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#tag:req
artofyangji · 3 years
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hihi! i was wondering if you could write some hcs for the demon brothers thigh fucking you when they’re needy(consensual ofc)? oh and gn please! thanks, have a nice day!! <3
I’m not saying I’m into thigh fucking but uh... ok yeah I am saying it (๑´ㅂ`๑) It’s like you read my mind. Thank you for submitting a request and pls enjoy!
Behind a cut because long post is long
Lucifer
With Lucifer, you rarely ever do anything twice as he comes up with various ways and places to fuck you, so it's surprising that your thighs haven't gotten any attention other than from his mouth.
But the first time it happens, you two haven't seen each other for a week as he's been busy with whatever work Diavolo gives him. You don't even realize he's back until you get a text telling you to go to his room.
When you arrive, he doesn't even greet you. "Undress," is all he says and before you know it, he's bending you over the table you usually have tea at, the cool surface sending a shiver down your spine as it makes contact with your bare chest.
You hear the clink of his pants coming undone but rather than his familiar heat against your backside, it's a bit lower and he smears a glob of precum over the back of your thighs before he slips between them. At this angle, with the curve of his dick, each rut against your ass drags him against your own sex but it's only enough to keep you on edge. You whimper and it's obvious he's doing it on purpose by the dark chuckle in your ear.
He finishes quickly, though you know it's not the end of the night, slipping from between your thighs and finishing on the swell of your ass. He thumbs both cheeks apart and watches it drip slowly down. "We'll have to do that again... I want to take my time with you."
Mammon
When is this boy not needy? You know he wants something but he never brings it up himself; he's been hanging on to you all day (so much more than usual that even others ask you what's up with him) and you catch him staring at you, eyes noticeably lower than your face until he realizes you're watching him and looks away with cherry red cheeks.
You end up in your usual position on his bed, lying on your back with him lounging between your legs, face hidden in your chest. He mumbles discontentedly and wiggles around like he can't get comfortable until you straight up ask him what his problem is. He squeezes your thigh with one hand and he can't look you in the eye, even as he turns his face to yours. "Can I, ah... do it here?"
In the end, it's hard to say no to those puppy dog eyes and yeah, it sounds kinda hot. He undresses you and himself immediately after you nod, using his powers so your clothes are there and then gone between blinks. He pulls your legs up and together, hooking his thumbs under your knees and slides his heat between your thighs.
He's worked himself up too much thinking about it all day so his first orgasm is quick, making a mess over your lower stomach. He leans on your legs for a moment as he catches his breath, eyes flickering over your flushed body, watching the rise and fall of your chest, how you lick your lips.
He cants his hips again, slowly, relishing in the jiggle of flesh and bouncing it faster as his pace increases. And he stays like that for hours, rubbing the underside of his dick, slick with his cum, against your sex and nibbling at your knees each time the pleasure overtakes him. "I wanna stay here all night... ok?"
Leviathan
You consideration yourself lucky when you catch Levi watching porn. He's tucked into his bathtub, under a cover, with headphones in, so he didn't even hear you enter his room. You throw the blanket back and he jumps up, inadvertently tossing his phone from his hand. The headphone jack falls out as the phone clambers to the bottom of the tub and moans echo in the small space.
You're the first to pick it up and you grin as you watch the video on screen, asking if he'd like to try it out. He's red, hiding his face behind a fist and the obvious tent in his pants with the blanket he had wrestled back from you. But he nods and says, "Y-yeah, I wanna do it like they did." 
He sits on his computer chair and lets you get things ready, undressing the both of you, until he seems to remember something and goes to his dresser. He surprises you by pulling out a pair of stockings that look very similar to the one in the video, but you don't say anything because he's so red and looks on the brink of backing out, and now that you know he's into thigh fucking, you can't push him too much. You’ll leave the teasing for next time.
When you sit in his lap, his chest to your back, the head of his dick peaks out from between the swell of your thighs. He keeps his hands on your hips and you tilt them up and down. The lacy edges of the socks catch on his curves and become stained with his precum leaking like a faucet across your thighs. 
When he finally cums, it's with an excited moan and his face pressed into your back. Your thighs and torso are a mess and you wonder how long he's been holding it in or if he's fantasized about this for so long that he couldn't help himself. "That was... gg."
Satan
Without fail, when you know that you have enough time to be alone, Satan will have you undressed and propped up in his room while you wait for his next command. You've been like this for what feels like hours, reading some book about Devildom history out loud to the brother lounging with his head in your naked lap.
The situation wouldn't be so bad if he kept his hands to himself and if he weren't so close, but he caresses your calves and the heat of his breath blossoms along the tops of your thighs. He could easily lean forward and pleasure you with his wicked mouth, but he hasn't moved any closer since you both sat down.
