More than a crush

A humble writing blog | Requests: open | 18+ | not a minor | Request rules | Masterlist

[dear-departed]

Request rules

First order of business, every writer has their limits or comfortable topics, so here are mine. 

Fandoms: 

Resident Evil: Village- I’ve played the other games, but I had a hyper fixation on Village and played it over 30 times so it’s kind of a given that I know the material better. 

Obey Me! Shall we date- I've played it a lot, I do have biases, but I try to write the same amount for each character. I can’t really write too well with Raphael, Thirteen, or Mephistopheles because I’m not at their introductions yet. 

The Arcana- Also have played a lot, again, I have biases, a shameless Lucio lover, also willing to write for Morga and the courtiers. 

Bungo Stray Dogs- I've only ever watched the anime, but I might get into the manga so I can write for characters only seen in the manga. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any BSD material, so I might be a little rusty. 

Red Dead Redemption- I've played 1 and 2, but I played 1 when it first came out, so it's been a long time. I'd prefer writing RDR2 characters/versions of characters.

Misc. Category- I read a lot, so I might throw in some random characters from other books for funsies.  

Limits: 

I will write NSFW- but I’ll only write it with adult characters, of course 

I will write kinky stuff- no bodily fluids besides like, maybe blood and ofc sexy time fluid. I'm also all for masochism and sadism and all that jazz but I won't write like, super dark stuff, it's just not my vibe.

I will write morbid themes, gore, mental illness, and heavy angst- all of these topics will be correctly tagged in the “warning” section of each headcanon and fic. 

I might take breaks from writing, as a fair warning- I'm dealing with college and also medical complications, in addition to mental health struggles, and sometimes I just need a break so I don’t get burnt out, please stand by and understand if I go MIA for a few weeks. 

I don't write incest- self-explanatory, but on that note, I also won't write anything that I'm just not comfy with, I want this blog to be both an enjoyable read for my audience and a pleasant experience for myself.

This is an LGBTQ+ safe blog, I'm pansexual and genderfluid (I go by he/him most of the time though)

I might add more stuff, I just can’t think of it now.  

[dear-departed]

Hellooooo :) I wanted to make a request for Obey Me! but I am unsure if you would be willing to write for the idea that I have. I saw on your rules that you are somewhat okay with morbid themes and idk if you would consider this morbid and I completely understand if you arent comfortable with this.

But how would the brothers react to an MC who has killed another human before? Either in self defense or in defense of a sibling/friend... like they completely snapped and lost control when it happened and didnt realize what they were doing until it was over.

Desc.: MC has killed in self defense. How will the brothers react to a human with blood on their hands? Warnings for descriptions of violence.

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: Fluff mostly. Headcanons

Character(s): All 7 demon brothers. Brief mention of Diavolo. A/N: I haven't played the game in a while. If there's any new stuff that came out and I'm unaware of it, I apologize in advance. Also I'm terribly sorry for putting off my inbox for so long.

                Frankly, most of the brothers aren’t bothered, regardless of if it was self defense or not. After all, demons aren’t very known for having a strong moral compass.

                Lucifer is likely the most concerned. He wants Lord Diavolo’s plans to play out just as he envisioned them, and making peace with both the celestial realm and mortal plane is difficult if everyone is aware that the exchange student is a killer. He tells you to keep it down low. “I will not tolerate any rumors circulating. If anybody goes digging to find out, notify me, and I will deal with them swiftly.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, but giving off the impression that he’s curious about your mortal life would be unprofessional and humiliating. And after all, he has everything on your profile, so why would he need to ask? He doesn’t offer protection; he simply assumes you’re aware that you’re safe under his watch. If something else happens, he’s there within no time. Fuming, so much so that you’re afraid he might create another Satan.                 Mammon thinks you’re badass. I mean, within the thousands of years all the brothers have lived, it’s natural that all of them have led to the demise of at least one other person. But humans? It’s rare you find a human who has directly ended the life of another, with their own two hands. He can’t help himself but ask. One of those days where he can’t find it in him to leave you alone. “So… what’d you use? A knife? Yer hands? Not that I care, or anything… I just want to know! I should be the first to know. I’m your first, after all.” Sits his happy ass on your bed and kicks his feet back and forth like the bbg he is.                 Leviathan is only human. Well… only demon. He’s allowed to be curious, and by God, he is. He can’t help but compare you to every goddamn anime and manga and video game under the sun. He makes assumptions, rather than asking, primarily because you can’t get a word in edgewise from all his theories. “Y-You killed them with a phone cord, right? Or wait— a knife; so, you can get that perfect camera pan from the body to the blood shining off you…” He’s close to having a nosebleed right there, imagining the cinematics. Honestly, he’d be a good play or movie director if he had some more flexibility. Luckily, though, he doesn’t think you’re a normie. What kind of normie kills another person? Exactly.                 Satan, like Leviathan, has a lot of theories and questions. The self-proclaimed detective of the House of Lamentation has many questions… even if it already was a solved-and-shut case. “What did you use? Was that hatred festering in your body for a while? No, not at all, it couldn’t have… you said it was in self-defense. Perhaps, a crime of passion when you got them under you? Crime is a strong word, however… a homicide of passion. It sounds like something out of a book, to be frank. It couldn’t have been those feeble excuses for self-defense, like pepper spray, or those tasers you humans have… no, it had to have been lethal.” To be honest, he starts talking to himself rather than you. “I’ve figured it out! You were getting mugged, a dim alleyway, later than your normal route as you had to stay longer for work… It was a lone thug, an inexperienced criminal… they threatened you with one of those airsoft guns with the orange tips pried off. After all, such a newbie would be far too afraid to take another human life. Of course, you only knew that after they were dead… you pepper-sprayed them, and in a bout of fright and the frantic urge to survive, you beat them to death with a nearby brick!”

“… Sure, Satan. Right on the money.” You reply, thumb and forefinger squeezing the bridge of your nose.                 Asmodeus is under the impression you’re some big bad brute. You know, he has a thing for dangerous people like you… to be fair, he has a thing for just about any type of person, but let him flirt, alright. He’s more than content to listen to your story while he paints your nails or does whatever the hell he wants with your hair. He reacts in an animated manner, truly enthralled. “Oh really?” “Awe, I bet that was gross!” “You took care of yourself after, right? That skin of yours?” He scolds you for not taking care of yourself if you fell into a depression after the incident. “You neglected yourself that much? Shame, shame!” Of course, it’s all lighthearted. If you’re up for it, a bottle of demonus and/or a bottle of human wine? He loves gossip and wine, two of his favorite things aside from beauty and expensive skincare and makeup. And sex. And strip clubs, and partying- okay, he has a lot of favorite things.

                Beelzebub is a family man, no doubt about it. You get scary dog privileges just from being around him. A hulking beast of a man, who just wants you to share a nice meal with him. He doesn’t care to probe or ask questions, but he’ll certainly lend an ear if you want to talk. The only thing is that he stares directly into your face as you talk, hand absentmindedly reaching around into a bag of chips or a bowl of snacks. He offers them to you, “snacks always make me feel better, here.” He vows to make sure nobody tries to harm you, and does he sure fucking live up to that promise. Nobody tries to poke fun, much less harm you, when he’s around. And if they do something while he’s around the corner? Oh boy, he’ll toss them around like a bag of potatoes.                

                Belphegor asks you to talk him to sleep oftentimes. Not that your voice is boring, just that he finds it calming. He slowly dozes off and you take the chance to get out some of the emotions haunting you, some of the images in your head of the lifeless body of your attacker laying on the floor, or the red and blue flashing lights. You start talking to him. Retelling the story, trying to fill in some of the details that have eluded you, things you looked over in your panic when it had first happened. Something that is so soothing to him, your voice, manages to draw him out of his slumber. He keeps his eyes closed, but his brain awake He doesn’t mean to pretend to be asleep, he doesn’t care if you know he’s awake or not, he’s just too tired to face the light. “… humans disgust me.” He remarks, drawing you out of your retelling. “…not you. Not you, of course. The person that attacked you, they disgust me. I hope their soul rots and grows maggot infested.” He scowls quietly.

[dear-departed]

Damn O'driscolls (FTM Reader)

Desc.: Being an outlaw, you partner with Colm. It bites you in the ass, and now, Dutch has you in his claws. Welcome to the gulag, get gelded. Slight y/n used once.

Word count: 1.15K

Genre: Misc. Shitpost?

Character(s): Dutch Van Der Linde, Bill Williamson, Arthur Morgan, little cameo from Lenny Summers and Uncle.

Curse that damned Colm O’driscoll. It was supposed to be a partnership, just a lone outlaw working with a gang for the cut of the profits- that's all. And that’s all it was, until a shot nicked your shoulder. None of the O’driscoll boys looked back as your horse sped off, spooked by all the sudden gunfire.  

And so here you are, tied to a tree at the Van Der Linde camp, after being dragged in by none other than Arthur Morgan himself.  

They’d been starving you for what felt like months, though you knew it was only a week or two. They gave you just enough care for you to not die. The ropes around your wrists had begun to dig into your wrists, to rub them raw. Maybe they’ve even begun to bleed, but you can’t tell, too tired and hungry to care. You’re unsure as to what hurts the most, your stomach, your throat, your head, your feet, or your wrists. The back of your shirt had come untucked, riding up your back as the sharp, unforgiving bark of the tree you’re tied to relentlessly stabs into the tender flesh of your back.  

You glance up at Arthur, “please, c’mon, I swear, I know nothin’!” you plead with him. He grabs you by the collar of your partially unbuttoned shirt. “Speak, boy! ‘bout your gang!” he demands. You bare your teeth at him, glaring, “I can’t! They ain’t my gang!” you exclaim. Being the only weapon, you have, you try to reach down and bite him, but you’re a little too sluggish to reach his hand before he yanks it away from you.  

Dutch crosses his arms, “you’ll tell a lie, but never the truth.” He scoffs. “There’s only one way for us to get anything out of him, boys.” He speaks. Bill marches up near the side of you, staring into your eyes with a mean glare. If looks could kill, you’d certainly be a dead man. Bill’s eyes are dry, almost matt, the whites of his eyes irritated and red.  

“Geld him.” Dutch says simply, with a smirk. He scissors his fingers toward Bill.  

Panic rips its path through your veins as you begin to thrash and squirm in your bindings. “H-hold on now- listen, no-”  

Dutch slaps you hard on the shoulder with a chuckle, “they’re only balls, boy!” He begins to unfasten your belt, then your pants, saying something about Roman men or whatnot, but everything just sounds fuzzy. You try to kick away his hands, to no avail, simply only kicking up dirt and dust into his face.  

Your pants pool to your ankles, dread pumping in your ears. Dutch and Arthur don’t look down at your crotch, not exactly wanting to look at an enemy’s privates. Bill pulls the gelding tongs out of the fire, the metal glowing in a threatening manner.  

Bill excitedly snaps the red-hot gelding tongs, waves of heat swirling around the metal. But when his gaze goes downward, his expression drops. “Uh. Dutch.” He says, worried.  

“If he won’t talk, then we have no choice, Bill, geld ‘em.” Dutch repeats.  

“Dutch-” 

“What?” 

“...There’s nothin’ ta geld.” Bill mutters, awkwardly holding the tongs near your crotch. You swear he’s singing your public hair the longer he holds it near your thighs.  

Dutch seems frustrated. “What do you mean there’s nothing to geld, you- Oh.” He says as he stares down at your crotch. “Oh- Ma’am, I am... we are so sorry.” He says as he fumbles with your pants, trying to pull them back up.  

“No!” You shout, “I ain’t a ma’am, you’ve got it all wrong!” It’s hard to explain exactly what you are, without seeming crazy to these cowboys, so you dance around the subject. “I was, uh, born with a medical condition. It’s not serious- just means I was, uh... Born with the wrong parts. A birth defect.” You speak. 

Bill, Arthur, and Dutch exchange glances, a mix of bewilderment and shame crossing their faces. “So... ya ain’t a cross-dresser...” Bill says, more to himself than anyone else. You nod in confirmation.  

“I’ve been tryna tell ya’ll for lord knows how  how long. Look’it me, do I got any green on me?” You ask.  

“No, sir, you do not.” Dutch says, examining you head to toe inquisitively.  

“And O’driscolls wear green. L-listen, I just needed money, promised to exchange some of my work for a little bit of the profits- just a regular ol’ outlaw tryna make a livin’.” You grumble out. “Colm... that rat bastard- he told me nothin’ about his next plans, just the job we were doin’.” You explain.  

Dutch simply nods at Arthur, who makes quick work of cutting your bindings. “Get outta here.” Arthur mumbles, shooing you off like a wild animal.  

“No- no no no” You laugh out, wagging your finger. “Colm left me for dead, regardless of if I was part of his gang or not. I wanna grind his gears. I ain’t ever been in a gang before, but... I’m sure working with his mortal enemy and doin’ a hell of a good job at it would be real frustrating for ‘em.” You say.  

Dutch mills over your words in his head for a moment, a smirk crossing his features. He holds a jeweled hand out to you. “Deal. Any funny business, though...” He says, pulling you close as soon as you grab his hand. “And I’ll have your head. We have a saying, friend: we shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feeding. I’ve got an inkling on what you need.” He says, a low purr right in your face. Then, he pulls away. “Somebody get this boy a meal! We’ve got a new boy, this calls for a celebration, does it not?”  

