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plush-rabbit · 2 years

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Eating Out - Brothers’ Ed.

Request: Hi, I hope you’re having a good day! Could I get some eating out headcanons like you did for Beelzebub but for all the other brothers? Thank you so much!

A/N: I think most of my things turn into short stories so this will be a mix of my headcanons at how they eat/a mini story w/ no dialogue. Enjoy! (afab reader, but gn pronouns!)

Lucifer:

While he can be giving, and takes great pride in making you feel good, he is also one to tease. He knows your body better than anyone else will ever get to know, knows just where to touch you to give you a strained, bashful smile. Lucifer kisses so softly and wickedly, exposing all of you with just his tongue. There’s no need to rush when you’re before him, when you’re with a body heavy with lust, that even if you could go anywhere, you would choose to stay in front of him with parted legs. His tongue parts through you, reaching deep inside of you, and he’s thankful that of all his attributes that are less than human presenting, it’s his tongue, and just how much you enjoy it without having to warm up to it. He can be soft, and loving, and make you release without begging, but then again, he wants to know just how far he can push you, just how much until you’re whining and begging for him- pleading with a raspy voice and desperation so thick on your words that it burns a hole in him.

You’ve teased him all day long and at first it was cute- you trying to be coy and letting your hands linger too long around his neck, but then the antics grew. Your hands grab at his thigh under the table, you sent him pictures when you knew he was around Diavolo when you knew that he would always open a message from you no matter where he is. It excited him; knowing just how much you wanted him, knowing that the result would end with you bent over his knee as he worked his fingers inside of you- with your bum sore and flushed from his hand. You didn’t even try to deny punishment, grabbing his hand eagerly and following him to his study with a growing smile pulled on your lips. You smile at him behind closed doors, and it doesn’t take long to undress you when you lean close to him. His gaze is cold, and his smile is pulled taut as he pushes you on his couch.

It’s a sight to behold to see someone such as himself on their knees. His hands are gloved and the texture is smooth on your legs. Your gaze is wide and he’s sure that you must think your punishment won’t be severe- that you might actually come out of this unscathed. But his smile is mean, and his reddened eyes predatory and filled with blood as he dips his head between your legs. There’s no need to tease you when you know what’s to come. His tongue is flat, licking a long stripe from the bottom of your sex, the tip sliding against your entrance, until it reaches at your clit, pulsing with want. You’re already aroused, dripping onto the seat without shame. He keeps your legs spread, leering over your exposed cunt, watching as it beads with your excitement and shining under the light. It’s a sight that he commits to memory, wanting to always remember just how perfect every part of your body is- something suiting both you and him.

He’s gentle at first, leading you in security. Your heavy sighs and moans fill his ears and for a moment, he forgets just how he wanted to tease you. He leaves himself there, kissing your sex so sweetly that it makes a chill run down your spine. His face is buried, breaths and tongue filled with your essence. You’re all that consumes him as he feasts upon you, his tongue tasting and slithering its way inside of you, feeling your gummy insides mold to him, clenching tightly around his tongue. Your hands are fisted in his hair, and you’re croaking out his name in a prayer, calling him and claiming just how close you are and he stops himself. He sees how your body falls and hears the pitiful want in your voice and once more, he repeats the process- teasing and kissing you so nicely, and making you want him, and just when he can feel the familiar twitch and tightening of your body, does he pull away with heavy eyes and deep breathing.

Arousal has soaked the seat and filled his stomach. You’re shaking and trying to rub yourself against his buried face and he is much stronger than you will ever be. You’re tired, voice raspy and low, your nails having clawed on the couch, and cunt wet with slick and his spit. This is turning out far more pleasurable- seeing the frustration and anguish clear on your expression and he has a smug grin. Lucifer is taking great joy in seeing just how long he can deny you your own pleasure. It’s a sight that rivals that of your own quivering cunt that flutters around nothing. Dipping his head back down, he grins into you, and feels just how much you need him. Your cries are getting louder and finally, you’re apologizing for trying to tease him. You promise to be better and he knows that it’s a false promise but when you call his name with tears, he can’t help but give in to you and your wants. He rests his face there, not pulling away when he feels your high approach and letting it spill on him and spill onto the couch. Your body collapses, and you thank him under your breath.

