The first time Zayne invited you to his house, it was under the guise of practicality. "Stay over at my place. Your apartment is cold, and there's a spare bedroom if you want."
He came to pick you up, and you both sat in traffic for a while, talking about everything and nothing. The sound of the rain against the car window was comforting enough to lull you to sleep.
When you arrived at Zayne's house and he opened the door, it was exactly how you'd imagined it: minimalistic, organized... nothing like your bright apartment. The furniture was stylish but impersonal, the kind of thing bought from a catalogue. It smelled faintly of his cologne, and a bit like the hospital.
He handed you a warm towel, placing it on your shoulders. "Please, make yourself at home," he said, and you nodded, not entirely sure it was possible.
It started small.
The first addition was accidental. You were reading a book while it rained, but you got interrupted when he came to offer you tea, so you left your book on his coffee table.
You didn't think to pick it up again. The next morning, it was still there, a small splash of color against the monochrome of his decor. He didn't move it either.
Then came the mug. You bought it at a local market; it was yellow with pink flowers drawn all over it. You kept using it every morning for your coffee, preferring it to Zayne's matching set. One day, you noticed it sitting in the dish rack next to his own simple white cup. It looked out of place, cheerful and a bit silly. It made you giggle.
Your toothbrush appeared next to his in the sleek, modern holder in his bathroom. You hesitated at first, but the alternative was leaving it on the counter to drip. So you nestled it beside his, silently claiming a corner of the house.
Weeks turned into a month. The storm was long gone, but the invitation to stay had quietly become permanent; he never asked you to leave. You were there when he came home from long shifts at the hospital, and slowly, you had begun to leave your mark without noticing.
One morning, Zayne woke to the light of dawn filtering through the blinds. He blinked, his mind still hazy with sleep, and turned his head on the pillow. The first thing he saw wasn't the empty space on his bed, it was you.
And then he saw the other things you'd left on the nightstand.
A ceramic dish you had made at a paint-your-own-pottery studio now lived on his nightstand, holding the watch you always forgot to put back on. Your lipstick lay next to it. On the dresser across the room, something caught his eye. The hoodie you'd stolen from him weeks ago was draped over the back of the chair, but next to it was a pink cardigan that was yours. On the floor beside your side of the bed, your slippers were fluffy and ridiculous with little animal faces.
He shifted slightly, and his hand brushed against something soft. He looked down. Wedged between his pillow and yours was a small, a round chubby seal plushie you had won from a claw machine and declared your "emotional support animal."
For a long moment, he just lay there, taking it in. His house, his carefully neat and quiet space, was gone. In its place was something warmer, something… alive.
For him, a house had always been just a place to stay. But now, he realized, it takes two people to make a house feel like home, and that was wonderful.
He got up quietly, not wanting to wake you, and padded barefoot across the room. In the bathroom, he reached for his toothbrush, but his hand paused. There they were. His toothbrush... and right next to it, leaning slightly as if for support, was yours. Two toothbrushes in one holder. It was such a simple thing, yet it hit him with the force of a revelation. That was the most intimate thing he had ever felt with you. It made him feel… seen. It made him feel like part of a pair.
He smiled, feeling butterflies in his stomach, and brushed his teeth.
Dressed for work, he made his way downstairs, the scent of coffee growing stronger with each step. But it wasn’t just coffee. It was the smell of butter and pancakes. He walked into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.
You were there at the stove, humming a tune, wearing one of his t-shirts. A spatula was in your hand, and you were flipping a perfect golden-brown pancake. On the counter, a small tower of them sat on a plate, steam rising into the air. Next to the stove, a small vase held a single, cheerful daisy you must have picked from the garden.
Sensing his presence, you turned. Your face broke into a warm smile. “Morning,” you said, your voice still raspy with sleep. “Thought I’d make you breakfast for once. You’re always the one taking care of me. Here's your coffee.”
You gestured with the spatula toward the cup, and then your eyes met his. You were standing in his kitchen, in his shirt, cooking him breakfast, surrounded by the evidence of your life woven into his.
He reached out, but not for the coffee. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "What's this for?" A blush crept onto your cheeks.