As the night goes on, you’re sitting next to Bill. He glances at you, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. “Say, boy... Whatever happened to yer... y’know...” He murmurs, pointing to his chest, and cupping his clothed pecs in his hands, not exactly wanting to say it.  

You laugh with a shake of your head, taking a swig of your own whiskey. You unbutton your shirt, pulling apart the fabric to reveal two thick pinkish-white lines beneath your nipples. They’re jagged, with little to no precision. The scars are puffy, parts of it seem a little fresher than others. “Cut ‘em off, all by myself.”  

Bill winces, facing his chest away from you as if you’d do the same to him. Uncle stares at the scars, “goddamn!” He exclaims, “more of a man than I’d ever be... of course- other than that one time I took down a bear with my own two hands.” he says, going off into another one of his long-winded stories of his youth.  

Lenny quirks a brow at you curiously, taking a gulp of his beer. “How’d you do it?”  

You pull out your hunting knife with a flourish, “with this very knife, and lotsa whiskey. Lots of whiskey. I figured if the infection didn’t kill me, the alcohol would.” You laugh gruffly.  

“So... was you born with a deep voice?” Bill asks.  

“No, I had to train that myself. I sounded like a little boy until I was around your age, Lenny.” You recall. “Still look like one... my face doesn’t seem to wanna grow facial hair...” You say, thoughtfully stroking your would-be beard.  

The gang treats you no differently, may that be for the better or for worse, but you aren’t quite sure.  

[dear-departed]

The Innocence of an Outlaw [Dutch]

A/N: I'm back! After what, a year or something? I don't really know what happened, or why happened, but it happened. Um, I finally played RDR2, after procrastinating, of course. But now I'm obsessed with these stupid little dumb gay cowboys. Without further adieu, here's a short Dutch Van Der Linde thing.

Desc.: Downtime with Dutch starts pretty uneventful until he remembers that his darling isn't a smoker. In his eyes, hilarity ensues; in yours, pain and coughing.

Word count: 1.15K

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Dutch Van Der Linde x GN! Reader

Dutch- innocent outlaw 

Life in the gang was never easy. The downtime was rare, but that’s to be expected. Somebody always needed him or needed a hand with something; which you usually were chosen to help with. After all, Dutch Van Der Linde’s partner is never exempt from carrying their own weight, at least that’s how you saw it. 

Despite how popular it is, you were never a smoker, nor a drinker. It was something you simply never took nearly as much pleasure in as others. Both activities burned, and one made you less aware. Dutch, on the other hand, can almost never be spotted without a cigar in hand, or a bottle of surprisingly pricey bourbon or whiskey near him. He almost never got drunk, but that’s not to say he didn’t enjoy a drink every so often.  

On this rare occasion where you have him all to yourself, you and Dutch sit in his tent at Horseshoe Overlook. It’s a pretty place, and if you were being honest, maybe even a little nicer than the west. After the whole mess in Blackwater, it was refreshing to move east. A relief, even.  

He sits next to you, one hand sitting idly on your thigh, his thumb caressing the fabric of your clothing. As per usual, rings adorn his fingers, thick gold rings. Something about the way they looked on his callused fingers drove you wild.  

“You know…” Dutch starts, taking a long drag of his cigar, “I’m so glad you’ve stuck with me through all of this. Through Blackwater. They say someone shows their character in a time of panic or need, and you’ve proven yourself to be real’ trustworthy. I appreciate your faith in me.” He speaks. Curse his silver tongue, the way he makes you swoon with every word that comes out of his smoky breath. Every time you consider leaving the outlaw life, he drags you back in with his words, his charming looks and his rich voice keeps you anchored to him. The way he spoils you rotten when he gets the chance and ignores you right after.   

Thank you, Dutch... you’re too good to me.” You mutter, leaning into his warm body, one arm snaking around his waist. “Do you want a puff?” he asks, holding his cigar out to you.  

You furrow your brows, slowly shaking your head. “No thanks, you know I’ve never been much of a smoker.” You say, slowly closing your eyes.  

” Oh?” he asks, quirking a brow, as if your words surprised him. “Go on, it’s an honor. The amount of times Sean or Arthur have asked for a drag off me... they’d be jealous, you know.” He says softly, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you into his lap. His cigar hangs from his mouth, tendrils of smoke curling into the air and wafting up into your nose. Almost everything that resides in Dutch’s tent has cigar smoke in it, permeating any material. Leather, cloth, metal, it doesn’t matter.  

“Alright, alright, I give.” You say, reaching for the cigar, but he takes it from his mouth and moves it away.  

“Hold on now, allow me...” He says, one side of his face quirking up into some sort of grin. “Open up.” He says, and you obediently oblige.  

He adores the way you listen, the fire in your criminal heart burns everyone but him. To Dutch, you’re but a wood stove, contained and comforting. He puts the cigar to your lips, resting one hand right beneath the back of your neck. You inhale the smoke- rookie mistake. Immediately it burns your lungs and throat, and you start hacking and coughing, curling over yourself. 

Dutch quickly pulls the cigar away, a chuckle coming from his lips, “you’ve only ever smoked cigarettes? You don’t inhale cigar smoke, it’s different.”  

Of course, he would know that 

He passes you a cup of water from the crate beside his cot that acts as a nightstand. You eagerly gulp it down to soothe the burn. Dutch rubs your back while you hack and cough, tipping some of the ash from the cigar onto the floor.  

“I hate to make light of your pain, but I think it’s adorable how inexperienced you are... such a ruthless outlaw, but a cigar can topple you...” He teases, lacing his fingers through your hair. He tugs softly, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you jerk your head up to look at him with teary eyes.  

“You’re fine. Just watch me.” He says, putting the cigar to his lips. He lets the smoke sit in his mouth for a moment, before slowly blowing it out, a plume of smoke coming from his mouth. “See?”  

You nod, finishing the last from the water cup. “Yeah. Can I try again?” You ask, reaching for the cigar.  

“Of course.” He once again pulls the cigar away from you, taking another slow drag from it. He puts one hand behind your head and pulls your face close to his, pressing his lips to yours. Of course, you kiss back, even as he slowly blows the smoke into your mouth as you absentmindedly get a little more comfortable in his lap.  

Dutch slowly pulls away, placing his index finger on your lips. “Just taste the smoke for a moment, no need to rush.” he croons softly into your ear. He revels in the way you choke down coughs; just for him. “You’re alright, doin’ just fine there... alright, now blow.”  

Slowly, you let the smoke flow from your mouth, right in his face, out of spite. He fans away the smoke with a hardy laugh, “you did it! With my help, of course.” He comments, giving you a smug grin. He’s enamored by the way you cough again, some of the smoke you’d just blown out reentering your mouth. His thumb rubs against your chin and on the side of your lip lovingly. You can’t quite pinpoint if it’s because you have something on your face or if it’s because he’s simply feeling affectionate. Either way, the attention feels nice. His warm callused hands upon your dirt-smudged face. “You’ll get used to it... trust me, I much prefer a pipe to cigars, but I left my old pipe in... Blackwater.” He mutters the dreaded city name underneath his breath, avoiding your gaze as he huffs softly.  

“Why don’t you buy another one? I’m sure Saint Denis has some ‘real nice pipes. I’ve seen the ones- men in those big top-hats, they have these pretty mahogany pipes.” You suggest.  

He simply shrugs, “I have, none of them feel quite right. The last one fit my lips perfectly.” He recalls. You swear you could see drool coming out of his mouth. This man was a tobacco fiend, that much you knew.  His hands absentmindedly caress your thighs, his fingers kneading, like an affectionate cat.  

"You owe me a back massage."

"For oh-so-generously offering you a drag from my cigar?"

"From not telling me you're not supposed to breathe."

"Fine."

[masochismt4ngo]

“Relief”

Simeon

Warnings: Religious trauma aimed more from Christianity and Guilt.

Notes: I made this about MC with religious trauma, this is no offense to Christians it’s just from personal experience but I kept it vague.

Everywhere you went, he was there. He seemed to embody your past, trying to bring you back to something you were just able to escape. He would always greet you with a bright smile and a good morning, and you would mumble something incoherent back and walk past him. But he always appeared and there was no escape.

Did he do anything wrong specifically? Not at all, he was almost unrealistically perfect. Almost how your parents were, the only one in the wrong was you. All you had to do was walk past as if nothing happened, maybe then he’ll disappear and vanish from existence. Just anything so you didn’t feel the shame of your past, not being able to live up to the expectations of everyone else. The thoughts seemed to only fill your mind, repeating every moment you were stuck in the household that forced you to rely on someone who wasn’t even physically there for you. 

“Ah Y/N, do you think-“ Simeon starts, smiling at you softly. His hand was reached out a bit towards you. 

“Sorry Simeon, I have other business to attend to.” You walk off quickly, not wanting to be near him at all. His eyes watch as you quickly dart off elsewhere. You felt a little guilty, it wasn’t the first time he tried to approach you, but each time you slip away. He probably had no ill intent but it just made your stomach twist into knots.

But somehow, escaping couldn’t solve everything, unfortunately. Not when you were trapped in the library, sitting across the table from each other. The drumming heartbeat only made the urge to take up the flight response stronger. Simeon glances up at you, noticing how uncomfortable you seem in his presence.

“Y/N, can I talk to you? I’ve been noticing how uncomfortable you seem to be around me…Perhaps maybe I’ve done something in the past? If so I apologize for my actions,” Simeon says, his expression as soft and calm as always. Your eyes couldn’t stare back into his own eyes for any more than a second. 

“Y/N, you can talk to me…I’m not here to judge.” His voice was soothing, it sounded so genuine it hurt a little and the guilt was overwhelming. 

“You…Never did anything wrong,” your voice starts, cracking a bit. Simeon nods a little to try to understand, it was clear though that he was a bit confused about what you were trying to get it.

“Maybe it’s because you are an angel?” You can feel the tears welling up, everything came back just from talking to Simeon. It always did, Simeon seems to understand a little, he gently puts a hand over yours.

“It’s just… I’ve been around Christianity through my childhood and it was hell for me. Religion trapped me in a home where I never felt quite safe. The god that the Bible seems to worship so much always seemed to have something against me.” You began, Simeon listens very intently, his thumb gently running along your hand slowly. He was humming quietly but there was no judgment on his face, he was sympathizing with you.

“Ah… So the human Bible, right? I do recall it was translated many times and at this point, it’s not even accurate really. It’s bound to keep losing its accuracy over time and from people's own opinion getting mixed with the word from my father,” he starts and smiles at you softly. “Y/N please don’t worry, I’m not here to correct how you live at all, all I care about is you live your best life. Religion or not, I don’t care.”

“So…You won’t try to convert me back or shame me for leaving?” The question made him shake his head slowly. You relax a bit, feeling more comfortable around him. 

“I think…Rather than having you suffer your entire life, it’s much easier to live however you want. Anyone can understand that a human life is so short and yet they spend it all to devote themselves and shame others for not wanting the same, it’s not fair is it?” You nod at him, it was true. Of course, it can’t undo your childhood that caused so much pain. But it can put you at ease for now.

You finally look at Simeon in the eyes, and your eyes met. His sincere expression remains and had no reason to leave anytime soon. You felt a tear fall down from your eye and you quickly wipe it away.

“Thank you, Simeon…” 

[dear-departed]

#love this #obey me

[dear-departed]

sorry for the two asks in a row, read your post on breakdowns with the brothers, wondered if you could do breakdowns with the side characters? tysm, love your writing!! <3333

Hello, of course! I had fun writing this, sorry it came so late, I had trouble thinking of something for Solomon

Also I hope you don't mind, but I wasn't comfy with including Luke, please, enjoy :)

Reader is gender neutral

Warnings: angst, brief thoughts of s/h, lots of crying, swearing, MC pulls their hair

Word count: 5.8k

Diavolo ♥

• Diavolo’s a tricky case, there are some days when he has a few quiet moments to himself that he just lets it all out, and sometimes he’ll just ignore his negative emotions until it gets too bad. He’s seen Lucifer have his emotional drunk moments, but given that they’re usually drunk together, he doesn’t know how to handle other people.

• It was just a regular “meeting” or really just hanging out at the Demon Lord’s castle. Over the past few weeks, things were just building up, but today felt especially bad. You were in one of the castle’s many rooms with Barbatos, Lucifer, and Diavolo.

• “So, how are those brothers treating you?” Diavolo smiled, sipping on a cup of piping hot tea in front of him, admittedly with a metric fuck-ton of sugar.

• “Same as always...” Lucifer rubbed his temple, “but MC’s always a big help with them.”

• “I’m glad.”

• Slowly, their words started to make less and less sense as you absentmindedly stared at the floor, their conversation turning into a mess of static in your mind.

• The room was cool to the point of getting goosebumps, yet small beads of sweat gathered near your hairline.

• “Isn’t that right, MC?” You were snapped out of your thoughts by Lucifer saying your name. You directed your gaze back up to the three men, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?”

• “I asked if I was right.” He looked into your eyes, his gaze making you squirm in your seat. On normal days, this would’ve been fine, but everything felt too uncomfortable and awful and just... ew.

• “I-I’m sorry, I meant the thing before that.” The skin on your cheeks felt like they were on fire, your voice cracking slightly as your mouth became devoid of any moisture.

• “Oh, yes. I said you were working hard on your studies.”

• “Oh-” you cleared your throat, hastily taking a sip of your tea in hopes to wet your tongue enough to comfortably speak, and maybe to wash down the lump in your throat. “Yes, I have been working hard.”