Mammon:

You are a shining light to him, and he needs you to know that. Giving to you, brings him immense joy. He eats feverishly, his mind blank, only your sounds of pleasure and the calling of his name echoed, and he doesn’t need anything else but you. His hands are on every part of you that he can hold- tight around your waist, interlaced with your hands, cupping at a breast and tweaking at your budding nipples- he just needs to touch you. It’s this primal urge in him to mark you- to rub his scent over you and let everyone know that you are his. Sex only enhances that urge- getting to feel your skin, delicate under his nails, and spilling with red when he digs them just a bit too deep, only to be kissed away. He moans and whines, letting you know that being before you is a pleasure on its own. It’s sloppy and messy, and it feels so good to know that he’s making you feel good- that you’re holding onto him and begging to kiss his lips that are touched by your arousal.

He isn’t sure what it is when he’s with you, but there’s just something there that leaves him always wanting you. He wants you in every type of way- beside him, infatuated, clinging to him- just simply there. You’re his, and he is yours and whatever you ask of him, there’s very little chance that he would actually deny you. So, when you ask to go for a drive with just him, he’s more than happy to fulfill that request for you. His hand is on your thigh, and his eyes are on the road and every so often, he casts a glance towards you- watching as you tap your hands with the beat of the song and stare out the window. You’re in the outskirts of the town, the glow from the buildings is nothing more than just that- a blur of lights together that are dim. You give him a cheeky grin, and it takes just a little bit of flirting for both of you to move to the back of the car, limbs entangled with one another in a cramped space. Your lips are on him, and the space is tight, and you're clutching onto him, kissing at every inch of his exposed skin and he’s taking it all in, savoring the feel of your lips against his skin.

Maybe it’s his sin, or maybe it’s you that has him so unsatisfied, so unhappy with what he is given, but he needs more, craves it and needs it like he needs air. It’s you that he needs in the back of his car, his body bent and cramped as you lay on the seat with your sex exposed to him. A chaste kiss is pressed against your thigh, followed by his lips pressed against your sex, hands on you grabbing and massaging at your thighs, feeling the plush skin soften and mold to his hands. It’s messy almost immediately, drool slipping past his pursed lips and staining your glistening cunt. His head spins, and his muscles are cramped and he just needs you before him, air be damned. He could live off of you forever, could never come up for air if it meant that you would continue to look at him with half-lidded eyes and a parted lips.

Nails pinch at your plush skin, marks appearing immediately and he can feel your body tense and jerk with every random touch. Your body is bent as he's sure you're going to feel that later, but at the moment, he cares for nothing but how you look at the moment- hair disheveled, face flushed with pleasure, his hands on you, and your eyes fixed on him. In that moment, you look better than any other prized jewel he’s ever laid eyes on. He’s suckling on your clit, swirling his tongue over the engorged bud that pulses erratically. You’re calling his name and he’s nodding along, moaning murmured words into your heat, asking what more could you want of him, what more could he do just to have you here with him in the back of his car.

Desire burns in him, greater than any flame, greater than anything he’s ever felt before and it’s because of you. He yearns to taste you, to memorize you- all of you- till he’s sure he could find you blind. You’re kept close to him, unable to squirm away both from the tight space and his hands. He holds onto you- letting his nails rake down, lines swelling over where he touched, and burning in its wake. Hearing the way you hiss and feeling how your cunt humps at his face in a desperate attempt, has his heart racing, beating against his ribs like a panicked bird. Your arousal seeps onto his tongue and smears across his chin, and with the lewd wet, clicking sounds, it is evident that you’re close. Your hands clutch at the crown of his head, and his name is croaked past your lips, and he lifts his head to watch your eyes shut tight, your mouth parted as your other hand twists around the seatbelt. Your orgasm is sweet, filling his mouth and lingering on his tongue and as you shake and you let your body slack, he is still kissing you- letting his tongue lick at your slit, wanting to taste every bit of you that you have left for him. Mammon looks up at you with eyes that match yours and his hands are on your thighs, and he kisses softly, lets his tongue drag against your rim and lips purse around your budding clit as he feels your hands soothe over his now knotted hair.

Leviathan:

Whether its the first time or the hundredth, Leviathan can be hesitant towards sex. His nerves and anxiety gets the best of him, and it leads to every touch being shaky and hesitant, a grip that’s just a bit too tight and it’s his face that’s flushed rather than yours. However, while the beginning of giving to you can be slow and ponderous, he gets into it fairly quickly. It might be due to years of repressed and perverted thoughts, but once he has a taste of you, he’s extremely focused. Your pleasure is the things that keeps him going- keeping his face to your sex, letting his tongue unfurl inside of you and take all that he can from you. Having you so close to him fuels his pleasure- hearing such perverse sounds and knowing that he's the cause of it all, knowing that he could taste and feel all of you and that you’d want him because it’s his name that it repeated and cried into an empty room. He is anything but silent, moaning and praising, the sound of his tongue clicking and moans filling the room and matching your own cries.

