voice was still the high octave of a teenager but his words betrayed his experience. Varka shooed off the formality of his greeting and the boy quickly straightened.

“Good job, Mika. Did the Storm King respond as we expected?”

The boy nodded, a small pleased smile edging across his expression as he stepped forward, extracting the folded document from his satchel as he did so and presenting it to Varka. “Exactly as you expected, Your Grace.”

Varka unfolded the paper with more care than Mika had ever seen, his thumb brushing the, now dry, ink of your signature with reverence. “How did she seem?”

Mika watched his master, whose gaze still hadn’t risen from the engagement papers, for a moment before replying. “She seemed...surprised.” He decided against mentioning the word panicked. Sure, Mika had never met the princess before but even he could see the desperation in her eyes, the way her whole body tensed, when she realised the true purpose of the document presented to her.

Instead, Mika changed the subject. “Do you really believe the Storm King will allow the marriage to proceed, Your Grace?”

Varka did finally tear his gaze away from the paper to look at him, signature lopsided grin splitting his face and pulling at the scar on the right side of his face, making the fair skin around it pucker slightly. “Mika, it’s not about whether or not he allows it. It’s about making sure he has no choice but to let it proceed.”

Varka had spend years to ensure his order of knights were indispensable to Mondstadt and, more importantly, indispensable to the King. Decarabian had always been too paranoid to let the royal order stray far from the capital and, as a result, had long let the border regions suffer. Whether it was monster attacks, damage from natural disasters or the like, he refused to deploy the royal knights on any front an hours ride or more. It served more than to simply bolster his personal security, with the border nobles stretched too thin securing their own territories they had little resources left to pose Decarabian much threat. Still, that didn’t temper their attitudes toward him, or that of their people, the Wanderer’s Troupe had proved that.

It was Varka who had solved his dilemma, who kept him from appearing completely neglectful of the region, and it was this dilemma that had served as Varka’s opening. A perfectly reasonable explanation for meeting with the lords most discontent with Decarabian’s rule, for hosting a small army there. It served Decarabian so perfectly that for all the King’s paranoia, he never suspected a thing. Even if he did, Varka was so embedded in Mondstadt’s security and political stability it would be a feat to dispose of him now. For Varka it meant Decarabian continued to play into his hands, exactly as expected.

"Kaeya, dust off your formal wear, will you?"

"I take it sending your young squire into the dragon's maw proved fruitful?" The cavalry captain pushed off the structural timber he'd been leaning against as Varka approached.

Varka kicked at a loose tuft of grass by his ankle. "Only fruitful as expected."

Kaeya scoffed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously unimpressed by Varka's attempt at modesty. "Surely with things formalised you might be forgiven for attending your own engagement celebration?"

"Hah... As if you're not jumping at the chance to drink on someone else's dime." Varka shot his subordinate a pointed glance before sighing. "I can't afford to rest on my laurels. If the Storm King suspects this engagement is anything more than beneficial to him, and him alone, everything will fall apart." He ran a frustrated hand down his face, fingers tousling the front of his, already messy, blond hair. "Besides, I'd never be able to leave her in that place again."

Kaeya made a face. "Oh and I'm heartless enough to, is that what you're getting at? Thank you very much for that character assessment, Grandmaster."

"That's not what I said."

Kaeya knew it. He also knew if, at any point, Kaeya expressed any real hesitation that Varka would relieve him of the burden immediately. It was that fact that truly drove him. He didn't care much for a princess he'd never met but the fact that Varka, who would never ask for help on the battlefield even if his life depended on it, had come to him with such a personal request... Kaeya wouldn't deny him. No matter how much of a futile effort he may have felt the whole endeavour was.

"And you?" Kaeya asked, keen to break the silence. "How will you preoccupy yourself while I attend your engagement party for you? And please note that I refuse to deal with any misplaced jealousy since you asked this of me yourself."

Varka scoffed. "You flatter yourself." He opened his coat to retrieve a crumpled letter from the inner pocket and offered it to Kaeya. "The Gunnhildr's are impatient. Lord Lawrence is foisting the costs for his shoddy defences on them."

"With royal backing, of course." Kaeya sniffed, skimming the angry penmanship of the Gunnhildr matriarch with his single good eye.

Varka shrugged his large shoulders. "Not provably."

The Gunnhildr's were known as a virtuous knightly house but, perhaps because of that, they could be rash. The current matriarch, Frederica, especially so. Varka understood to a certain extent. Biding their time, knowing that Mondstadt suffered under Decarabian's rule every day was a choice not made without great debate. However, he knew that acting too early and tipping their hand would help no one. At best, they'd be stripped of their lands and titles and at worse, they'd be killed. Frederica knew this as well as he did.

"Shall I expect you to be at the Gunnhildr Duchy then?" Kaeya asked, eyebrow raised. This would not be solved through simple correspondence.

"It's not ideal..." Varka admitted, not quite ready to commit to the reality. "I'll be sure to inform you before you return."

"Fine." Kaeya conceded. It would change little where he returned to either way. He was already making a mental list of all he’d need to prepare before the royal event. "Oh, before I make my preparations, is there anything I need to deliver to your beloved? I know a place that makes sculptures based on your c-"

Varka made a choked sort of noise, eyes widening as he realised what Kaeya was saying. Kaeya had never in his life seen his commander blush, but in that moment a terrific shade of pink had risen into Varka's cheeks.