• You stood up “If you don’t mind, could you give me directions to the restroom?”

• “Would you like Barbatos to lead you?” Lord Diavolo tilted his head, his crimson hair shining beneath the slightly yellowed lighting of the large room.

• “No, thank you.”

• “Understood.” Barbatos pointed out the door. “Out that door, to the right, 4th door on the left.” He instructed.

• “Thank you.” You were quick to skitter off, mumbling the directions he gave to you over and over until you found the bathroom.

• You quickly shut the door, taking a double take over the bathroom that never ceased to surprise you. The mirror alone was probably worth more than a collage tuition, with an intricately carved mahogany frame, a few of the details popping out because of the gold leaf speckling different areas.

• You slid down against the wall, taking a few rough gulps of air as you tried to steady yourself. The clothes on your back felt like they stuck to your body too much, you were far too aware of your tongue, how it didn’t feel like it was resting in the right place.

• The tears began to pour, choked sobs coming from your cinched throat as you hung your head. You let out a brief cough as you choked on your tears, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

• You failed to notice the footsteps coming from down the hall over your own whimpers and squeaky breaths.

• Until the doorknob turned.

• You staggered for the door, your knees smacking against the cold tile as your fingertips brushed against the lock on the door. You were too slow, Lord Diavolo opened the door, humming a soft tune.

• “Oh, my goodness! MC I’m so sorry I forgot you were in h...” He looked down at you, at how disheveled you looked, little whisps of hair sticking to the tears coating your face, your chest heaving with uneven breaths.

• “What happened?! Are you okay?!” he dropped to his knees beside you, his brows knitting together with concern. “Do you want me to get Barbatos? I’ll get Barbatos-”

• “Wait!” You croaked out, reaching for his arm, “please... I’m not- I don’t- I’m... I don’t want anyone else to see me like this, please, Lord Diavolo...”

• He was hesitant to touch you at first. “What do you want me to do?” His hand hovered over yours for a moment before landing on the back of your hair that was firmly planted on his arm.

• “I don’t know.” You sobbed, sucking in a breath. “I don’t know anything; I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

• He moved closer to your trembling form, enveloping you in a hug, which might’ve pressed you up against his man tiddies, but it’s not like that hurt anything.

• “Is it the Devildom? Would you like to go home?” He asked, his heart twinging with a distant sadness.

• “N-no... I just get like this sometimes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You said, your voice nothing but a rough whisper against his clothes.

• “Come, I’ll tell Barbatos and Lucifer not to disturb us.” He scooped one of his arms on the backs of your knees, using his other to coax one of your arms over his shoulder, cool to the touch against your feverish skin.

• You tried to compose yourself as he lifted you off the ground with ease, looking down at you, deep in thought. “Would you like to sit out in the garden with me? Perhaps to get some fresh air? Or you may rest on my bed, if you prefer to bundle up and take a nap or something of the sort.

• The two of you both decide to go to the garden together. He set you down on a beautifully crafted granite bench, drawing his D.D.D from his pocket. “As I said, I will inform all of the staff, along with Lucifer and Barbatos, to leave us be. Does that sound alright with you?”

• You shook out your sweaty hands, trying to cool your face in the same stroke. The outside air was certainly cooler than inside, with the moon and stars casting a gentle silverish-blue light upon Diavolo’s bright red hair. “Yes.. Thank you. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see me like that and it’s nothing wrong with the Devildom, I love it here; it’s just that sometimes everything just feels like too much and some people say I overreact because it seems like whenever I have a breakdown it’s over the small stuff. B-but it’s not because of small stuff, it’s just the small stuff keeps building up until a little thing sends me into a frenzy and-” Your lungs begged for air as you spoke, until you had no more to give.

• Diavolo waited for a few seconds, waiting for anything else you had to say. “I understand. Well, I can’t say I understand you completely, people are very different from one another, but I can say I see where you’re coming from. And if you were to ask me, MC.” He took your shaking hands in one of his, “I, personally, don’t think you overreact at all. You’ve been so calm and accommodating to everything here in the Devildom, a feat which not many humans can achieve. I don’t think you fully understand how big of a deal that is.”

• He plucked a rose from a nearby bush, the underside of the blooming petals crafted from shadow, and the center of the flower was filled with bright neon colors that glowed in the eternal night of the devildom.

• “And because of that, MC, I’m proud of what you’ve become.” He stripped the thorns from the rose with the nail on his thumb, gently tucking the stem behind your ear.

Barbatos ♥

• This bitch is a robot.

• Barbatos does not have breakdowns.

• And if he did? You wouldn’t be able to tell.

• He doesn’t know how to take a goddamn break. If he feels stressed, he gets restless, and if he gets restless, he works.

• And if there’s nothing to do, because he again, never takes a break and already has everything done? He bakes.

• He is predictable in a sense that he’s good at everything, and he’s so consistant that you could mistake him for a machine

• He is terrifying, he is the most subtle and beautiful chaos you’ve ever seen.

• He is Barbatos.

• And that’s how you came to this moment.

• Another sleepover that Lord Diavolo had invited you, and all of the brothers to.

• You love the brothers, you really do. They’re good company, and they’re entertaining. But holy fuck are they clingy, and loud, and do they always have to be at war with one another?

• Belphie was laying his head on your thighs, Asmo practically draping himself over the lower half of your legs like some sort of cat. Satan was laying his head on your stomach, his legs kicked up over each other as he read a book.

• How he could read, much less see, with how dark the room was? You had no idea. Demon fuckery, probably.

• Leviathan didn’t touch you with any of his regular limbs, rather, he was in his demon form, with the tip of his tail wrapped around your ankle as he laid a little bit away from you, playing a video game on his phone.

• Beel, thankfully, was just holding your hair while he laid on the floor, his large hand resting heavily against yours.

• And then... and then there was Mammon. He was clinging to your arm; you were sure he’d wrap his legs around your waist and stick there the entire night if Satan wasn’t in the way.

• There was no Lucifer to save you, either, he was in another room, separated from both you and the brothers, which was totally unfair.

• And Diavolo, obviously, was in his own room.

• You began to wriggle in their grasp, “hey, I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be back, if I’m not back soon then just go to bed without me.”

• Mammon let out a quiet whine, rubbing his face against your shoulder, obviously half asleep.

• Satan sat up, swift to smack him on the back of the head with his book. “Get up.”

• Mammon quickly unstuck himself from you, rubbing the back of his head, rolling over and curling up once more.

• Everyone else evacuated off you, leaving you to stand up and quickly scramble off. The urge to get away was strong, yet the feelings weren’t there, at least not yet. Your head felt empty; devoid of all coherent thought, as silent as the cold halls of the castle, all of the lights off.

• Numb

• You wandered until you stepped into what must’ve been the main kitchen. It had to be some sort of commercial kitchen, not the type you would see in a house, but rather a work place. The tile was cool beneath your feet, your eyes slowly adjusting to the unforgiving dark.

• Everything was stainless steel aside from the dishes you could see, all different shades of red, with edges of night and gold.

• Were this the house of lamentation, you might have sat on the counter, but given that you were a guest, you opted on seating yourself on the floor.

• You stared at the grout beneath the tiles, the edges of your vision mushing together the longer your gaze stayed still, the edges of cupboards swirling with the air around you.

• It felt like hours before your eyes begin to sting from being open so long, making your eyes water. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, slipping onto your shirt and dampening the fabric, all while you couldn’t be bothered to care, or rather, you wanted to ignore it. Pretend you were just tired, or you weren’t really sad.

• Were you sad, though? It was difficult to pinpoint exactly how you felt. Sad, angry, anxious? Just upset.

• Without taking your eyes off that spot, you slowly hugged your knees to your chest, your face contorting; lips quivering, and nose scrunching up slightly.

• Before you knew it, you were nothing but a puddle of quiet sobs, shaking like a leaf and sniffling. Your tears dripped down onto the corners of your mouth, covering your lips with salt.

• “I had a feeling somebody was in here.” You heard from behind you.

• Your throat grew tight, your heart pounding in your chest.

• Barbatos.

• Half of you wanted to turn around, but the other half wanted to pretend that it was just your mind playing tricks on you, that you didn’t actually hear somebody, but deep down, you knew you’d been caught.

• Slowly, you turned, aggressively swiping at your face to get rid of the tears. There he was, towering over you, inspecting a white tea cup, decorated with cold leaf. He wiped away a smudge with a towel in hand. He turned his gaze down to you, setting the tea cup aside. “What has upset you, MC?”

• You were hesitant to answer him, after all, he was the least emotional person here, it felt weird to mention this to him.

• “I just... I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.” You hiccupped, avoiding his sharp gaze. You made sure to keep his short and sweet, not wanting to hold up any of his time.

• Was he... still in his work clothes?

• Does he even own pajamas?

• “Ah, I understand. You feel as though you’re generally just upset, though you feel like you don’t deserve to feel upset because nothing necessarily happened that’s been out of the ordinary? Is that the case?”

• You opened your mouth to explain further, but... “yes, that’s... spot on, actually.”

• “Come, take my hand.” He held out one of his gloved hands, waiting for you to grab onto it.

• After a moment of consideration, you did so, allowing the demonic butler to pull you up off the floor, gently steadying you.

• With a snap of his fingers, a chair appeared, shrouded in a soft green glow as it warped into the room. He gestured to the seat of the chair, nodding his head formally. “Please, sit. I will prepare something to calm your nerves. In the meantime, please, MC, tell me how you are feeling.”

• In your gut, you knew he was aware exactly how you felt, he could probably just tell. That was already proven by how he pretty much read your thoughts aloud, but still, it feels different when you actually talk about it.

• “I mean... you kind of already said it. Nothing major has happened recently, but I just feel awful, I guess. I can’t tell if I’m annoyed or sad, but I feel like I’ve just been numb for a while and then all of a sudden, I just needed to... get away from everyone.”

• “Would you describe it as drowning?” Barbatos approached the stove, lighting the pilot light beneath one of the burners with a long match. He filled a kettle with water and placed it on the burner, then reached into a cupboard, pulling out a glass jar, filled with tea leaves, and a label you couldn’t quite make out through your watery eyes, and the fact that the kitchen was still dark, the only light available being the stove.

• “I would think so. Like when you’re holding your breath and you’re fine at first, and then you start to squirm, and the more you squirm, the more you need air.”

• He scooped a little bit of the tea into a strainer, clasping it shut and setting it inside the porcelain cup. “Is it also the case that you feel alright until you think about it?”

• “Yeah, kind of like when you feel bad, but you aren’t quiet crying, and then someone asks if you’re alright, and you realize that you’re not really alright. And really, you’re the furthest thing from feeling alright.” Slowly, your crying began to cease as you watched his dexterous hands, the pearly white of his gloves standing out against his dark outfit.

• He swiped his slender index finger across one of the countertops, rubbing it against his thumb with a thoughtful hum. He ducked down to beneath the sink, withdrawing a rag and some sort of cleaner. “Do you sometimes feel like those brothers treat you as something that comforts them, rather than someone who also needs comfort?” He asked as he sprayed the counter, wiping it down thoroughly with the rag. Part of you would bet that the counter was already clean.

• “Y... yes. That would be accurate. It’s like they argue over keeping me near them, instead of spending time with me, if that makes sense.” The more he pointed out ways you didn’t even know you felt, the more you felt like you understood how you felt.

• He put the rag and the cleaner back beneath the sink as the kettle began to whistle softly, billowing steam out from its neck. He checked his watch, eyeing it carefully for about 20 seconds before he finally poured the water in. Somehow, he managed to produce the perfect amount of water from the kettle.

• After about 7 minutes, he pulled the strainer out of the water, shaking it a little over the cup before discarding the soggy leaves inside.

• “Here, this should make you feel a little better.” He presented the cup in front of you.

• Were his eyes glowing?...

Simeon ♥

• Simeon definitely has his moments, but unlike a lot of the Obey Me boys, he has decent ways of coping, so it’s not often that he has a breakdown.

• Also, being the mom friend, he naturally has this 6th sense when people aren’t feeling their best, it’s programmed into his system.

• You had planned a study session at Purgatory Hall with him, given that he knows just about everything there is about well... everything, he’s smart, but never really brings it up.

• The walk from the House of Lamentation to Purgatory Hall wasn’t hard, only a few minutes, but it felt like the quaint little path led on, sprawling out further the longer you walked. You could feel the stones beneath your aching feet just a little more than normal, and the air nipped at your ankles; sinking its icy claws into your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

• After a short walk that dragged on for what felt like forever, you finally reached the door of Purgatory Hall, giving it a few weak knocks, adjusting the book bag that had begun to dig into your shoulder.

• Simeon was quick to answer, greeting you with his smile, sweet as honey. “Hello, MC. I’m so glad you could make it, come in.” He stepped to the side, nodding his head as you stepped through the doorway.

• He immediately had his suspicions, but decided to keep quiet for now. Despite his doubts, there was still a chance that maybe you just had to shake it off, or perhaps the walk was boring.

• “I was actually just making lunch, Solomon and Luke are both out running errands, so it’s just us. You’re free to join me in the kitchen if you’d like, we can study there for a bit. I’ll take your bag, it looks heavy.” He shut the door behind you, turning his gaze back to you.

• “I don’t wanna burden you, Simeon, it’s fine. Thank you for agreeing to help me out.” You suppressed a lengthy yawn, your eyes watering as you did so.

