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Satan and you have been in a bit of a fight recently. Some bullshit about disagreeing on the best Warrior Cats, He insists it’s Spottedleaf, you insist it’s Graystripe because of the Yaoi potential he has. It doesn’t really matter, but you’re both too petty to agree to disagree and it snowballed from there.
You two haven’t talked in a week, except for snide remarks to each other.
“Bigot who doesn’t appreciate medicine cats,” he called you at one point.
“Homophobe,” you replied.
The pettiest fight in the world ends when it's 11pm, and you’re just about to head to bed when you get a call from Asmo.
“What?” You pick up the phone sleepily.
“MC! Thank fuck!,” Asmo starts, “Can you come to The Fall and pick up Satan? I’d drive him but I can’t get another DUI.”
You sit up and start putting on your shoes, because no matter how mad you are at Satan, you’re still going to get him, “Why is he at The Fall with you? Is he drunk?”
Asmo sighs, “Very. He came with me, because he said he needed to get out of the house, probably something to do with your fight with him. But, now he’s just crying and saying he misses you.”
“I’m on my way,” you say as you walk out of your room, planning to steal Mammon’s car to save your boyfriend.
A short drive later, you walk into The Fall and Asmo shouts at you from the corner, “Over here!”
You meet eyes with Satan, and yikes, he looks like a wreck. Tears are streaming down his face and he frantically starts saying something to Asmo, crying harder. You walk up to them.
Asmo starts saying something, but you don’t pay attention, because Satan cuts him off by sobbing and saying, “MCCC! I’m sorry, hic,” he slurs, “I missed you. .” He suddenly smiles and laughs. “You’re cuter than I remember.” He’s drunker than a pirate celebrating the biggest pliage of their life.
You frown, “Poor kitten.”
“I’m not poor?” he questions and answers at the same time.
You sigh and turn to Asmo, “I’ll take him home.”
Asmo nods, flashes you a big smile, and promptly leaves to go flirt with some random guy, but Satan has protests.
“Nooooooooo,” he whines, “I wanna drink more.”
“You’re already drunk enough,” you say and try to get him out of his seat.
“I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” he mixes up his words and fails to convince you of his soberness.
You raise an eyebrow and, since he’s fighting against you, fail to wrestle Satan up to stand, he laughs.
“This isn’t funny,” you say.
“It’s a little funny,” he answers, thinking he’s won.
You put your hands on your hips, and a sick idea comes to you, “How about this? We go home and steal some fancy Demonus from Lucifer’s stash and you can drink more there.”
Satan pretends to think for a moment, despite being too drunk to think, “Okay!” He smiles and attempts to stand up, almost falling over.
You wrap your arm around his shoulder to help him walk.
“This is so romantic,” he comments, all of his ‘s’ sounds blurring into a big ‘ssss’.
You manage to walk him to the car and you put him in the back seat so he doesn’t fuck with the radio.
He looks around the car for a moment as you buckle him in, “I didn’t know you drove Mammon’s car.”
You close the car door and hop into the front seat, “I stole it.”
Satan giggles and then hiccups again.
The drive back to the House of Lamantations is only interesting because Satan starts counting every car he sees, but he says the numbers all out of order once he gets past 3.
“1, 2, 3, 8, uhh, 5, 4, 3,” He pauses, “I already said 3, huh. . oh! 13, 17. . .” He looks like he’s having the time of his life.
You get home and drag Satan to his room, saying ‘hi’ to Beel when you pass him on his way to the kitchen.
You get to Satan’s room and tell him you’ll be right back, but Satan starts whining, “Noooo, don’t leave meeeeaugh.”
You lead Satan to his bed, “Don’t you want to drink more?”
“Oh!” Satan says like he forgot, “I do.”
“Then be a good boy and wait, I’ll be as fast as possible,” you promise him.
Satan’s face falls and he starts tearing up, but ultimately decides to wait.
You walk out of his door then dash to Lucifer’s room, knowing that Lucifer is probably in his study working late as hell. You look under his bed and open a briefcase hidden under there and grab the wine with the highest demonus percentage. Then you walk to your room, and say ‘hi’ to Beel on his way back from the kitchen.
You go into your medicine drawer and this is why your idea was sick. You dig around and find a 50 mg edible, and 1 viagra. this is gonna be fun. You go to the kitchen, get a bowl, then put it in the microwave. You wait for it to melt then pop open the wine and pour it in along with the viagra.
Satan’s never been high before, and you’re so excited to know what he’s like. You attempt to reseal the wine, but eventually give up, because Satan’s too drunk to notice and if he asks, you drank some.
You walk back to Satan’s room and he tries to stand up to hug you, “You were gone sooo long!” He whines.
You set the wine down on his nightstand and embrace him, “I'm sorry, kitty, but I'm back now. And,” you gesture to the wine, “I come bearing gifts!”
Satan gives you a toothy grin and kisses you, alcohol a very prominent flavor on his tongue. “I missed you,” he whispers into the kiss, “Are you still mad at me?” His voice starts sounding a little too sober for your liking.
You kiss him again, “A little, but I'll forgive you if you apologize when you're sober.”
“Maybe I shouldn't drink anymore, then,” he mumbles and you instantly disagree.
“Awee, but you're such a cute drunk . .” You make a pouty face and reach for the wine, “Just a little more?”
If Satan were any more sober he might've questioned this, but he heard you call him cute and all of his brain processes shut down. “Okay,” he says smiling.
You lean forward on him, which forces him to lay in his bed, “say ahh!”