"No, that... That won't be necessary." Not waiting for Kaeya's reply, the large man turned quickly on his heel, murmuring an excuse that Kaeya didn't quite catch.

"I'm done letting things get in the way of my desire for you."

Satan's candid admission had your legs wobbling and the demon practically growled at the sight, snaking an arm round your waist to tug your body against him. "mm... Y/N, come closer."

Too touch-starved to let yet another moment pass without the taste of you, Satan tugged your face into a ravenous kiss. He was sure, your body pressed firmly against his own like this, that you could feel how achingly hard he was for you already. How many long nights had he spent alone in this very same office, unable to think of anything but your touch?

As if you read his thoughts, your hand slid down his torso to palm his cock through the fabric of his dress pants.

Satan groaned audibly at your touch. "Mhm.. I love when you touch me there." He moved a large hand to cover yours, guiding you to press harder. "Keep going."

The phone rang.

Satan frowned as you pulled away, stilling your hand. "...Leave it. Kiss me, Y/N."

You didn't kiss him. Instead Satan felt all the air leave his lungs as you dropped to your knees before him. He was faintly aware of the backs of his thighs hitting the desk behind him, or his grip curl around the edge of the wood either side of him, as you unfastened his pants with practiced fingers.

Satan could have cried out as you took his neglected cock into the wet heat of your mouth. Had be been anywhere else he would have. But he was painfully aware of the fact his office door was anything but soundproof...and of the fact the phone was now on its second ring, even as you took him deep into your throat.

When the phone rang a third time, making you cease your worship of his cock and shoot him a pointed look that said 'you should probably get that', Satan was livid.

He snatched the phone off the table, a small miracle he didn't snap it in two with his grasp, and answered the call with a snap. "Who is it?! I'll kill you!!!"

"I wouldn't call if it wasn't serious, it's about the coronation!" Levi's voice, tinged with a note of panic, sung out from the other end of the line. At the same time, Satan was keenly aware of the way your deft fingers encircled his shaft lazily, as if in an attempt to soothe his rage.

Even if you were somewhat successful, Satan was still irritated."Huh? What is it, Leviathan? Shut up and talk already!"

Satan fisted a hand into your hair as wrapped a hand fully around the length of Satan's cock and began to jerk him off, your face still tantalisingly close. He did his best to listen to Levi as you swiped a thumb over his slit.

"A guest is gone!"

"What? Gone?" Satan frowned. "Thats none of my..." Satan choked back a groan as you replaced your thumb with your tongue, eagerly lapping up the pre-cum he began to leak there. He struggled to form words, watching in almost awe as you took him into your mouth again. His free hand returned to the desk for support, knuckles white as you pressed yourself further down his length.

"Thats..." The wood cracked under his grip as you reached your limit, choking on how deep you had taken him. "None of..."

Seeing his turmoil, you took pity on him. With one last bob of your throat, you popped off his cock with a noise you hoped wasn't audible enough for poor Levi to hear through the phone.

"Damn it!" Satan hissed. A devious part of you took a guilty pleasure in the way Satan's eyelids fluttered, or the hard way he swallowed before he spoke again. "I'm coming. Hang on."

Satan hung up hastily and turned his attention to you, looking almost sheepish. "Y/N, um... it seems like something's happened"

You blinked up from below him, all innocence even with his cock still out and in your face. "Five more minutes?"

If Satan was the demon of pride, maybe he would have protested at your proposed timeframe. However, Satan was not the avatar of pride and he had long since come to terms with the pathetic mess you made him.

"...Tch..." He supposed he didn't want to sound as eager as he really was to delay duty for a moment more with you. "Okay, just five minutes..."

You didn't wait for him to change his mind, and Satan didn't bother to mask his groan at the feeling of your hand returning to his shaft. Your tongue darted out, teasing the underside of his head. Satan did his best to still his desperate hips, watching with wide eyes as you dribbled spit onto his leaking tip, smearing it down the length of him with your hand before you settled your grip at the base. Satan knew what came next, but the knowledge only served to make him harder. You pressed a tender kiss to the head of his cock, hollowing your cheeks to pull him into your mouth. Satan couldn't help the way his eyes rolled back at the sensation. You took him further, deeper, until your lips met the side of the fist wrapped around him.

And then you moved. Mouth and hand in synch as if one, free hand digging into the flesh of his thigh to steady yourself. Satan knew he wouldn't last long but with your tongue teasing the underside of him and the soft sounds of your pleasure muffled around his cock, his orgasm was bearing down upon him. He was no longer able to keep his hips from stuttering or find it in him to muffle the groans rising from him.

He came hard. All the weeks of desperation spilling out of him with a vengeance. His determined human, he watched your futile attempt to swallow it all, even as he continued to pulse more and more ribbons of cum into your perfect little mouth.

When he did finally pull himself from your mouth, he reached down to wipe his cum from the edges of your lips before pulling you to your feet and into a searing kiss. A part of him triumphing at the taste on himself on you.