• “You aren’t a burden at all, MC! Really, you’re helping me just as much as I am you, I have trouble with some of the subjects as well.” He carefully pulled the bag off your shoulder, not giving you anymore room to argue.

• “...Thank you.” You said, dragging your feet as you followed him into the kitchen. He set your bag up against one of the counters.

• “Go on, take a seat,” he gently patted his hand against the counter.

• “Are you sure?”

• “Of course, Luke isn’t tall enough to reach some stuff on the top shelf, so he climbs the counter a lot. Sometimes I wonder if those of us who are shorter just don’t feel fear, because I’ve seen him hop down from heights far taller than him. Or you can sit on the floor, if you want, I just want you to feel at home.”

• You didn’t have the energy to act like sitting down somewhere didn’t sound nice, so you abided with his recommendation, hopping up onto the counter and scooting back until your back hit the cool wall behind you.

• “And how about I give you a little quiz?” Simeon worked over the stove, cooking what seemed to be bacon.

• “Mm, that sounds okay.” You leaned your head back, resting it against the wall as you listened to him shuffling around the kitchen, his footfalls soft beneath the tile flooring.

• “Alright, first question, what is the word for ‘curse’ in Latin?”

• You rifled through the words in your head, in a slight daze as your thoughts clouded together. “Uhh, imprecatio, I think. Yeah, that’s what it is.”

• “Correct! Good job. Next question, hmm... after the Devildom was formed, what covered its surface?”

• Sleep tugged angrily at your mind, gnawing away at your coherency. “A forest...”

• “Great! There’s an ancient elixir that needs three ingredients, powdered unicorn hoof, bittergrass root...” the rest of his words faded into the background as you felt your consciousness slip from your grasp.

• “...MC?” Simeon turned to look at you, slumped against the wall with your mouth open a little bit, as if you were about to answer before you fell asleep. “I knew it” He laughed to himself, shaking his head a little as he covered his mouth. “Poor thing, they look so exhausted.”

• The angel turned the stove burner off, carefully coaxing your legs around his waist and hoisting you up onto his hips, taking great care in having a secure grip on you.

• He hummed a gentle tune as he walked out of the kitchen, taking you down the hall to his bedroom. His melodic voice reached your asleep mind, lulling you further into dreamland.

• He fumbled with the door a little, eventually opting on just standing on one foot and opening it with the other.

• And with that, he set you down on his bed, tucked you in, and went back to the door. He took one final glance at you, tilting his head and letting out a quiet “awe... get some rest, you deserve it.” Before he finally shut the light off and closed the door.

• I would say you awoke to it being dark outside but... it’s the devildom. It's always dark.

• Instead, you awoke to the sweet smell of chocolate permeating the house. You slapped your hand out to feel for your phone on the bedside table, only to find that it wasn’t there, being met with nothing, not even the lamp that you kept. Just the cool surface of a wooden bedside table.

• Come to think of it, this didn’t smell like your room, either. Rather, it smelled of flowers, vanilla, and new books.

• Where?... What?...

• It took you a moment to realize that you weren’t in your room, in fact, it took you a moment to remember exactly what’d happened before you’d fallen asleep.

• Simeon cracked the door a little bit, peeking inside. “Oh, you’re awake! Good morning!” he opened the door all the way, two mugs in hand.

• “What... what time is it?” You groaned, slowly sitting up, your back aching.

• “I guess I shouldn’t have said morning.” He went to the other side of the bed, turning on the lamp on that table. “It’s more like nine o’clock.”

• “Nine o’clock?... but... I barely even studied...” guilt began to well in your stomach, regret prominent in your mind. “I just... I just... fell asleep?” Your head spun as you talked, your voice cracking.

• Oh dear god... er, huh, Simeon’s dad, was your mouth dry, and did it taste awful.

• “Yes, you did fall asleep. And I’m glad you did.” Simeon sat on the edge of the bed, holding one of the mugs of bubbly hot coco out to you.

• The edges of your vision swirled and clouded with tears as your lip quivered, the confusion of just waking up and not being able to recall anything striking you like a fast ball. “But... Simeon, that means I wasted your time.” You began to sob, the pressure of being put on the same level as the demon brothers finally catching up to you, all in this one dazed moment in Simeon’s bedroom. “A-and how am I going to pass if I don’t study every day?! I only have so much time and if I’m wasting it by being lazy and falling asleep, I don’t deserve any of this, I don’t deserve to be praised or...” you sniffled, letting out a heavy cough.

• “Hey, MC.” He set the cups down on the bedside table, scooting closer to you. He placed a delicate hand on your lap. “It’s okay that you fell asleep. If you’re well rested, that means you can absorb information.” His thumb gently rubbed along your thigh in a comforting manner. “No grade is above your wellbeing. If it’s too much, I’m sure there are adjustments that can be made. Do you understand how big of a deal it is that you’ve learned this much?”

• You stared into his angelic turquoise eyes, flecked with gold. Somehow, staring into those eyes brought you a little peace. With one look at you, it felt like he understood everything you were feeling, and he had the words to match exactly that.

• “Solomon, Luke and I, the demons at RAD; we’ve all had thousands of years to study, hundreds of years to take in the same information that you’ve only had about a year and a half to learn, do you understand how positively impressive that is? Everybody struggles sometimes, MC, and everybody is fallible no matter what anybody says, you’re allowed to make mistakes. And it’s alright to not know something.”

• You began to tremble the more he spoke, his words striking all the right chords in your heart. “I just... I don’t know how to take all of this in, I still have all of my knowledge about the history of the human world, and now having to relearn world history, but for the Devildom... it just feels so weird, and I’m really, really, trying. But it... it... it...” You stammered a few more times, trying to regain your bearings. “It feels like everything's melting together and this feels like I can’t possibly learn it all in time.”

• “Come here, my lamb.” He opened his arms to you, an empathetic smile gracing his features.

• You crawled toward him, flinging your arms around him tightly as you cried into his shoulder.

• He was warm, and smelled exactly like the room you were in. Slowly, he began to pat and rub your back, speaking softly into your ear. “There you go, just let it all out, it’s okay to cry. I know times get tough, and it’s alright to admit that. You’ll be alright, it’ll all work out. I believe in you.”

• When Simeon felt your shaking and sobbing slowly die down, he leaned back, looking into your eyes. “Now, would you like some hot coco? Solomon and Luke are home.”

• “Yes...” You sniveled, wiping at your eyes and mouth “Please...”

• He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing the top of your head. “Alright, then.”

Solomon ♥

• Solomon hasn’t had a breakdown in a while. He’s, how do you say it? Desensitized to so much shit.

• But nevertheless, he’s human, he gets it a little more than his demonic and angelic peers.

• Currently, the two of you were in potions class, in the middle of a mini-test.

• The task was simple to the untrained eye, just mix two liquids, drink it, and allow the instructor to see how your body and voice changed.

• He had already gone, he was assigned to turn into an older woman with brown hair, which he’d done with ease, and was now already back in his typical form.

• The instructor approached you, watching as your hands frantically scrambled around your lab station, your heart pounding, your mind succumbing to your anxiety.

• Solomon leaned on his knuckles, idly tracing the intricate swirly grain of the lab station he was at, humming softly to himself as he occasionally looked up to glance at you.

• You knocked over a vial.

• The sorcerer flicked his index and middle fingers up, eyeing the vial intensely as it quickly levitated itself up and back onto its stand.

• “Great job catching yourself, MC.” The instructor nodded, gesturing for you to continue.

• You gave Solomon a weak smile, hesitantly pouring in one of the liquids in a different tube, slowly drizzling another in.

• You peered into the small cast iron cauldron on your lab station, smiling in relief as different reds and purples swirled around on the surface, dancing with one another as they mixed.

• It was only when yellow and green began to bubble up to the top that you got concerned... it wasn’t supposed to bubble, and those were the opposite colors you were aiming for.

• It began to bubble over, quickly expanding and turning into a thick foam, covering the desk in a sticky, marshmallow-like substance.

• That was the final straw for you already anxiety-ridden self. You stood up without another word and darted for the door, nearly tripping over a stool. The door fluttered shut in your wake, only leaving the lingering smell of you for Solomon to cling to.

• You took a few different turns, before ducking down against the wall and curling your knees to your chest. Humiliated sobs racked your body, making you shake and shiver as you struggled to breathe.

• “Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot... idi..ot...” You choked out, tangling your hands into your hair and giving it a harsh tug in a desperate attempt to keep yourself in the moment.

• You brought your hand away from your face, forming it into a fist, pondering how it would feel if it were to connect with your head as hard as you could. Would it knock the back of your skull into the wall? Would you bleed?

• Before you made the choice, you heard swift footsteps making their way down the hall. You held your breath, but the longer they continued, and the closer they got, the more your head began to spin.

• “MC?...” Solomon stepped into your slowly fading view, your gaze feeling hazy as you stared at him, sucking in a quiet breath.

• Static and stars tangoed at the edges of your mind, dizziness gripping your thoughts. “Solomon?... what... what are you doing?”

• It took you a moment to realize in your delirious state, but Solomon had already taken a spot next to you, taking a similar position you were in.

• He said nothing.

• You stared at him, still trembling and sobbing, too wrapped up in your own sorrow to even consider composing yourself.

• He pulled out a spray bottle and misted you in the face.

• You couldn’t help but notice how cold the liquid was, it sent a shiver right up your spine, confusing you just briefly enough to stop crying.

• “What did?... What?... why?... what was that?”

• “Don’t worry, it was just water.” He slowly lowered the bottle.

• “W-what was that for?”

• “Just to snap you out of it. Come here.” He spread his arms, nodding once.

• Did this man really just shock you out of a breakdown?

• Holy shit he did. He just essentially did the same thing as when people throw sliced cheese at crying babies to confuse them.

• And by God did it work.

• “Come on, don’t be shy. We aren’t strangers, I know you need a hug right now.” He flicked his fingers a little, raising his eyebrows slightly.

• You scooted a little closer, giving into what would’ve been shame and just melting into his arms. He snaked his arms up your back, lacing one hand through the hair on the back of your head and pressing your face into his shoulder. “There, there. Everything will be okay, everyone has their bad days, yadda yadda, and eventually we’ll get over them. I cry sometimes too.”

• Warm, salty, tears began to flow from your eyes again, soaking into the thick fabric of his uniform. Your breath hitched through the sobbing, your lungs tightening up.

• “That’s it, cry it out. Don’t be so discouraged, MC. There are spells that I don’t know, and I’ve been studying for thousands of years, you’ve only been studying for a year. All these demons here have been alive for who knows how long, and you still end up getting better grades than a lot of them. That’s crazy, right? Just think about it.”

• The low humming of his voice vibrated in his chest, his breathing permeating your marrow and slowly soothing your nerves. “Y-yeah... I just... it was just so embarrassing...”

• “I had to be rescued a few times because I accidentally trapped myself trying to do new spells. And I’ve had my fair share of mess-ups. Mistakes are part of the learning process, you aren’t meant to get it right the first time, that’s what it takes to really absorb information. And you know? I’m really proud of you. I’m proud of you for messing up. That wasn’t really a mess-up, it was just a different spell you performed at the wrong time.”

• He placed one hand on either side of your head, lifting your face from his chest, his slender fingers brushing strands of your hair out of your face. “You’re one of the most impressive and strongest humans I know, and I know a lot of humans. Your magic; the power you hold is unlike any other, and any spell you perform is bound to hold amazing results, intended or not.”

• “Thank you, Solomon... It means a lot, those words. And from someone as powerful as you, and as strong as you... it’s like you take everything in stride, you always act like everything’s meant to happen.” You stared into his eyes, the portals to his soul.

• “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. If I’m being entirely honest with you, I was scared with becoming emotionally close with you.” A sad smile graced his features. “Truth be told, I stopped befriending other humans because they always die, that’s why all of my friends are demons and angels. I was sick of losing people. And then you came along, and you changed the way I thought.”

• He slid his hands from your cheeks to your shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze.

• “I can’t possibly thank you enough.”

[dear-departed]

Fanfic preference

I require your opinion!

When you're reading self-insert fanfic, do you prefer first person (EX: The icy snow crunched beneath my boots), second person (EX: You set your book aside), or third person (EX: MC[Y/N} took a long sip from their water bottle.)

For me, it's easier to write in the first person, since it's what I'm used to, but I want to know what engages readers more.

[dear-departed]

hello been reading some of your stuff and will probably continue to read it after i get this out of my mind but i was playing obey me and thinking:

i could not deal with living in the HOL. i have plenty of patience, but the constant fighting of the brothers, lucifers pride stopping him from admitting he is wrong, mammon selling things that dont belong to him for grimm, levi holing himself up and being lowkey manipulative with his self degradation causing you to spend time with him, satans short temper and occasional threats that terrify me, beel constantly eating everything in the house (i have a high metabolism and am very protective of my food for reasons unknown), and belphie sleeping constantly (plus the fact im still kinda salty about being killed in chapter 16 and then him just, acting like it necer happened) and them taking up all my time

basically id go insane, and want to know if you could write a story (long or short) about me sneaking over to purgatory hall, leaving a note saying ill see them at RAD. what id do with the residents (baking with luke, potions and magic with solomon, reading and maybe writing with simeon) and the brothers reactions to me leaving without telling them in advance and being gone so long (a night to a whole weekend)

thank you!!

Hello, Love!

I like this idea, and I totally get what you mean, I don't think I could handle not getting my proper alone time.

I tried my best with this, it got kinda rushed near the end because it was 4 in the morning and I just wanted this baby finished and over with. I loved writing it!