Of course you’d find him in his room, his headset on as he yells into the microphone before angrily stepping onto the ground in quick, repeated motions. You voice your concern- a hint of a playfulness that he isn’t having fun, and concern that maybe he should take a break. He doesn’t need much convincing afterwards, choosing to shut down everything until his reflection stares at him through the monitor. The bed- or futon, but he decided that futon sounded too immature- whines under his added weight. He buries his head into your stomach, eyes closed and a headache slowly beginning to form between his brows. Your hand scratches at his scalp and the soft, hypnotic motions has his mind feeling heavy, and it’s almost disgusting how this seemingly innocent moment of comfort has something beginning to ache in his trousers. Perhaps that’s the perk of being a shut-in- it doesn’t take much to get him going, especially when it’s you.

It’s embarrassing to ask you- almost as if it’s some shameful thing- but he cups your sex with his hand and looks at you with red pooling on his cheeks and on the tip of his nose, and you don’t deny him. Desperation soaks in him as he removes your clothing, and it’s so apparent that he wants you, that he just needs you at this moment. With your sex exposed in front of him, your knees bent and your index just teasing at your clit, he goes drunk on your cunt without taking a single taste. His mind goes blank- and suddenly he’s just aware of you- you heartbeat- your heavy, slow breathing and the way that your fingers ghost over your clit and your other hand clenches at the bedsheet under you. His mouth is dry and his tongue is heavy, and he can’t form a single coherent thought that doesn’t involve you and your cunt.

He is drunk off your arousal- pupils dilated and hands holding you to his face as if he had never touched you before. His mouth suckles on your clit, feeling the swell of it throb on his tongue and he yearns to hear your moans- to feel your back arch and legs cross over his back to keep him in place. If that’s where you want him, he’d never leave- he stays there, hands holding onto your bum and nose nuzzled to your clit as his tongue sweeps over the rim of your entrance. He can feel your twitches and your muscles tensing and he’s stuck between staying with his head resting between your thighs, or watching you, but then if he were to let go, he’d miss all of this- miss feeling so connected to you with just a single part of him.

The deepest, and most intimate part of you is exposed to Leviathan and any other time, it would have reduced him to a flustered mess, except that today it reduces him to a desperate mess that only seeks to touch you. It’s his name that you are calling. No one else’s but his and he takes that so well, moaning and nipping gently at your vulva, letting his tongue lick over the superficial wound when your cry is just a bit sharper than usual. He just can’t help it. He needs to hear you cry- he needs this. His mind is swirling, spiraling in depravity as he stretches his tongue as far as it can go- licking at your cervix and pulling back and strands of spit connect from his mouth to your lips and you look so filthy and all he can think about is stretching your further. His hands meet your sex, slick coating his fingertips and it’s his meal wasted. With his face pressed so close to you, he can feel it all. He feels your high, feels your walls tighten around his tongue, the way that your clit pulses and the sweet essence that fills his tongue with ambrosia and honey. He hums in content, pushing his face deeper into sex, parting only when you call his name. He wants more- needs more. He needs all of you at this very moment, needs to show you just how far his love goes.

Satan:

It’s no surprise that Satan would excel at whatever it is he does. He’s precise, knowing exactly where to touch you, knowing where to kiss and which part of you is most sensitive. He wants to see every part of you- wants to know that he’s the one that is causing such obscene sounds to sing past your lips. Even if you’ve already reached your peak, he holds you there, tongue and mouth still fixated on your sex. He doesn’t dare to let go; doesn’t dare to kiss away from you, to leave your sex alone and quivering without anything there to keep you warm. You’re there till he lets you go, until he’s gotten his full, until he’s sure that you would never forget him and that way that he makes you feel; that even if you’re alone, you’d remember him and that way that he felt.

While it can be argued that he has his own library stuffed into his room, it still isn’t rare for either of you to be caught in the library- either one of you focused on a book or simply just wanting to be read outloud to. It is rare, however, for the two of you to be undisturbed, the house empty of all inhabitants, only to leave the two of you alone. You sit on a chaise lounge, snuggled at the corner with your phone in hand- your partner placing stacks of books on the table, and his eyes catching yours every now and again. His steps are quiet, the books neatly organized and unblemished from the years of care. You only spare him a smile when he makes his way to you, and when he’s on his knees before you, do you actually give him all of your attention. Your eyes are wide, curiosity tilting at your head that friends him of a cat, and when his name escapes your lips, does he grab at your leg and whisper a spell to give him easy access to you. His name is repeated in a familiar chastising tone, and he can only give you a mischievous grin that is placed against your knee.