He just held you tighter, his gaze moving over the kitchen. He saw the yellow mug on the counter, waiting to be filled. He saw a pair of your shoes kicked off by the back door. He saw a novel you'd left on the kitchen table, a bookmark sticking out halfway through. He saw the daisy in the vase.
He saw his whole world, right there in that room.
“Nothing,” he murmured into your hair. “Just… thank you.”
For the first time in his life, Zayne understood what it felt like to not just have a house, but to have a home. And it was all because of you.
can someone write an angst fic about mc x asmodeus after valentine's event??? something like mc couldn't bring themselves to face asmo after he choked them or maybe they became scared of him and they keep their distance from him to the point every king and 72 devil is wondering whats going on and asmo cant accept it and becomes a madman - no fluff just pure angst & suffering & heartbreak IDK SOMEONE PLS
Fandom: What in Hell is Bad?
Content: Asmodeus & GN!MC (+Sitri, Eligos), angst, hurt/no comfort,
Summary: After Asmodeus showed a different side of himself, the child of Solomon simply cannot bring themselves to look at him the same way again.
A/N: It's kind of rushed (I wrote it in about 1.5 hours), but I tried. I am actually a big Asmodeus fan so this was hard to write. What do you mean you don't want me to write the comfort part? T_T Anyway, enjoy!
Word Count: 1,693
It was one thing for Leviathan to threaten their life or for Beelzebub to lick his chops while staring at them. Satan could punch the wall beside their head so hard that it left a hole in the brick and they wouldn't blink. Leviathan was all bluster — threats, fear tactics, and controlling tendencies — but he would inevitably do little in the way of actual harm. Beelzebub would express his hunger for them though honeyed words and longing touches. Satan would rip a door off its hinges, but he would never harm them directly. As for Lucifer, Mammon, and BelphegorIt was one thing to present the exact kind of person you were upfront, but another to be someone else beneath the smile.
Once upon a time, they thought Asmodeus was like that too. He would never make a threat or even stare at them with anything but utter desire. That had been before though. Now they knew that he would not make threats; he would simply act. The moment he put his hands on their neck and squeeze until they couldn't breath — out of fear or a blocked airway they couldn't tell — they knew he wasn't the man they thought he was.
This was Hell. There was no such thing as a safe devil, but it was one thing to be openly dangerous and another to hide their danger behind a charming smile.
Even now, they would rub the bruises that had refused to linger.
"Solomon?"
Their hand froze at their neck.
They turned toward the voice that had called for them — though he never used their name.
"Hi, Sitri!" They smiled wide at him as they dropped their hand. "What's up?"
"We received a request from Abaddon-"
The moment he called the kingdom by name, their face went ghostly pale. He could hear their heart hammering in their chest so rapidly that it threatened to break through their ribcage.
"-but his majesty Satan told them to, and I quote, fuck off."
A bit of color returned to their fear stricken face and their heart slowed slightly, though the rhythm was still erratic.
"Is that so?" The corners of their mouth pulled upward unnaturally. "That's too bad."
"Yes," was all Sitri could say in reply. "Tartaros also asked for your assistance and his majesty told them the same thing. However, it seems that Lord Mammon sent a carriage for you. He and Satan are fighting in from of the palace."
And, when Sitri said they were fighting, he meant that there was gold and blood flying.
"Start with that next time!" They yelled as they took off in a sprint down the hallway.
Sitri followed behind them all the way to the front of the palace. There, Mammon had erected a shield of gold which Satan punched with his bare hands — clearly lacking someone's offered blood to fuel his powers.
Mammon was the first to notice the arrival of Hell's beloved human.
"Hello, Master," he greeted, seemingly indifferent to that fact that Satan was still punching his shield and yelling curses at him. "I came to escort you."
"Me too!" A more chipper voice yelled from behind Mammon. His white and black eyes twinkled with youthful charm as his pink robes blew gently in the breeze.
Seemingly as unconcerned with Satan's rampage as his king — likely because we wasn't the current target of Satan's wrath — Eligos bounded from behind the shield to stand in front of the human.
"Pets please," he shamelessly demanded.
They laughed awkwardly as they gave in to his request.