You want to whine when he asks you, "Could you read me that one next?" and points to the far wall, detailing the red, ornate cover you should be looking for. Ever the obedient one, you cross his room, though not without a pout that you make sure he can see, and start searching the bookcase.
You don't hear him behind you, only feel his breath against your neck, his hand on your hip to keep you in place. He drags his dick down from the top of your ass to the backs of your thighs and with his other hand, spreads your legs slightly to slip his cock between them. The only thing you have to hold on to is the bookcase as he moves your hips over his with the grip at your side.
It's truly torturous, the kisses at your neck and the glide of his head against you enough to get you worked up but nothing more. Pushing himself flush against your ass, he breathes heavy into the little hairs at the back of your neck before hooking his chin over your shoulder and then frowning at one of the rows of books. "It's a good thing I know a spell for stains."
Asmodeus
You know Asmo has a long list of things he wants to do to you, things you can do to him, and some that require an extra party or two. Anything you're uncomfortable with he'll cross off and never mention again, but you're surprised it's taken this long to get to something as relatively vanilla as thigh fucking.
But you can't complain when he's directing you to undress, "Go ahead and show me that beautiful body of yours," in that lust tinged voice and setting you backwards in his lap. He leans back so you can lie against him, opening your neck for him to kiss and nibble at the skin.
This position has two big advantages. He can reach around your body and touch you, running his hands over your chest, up and down your sides, at the apex of your legs. And with the chair so low to the ground, you can hold yourself up by arms and plant your feet, knees still tucked so the meat of your thighs presses together and rock yourself up and down his cock.
When you tire, he helps by holding you by the hips and letting you put your full weight against him, resting the muscles of your arms and legs. You keep your ankles crossed as he begins to move on his own, in and out, the flushed red of his head peaking through and winking with pre. It smears across you leg, hot and slick.
He comes with a bite to the fat of your shoulder between thrusts so when you spread your legs again, it dribbles down the insides of your thighs. Asmo licks the shallow wound with a canorous hum as you finally spill over in his hand. "Let's do that again, but this time, I want to be on top."
Beelzebub
When your lover is as blessed in size as Beelzebub, you have to get creative with positions or you would be sore all the time. It's a pleasant ache, but you've got to give yourself some time to recuperate so you suggest he fucks your thighs instead.
You can tell he doesn't quite get the point, staring at you silently as he thinks over your request, but he's always particular about keeping you safe, overly worried about your human delicacy, so he replies, "Ok, yeah, let's try it," and nods enthusiastically.
He likes you on top—so he can see your face, he says, but you know it's also because he likes to grab your ass—so you move into position, lying straight across his body with your knees between his. You rest your chin on your hands folded over his chest and watch him get to work.
It's obvious he's surprised by how good it feels. His mouth falls open with the first cant of his hips against yours, gliding his dick amid your thighs. With a firm fistful of your rear, he pulls you down as he pushes up, and pressed against the tight muscles of his stomach, each ridge teases you as he works himself into a frenzied pace. 
Your hot breaths mingle as you bend down to kiss him on the lips, across his cheeks, the furrow in his brow. The grip on your ass could leave bruises as he cums across the back of your thighs, your own, soft pleasure rolling through you and you both reach up to kiss each other as the tingles dissipate. "Can we do that again sometime, please?"
Belphegor
It usually starts with him whimpering in your ear as he wakes up from another nap, your name on his lips and you ask him, red in the face, what he was dreaming about. He'll tell you how good you looked underneath him as one hand curls around your side to bring you into his chest.
His dirty words are enough of a distraction from what his other hand is doing that you don't even realize he's slid his pants down until he's slipping between your thighs, made easy when he's the big spoon.
Sometimes he just stays there without doing anything else and falls back asleep. "It's warm," is his excuse. It makes you antsy, waiting for him to move and he laughs, low and cruel as you wiggle around and squeeze his arm around your side. When you're really impatient, you reach between your legs and run one finger over the slit peaking between your thighs and then he's not holding back.
He loves to finish with his cock head poking from between your thighs and then look over your body, noting the mess on your shorts. But he won't let it go to waste, running his fingers through it and beneath your underwear to finish you off.
And if you agree to it, there are many nights each week you'll wake up in the same position, sometimes as he's announcing his orgasm with a pitiful whine, sometimes as your own is rolling in. "I had that dream again and couldn't help myself."
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artofyangji · 3 years
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helloo ^^ could you please write something based on this ❝  i’m fine, let me see your face.  ❞ for eraserjoke? they are one of my favourite ships because of the dynamic and the potential. thank you and have a good day/night!
hi!! I have never written either of these characters let alone the pairing, but you’re right the dynamic and potential are great (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و i hope i’ve done them justice.
laugh therapy. cw: none wc: 656, unedited
"—I'm fine."