He leaves a trail of kisses from the outside of your knee, curving slowly to the inside of your thigh. His eyes are closed, and even so, he remembers where every freckle lies, craning his neck to kiss at each, running his hands and curving them around your thigh, waves of cellulite running under his palm. Meeting you sex, he kisses you, spreading your folds with his tongue and gripping you in his palms. He revels in the way that you sound- every swish and lewd squelching that runs on his tongue as he pulls you close to him. He’s humming and nuzzling his way against you, savoring every taste and spill onto his tongue. Even if he’s just begun, you’re already gripping his hair, knitting your hands and scratching his scalp.

There is no need for him to breathe when he has you right here, when he’s so consumed by all of you. His tongue runs against you, massaging as far as it can reach, moaning and nodding along when you cry and call his name. When you tell him that you’re close, he keeps at his pace, his nose buried into your sex and heart beating against his ribs as you squirm and cry. His nails pierce into your skin, pink crescents adoring your body, your cunt pulsing with want and breaths heavy as you call for him, and only him, begging for him. He releases a hand from you to work its way between his mouth and your cunt. He enters you with ease, massaging your inners with his index and middle finger. He is insatiable, your arousal dripping onto his chin, and onto the chaise lounge, and onto the carpet.

Your cries are louder now, and you’ve spilled onto his mouth and tongue, staining him with your orgasm. Your body shudders, shaking with the afterglow, and when he keeps kissing at your sex, you try to pull away, muttering out how you’re still too sensitive and the ever caring lover that he is, he continues to kiss you. He hooks a leg and holds you steady, preventing you from squirming away and he only pulls away from you to watch as your cunt trembles and flutters around nothing, leaking with syrupy strands, a pulsing want burning him from the inside. Your lips are puffed and his own must match yours, and your sweet voice calls out to him, a whimper to kiss you and perhaps you want him to actually kiss you, but he could never get enough of you and your taste. He wants to make you feel good in the way that you do for him. He holds you close, savoring every taste and twitch that you give to him. His mouth never stops, and he is passionate and slow, eating in a way that makes you twist and cry.

Asmodeus:

Every kiss of his burns- a warmth that washes over you and lulls you closer to sin, a familiar warmth that starts as you heart quickens it’s pace, heat rushing to the shell of your ears, to the pit of your stomach and aching at your sex. Asmodeus is a giving lover- making sure to take his time, never wanting to rush such a sweet meal, always pulling you closer to his mouth, kissing at every inch of exposed skin. Your skin is dotted in his marks, a breath of love whispered as he moves to kiss you once more. Never wanting to rush, he takes his time until you’re whining, breathless with a hint of desperation laced into your words to finally touch you.

You lay with him, your lips puffed and gloss smeared on his lips and stained into the clothes. It’s a rare moment where neither of you are bothered by an outside force, simply stuck in a room together where you now are stuck to him, hands trailing over his body and holding onto his thigh, close to where his own cock has already begun to ache. Your breaths are heavy, and despite that, you can only pull away for a moment before you’re back to him. Every kiss kindles the flame inside of him, and the taste of your lips is intoxicating, spinning his mind until his lungs are empty of air and his mind is consumed by you.

Just a simple touch to your thighs is enough to have you moan into his mouth, trailing your lips to kiss at his neck and beg just beneath his ear. He hasn’t even begun to fully touch you, and you’re already clinging to him, begging for more and he could never deny you- not when you ask so sweetly. You lay on the bed, and your clothes and his are discarded over the floor of the room. His palms sink into your soft thighs, manicured nails lightly scratching at your skin as he kisses from your collarbone, down between your breasts, to your navel and finally breathing upon your sex, letting the tip of his tongue swipe at your trembling bud. He feels how much you want him, can sense it past his own sin and sense it in the connection that he has with you. He so desperately wants you- he kisses the pulse in your core, feels the way that your feelings beat against him, and tastes you.

Perhaps it is mean of his to tease you so much- especially when you’re writhing under him and calling his name with a croak, wanting him to really taste you, but he can’t help it. He adores the sound of your voice, the frustration and how your sex twitches every time he so much as breathes against it- against you. His lips kiss at the inside of your thighs, his tongue soothing over where he bites. Your heels dig into the comforter, and hands twist the fabric and reach for anything to just hold tightly. There’s a desperate want in him, something so primal and so him, that he needs to touch every inch of your skin, to kiss and bite until he’s satisfied. It’ll always go past his sin with you, past anything that you could ever begin to fathom and he’s leaving his mark on you, decorating you with everything that he is. Your hands run through his hair, and he can feel how warm his own body is, sweat slick against his forehead and burning his cheeks. He’s grateful that you can’t see him in this moment, and though you would find him beautiful, he needs the moment of pure lust and adoration to be just his for a moment.