Sitri glared at Eligos, seemingly carrying the same grudge as his king. "Are you not too old to be asking for something so childish of Solomon?"
Eligos glared daggers at Sitri. "Shouldn't you respect your elders?"
They sighed, stopping between the two before yet another fight broke out.
"Calm down boys. Let's go talk to Satan and Mammon before they destroy a city block."
"Mammon and Satan," Eligos mumbled.
"Solomon said what they said," Sitri replied.
"Can we please not-" They started to scold the two, but where quickly cut off by the sight of something in the corner of their eye.
They turned their head, only to find a black paper crane flying (gliding?) through the air in their direction. They held out their hand to catch the folded bird, which unfurled into a piece of paper with delicate writing.
Eligos and Sitri watched as the child of Solomon's eyes scanned over what they recognized as a letter from Abaddon. Once again, their expression sank and Sitri could hear how their heartbeat rattled their teeth. They crumpled the note in their hand and quickly shoved it into their pocket.
"I'm... going to my room. Tell those two to stop fighting," they said before turning on their heels and fleeing the scene.
It was a retreat that did not go unnoticed by Eligos and, especially, by Sitri. It also did not miss the attention of Mammon and Satan, even in the midst of their fighting.
After that, word spread quickly. It wasn't necessarily gossip, but asking for others opinions on a matter caused the news to pass from one mouth to the next. It wasn't long before the devils of Hell and six of the mighty kings knew that Solomon's child was avoiding Abaddon. Most of them didn't think a thing of it; anyone with sanity avoided the place. The kings were pleased because it meant one last competitor in their way. The 72 great devils (or at least those who did not serve Abaddon itself) were more suspicious however. It was better for the child of Solomon to avoid Abaddon, but they clearly weren't only avoiding it. There was far more to the situation.
It only took a few days of ignored letters and correspondence for the situation to boil over. As they lay in their bed, ready to sleep, the smell of heavy perfume flooded their nose. It was a familiar scent that made their blood run cold.
He needed no invitation. He was able to teleport and reside in any number of shadows in Hell. He could be beside them at any moment, and this was the one he chose.
As if it could protect themselves, they covered their head with their blanket and went still.
"Hello, child."
The voice they least wanted to hear called from beyond the safety of their makeshift shield. Beside them, they could feel the bed shifted as he took a seat on their mattress.
"You haven't replied to my letters. Were you hoping I'd come to you." Asmodeus spoke with that rich voice that had once made them swoon, but now only made them hyperventilate. "It's been so long since someone has played so hard to get."
Which was a lie, given most devils seemed to prefer never to cross paths with him. He just liked the chase, especially when he was interested in someone.
They felt his hand rest on their shoulder from behind the blanket.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" They yelled so loudly that it burned their throat.
Asmodeus actually reeled back his hand, no used to them rejecting him to thoroughly.
"My dear, is this part of your game?" He laughed as if they had made a joke. They couldn't see his face, but they could imagine his small, charming smile that made their skin crawl. "It's an amusing scenario."
They tossed their blanket off of themselves, draping it over his head so they could tangled him in it before kicking him. He did not fall to the floor as they had hoped. In fact, he was fast enough to grab their ankle and hold them in place a he removed the cover from atop his head.
Even though it was their ankle he grabbed, it was their neck that throbbed with pain. They couldn't breathe. They thrashed wildly in the bed, continuing to kick out and strike at him to no avail.
"Let go of me," they screamed between gasps. "No. Fuck. I hate you. Let me go."
Fat tears rolled down their face, leaving wet trails across their cheeks and turning their eyes red. Even Asmodeus could see their distress.
He reached out a single hand to try and wipe the tears away, but they slapped his hand away before he could touch them.
"Satan! Sitri! Leraye! Anyone! Help!" They were calling every name but his as they cried and screamed to get away from him.
For the first time, they looked him in the eyes and Asmodeus could see just how much they genuinely did not want him. All the fear and hatred screamed louder than their words ever could. The realization that they were not playing a game and that they genuinely despised him made him release his hold on their ankle in shock.