Some of this stuff is very much based off my childhood memories (wet, damp, grass smell is a big thing) and my interests (writing and baking with Simeon and Luke, but MC already knows a little about each) but I hope you enjoy regardless!

MC is gender neutral, and as a prefix, Mx. is used

Warnings: Mild angst, some deep conversations with Solomon, but not much, also Solomon just being a little shit for funsies, mild angst, crying Mammon

Word count: 7k

‘Please, dammit, just let me get through this chapter without another distraction.’ 

The ruckus downstairs was enough to let you know that this peace and quiet you’ve been enjoying for the past 10 minutes wouldn’t last long. 

The noise, that damned noise downstairs. You’d only gotten through a few pages of the book you were reading. Each sentence needed to be read a few times to actually soak into your mind, every grueling detail difficult to take in. 

Upon hearing a hasty knock, then the door being burst open, you knew it was over. With a defeated sigh, you slowly shut the book, not bothering to save the page. It’s not like you’d gotten that far anyway, so what was the point? 

Mammon and Levi were both quick to storm into the room, Mammon holding up a Ruri-Chan figurine, which was about the size of a beer bottle.  

“You greedy ass, give it here!” Levi desperately held out his hand, looking wound up and about ready to headbutt his older brother. 

“No way in hell would I give this to you! Do you know how much it’s worth! And besides, I found it, it’s mine! Unless you can cough up 8 thousand grimm, I’m gonna sell it online!” The second born sat himself next to you, far too close than you were comfortable with at the moment.  

“I would say until pigs fly, but you’ve got wings, jackass!” Levi directed his eyes toward you, then back to Mammon. “And plus, it’s not fair to barge into MC’s room and push this onto them! I seriously doubt they want to deal with one of my weird hermit problems!”  

You let out a deep sigh, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in ever since you heard that knock. “Mammon... just, give him his action figure back.”  

“No! Do you get how much this is worth?!” 

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed, I command you to give Leviathan, Avatar of Envy, his figurine back!” 

It wasn’t worth it to try and reason with him, especially not today, you reasoned. You watched as Mammon’s breath hitched, his mouth falling agape as protest as he groaned, his arms shooting out to hand Levi the action figure back.  

Leviathan’s eyes damn near sparkled when you said that. He hands hastily snatching the figurine to his chest, grinning as he blushed, “oh, MC! I really didn’t expect you to actually stick up for me, you’re the best!” 

Mammon’s arms dropped back down to his sides, his chest heaving as he sucked in a few quick breaths. “Are you serious, MC?!” 

“Don’t look at me like that, you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place.” You hummed. After a while at The House of Lamentation, you learned that Mammon being angry wasn’t really anger. You learned that he almost didn’t have the capacity to truly be mad at you, especially when he knew you were in the right.  

He stayed seated, trying to formulate his next smart comeback. He ignored the yelling that erupted from the kitchen. You, however, couldn’t seem to get it out of your head. His next words were a blur to you. Between your rare alone time being interrupted, you just being overall tired, and the dull, aching, pain in your head, everything just came back a little fuzzy.  

“MC? Hello? Earth to MC?” Leviathan asked as Mammon waved a hand in front of your face. “Ya okay? Ya seem kinda... out of it.”  

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine, I’m perfectly fine, just need a second, so just...” You set your book aside, scooting back on the bed, away from Mammon. The muted warmth radiating off the demon was beginning to get rather uncomfortable, on top of everything. “I’m just... I need a second.” You repeated, hoping, praying, to something out there that they would get the memo and just leave. 

“Okay, okay!” Mammon stood up, taking a few steps back. But alas, he didn’t make his way toward the door.  

“I mean I need a moment alone. And by a moment, I don’t mean just go out of the room and come back in a minute, I mean please leave me alone unless there’s an issue that you can’t just solve yourselves.” You rubbed your temples, your headache increasing until it felt like the veins in your neck would pop.  

“I knew they didn’t want us around, who would?” Leviathan grabbed Mammon, dragging him by the back of the shirt out of the room. Thankfully, Levi is an introvert, and knows the importance of completely shutting someone’s door before leaving. At least that’s one thing. 

The yelling from the kitchen was obviously Satan, nobody could mistake it. That strained screaming, where his voice cracked and his voice got deeper, less refined than normal. You could almost see him now, threatening Lucifer, who wouldn’t dare take any part in admitting that he did something to piss Satan off.  

When this whole shitshow started, you might’ve gone down to check on it, but it always ended up the same. Someone would get to you first, complaining about someone or something. Christ, it was like you were their only relief in this household.  

A thought suddenly crossed your mind, one not too unfamiliar to you. What would happen if you just packed up and went to purgatory hall for a day? Or a few nights? Maybe it would give the brothers some time to get themselves in line, and it would give you time to cool down before you snapped, got your neck snapped. Again. 

No, no, you couldn’t. Leaving them would be cruel, especially without any warning? What if Lucifer got pissed off and told Lord Diavolo? And what if Lord Diavolo got upset in turn? 

Or what if you just asked Lord Diavolo? He always seemed to be decently understanding. After all, he’s been near the demon brothers for hundreds of years now, he knows how tiring they can get. 

So without any further considerations, before you decided to chicken out, you pulled out your D.D.D, opening up Diavolo’s contact.  

MC: Lord Diavolo? Can I have your opinion, or blessing on something? 

Diavolo: Of course, what is it, MC? 

You hesitated for a moment, typing and retyping the words you were about to say next. Should you ask to call him instead? No, someone might hear, and lord knows they’d go feral. 

MC: How would you feel about me staying at Purgatory Hall for a few days? Just to cool off? All of the brothers are getting to be a bit much. I hope you understand, and it’s alright if you refuse. 

Diavolo: Haha! Of course, you may, those brothers are always so rowdy, I understand! I’ll send over someone to escort you tonight. 

Diavolo: And don’t worry, I won’t tell Lucifer, it’ll be our little secret for now 

MC: Thank you, Lord Diavolo 

He sent an emoji, that one of the Red Devil winking, with its hip jutted out to the side. At least he’s understanding. 

The title of a ‘Demon Prince’ was always super intimidating, every portrayal of one like Diavolo was always tyrannical, sadistic, and an overall ass, and there was always this part of you that expected him to respond to you like that. 

Great. So now all you had to do is pack a bag without any of them knowing. Which is, arguably, the hardest part of this whole thing.  

♥ 

Just as you thought, packing your bag was hell, all puns intended. 

You pretended to take a shower, or in other words, you grabbed a bunch of clothes and a duffle bag and shoved everything you’d need for the weekend into it. A few different outfits, a comb, toothpaste, toothbrush, a stick of deodorant, that sort of stuff.  

It felt alien to you. You’d only ever packed to leave the house after the exchange program had first ended, or whenever you went on trips with the brothers.  

But as you got a text from Barbatos after some of the brothers had gone to bed, the remaining ones too busy to be out of their rooms at this time of the night, you felt kind of bad. Frustrated, yes, but something in your heart tugged you toward this chaotic bunch. It’s not like you were leaving forever, but still. 

Alas, you neatly placed your note on your bed, doing a double-take around the room before hauling your bag up onto your shoulder, your shoes hanging by their laces on the strap of the bag, and stepped out of the door, swinging it shut, then carefully turning the knob and shutting it, making as little noise as possible. You were fully aware Lucifer knew you were out of your room, but that didn’t matter. 

As you passed the kitchen, the distant noise of soft grumbling radiated from the dim glow that radiated from the fridge. Satan was going to be pissed about that in the morning, you noted.  

You crept further down the hall on soft footfalls, the silver moon bouncing off the walls, the pictures on the walls basking in the familiar sunless Devildom sky.  

You felt eyes upon you, but something kept you from turning around. If they were going to stop you, or say something, they would have by now. Your hand lurched for the doorknob, slowly starting to turn the cool metal beneath your warm fingertips. It moved no further. Of course, it would be locked. 

You carefully set down your bag, holding the handle with one hand and carefully turning the lock with your other. A soft click sounded from the inner mechanisms of the old lock, proving you successful. You pulled the door open, picking up your bag again and shutting it behind you. You locked it, then took a moment to slide on your shoes finally. 

The headlights of the chauffer's car shone in the dull, cold, night. All according to plan.  

As that thought passed your mind, you felt the stare burning into the back of your skull dissipate, like a shadow sliding back into its corner, as if it’d been washed away by a cool bucket of water. Yet it left no release. 

You walked toward the car, watching as the driver got out and walked to the back of the car. They stood strong, with their hands folded neatly in front of themselves. “Mx. (Last name), welcome.” They greeted, their gloved hand delicately opening the back door, nodding their head toward the seat. Lord Diavolo certainly hadn’t left any room for error, had he? Despite Purgatory Hall being a short walk away. To be fair, though, the Devildom isn’t the safest place for a human to roam at night.  

You scooted in the seat, setting your bag to the side. “Thank you, really.”  

“No worries, Mx. (Last name), it’s nothing short of my duty.” They offered a polite smile as they shut the door, moving back into the driver’s seat. They glanced at you through the mirror, “Purgatory Hall, correct?” 

“Yes.” You traced your finger over the perfect stitching on the leather seats of the car, which smelled faintly of Lucifer’s unmistakable cologne.  

As the car pulled away from the House of Lamentation, you slumped further into the seat, letting out a quiet sigh as your muscles relaxed, the anxiety that burned deep in your marrow slowly letting itself loose.  

The gentle humming of the car was like a lullaby to your racing thoughts, the way it buzzed as it cruised down the road, it brought you back to different memories in your life. Long car rides at night, riding the bus, the way you used to squint when you were at stoplights to see how blurry you could get the lights to seem, the dank and musty smell of freshly mowed grass after a long day.  

It didn’t take long before the car eased to a stop outside Purgatory Hall, the chauffer locking eyes with you through the mirror, that same, sterile, smile catching your attention as they looked at you. “We’ve arrived, I will stay here until you get inside.” 

“Alright.” You unlocked and opened the door, slithering out of the seat and tugging the bag along with you. “Thank you, again, I know it really can’t be convenient picking random people up, especially at this hour.” 

“Again, it’s no worries. And after all, Mx. (last name), you are no stranger. You’re a friend of both Lucifer and Lord Diavolo.” The driver assured. 

You shut the door, walking around the back of the car and making your way up the short path to the front door. You knocked four times before stopping and listening closely for anyone inside the house. After a minute or two of crashing, groaning, and somebody from inside very obviously falling straight on their ass, a light turned on. 

A tired-looking Simeon opened the door. “I... what are you...” He squinted, then blinked, seeming quite dazed. You could see the gears turning in his head, before his mouth went slightly agape, his crackly voice going “ohh... I remember now! Come in, come in.” He stepped aside, a loving grin tugging at the edge of his lips, which had a little bit of wet drool leaking off one side of his mouth. 

You stepped into the house, the scent of vanilla hitting you square in the face.  

Luke veered the corner, Solomon sluggishly following behind him, rubbing one side of his butt, a pained look wrinkling his features. Luke looked tired, but undoubtedly gleeful to see you. “You’re actually staying with us for a few days?!” He grabbed at your wrist, grinning a bit.  

The small angel quickly caught himself, “it’s not that I’m happy about that or anything, I mean, I see you all the time! But... I’m happy you’re here!” He put a hand on his hip.  

“I’m glad I’m here too, Luke.” You gave the top of his head a gentle pat, returning his tired smile. “I’m sorry to wake you all, and to kind of like, invade your home, even if I did let you know beforehand. I’m just...”  

“We get it.” Solomon attempted to tame his hair, only paying attention to you half way. “Those brothers can get really tiring. It’s like, I love them, but even things you love can make you upset sometimes. It’s like listening to the same song on repeat for three hours, but it’s a song you love. You need to take a break from that song for a while before you can enjoy listening to it again.” 

“That’s a good analogy, Solomon.” Simeon nodded, giving you a comforting smile. “Do you want a hug? I know times like these can be stressful, and sometimes it can feel like everything around you is just all happening at once, and you want some space from them, I suppose?”  

“Yes, please.” You shuffled closer to Simeon, Luke’s soft hand falling from your wrist as you wrapped your arms around the older angel, burying your head into his chest. Jasmin, chamomile, flowers... ugh. You allowed yourself to slip further into his embrace, noting the sudden warmth now connected to your side, Luke. They were warmer than the demon brothers, who were slightly cool to the touch. 

Solomon watched from a couple feet away, his eyes filled with want as he stared into the empty spot at your other side. Eventually, he gave in, sinking into your familiar warmth. 

Despite not spending nearly as much time here as you did the House of Lamentation, this place felt just as much like home as the other.  

After a moment of comfortable, admittedly warm silence, Simeon pulled away, his delicate hands resting upon your shoulders, a smile gracing his angelic features. “I have no doubts you’re exhausted. We already have a place for you to sleep, how about we get you set up so you can get some good, undisturbed, rest?” 

“That sounds heavenly.” You sighed, finally realizing how heavy your eyelids were. 

He let out a soft laugh, brushing his hand against your cheek. “Well, we try. Solomon, if you don’t mind, can you take them over to their bed area? Luke and I will get them a cup of tea ready.” He and Luke pulled away from you, as did Solomon, who slowly nodded. “Sorry, almost fell asleep on you there.” he giggled, squinting at you. “I can’t stay up as late as I did before, being immortal takes its toll. Come on.” He nodded toward down the hall, making his way through the house with you hot on his tail.  