“Ahh,” Satan mimics as he opens his mouth wide for you to pour the drugged wine into his mouth. His face scrunches up at the taste, and he feels like something's wrong with it, but then you smile at him and all of his worries melt away.
He drinks about a 5th of the wine like this before you set it down.
“Such a good kitty for me,” you coo.
Satan purrs and you give him a short break in which you make out with him before saying, “Just a little more?”
Satan looks a little conflicted, but you put your thumb up to his lips and he opens his mouth again.
“You're doing so well,” you smile make him drink more. You don't stop until he looks like he needs to breathe. About ⅔ of the wine is left.
You start kissing Satan’s neck, “My pretty boy, being so good for me.” Satan flushes and tries to protest, but you shut him up with a kiss.
Your hands start to roam around his waist and you bring your hands up his shirt to rub his nipples.
“Hah. .” Satan breathes, and you keep rubbing as you take a good look at him.
He's getting visibly more drunk by the second, his face is flushed, his eyes are hazy and staring straight at you, he can't quite close his mouth and a little drool is coming out.
You kiss the drool off of his lips and move to take his shirt off, but Satan reaches his hands to yours and stops you.
“I. . .” He trails off, “Did you put something in this?”
You move his hands away and take off his shirt, he's too out of it to stop you.
“Sorry, what did you say?” You ask.
Satan can not remember.
“I don't know. .” he says and then moans when you bite his nipple.
You start grinding on him, “I think you said you wanted to drink more.”
“Did. . . I?” he says and his cock quickly hardens as you keep grinding.
“Yeah,” you say, so confident that he believes you.
“Okay,” he smiles and opens his mouth, “Ahh”.
You pick up the bottle and pour the rest of it down his throat, some of it falls out of his mouth, because he can't swallow fast enough, but it doesn't really matter. You lick it off of his skin and, jeez, it tastes like it was drugged.
Beneath you, Satan is gasping for air, maybe you should've given him a break to breathe.
You start petting him and grinding harder down on him, you can feel yourself starting to get wet.
“You did so good for me, kitten,” you tell Satan, “So good, so good.”
Satan takes in another gasp of air before frantically saying, “Touch me, please. . .Fuck, touch me. I need you to. I'll die without your pussy. Fuck—I-I’m so horny, please, kitten, please.” He gasps again.
“Your wish is my command,” you say, you start sucking his nipple and taking off his pants.
“You're so hard,” you grin and you cup his bulge through his underwear. Satan’s big cock is practically going to break through his underwear.
“Please, please, pleaseeee, MC! Please,” Satan is begging and delirious.
You pull down his underwear and kiss his tip.
Satan squirms and whimpers, letting out another “Pwease.”
“Be patient, I want to take my time with you when you're so dumb and desperate for me,” You smirk and lick a long stripe over his dick.
His cock twitches and he doesn't seem to understand you, “I need ‘y body. I ssss need bad.”
“Awhhh,” you spit on your hand and start to stroke him, “You're just so horny for me, aren't you?”
Satan moans and jerks his hips up into your hand.
“‘S hornyyy,” he starts tearing up, “Need ‘pussss.”
“I'm gonna make you cum all over your stomach, first. Then I'll let you have what you want, kitty.”
“Nooo,” he sniffles, “No!” He shakily reaches his hand towards your pussy and attempts to rub your clit. “Please.”
You decide to let him have this, because he's so faded that he probably won't remember this. And if he does. . . You know some amnesia spells.
Satan seems ecstatic to get to touch you and starts muttering praise, “Sss’ch good kitt’n. Good f’ meee.”
You lean into his touch and let out a few moans of your own as you keep stroking Satan. He's getting close, you can see it in the way his face flushes more and his breathing gets heavier. You give him one more strong stroke and he lets out a high keen.
“A-ahh! C-c’mmin’” he cums all over his stomach with a loud moan and immediately hardens again.
You move his hand off of your clit easily and he starts to protest before you sink your dripping pussy onto his hard, aching, cock.
Satan’s mouth opens and no sound comes out.
You grab his chin and tilt it down towards you, “Are you okay, kitten?”
His brain restarts and he starts whimpering, “G’d, ssss o-oh good.”
You start to rock your hips onto him, quickly picking up the pace. Satan sloppily starts trying to match your pace, and failing.
He can't speak anymore and just starts whimpering and moaning with each movement you make, “A-ah, hah. . Mmm, Ah!”
You aren't doing much better, because the sight of him so fucked out and drugged makes you so fucking horny.
“Such a good slut for me,” you moan. Usually you can't say those kinds of things to Satan, but you know he’s too high and drunk and horny to care.
“Such a fucking slut,” you start roughly kissing Satan, biting his bottom lip till it bleeds.
Satan moans into the kiss, his brain not even registering the pain with all the drugs in his system.
You grip his shoulders and dig your nails into him hard enough to dig little cresents into his skin.
You fuck yourself on his cock like your life depends on it, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you break away from his lips and shout as you cum all over his dick.
As your pussy squeezes him, he spills cum inside of you like a fountain. Moaning and whimpering louder than your shouting.
You do a final few thrusts before your body gives out on you, for a few moments you debate cleaning yourself up, but decide against it because of how good you feel.
Speaking of Satan, he’s passed out inside you.
You kiss his forehead and quickly do an amnesia spell on him, making him forget every thing since he got in the car with you.
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The next day, Satan has the headache of a lifetime and his brain feels foggy. Somehow, he wakes up before you do and tries to remember what happened after he got in the car with you, but he can't. He looks at the empty wine bottle next to him and figures he drank it and fucked you. He wraps him arms around your waist and appreciates the moment. He loves you, and he'll never know what you did.