Aizawa pushed his colleague's face away from his own with one hand—he could feel her inquisitive smile underneath his palm—and with the other dug furiously into the corners of his burning eyes. He knew he would just irritate them further but whatever slime had been flung at him felt as though it seared his corneas, and paired with his already overworked Quirk, his eyes refused to open. And in his current company, the inability to use his power was fatal.
If there was one person Aizawa couldn't look away from, it was Fukukado Emi.
Aizawa valued peace and quiet. Though he seemed to attract just the opposite in terms of friends, at least Yamada knew when to reign himself in—usually after a particularly hard glare from the underground Hero bundled in his sleeping bag. Fukukado had no such situational awareness and though Aizawa had no issues with voicing his complaints about her out loud, to her face, repeatedly, she was as tenacious as she was boisterous so all of their interactions outside of official Hero business had devolved to the same song and dance. She would attempt to distract him with dad jokes and pick up lines that made him inwardly groan and each time he'd stare her down, nullifying her ability before the bubbling excitement in his chest could burst forth from his mouth, though her smile never faltered no matter how many times he turned her down.
"Let me see your face."
She had lost a glove in the scuffle so her hand against his cheek was cold, softer than he imagined, not that he let himself think of Fukukado in his down time. If he did, he would have come to the conclusion that Ms. Joke was a good Hero, despite her seeming inability to take him seriously, and wouldn't put the safety of her team above asking him out again. But he didn't think about her so the only reason he turned his face into her palm was out of resignation that his constant rubbing was making things worse, and maybe he was a bit curious about how she would help. They were pressed close in the back alley they had chased the Villain to—still fighting a fit of giggles, now restrained at their feet—so Aizawa felt her arm bump against him as she rummaged through one of the small, smiley-faced pouches of her uniform. When she found what she was looking for, she tilted his face up and pried his eyes open, one by one, with cool fingers that soothed his inflamed lids and applied one drop each of some liquid that took away the sting immediately.
Aizawa blinked, letting the grime and shadows of the alleyway come back into focus and Fukukado looked up at him with mouth tilted and brows raised. The expectant excitation was all too familiar, but her restraint—obvious in the way her shoulders quivered from suppressed laughter and her mouth twitched with the threat of a smile—was so surprising that, on top of the realization that she kept eye drops on hand for him, it was suddenly funny. And the shock that crossed her face at Aizawa's chuckle, probably the first time she had ever made such an expression, was hilarious and even if she had finally been able to use her Quirk on him—though he could tell this was no manipulation, but genuine joy—he wouldn't have been able to stop it with his eyes scrunched in merriment. He figured he would come to regret letting his guard down around Fukukado but as her wonder wore off and they laughed together, whether out of relief for a job well done or the acknowledgement of this feeling between them, Aizawa thought that laughing once in a while, maybe with company, over dinner, didn’t sound so bad.
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artofyangji · 3 years
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Hiii, I'm the Bakumina author before and I wanted to thank you again for being so sweet and kind! There aren't many people out there who enjoy others being happy and the fact that you are one of them? IT'S SO WHOLESOME AND THE WORLD NEEDS MORE PEOPLE LIKE YOU. 😭
I wanted to request another drabble based on them but I'd like you to surprise me, if that's alright. What you feel like writing, write that. Doesn't matter if it's fluff or smut or angst or anything really.
welcome back, hun! (#^^#)ゞyou’re too kind to me, thank you! I just figure it’s much easier to put good into the world than it is bad (tho I definitely have my moments haha) and the more good there is, maybe some of it will come back to me too. as for the request, I’m surprised at myself for not jumping straight to smut when given the chance but this fluff is what came to mind. please enjoy~!
let me come home bakumina. pro-heroes. cw: none wc: 786
Bakugou's knees nearly gave out in the doorway but he caught himself on the handle at the last minute, tottering under the oversized bag draped over his shoulder and held loosely to his side by his folded up arm. He dropped his bag over the shoes lined up in the genkan—mostly worn boots, a sparkly pair of flats—and dragged himself into the living room. The first rays of the sun began to illuminate the small space, a low table for meals and a couch the only furnishings, but Bakugou kept his eyes as low as possible, attempting to hold onto the vestiges of sleep that he had managed in the taxi ride home, and used one hand against the wall to follow the hallway to his room.