“Luke and Simeon were overjoyed when they heard you were coming.” He said, his slippers making soft patting noises on the hard flooring. “So am I. I feel like we never hang out outside of studying. Maybe I can steal you away for a while, who knows?” He trailed his index finger along the wall, eventually stopping at a series of doors. “They decided to set up your sleeping arrangement in my room. Feel free to freshen up in the bathroom, you can sleep on the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch, unless you’re open to the idea of sharing a bed.” He paused, appraising your reaction.  

You felt your face heat up, the tips of your ears becoming hot as you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at the floor. “You’ve been spending too much time with Asmo, I swear.” You set your bag by the sofa. 

“Well, I’ve only known him for a few centuries, I wouldn’t say too long. So... was that a yes?”  

“Solomon, I’m not taking your bed, I’m the guest, I’m sleeping on the sofa.” You shook your head, sitting down on the sofa, taking one of the throw pillows and placing it beneath your head. 

“Well then, I guess we’re sharing the couch. I’m not sleeping on the bed either. As you said, you’re the guest, and you came here to feel comfortable.” He clambered onto the couch as well, humming triumphantly at you as Luke and Simeon both entered the room, a few cups of warm “sleepy time” tea in hand.  

“This should get you nice and sleepy if you weren’t already, or at least calm you down.” Simeon placed two of the steaming cups onto the coffee table, placing coasters beneath them. “Be careful, it’s really hot.”  

You made a mental note of now Luke’s cup wasn’t steaming, and he in fact had his other hand wrapped around the cup. Simeon definitely cooled it down for him, how sweet. 

“Thank you, again. I know it’s a pain, but like you said, they get overwhelming sometimes.” You stared into your cup, the honey-colored liquid reflecting back yourself, someone who had gone through many big events and changes since you arrived in the Devildom. Someone who had died, come back to life, went through many death threats from various demons, including those closest to you.  

And yet, a lot of the time, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Despite how unforgiving it is for humans, it’s oddly comforting.  

“Really, MC, it’s no problem. Even in the celestial realm they were a bit much at times.” Simeon leaned down, planting a goodnight kiss on your forehead. “Now, you should get some rest. Don’t let Solomon be too mean to you.” he teased, giving your cheek a gentle pat before both he and Luke left the room, shutting the door behind them.  

Solomon dipped his finger into his tea, muttering a quiet spell into the liquid, in a tongue you didn’t recognize. It must have been a spell he hadn’t taught you yet. “What’d you do to it?” You quirked a brow, watching as he chugged the cup down.  

“I turned it into gin.” He smirked, looking up at you through his frosted lashes. 

“Solomon!” 

“Just kidding, I cooled it down. Want me to do the same for you.?” he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, clearing his throat a little.  

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” You scooted your cup of tea out to him. He dipped the very tip of his finger into the piping hot contents of the cup, muttering the same, soft, incantation before pulling his hand away. “Alright, should be fine, test it.”  

You carefully picked up the cup, tipping it up just enough to touch the liquid to your lips. “It’s perfect.” Somehow, he’d gotten it to the perfect temperature. You took a long sip, savoring the lightly sweet, floral, drink. It slid down your throat smoothly, warming your body just enough to be oh so satisfying.  

“I’m glad.” He idly watched you drink your tea, playing with a piece of loose thread in one of the cushions of the sofa, thinking of his next words. “I’m not supposed to say this, but Simeon’s making pancakes tomorrow morning because you decided to stay over. Don’t say anything to like, though. He’ll go feral; you know how much he loves Simeon’s pancakes.” He let his eyes stray, slowly beginning to stare straight through you.  

He was knocked out from his daze when you set your cup down. He shook it off, grabbing both of the cups. “I’ll take these to the kitchen; you get comfy on the bed.” He smiled, the little dark circles underneath his blueish brown eyes, which showed up very prominently on his pale skin. 

‘nice try, old man.’ 

He made a graceful exit from the room, but you couldn’t help but notice how he hobbled slightly. Damn, how had had he fallen on his ass? 

You pulled your D.D.D from your pocket, half-expecting a flurry of texts and calls from the brothers. All you were met with, however, was a few stray texts from Diavolo and Barbatos, briefly letting you know that the driver was there, or asking if you’d gotten there safely. You assured them you had, setting your phone in your bag. 

Solomon returned a minute later, quirking an icy brow.  

“...Damn you, Solomon.” You feigned annoyance as you climbed onto the bed, slipping beneath the covers. “I’m not having you sleeping on the couch, either. Come here.” 

“Roger.” 

♥ 

You awoke to the sweet scent of pancakes wafting through the air, and the weight of Solomon sliding off the bed. You let out a soft groan, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. It was so relaxing to not be woken up by Mammon bursting through your door, so nice to not hear someone screaming downstairs.  

“Good morning, sleepy head. You slept like a rock last night.” The sorcerer chuckled, turning his back to you as he took off his shirt, swapping it out for a fresh one. Right, today was a weekend, nobody had school.  

“H... wha?...” You moaned, the feeling of sleep slipping through your fingers as you slowly sat up, still not entirely able to tell if this was a dream or not.  

“I got up a few times, and let me tell you, you didn’t move at all. You must’ve been really tired.” He grabbed a pair of pants and some boxers and whisked himself off to the bathroom, leaving you in a blurry daze. 

You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the fog clouding your mind. Oh right, you snuck out without telling the brothers anything.  

You groggily got out of bed, feeling both the most well-rested yet the most tired you’d ever been in your life. You quickly changed, trying to finish up before Solomon came out of the bathroom.  

Hesitantly, you picked up your phone. Surprisingly, though, you only had 13 texts. Which may seem like a lot, but... all of the brothers texted once or twice, Lucifer told them to give you some space in the group chat, messaged you that he was sorry for any discomfort they may have caused, and that seemed to be that. Sure, they moped, but you didn’t get any calls, no texts, after that.  

With that off your chest there wasn’t a lot to worry about anymore. No upset brothers, just mildly tickled demon men, which you could live with.  

“I’m back, let’s get to the dining room.” Solomon stood by the doorway, bowing his head lightly, motioning you into the hallway. You followed along, with all the lights on, you were fully able to take in the vivid and rich paintings lining the walls. 

Upon entering the dining room, you see Simeon being the perfect malewife, I mean being very helpful. 

He’s setting the table, a large plate of pancakes in the center, with plates for everyone in their respective places, your plate was placed between him and Luke.  

Luke was also being helpful, bringing out a carton of milk and juice, setting cups and silverware next to everyone’s plates. It was obvious he was trying to contain his excitement, his lips were pursed, barely suppressing the grin that lay beneath his attempt at a calm façade.  

“Breakfast is served!” Simeon said in his melodic voice, his tone wafting through the air the same as the smell of the pancakes. A gentle smile graced his features as he eyed you up and down, tilting his head. “I heard you slept well?” 

“I slept great, I hope you did, too... even though I did wake you up to stay over.” You smiled in return, earning a blush from the angel. 

“MC! You have to come over more often! I mean, please come over more often!” Luke took his place at the table, looking absolutely thrilled. 

His favorite people all in the same room, with his favorite food, all in a good mood. Nothing could beat this moment, right here.  

You, Solomon, and Simeon all sat in your respective places, chatting while peacefully chowing down on the awesome breakfast that Simeon had made. You let them all know about the texts you’d seen, and they were happy to hear that the brothers at least agreed to give you some space for the time being.  

“It’s really peaceful here” you remarked, shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth. 

“Yes, I do think it’s peaceful here, for the most part. After all, including you, the house does have eight people. That’s a lot of people all at once, and including you, we only have four, so really, we’re just less crowded. And I do admit, some of the brothers are crazy in the mornings.” Simeon laughed, covering his mouth.  

“This is really good, Simeon.” Solomon leaned an elbow on the table, sending you all a little grin. “I think I should make breakfast tomorrow morning. It’s only fair, you and Luke already cooked, so I think I should take over tomorrow. After all, I’ve been looking at this new recipe for w-” 

“NO! NO CHANCE IN... I mean...” Simeon cleared his throat, nearly choking on his bite of pancake. “Luke and I are more than happy to cook, it's our hobby, after all” He smiled. “There’s really no need to overwork yourself, Solomon.” 

“Oh no, I insist. You really should look at this recipe, Simeon. I think adding my own twist would make it taste better, though.” Solomon took a swig of juice. 

“Your food is really, really... special. I just don’t think our stomachs are used to how good it is, so-” Simeon started, only to be cut off by Luke. 

“You suck at cooking-” 

“Luke!-” 

“Sorry! It just slipped out! Not even Beel can eat It, though!” 

You couldn’t help but put your head in your hands and laugh, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. And the worst part? You knew Solomon was aware how awful his cooking was. He just didn’t care. 

“I’m sorry, Solomon, but he’s right. I think there’s a 50/50 chance that you either die or become immortal when someone eats your cooking” You gave the sorcerer a playful glance, who winked in return.  

♥ 

Apparently Simeon gets the most motivation in the mornings. 

He invited you to shoot some ideas back and forth for one of his up-and-coming books. This mostly consisted of you attempting to teach him how the hell to run the “word” program on his computer, which he so kindly got from one of Leviathan’s suggestions. 

He’s still amazed that it turns on. 

But imagine his fucking shock when you boot up Microsoft word. His eyes go wide and he started exploring all of the options. 

Every single one of them. 

He knew what a lot of them were, the font options, alignment, things like that, but what the hell are ‘wingdings? 

“Simeon, those are pretty much colorless emojis but for a Microsoft word document, you don’t need those to write. Those are for like, flyers, and pamphlets, y’know?” You pointed back to the ‘home’ tab, but he stayed on the ‘insert’ tab. 

“How do I get these on my D.D.D? I haven’t seen these emojis on my phone.” He began to browse through them, littering his document with hearts, cartoon spider webs, smiley faces, everything under the sun. 

“You can’t, Simeon, I’ll show you those later, let’s just start with the ideas.” You put your hand over his, directing him back to the ‘home’ tab. His shoulders slumped a little, yet he nodded. “You’re right, I need to actually start.”  

For a while, the two of you just snacked and had drinks while he bounced different novel ideas off you, listening to your opinions on different plot ideas. 

Eventually, he pulled out a notebook and laid his head in your lap, tapping a pen against his lips. “Now, what are some good side character names? I’m running low on names I haven’t used before.” He clicked the pen against his temple, scribbling on the corner of the page to make sure it worked.  

“How about... Elyssa?” 

“Oh, that’s a good one! Like... a high elven princess, I can see her being this regal figure, morally grey.” He kicked one leg onto the other, humming softly as he jotted the name down.  

“Harris.” 

“I’ve used that one before.” 

“Uh... Astrophel!” 

“That one, too.” 

“Vivian” 

“Okay, okay, that’s good, I don’t have any ideas for her, but I’m sure some will come eventually.” 

“Ezra.” 

“I like that!” 

This went on for who knows how long. Sometimes he would just set his notebook down while you idly raked your hands through his hair, trying to think of more names after you ran out. 

♥ 

Next was baking with Luke, apparently, Barbatos had “assigned” him lemon meringue cookies, and Luke would be damned if he failed an assignment from one of his mentors.  

He pulled out four eggs, turning to glance at you. “Do you know how to separate the whites from the yolks?” 

“yeah-” 

“Do NOT separate them with your fingers! Because if you do, the oils from your fingers-” he wiggled his fingers in the air “-will keep the proteins from whipping up in the egg whites! Because fat keeps things from whipping up unless it is fat based. That’s why we wiped the mixing bowl with lemon, because it’s acidic, and cuts away any remaining fat in the bowl!” 

You were vaguely aware of this, but hey, why not let the kid have his fun being smarter than you? 

“Yes, Sir Luke!” You saluted, taking the eggs delicately in your hands. “And I’ll make sure to crack them in a separate bowl so I don’t get any shells in them, either.” You assured, pulling out another, smaller, bowl. You cracked them over the sink, saving the yolk for later and putting the egg white into the other bowl.  

“I’ll get started on the syrup.” You heard Luke working on the stove behind you, humming a soft little tune to himself as he focused. You appraised the egg whites, carefully placing them into the mixing bowl after you picked out any shells remaining. “What now?” 

“Start the mixer on medium, and add in this when it gets foamy, catch!” he tossed you a small plastic container of a white, powdery, substance. ‘Cream of tartar’, the label read.  

“How much do I put in?”  

“Only a teeny tiny bit, ¼th of a teaspoon, there should be a spoon for it inside the 1/2th.” 

“Roger that.” You did as told, deciding to muse the kid “so, what’s this for?” 

“Oh, cream of tartar is to stabilize the egg whites! After a certain point, egg whites can get too whipped and deflate! So, when you add...” you tuned him out as you eyed the egg whites, watching them get foamy, then as they grew in volume. 

“It’s awesome you know all of this, Luke, it’s really impressive.” You turned back to glance at him, to see his face bright red.  

“You think so, MC?... I don’t know what to say...” He stared at his shows. “Thank you, it means a lot that you think I’m smart, and not just some dumb little kid.” 

“Of course, I don’t think you’re just some dumb kid, Luke. You’re in direct contact with Michael, after all. I know he’d only ever choose the best angels to help him.” You ruffled his hair. “I like how you appreciate the little things, like how you really like Simeon’s pancakes, and how you won’t say it, but you actually don’t mind demons. They’re nicer than you thought, huh?”  

