*A Lower-rank Demon Challenges MC.*

sorry i cant hang out i forgot how to mimic human like behaviour

You’re wondering if Tomura even likes you, meanwhile he’s back at the hideout showing everyone your picture talking about how pretty you are.

Art by dachell_ART

I still love how when the switch came out Nintendo was like “I know! We will make the switch games taste bad so kids won’t eat them!”

And all of humanity collectively said: “Okay but how bad does it taste?” And licked their switch cartridges.

Philosophers and anthropologists have debated it for years. “The defining trait of humanity is our intelligence/compassion/creativity/curiosity, etc.”

No no. All of that is wrong.

The defining trait of humanity is that we are weird as shit.

you're fucking a clown he's balls deep ready to cum and you tell him to pull out but his clown dick is comically long and it takes him a solid minute of yanking and coiling it like a rope to get it all out

no one respects the art of cock-warming quite like Price.

18+ | cock warming. exhibitionism.

he loves having his lil sub (whether you want to be or not) kneeling at his feet, his cock stuffed down your throat while he works, alternating between holding a cigar in his hand or a pen. the other on the back of your head, keeping you still. cradled his lap where you belong.

and he'd spend ages training you up for it, too.

starts by makingyou sit in his lap, letting you mewl and whine and pant in his ear about the stretch, the need. wanting him to just fuck you already and get it over with. but he's patient. let's you acclimate slowly until all he has to do is pat his thigh and you're already shoving your panties to the side, sliding down his thick girth as he turns on some movie you'd been chirping about wanting to see. squirming around for a moment until you find your spot before melting into his chest, breathing around the stretch. because at some point, having him inside of you, stuffing you full—cock, mouth, ass—comes as naturally as breathing, anyway.

but if you think this is a private endeavor only, well. you'd be wrong.

it starts small. his fingers inside of you when you're out at a restaurant with Laswell and her wife (who seems to sharing your expression; Kate's hand disappearing below the table), just sitting. teasing. he's not trying to get you off. it's just training. new horizons, love, he says, and it's just so easy to get swept up into the maelstrom of his desire, isn't it?

a movie after. it's boring. you hate it. so, he unzips his trousers and offers himself to you instead. let's you thumb through your feed (phone on silent, brightness down to zero) in the back of the theatre as you lounge across the chairs in the empty room, his cock down your throat.

an opera. sitting on his lap with him inside of you, dress covering the indecent act as he shoves your panties to the side (only worn in case he finishes—can't have his cum dripping down your thigh when you go out to eat, can you?) and sinks in deep with a little groan muffled into your neck.

soon, he'll refuse to let you sit anywhere that isn't his lap. on his cock. you almost get caught a few times (and maybe you do) but John's influence is all-consuming and no one bats an eye when he starts to bounce you on his lap in an empty restaurant, hand curled over your mouth to keep any noise that spills out just for him. only for him.

if you think falling asleep without him inside of you is an option, then you should have thought about that before moving in because after he fucks you, he'll cradle you close, ignoring any protests about cleaning up. feigns sleep until you huff, giving in.

(you sleep better when he's inside of you, anyway.)

he's just utterly insatiable—and smitten, really—and it doesn't even feel much like training or conditioning when (he rings the dinner bell and) your mouth starts to water as he sits down, thighs spread wide enough for you slip between. nursing his cock the same way he carts his fingers across your nape, cradling the whiskey in his hand. staring down at you with a deep, ravenous hunger as you sigh around the thick of him, and rest your head on his lap.

(a bell echoes in your ear, but it's easy to ignore it because he was right, after all. this is where you belong.)

Little D’s fluff

What do you call a group of Little D’s? A pack? A flock? Maybe a herd? MC’s personal favourite was “the void” since when the creatures crowded in one spot their small black silhouettes would melt into a big shadow and form something akin to a moving black hole. At first, it made them kind of uneasy, since the smaller demons did come across as just as sinister as the strongest of their kind. From a further distance, they resembled a little puffball, upon closer inspection, everyone would notice that their needle-like teeth could easily pierce human skin and their claws and horns were always perfectly sharpened. The big eyes would make for a cute feature if it wasn’t for the animalistic glint in them. Some of them spoke human languages, some only knew the infernal language and some could, or chose to, only chirp twitter happily. It would seem so that they had some kind of pack instinct and would often crowd together, which would always form a cacophony of different sounds.

Keep reading

Headcanon that the demons and angels don't have that instinct when somethings wrong.

MC *feels the hairs on their arms stand up*: Somethings wrong

Solomon *feels a pit in his stomach*: I agree

Demons and Angels: What the fuck

*Something goes wrong*

The Demons and Angels: What the F U C K 🤯😱🤯

This or nothing