The end of every night was the same; as a rookie Hero, only six months out of Yuuei, Bakugou was given the less desirable missions. Some were just time wasters, patrols in overly protected areas or stacks of paperwork that his superiors could have done but delegated to him in order to, as Best Jeanist phrased it, practice for when he had his own agency. Tired of twiddling his thumbs with petty criminals, he had jumped at the first chance for an assignment with some meat on its bones; it had taken him away from Musutafu for a week of overnight surveillance and what should have simply been reconnaissance turned into a two day firefight with his team cornered by the enemy until backup arrived. Bakugou had broken an arm—mostly healed now, thanks to a doctor's Quirk, but still in a sling—lost his phone and not gotten more than thirty minutes of sleep since the the end of his watch shift before the battle began. He was going to enjoy his day off tomorrow by never getting out bed.
Reaching the second door on the left, he pushed it open and thanked his past self for keeping his blackout curtains drawn when he left last as he didn't think he had the energy to cross the room and close them now. He barely made it to his bed, not bothering to remove his shirt as he usually did, and flopped down on the left side where he slept out of habit, though by morning he was sure to be curled up around a pillow in the middle. He laid there for a moment as his legs and torso hung over the side of the bed, threatening to drag him to floor until he grunted, gathering the last of his might and, with his good hand, reached out for the headboard, smacking something warm and soft.
Had he been at even a quarter of his usual strength, Bakugou would have blown away who or whatever had taken refuge in his bed. As it was, the mere thought of using his Quirk made his arms ache to the bone and he could barely roll himself onto his side to see what he had hit. The dark of the room and the threatening fall of his eyelids made it difficult at first to distinguish the arm Bakugou had struck but as his eyes slowly focused on it, the whole rest of Mina's body came into view.
The arm not slung out to the side was tucked under her head and the pillow she had been using, now just decoration, was mushed against the headboard. Her mouth was wide open but she made no sound other than a heavy sigh and the occasional wet smack of her lips. As though she could feel his gaze on her, Mina's face turned to him and then her whole body, flopping onto one side, though her eyes did not open. The hand she had been lounging on, now freed, reached out blindly to the left side of the bed and flopped, dejected, when it found nothing. Mina sighed again and spoke, in a voice slurred with the weight of her dreams, a single name into the dark.
Bakugou pushed himself up into his spot on the mattress, taking advantage of the sudden weightlessness of his battered body. He laid on his back and took her hand in his, laying it over his chest beside the arm tucked into his side. At his touch, she scooted closer and pressed her face into his shoulder, the sleeve of his shirt absorbing the tears clinging unshed to her lashes; the sigh she gave now was content even in sleep. And Bakugou joined her soon after with blushing cheeks hidden in the pink tresses of her hair and a squeeze of her hand, returned three times as he finally drifted off.
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artofyangji · 4 years
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alright I got another idea, what about a female reader who is pretty religious, like to the point where she’s weary to be around the brothers and will default to being around the angels because she trusts them more? and Satan is tired of it and interrogates her about it
ahh I am not at all religious myself, so I hope I’ve included those points well enough. Thanks for the request <3
It’s understandable that she’s scared. She’s a human with no magic suddenly appearing in a world she never knew existed, living with men whose names equate to the most evil force imaginable in her realm. Some of them have alluded to eating her and that is definitely no way to make a guest feel comfortable.
But there’s a difference between weary and rude and Satan has had about enough of it.
They only see her at breakfast and dinner. She’s in and out, giving one word answers as she avoids looking any of them in the eye. They glimpse her between classes and at lunch, both places where she never sits with them, opting instead to spend her time with Simeon and Luke, and Solomon by extension.
Something is always clutched tightly in her hand. He realizes it’s a rosary the day he decides to confront her.
She’s standing by the front doors as he’s on his way to the lounge. The decision to talk to her is a subconscious one. One minute he’s minding his own business and the next, when she jumps and tucks herself into the corner at the sight of him, he’s tightening his jaw in frustration. He moves toward her and she throws up a hand.
“Stay-stay back!” A silver cross swings from her clenched fist.
Satan stops, not out of fear of the symbol but because of the fear in her eyes.
“I was wondering what you were always muttering at.” It suddenly makes sense; any time she sees one of them, she starts praying. She jumps again when he calls her name. “Tell me, have I or my brothers threatened you at any time since you arrived?”
Slowly, she shakes her head. Satan sighs and through the anger that still claws at him persistently, he feels something else when he looks at her, somewhat unfamiliar but oddly comforting. It’s what lets him say what he does next.
“I don’t know what sort of things you learned about demons in the human realm,” maybe it’s the sincerity that he tries to instill in his voice, but she turns to look at him, really look at him for the first time since she’s been here, “but we don’t know much about humans down here either. That’s part of the reason you’re here, isn’t it? I don’t know about my brothers, but I am interested in getting to know you more.”
Satan could have said that he was interested in learning about humans, but that wouldn’t have been quite right. And for the first time in weeks, as though she understands exactly what he’s not saying, she flashes him a smile not restrained by niceties or clouded by fear but one he hopes to see again quite often.
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