They took the opportunity to roll out of the bed, but did not crawl any further away. Their legs were clearly too weak to move. All the could do was drop to their knees and hold their neck as they continued to beg anyone to come save them.
The first one to make it to the room was Sitri, who heard them in distress before they ever called his name. He tossed the door to their room open.
"Solomon!"
He found them trembling on the ground and quickly ran to their side. He told them to breathe. In and out. Their heartbeat was a mess.
Satan broke through the wall not long after Sitri arrived, finding it easier to to through the architecture than around it. He must have broken into someone's room along the way because he was carrying a giant red scythe.
Satan yelled, "Who the fuck is in my castle?", demanding a reply.
But their was no one there to answer for their intrusion. Asmodeus had vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
After that night, however, a different rumor started to fly for the next few days. This one was about Abaddon and how the kingdom full of mad prisoners seemed to go quiet for the first time ever.
can someone write an angst fic about mc x asmodeus after valentine's event??? something like mc couldn't bring themselves to face asmo after he choked them or maybe they became scared of him and they keep their distance from him to the point every king and 72 devil is wondering whats going on and asmo cant accept it and becomes a madman - no fluff just pure angst & suffering & heartbreak IDK SOMEONE PLS
i complain a lot about otome mcs leaving their entire lives behind for some random man, but let's be real. if a hot vampire/warlord/criminal/etc. confessed his love to me and whisked me away to a time and place where i don't have to work 9-5 and have my soul crushed by capitalism every day? you would NEVER hear from me again
I am not going to lie, I am so tired of people being shocked by the fact that What in Hell is Bad has non/dubcon elements. The game has had multiple scenes of non/dubcon at this point. MC is in a constant dubcon situation because they cannot stop accepting devil semen or they will get violently ill. The game has made itself clear at this point that it will contain noncon and dubcon content.
Some people are saying they just want trigger warnings. Guess what? You got those this time. Michael explicitly said that he will violate MC. Twice. On two separate days. And he had an entire day of encountering MC and the game warning you that the noncon was coming soon. I saw people literally saying how he "probably didn't mean it that way" when he first mentioned violating MC, even though he explicitly said he didn't care if he broke his vow of celibacy!
If you need more than that? Maybe this isn't the game for you because PB has made it clear they won't be giving warnings. Either wait for the fanbase to review and warn about game contents, stop playing the game, or take the risk. The game does not have to warn for each individual story. It only has to have one general warning for the entire game.
Like, I have nothing against people having icks in their fiction. That isn't my point here. You are allowed not to like anything you don't want to. My point is that the game is consistent and tells you what it is. It's a game with dark themes, including noncon and dubcon. I am tired of people being shocked each time it does exactly what it always has and willfully ignoring the warnings it gives you, then getting angry at the game because they didn't believe the warnings.
Non/dubcon in the game: Xmas cards (all three Seraphim are harassed by MC and devils which is something they actively hate), fuck or die trope (MC has to have sex/drink semen), Satan Tortured (MC harassed Satan in the guise of Gabriel), Juno April Fool's (the magic acted as an aphrodisiac), so many Leviathan cards (tortured - he is unconscious for a lot of the scene, butt - he is frozen in place and unable to leave, school uniform - MC is under the delusion that he is their childhood friend for a long time, etc), Satan groping and kissing MC at the very start of the game, Mammon groping MC when they first met and they were asleep.... I could go on.
My point is that the game has non/dubcon aplenty to various degrees and it in so weird and tiring that people continue to be surprised by it.
It's not r*pe, it's rape. It's not su*cide, it's suicide. Not unalive, dead. The backbone needs to be reintroduced en masse because softening the blow of these concepts with advertising language does absolutely nothing but allow people unaffected by them to feel not even a sting of what they can do, prompting inaction.
And it's been proven that on certain websites, you don't even face a repercussion for using the words as they are. People just started censoring themselves because they feared the potential lack of views and likes and followers which is so nasty itself.
I attended an anti-suicide seminar in college. One of the big takeaways from it was that stigmatizing suicide increases the rate of suicide, because people who are feeling suicidal feel like they can't ask for help. Every time I see babytalk garbage like 'unalive', I think of that.
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