Deciding that you’ve been teased just enough, he finally meets your sex with his tongue. The tip of his muscle swirls around the pulsing bud, every beat of your want and hunger vibrates against his tongue. His mouth trails down, tongue slipping into your entrance, tasting your sweet arousal that pours out in honeyed strands and slips down his throat and warms his own desire. The tip of his nose brushes against your clit with every push and swirl of his tongue and lips, every moan that trembles past your lips pushes him deeper against you, smothered by your sex and thighs. Blood rushes to his ears and his face is sticky with your arousal, and you are shameless and inviting, calling out his name with such amour, chest heaving with every breath and moan. Asmodeus pulls away with a lazy cunning smile and wet lips, your body shaking in the afterglow, and without waiting for you to calm from your high, he returns to your sex, his index and middle finger squirming inside of your silky walls.

Beelzebub:

Eating Out - Beelzebub Ed.

Belphegor:

Belphegor’s sin embeds itself into his whole being, it makes his whole body feel heavy as if he were carrying weights on his shoulders. Everything is such a chore to the youngest brother, and it shows in his movements. Sex isn’t always so slow, but it’s the lead up to it that makes it feel as if he’s intentionally teasing you, pushing you to the brink with every lick and feel of his touch. He’s slow, kissing at your sex with such a heaviness, his tongue swiping against your folds and face buried into your sex. It’s all so sweet and tantalizing, making your body arch and curl, hands fisted into his hair as he can feel your sex throb against his tongue. He doesn’t mean to tease you, but it isn’t as if he's sorry about the results.

It’s late and both he and you should be asleep, but he can’t help it. You couldn’t help yourself to him, kissing him and grinding your hips over his. His eyes are closed, heavy from sleep and your own lust that fills his lungs and lingers on his tongue. It would be silly of him to deny you anything, not when you’re kissing him so sweetly, not when your own taste is more alluring than sleep at the moment. You’re on your back and the covers are pushed to the side, teetering towards the edge of the bed and his hands make quick work to discard you of your clothes. You’re so warm, so soft and supple under him. His fingers sink into your thighs, into the soft mound of your stomach and without wasting a second, he dips his head between your thighs.

Slick already wets his lips, and pools on his tongue as the tip of this tongue licks a strip against your entrance. Your muscles twitch, a reflex as his tongue teases against your leaking cunt, arousal beading out in pearly strands. He lifts his head, nose grazing over your clit in a way that feels too hot and not enough, and his mouth latches on, suckling on the erect bud. Hands knit into his hair, his name mixed into moans as his cheeks hollow. He releases you with a pop, eyes half-lidded and face flushed; his erection is uncomfortable and strained in his pants, but it’s far too much work for him to actually do anything more than hump at the bed. Kisses are pressed against the inside of your thighs, close to the swell of your mound where his cheeks nules against it with every peck. Your thighs tense around his head, jerking under him and twitching with every kiss and pull until you’re trying to steer him with your hands still in his hair.

You’re needier than before, whining and thrusting your cunt into his face, trying to find any form of friction and he’s partially to blame. He’s going so slow, kissing your sex as if it were the first time, as if he were really kissing you. It’s all wet- slick and drool stuck to his chin as you whine his name in a breathless pitch. You’re pulsing- throbbing with such a force that for a moment, he thinks you’ve been really pent up, but that thought is quickly washed away when you start muttering about how close you are. At that moment, all he can focus on is getting you there. The tip of his tongue swirls the bud, vibrations sent to your core as he moans so lightly against you. He swipes down to work his tongue inside of you, swirling around your entrance and inside of your velvety walls that twitch and leak with your arousal.

Nails drag down on your skin, and he keeps you still- as much as he can anyways. Your moans are growing, echoing against the walls and reverberating in his ears, his mind only filled with you and everything silenced by you. He keeps himself fastened between your sex, unrelenting to give up his own space, never wanting to part from you without feeling everything that you can give to him- every spasm and twitch memorized by his tongue, your taste forever embedded in his mind, and he understands what it’s meant to be hungry as he seeks your high. He commits al of you into his memory- your sounds, and the way you call his name, breathless and strained but still full of want and need. Your orgasm washes over him, spills onto his tongue and he lets out such a needy whine with his lips still kissing at your sex. A warm color spreads from your chest to your face, and you stare up at him with a lazy smile. Belphegor can feel his own smile begin to twitch into life as well. With his lips still slick with your arousal, he kisses you, undoing his pants and letting the tip of his cock slide between you.

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