“...Yeah. They are. I like Beel. He's scary sometimes, but I know he cares about his family, kind of like how I care about you and Simeon. I think of you all as family.” He sniveled, looking up at you and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, quivering smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the best family I could ask for.” 

Who knew an angel with such a sweet tooth could be sweeter than what he bakes? 

After calming Luke back down, which apparently, he’s a happy crier sometimes, the two of you got back to work. 

He picked up the boiling pot of sugar syrup and you helped slowly pour it in while the egg whites were still mixing. “It won’t scramble, don’t worry!” he stated proudly as he drizzled in more of the syrup. 

Slowly, the egg whites in the bowl became stiffer and glossier until the entirety of the syrup was in the mixer. Then, you both added yellow food coloring and lemon extract.  

The oven, preheated to 225 degrees Fahrenheit, or 80 degrees Celsius, was then ready for the freshly piped meringue, in perfect, crimped peaks.  

They turned out amazing after a few hours, the lemon flavor bursting through the foamy sugar like a delightfully sour surprise. 

♥ 

Lastly, you decided to join Solomon in his room to study, which was fun, to say the least.  

He knows how to have fun while also keeping you engaged, playfully casting harmless spells on you, having you taste-test potions with short-term effects. 

“Now, add the chopped bits of the poison fire coral to the cauldron. That’s right, good.” He guided your hand with the scoop toward the cauldron, directing you carefully.  

“Is it supposed to do that?” The liquid inside the pot began to spurt and sparkle, sending little bits of flame flying toward you both. He didn’t flinch as they landed on his bare skin, dissipating instantly.  

“Perfectly normal, just stay calm.” he checked his watch, seemingly counting the seconds. 

“and... twelve! See, it stopped!” He gestured to the cauldron, which did indeed, cease with the whole ‘spewing fire’ thing.  

“Now, try it.” He dipped a glass spoon into the shiny, bright red, liquid, holding it close to your lips. It burned your nose lightly when you sniffed it, not really having a smell, just kind of burning. 

“Isn’t poison fire coral deadly?” 

“Oh, very, but this potion neutralizes it. Trust me, I use it all the time.”  

Hesitantly, you sipped the smooth, slightly thick, potion from the spoon. It sent shooting pain down your throat, as if a million fire and were crawling up and down your innards. “Oh, my gods, that hurts!” 

“Just wait a second.” 

Sure enough, the pain went away as soon as it came. “What did that even do besides hurt me?” 

“Blow me.”  

“WHAT? SOLOMON!” 

“No, I mean like, blow air at me!”  

You let out a puff of air through your lips. A bright reddish orange flame spewed from your delicate lips, reaching out to lick his cheek, like the hand of a deadly yet seductive mistress. The fire caressed his skin lightly, not daring to light his hair aflame. In fact, he seemed unphased by it, as if it wasn’t warm whatsoever.  

“I can breathe fire?!” 

“Kind of. Try to blow on your hand.” He instructed. 

You did as he said, noticing that the flame felt slightly cool, an exact parallel of what you’d felt in your throat moments earlier.  

“It only lasts for a little bit, only about 30 minutes. I have an antidote, if you’d like one.”  

“As long as it can’t catch anything on fire, I’m fine with having this for 30 minutes, count me in!” As you excitedly talk, little bursts of flame expelled from your lips, wisping past your hair.  

He chuckled, leaning on his arm. “You know...” he shook his head “I quit befriending mortals because so many of them die whenever you’re super close to them. Yet oddly enough, I can’t stop myself from being close to you. You’re like trying to resist... gee, I’ll say, you’re like trying to resist sin itself. But I’d say you’re the best sin out there.” He stared into your eyes. “Damn you for being a human. I might just have to turn you immortal with me.” 

♥ 

Back at the house, before you’d woken up, Mammon ran to Lucifer, freaking the hell out, waving your note in his hand like a madman. “MC!... Lucifer, bro, it’s MC, th-they ran away, a-and... they said they ran away but I don’t believe it because why the hell do they need to run away they just said that needed to go to Purgatory Hall for a break but why wouldn’t they just tell us?! And Lucifer we’ve gotta go lookin’ for them becasue only dad knows where the hell they are now! What if someone just wrote like them? There are a lotta people in the Devildom who would kill to hurt or take them and I’m worried and...” He sucked in a breath of air, choking on his sobs. 

Lucifer furrowed his brows, snatching the note from Mammon, going over the note a few times. “I’m calling a family meeting to see if anybody knows about this. We will contact Lord Diavolo if there is reason, but we don’t have suspicion to believe that they were captured. Here, seem like you need it.” Lucifer offered Mammon a sip of his water, who just shook his head. 

Dammit, why was he so bothered by this? Why did it rub him the wrong way? Was he sick in the head or something for assuming that was where you’d gone? Or was it a normal reaction? Either way, he just... he had to know you were safe. Regardless of if you probably were, as your first man, it’s his duty to know you’re safe. 

Everyone gathered in the living room, half worried sick, the other half of the brothers not really surprised at all.  

“First order of business.” Lucifer folded his hands neatly on his lap. “I did hear MC awake last night, they walked out of their room, I know that. I heard them. But I need to know if any of you saw them leave, and if they were alone.” 

All of the brothers stayed silent and still, all but Belphie, who quietly raised his hand. “I saw them leave.” 

“And you didn’t stop them?! What if they get hurt?!” Mammon exclaimed, “are ya crazy?!” 

Belphie shook his head “no, I didn’t stop them. They were checking their phone when I saw them. I was trying to get Beel back to our room. I saw one of Lord Diavolo’s cars out the window. I think they’re fine. They had a bag and everything. I really do think they just got overwhelmed.” He curled up on the sofa like a cat, laying his head on his arms. 

“Oh.” Mammon stopped having what appeared to be a heart attack, shiveling as he wiped up his tears. “Well... so... they’re fine? I was worryin’ over nothin’?” 

Nobody responded to him as Lucifer drew his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call Lord Diavolo just to double check, but thank you, Belphie.”  

“yeah.” 

Lucifer dialed up Diavolo, who answered right away. “Hello, Lord Diavolo? You’re on speaker. My brothers and I would like to know if you had a car pick up MC last night.” 

The demon prince’s giggle came clear through the phone, a failed attempt at stifling his glee “I won’t tell, Lucifer. I’ve been sworn to secrecy~” 

“So, I’m guessing that’s a yes?” Lucifer rubbed his temples with a quiet yet exasperated sigh. 

“...You see right through me, Lucifer! Yes, you’ve caught me.” He pouted. 

“Understood, I will inform my brothers to not contact MC until further notice, thank you for the explanation, have a nice day. Goodbye.”  

“...So, they’re fine.” Mammon put a hand on his chest, taking a deep breath. “Okay then. I don’t, how will I keep myself entertained?” 

“Figure it out yourself, I’m taking a nice long nap with a body pillow.” 

“I think I’m gonna go to Hell’s kitchen. 

“I’m taking a self care day!” 

“I’ll update MC on the book I’m reading when they return.” 

“I’ll get some good manga for MC to read when they get back!” 

“...I might go to the casino.” 

“Mammon, I will string you up if you dare go within 500 feet of a facility that inhibits gambling.” 

[dear-departed]

Three weeks

Short little drabble, I hope you enjoy this as much as I didn't. Love you though, don't have fun <3

Lesson 16 spoilers ahead (warnings below cut for people who don't want the spoilers)

Warnings: Angst. Heavy angst. Angry Satan, delusions, grief, timeline where MC is super dead, all caps because this is a drabble and not a fic and I wrote this at 6 in the morning and could give less of a shit about grammar or whatever

Brief: Mammon convinces himself that MC is alive and it causes drama

Word count: 1.2K

Three weeks since MC’s death. 

Three weeks since the youngest of the demon brothers strangled MC to death. Since Mammon saw his human’s corpse laying on the floor, their throat mangled with claw marks marring their beautiful skin. Belphie’s tail had left harsh lines on their legs, and the blood coating his youngest brother’s fingers were telling of the pain they’d endured before they’d died. 

Belphegor. The same, sweet, sleepy, brother, he’d taken to the amusement park with Beelzebub all those years ago. The same brother who innocently fell asleep in his soup every other night at dinner. Who he watched grow up. 

MC. The same human who arrived in the Devildom from an exchange student program that Diavolo had arranged. The human who won his heart the first few days they were there, who made a pact with him. He was their first man.  

His heart was crushed. He wanted to blame anyone else but Belphie, but anger overwhelmed him. How dare he rip MC from his grasp?  

Every morning he woke up expecting them to respond to something from the silly little house of Lamentation group chat. He would burst into their room to see nothing. Their bed still messy from the last morning they’d woken up from.  

To help with the hole in his heart, he began to impersonate them, he made a group chat with himself, using a spare phone and creating another contact with their name. He would talk back and forth with himself while crying, trying to think of how they would respond to certain things.  

What he would give to have them of all people call him stupid again. 

Eventually, though, things began to return to normal for him. Everyone else still grieved, Belphegor was still locked in the dungeon, everyone was depressed, but he started to seem happier, as if nothing had ever happened.  

All of the brothers had taken at little time off from school, absolutely devastated after what had happened, so everyone just stayed in their room most of the day aside from meal time. 

It was breakfast one morning, not a word was spoken as everybody picked at their food, even Beel was less ferocious than usual.  

None of them could ignore the fact that Mammon was filling up a second plate. He was pouring another glass of MC’s favorite juice. He set it at the place beside himself, humming softly as he ate a little bit of egg. 

Lucifer raised a brow, sipping on a hot cup of coffee. “Hungry today, Mammon?” 

“Yep!” He ignored Lucifer’s implication. 

“Mammon, move your other plate.” Leviathan had emerged from his room, the circles and bags beneath his eyes darker than normal.  

“Get your own spot! MC’s gonna sit here!” Mammon huffed. “Damn otaku, you don’t get to boss me around.” He grumbled, stuffing another forkful of food into his mouth.  

The room went dead silent. Nobody took another bite aside from Mammon, all of them just staring at him in sad astonishment. 

Asmo’s lip quivered as he looked away, the sound of their name scraping against his ear drums like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Mammon. Just move it.” Levi sighed, his heart heavy in his chest as he tried not to think of them, of their last moments together.  

“No!” He snapped, forcefully putting his silverware down. “I’m sick of you all acting like MC doesn’t exist! How many damn times do I gotta tell you all?! They’re tired, they said they’ll be down in a minute!”  

Lucifer couldn’t help but notice the white-knuckle grip Satan had on his fork, his hand shaking, jittering the table space around him, his glass of milk sloshing around in its cup.  

The first born shook his head, glaring at Mammon. “Mammon, be quiet!” he scolded. 

“Like you’re one to talk! You never knock to check up on them! They’d probably appreciate it if you at least acted like you care! -”  

The Avatar of Greed was cut off by Satan, whose snout was wrinkled into an ugly sneer. He stabbed his fork into the table, standing to his feet and knocking his chair over. Angry tears flowed from his eyes, his face red. “MAMMON YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He screamed, his other hand gripping the table so hard his nails left marks in it.  

“You get their name out of your lying-” he put one foot on the table, standing on top of it. “-Dirty-” he took a step closer, stomping on a plate of waffles “-slimy-” another step “-disgusting-” he tipped over a pitcher of juice with his foot, spilling it over Asmo’s lap, who broke out into sobs “-unworthy mouth!” He hopped off the edge of the table, now standing menacingly a few feet away from Mammon, who remained in his seat. 

The second born said nothing. 

“So now you’re playing the quiet game because I’m angry, hm?” Satan seethed out. He saw nothing but red, his whole body hot with rage.  

“...No... I just don’t get why you all don’t like them so much! They’re nice when you get to know ‘em!” He stood up, taking a few hesitated steps backward.  

“Are you crazy?! MC’s dead! They’re just fucking dead! And you need to stop living in your own goddamned dream land and wake the hell up and smell the roses!” Satan stalked toward him. 

“Satan.” Beelzebub stood up, a sad look in his eyes. He knew when it came down to it, he would have to restrain the middle child, but he wasn’t up to it, especially not today.  

Both brothers were already in their demon form, a low growl emitting from Satan’s throat. “Shut up, Beel.” 

“Satan.” Beel repeated, now shifting into his demon form. 

“Don’t ‘Satan’ me! How do we know you don’t think like him? Like that excuse for an avatar?!” The blonde whirled around to glower at the glutton. “How do we know you didn’t help him? What If you wanted them dead all along, too?” 

“Don’t talk about Belphie like that. He was just...” 

“HE WAS JUST WHAT, BEEL?” Satan’s voice shook as he screamed. “JUST A MONSTER? JUST... JUST A DUMBASS WHO KNOWS NO BOUNDS?!” 

“I SAID DON’T TALK ABOUT MY BROTHER LIKE THAT!” Beel was now shouting back, his deep voice booming, the pain obvious as his tone was uneven.  

“You threatened to kill them when you and Lucifer swapped bodies, Satan!” Asmo sobbed “don’t at like you’re so perfect!” 

“Yes, Asmo. I did threaten to kill them. But I didn’t actually strangle them! I didn’t look at them and go ‘I should strangle this person who has done nothing but help me’. MC helped Belphegor and that heathen responded to them with nothing but violence!” 

“THAT’S ENOUGH! All of you, settle down! Mammon, MC is gone, there is nothing we can do about it!” Lucifer unleashed his demon form, his silky black wings unfurling behind him. 

