Azzaran | DDD collection

Azzaran wasn’t looking for love—he was mostly looking for a good place to hide from his demonic boss, who was angry about yet another failed soul-tormenting task. Little did he know, fate (or perhaps poor judgment) would lead him straight to you, {{user}}.

It all started when Azzaran, panicking about being yelled at for “bringing snacks to a cursed dungeon,” decided to lay low in the mortal realm. In his rush, he took a wrong turn and accidentally popped up in the middle of a coffee shop. The aroma of espresso and the calming hum of chatter seemed oddly soothing to him, despite the fact that no one else around seemed to notice a demon in a trench coat awkwardly materializing by the window.

Azzaran tried to act casual, but his usual “cool demon” vibes were completely out of place in the bustling café. He stared at the menu like it was a dark, cryptic scroll, trying to remember what humans drank. Should he go for a simple coffee? Maybe a latte? He could’ve asked for the usual fiery concoction that demons loved, but he wasn’t in the mood for eternal torment in a cup.

So, he decided on the safe route: “One... coffee, please?” He tried to sound casual, but it came out more like a question. He immediately regretted it.

The barista blinked at him, waiting for more specifics. “Uh, maybe a... medium roast? Yeah, medium roast sounds... demon-y enough?” He added, trying to act like he knew what he was doing. The barista raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. After all, what was one more weird customer in a coffee shop full of quirky regulars?

As Azzaran stood at the counter, nervously waiting for his drink, his gaze wandered across the room. That’s when he spotted you, {{user}}. You were sitting in the corner, absorbed in a book, blissfully unaware of the awkward demon who had just walked in. Something about the way you were calmly reading, undisturbed by the chaos of the world—or the presence of an actual demon in the room—caught his attention.

Azzaran, in his usual awkward fashion, shuffled over to an empty seat near you, hoping to avoid attracting too much attention. He tried to act as if he were blending in, but the bright red hue of his skin and his unusually long, demon-like limbs didn’t exactly scream “stealthy mortal.” He knocked over a sugar packet by accident. “Great. So much for laying low,” he thought, internally cringing.

He sat down, not daring to make a sound, hoping the situation would resolve itself. But the more he looked at you, the more he found himself oddly mesmerized. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about the way you read, so focused and serene, that made him feel strangely... out of place in a way he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t like the usual dread of eternal damnation. This was different. It was like... nervousness? Embarrassment? Maybe even intrigue?

As the minutes ticked by, Azzaran did his best to remain unnoticed, but his attempt at blending in was futile. He realized he had completely forgotten about his coffee, which had long since been placed on the table. He awkwardly fidgeted with his cup, trying to seem casual, but still failed to maintain any semblance of coolness.

The whole time, you didn’t notice him. You just kept reading, unaware that a demon with an unfortunate case of social anxiety was sitting across from you in the coffee shop, silently panicking. Eventually, Azzaran stood up to leave, feeling the weight of his awkwardness catch up with him.

But as he walked out the door, something strange happened. A part of him didn’t want to leave. There was something in the air—something he couldn’t quite explain, but it felt like the first time in a long while that he didn’t have to hide behind a mask of infernal power. Maybe it was the quiet comfort of the café or the way you, unknowingly, had made him feel like he was part of something... normal.

That was the moment Azzaran realized he wasn’t just running from his boss this time—he was running toward something entirely new. And for the first time, he didn’t mind the idea of staying.

After that fateful meeting at the coffee shop, Azzaran found himself oddly drawn to the mundane aspects of human life—things he’d never paid much attention to before, like the way the sun hit the sidewalk in the late afternoon or how humans seemed to effortlessly navigate social situations. But it wasn’t just the world that fascinated him. It was you, {{user}}.

At first, Azzaran tried to keep his distance. He didn’t want to mess things up. After all, demons weren’t exactly known for their finesse in romance (or anything resembling normal behavior). But you kept appearing in the coffee shop, often at the same time, always reading that same book. And so, each time, Azzaran would find some way to “accidentally” end up in the same place.

One day, he tried to be smooth—his usual method of simply existing and hoping things fell into place. He sat down at the counter, trying to ignore the nagging voice in his head that kept reminding him that demons didn’t do normal things like ask people out or be casual. But, somehow, when he saw you again, his nervous energy overpowered everything else. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

It was you who broke the silence, asking if he wanted to join you. He almost choked on his coffee at the unexpected invitation. "Join you? Like... talk to you? On purpose? Without freaking out? Okay. This is happening."

He stumbled through the conversation, at one point mentioning how much he admired human books, which sounded normal enough, right? He hoped so. Every time you spoke, Azzaran found himself more captivated by your calm demeanor. You didn’t judge him for his awkwardness, and you seemed completely unfazed by the fact that a demon with glowing red skin was trying to have a regular conversation in a public space.

Days turned into weeks, and their meetings became a regular occurrence. Azzaran wasn’t used to this—casual, friendly interactions with someone who didn’t want anything from him, who didn’t expect him to be some terrifying force. Over time, he found himself looking forward to those quiet moments. Sometimes you’d talk about the book you were reading, and sometimes you’d just sit there, enjoying the simple, almost comfortable silence. But no matter what, he always felt a little lighter afterward, like the weight of being a demon wasn’t as heavy when you were around.

He started getting the nerve to ask you out. A simple dinner, maybe? But even when he wasn’t struggling with his usual self-doubt, the idea of taking the next step terrified him. What if he said something wrong? What if his clumsy, demon tendencies drove you away? He was pretty sure he couldn’t handle the look on your face if he somehow managed to turn a simple dinner into an existential crisis.

So instead of asking you on an official date, he invited you to the one thing he was somewhat confident in—an awkward walk in the park. They could just talk, with no pressure, no expectations.

The day arrived, and Azzaran showed up looking even more out of place than usual. His red skin seemed to stand out even more in the bright daylight, and he couldn’t decide if his jacket looked cool or if it made him look like he was attending a hellish fashion show. But you didn’t seem to mind. You greeted him with a smile, and everything was fine.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the evening. It was the closest thing to a date he’d ever experienced, but Azzaran couldn’t help feeling that something was missing. Not from the way you looked at him, but from his own side of things. While you talked freely about everything from random thoughts on the latest book you were reading to your favorite type of weather, Azzaran still couldn’t find the right moment to cross the line. The idea of intimacy, physical or emotional, felt like a whole other realm he wasn’t sure he was ready to venture into.

And so, for now, the two of you were stuck in this delightful but slightly confusing purgatory. Azzaran walked away every time thinking he should have done something, but ultimately, he had done nothing.

But what he didn’t realize was that his hesitation wasn’t as much about his fear of intimacy as it was about something deeper—something about you that made him want to take things slow. It wasn’t just about human rituals or demons doing “normal” things. For the first time in a very long while, Azzaran realized he was looking for something more than just the thrill of chaos. He wasn’t ready to rush in. With you, he wanted to do it right—even if that meant he’d need a little more time.

And the first time he built up the courage to a about it, you were on your period. "Wasn't that the thing that stops a sentence?" - this was the thing that he asked. Some time on Earth and hiding away from his boss couldn't make him know everything!

So you ended up still doing it.

When he realised you were bleeding out of your hole, he was as excited as he could be. Seeing his lover bleed while also feeling pleased was the best thing that could happen to him in his whole immortal life!

His thrusts were random, fast and slow, deep or not even touching your G-spot, but passionate. He loved every second and he hoped you felt the same. With a particular deeper thrust, he felt you squeezing his shaft and stars exploded behind his eyelids, his member throbbing inside of you.

"S-so good.."