“AND YOU! NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE FUCKING HAPPENED IF YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE THE WORST TIME TO PUT US OVER DIAVOLO! Of all of the times, we needed you, Lucifer! All the shit you’ve kept from us, all for Diavolo, you decide to lie to us through your stupid teeth just to try and protect Belphie?! And you both chose to house MC here when you knew there was a homicidal maniac in the attic?!”  

[dear-departed]

Sweet heat (Lucifer)

Because y'all liked the previous smut with Beel, I thought I would do myself the ultimate self-service and make smut of Lucifer (aka my fav brother) so you're welcome, hope you enjoyed writing this as much as I did.

Warnings: Smut, obviously, wax play, ice play, overstimulation(?), MC sheds a few tears, talk of safewords, but none are used, Lucifer being a sadist, but not letting his sadism show a whole lot, also aftercare, MC is afab but no pronouns are mentioned

Word count: 3.4k

Lucifer does not do things recklessly, no, he plans everything down, and the same applies to your sex life. He’s not opposed to short sessions, designed to relieve both you and him of any pent-up stress. That being said, though, he would do just about anything to have you to himself all night, hours on end, drawing endless streams of pleasure from deep within you with his magic touch. 

On nights where he has the pleasure to be with you during his free time, he prefers to go over every little nitty gritty detail before the two of you start. Your aftercare preferences, safe word, and how you would like him to talk to you.  

“Safe word, are we still using umbrella for immediate stop and blue for ease up?” He asked, idly lighting up a candle and placing it on a shelf near the bed, adding to the ambient and romantic orangish-red glow to the room. After that, he adjusted the horn of demonus and the bottle of wine in the bucket of ice on the bedside tables, shifting them deeper into the ice cubes.  

“Yes, that sounds good.” You squirmed in your seat, currently sitting crisscross on Lucifer’s large and plush bed. At this point, you’d actually started to not mind the skeleton in his room. After all, it was kind of like having a mini audience, one that wouldn’t judge you. You must admit, though, it definitely was freaky the first time you saw it.  

“Tell me if I say something wrong to you, understand?” He sat across from you once more, gauging your expression. 

“Of course, Lucifer, and you’ll tell me the same?”  

“Yes.” He scooted a little closer, sitting up on his knees and leaning in. Softly, he cupped your cheek in his hand, pulling you into a tender kiss; soft sparks of passion snapping just beneath the surface of his façade. He rested his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down onto the mattress, slowly allowing his palms to slide down your body, admiring every curve that lay under your clothes. He lovingly played with the hem of your shirt, looking up to meet your flustered expression.  

“Look at me, dear. Hold my gaze with those eyes of yours.” He commanded. He maintained eye contact with you as he scooted back a little, his face hovering between the waistband of your pants and your shirt. “May I proceed, Dove?”  

You eagerly nodded, gnawing on your lower lip. 

“Ah, but I need to hear your voice before I can continue. Won’t you talk to me?” A seductive smirk played at the corner of his mouth, his narrow eyes glaring holes into your very being. 

“Yes, Lucifer! Dammit, keep going!” With anxiety building up in your mind and the pounding of your heart, you were eager to get out of these hot clothes and into his arms instead.  

“My, my. How positively enthusiastic, MC.” He let out a breathy laugh. He slid one hand up your shirt and around to your back, cupping the curve of your spine as he lifted you up off the mattress just a tad so that he could pull that bothersome shirt from your body. He cast it aside to the floor the bed, making quick work of your bra, tossing it in the same spot as your shirt. He wanted to keep going, to take your pants and underwear off and admire you in your full glory, but his restraint fled him as he stared down at you, topless and at his mercy. 

He kissed around the waistband of your pants, running his slightly cool tongue along the center of your stomach, transitioning to soft kisses when he reached the valley between your breasts. His nimble fingers rubbed against your waist, following the curve of your back as he slid them further down. He nipped and suckled on your clavicle while he slid your pants and underwear together off your hips. Once he got them down far enough, he hooked them with his foot and pulled them the rest of the way down, kicking them off behind him. 

“Such perfection, infallible and...” He pressed his lips into where your jaw and neck met, finishing his sentence in the form of a soft murmur against your plush skin. “...And all mine...” He breathed softly at the sensitive skin at the front of your throat, sending chills running up your spine. 

“Lucifer...” You whined out softly, eyeing at the buttons on his shirt, “I can’t help but notice you’re still fully clothed, don’t you think you should change that?” 

“Not yet, Love. You’re wearing my resolve quite thin, don’t tempt me to rush things.” He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, his gaze lingering on your eyes for a few seconds.  

He rubbed his hands together, popping his knuckles and his wrists, shaking them out briefly after. He rolled the sleeves on his simple button-down black shirt up to elbows, moving to sit on his knees beside you. He dragged two of his fingers down from your belly button and down to your vulva, spreading your labia apart, robbing both of his fingers in between the folds.  

He brushed his index finger with feather-light pressure over your clit. Which at this point, the little bit of contact left your hips bucking a little, thighs jolting inward.  

He smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he soaked in your reaction. “I see I’m doing a good job, hm?” He eased his middle finger into your entrance, his eyes trained on your face and his ears listening closely to your sweet sounds. He slid his thumb upward, rubbing against your clit as he moved his middle finger around in slow, circular motions. 

He continued this for a minute or two before sliding in his ring finger. “Is this alright?” He asked, still caressing your swollen clit with his thumb.  

Seeing you eagerly not, your eyes bugging out as you bucked your hips up into his hand made his stomach do flips, something about seeing you so eager to feel his touch had him sweating. 

Inside of you, his hand was beckoning you toward in in a ‘come here’ motion. He used his unoccupied hand to gently apply pressure between your pelvis and belly button, pressing down firmly, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Just enough to max out the growing knot in your abdomen. 

He felt you twitch, your muscles contracting and clenching around his two fingers. His thumb rubbed just a little faster, speeding up until your legs began to tremble, obscenities and incoherent screams of his name fell from your lips. Your legs instinctively tried to shut, your whole body shaking. He used one of his legs to gently pull your leg closer to him, keeping your legs spread.  

He kept exactly at that pace until he could feel the twitching around his fingers come to a stop, your breathing slowing down and becoming heavier. “You got off that much from just my hands? I’m flattered MC, but that simply isn’t the main course.” His thumb slowed, never coming to a complete stop.  

Your broken gasps and trained screams were music to his ears. “L-Luci... Lucifer! Lucifer! So much-!” He laughed, thunderous and taunting, as he leaned in toward your face, his hand leaving your stomach and coming to gently rest on your face. His breath was damp and cool against your ear, his deep voice dropping to but a whisper. “I know you can take a little more. You can handle it, I know you can.” He let out an incomprehensible noise, something between words, a grumble, and a purr. He grabbed ahold of your hand, which had been white-knuckling the sheets without even realizing. He brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles. He then dropped your hand, allowing you to grab ahold of his still-clothed thigh.  

“Is that alright, darling?” He stared down at your face, the look of pure love and admiration clouding over his lusted expression.  

“Yes!” As torturous this much pleasure at one time felt like, your entire body craved it, you knew that no matter how damp your eyes became, they wouldn’t be tears of sadness with Lucifer, as he was far from disappointing in bed.  

There’s something different between love you’ve ever experienced and love from the Avatar of Pride.  

He started his same song and dance, going at the exact same pace that pushed you over the edge the last time. It worked just as a charm as it had before, but faster. He had you thrashing and screaming just from the lightest touch, warm tears of pure ecstasy dripping from the sides of your face and onto the pillow your head was on. He pulled his fingers out, looking at your flushed face, your eyes that were fuzzy and not quite focused on anything, the way your tongue was lolled out of your mouth, your chest heaving as you took deep breaths. 

He gently stroked your head “you looked so irresistible like this... how about we do something else while you take a nice, relaxing, break from that?” He smiled, yet it was far from innocent. 

He kissed your forehead, standing up off the bed. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.” As if you would, what a joke. 

He waltzed into his closet with an unfamiliar pep in his step. You heard the heavy clunking of metal, which could only be identified as the Mammon-proof safe he kept in his closet. He emerged a few minutes later, holding a small cardboard box of different candles, marked specifically as “unscented, skin-safe candles”. 

Damn well now you’ve got me interested 

You watched as he sat on the edge of the bed, opening the box and pulling out three candles. A white candle, a red candle, and an ultramarine one. “May I?” He mimed out dipping the candle over your body, nodding his head over toward the lighter on his bedside table.  

“Yes...” Your throat went dry, excitement building up in your stomach again.  

He reached for the lighter, setting it beside himself. “Which color?” He fanned out the three colors in his hand.  

“Um, blue. Yeah, let’s go with blue.”  

“Good choice.” he lit the candle, holding it out to you. “Hold this for a moment, please.” You did as he said, watching him unbutton his shirt and slide it off his shoulders. He rolled his shoulders in circles, popping his neck with his hands as he took the candle once more. He appraised your body with his eyes, skimming his eyes across your exposed skin, waiting for the wax to melt a little more.  

He stuck his wrist out and dripped a little onto the underside, just below his palm, squinting a little. “Hold out your wrist, I don’t think testing on my skin is accurate. It doesn’t feel that hot, though.” 

You did just that, sticking out the underside of your wrist. He tipped the candle over your skin, watching as the dark blue wax fell upon your skin. It was just enough to provide a subtle sting, but not much else.  

“Is that alright?” He made eye contact with you, your face morphing to one of pure desperation. You eagerly nodded, responding with yet another “yes”. 

He did another experimental drip of wax onto your thigh, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw you jerk your head back, whimpering softly. “That’s perfect!” In all honesty, you weren’t expecting the burning sensation to feel so... sweet. It both relaxed you and kept you more on edge. 

He dripped a little more on both of your thighs, eventually moving his other hand to toy with your clit again. Dexterous hands working wonders between your legs as he continues to drip hot wax onto your thighs.  

Slowly, he moved up, dripping a little bit just below your stomach, his gaze held captive with the way your hips bucked up, causing the wax to encroach onto the sensitive flesh of your stomach. The smell of the other candles burning in the room perfumed the air, clouding your brain with the smell of jasmine and lavender, the gentle undertones of citrus sneaking up on your senses. 

He let out a soft groan, something about watching the way your body move was intoxicating to him, his ironclad restraint slipping through the same fingers that were buried inside you.  

He drew his fingers out from the space between your thighs, skillfully unbuttoning his pants with one hand, tugging down his underwear just enough to free his excited length. He quickly returned his hand to its previous place, as if drawn to it.  

“I never thought I would get to see you like this, all vulnerable for me. he dripped more wax onto your abdomen, fully aware that you were only half-listening to his words. He didn’t expect you to understand fully, with the state you were in, but he continued to speak regardless. “Humans are thought to be easily intimidated, and perhaps some are. But I’ve tried countless times to get you to submit to me by demonstrating my power, and yet you hardly ever faltered. Being with you has taught me that persuading and treating you or those below me with respect gets me further. After all, coaxing you to open up to me got me an amazing friend, yet an even better lover. And for that-” he leaned down, planting a passionate kiss on your lips, which were still agape.  

He savored the warm puff of air in the form of a moan that escaped your mouth. The gentle buzzing of your lips against his made his heart flutter in his chest.  

All of this, his words that barely registered through your mind, his lips against yours, the burning of the wax; it sent another orgasm racking your body, your thighs trembling in its wake.  

He continued, letting you ride it out on his hand. He had you seeing nothing but white, but also stars, all at the same time. He rubbed his index finger and thumb together, using your arousal to pinch out the flame of the candle, dripping the remainder of the melted wax onto your chest.  

“Are you alright?” He set the candle onto the bedside table. 

Your chest heaved as you breathed in heavily, the wax slowly cooling down and crackling on your skin. “Y-yes...” he immediately got to work on peeling the wax off your body, using a small mahogany scraper to get the smaller pieces off.  

Once he got all of the wax into a little pile on the bedside, he smirked a little. “I have something that will cool you off a little, if you don’t mind.”  

“Yes, please.” Your breathing began to regulate as you laid there, the sheets wrinkled where your hands were holding onto them.  

“Understood.” he reached behind him, withdrawing one of the cubes of ice from the bucket that held the demonus and wine. He held it up proudly, watching as a bead of liquid fell from his hand as it melted in his grasp. He looked at your closed eyes, letting out a breathy laugh as he placed the ice on your thighs, reveling in the sharp gasp that you let out.  

“It feels nice, does it not?” He dragged the ice around your skin, slowly working his way up to your chest. He delicately circled it around your areola, admiring the goosebumps that began to litter your skin.  

“S-so cold...” You groaned out, gripping the sheets again.  

“Of course, it is, Dove, it’s frozen.”  

He continued his cold torture until the ice melted, grazing his eyes over the little droplets of water on your skin, your hair standing on end.  

“Now then.” He flicked the water off his hands and onto your shivering body, shifting to position himself between your legs. He rubbed himself up and down your folds, coating the head in your arousal. And with that, he pushed it in, throwing his head back and letting out a throaty groan as you sucked him in.  

Hypersensitive from the last two orgasms, you began to twitch and tremble right off the bat, even as he stood still. He grabbed ahold of your legs and leaned down, coaxing them over his shoulders. The angle at which was positioned made you emit a whine from your throat. He took both of your hands in his, beginning to thrust as he intertwined fingers with you, pressing your arms down onto the mattress.  

He ducked down further to press his lips against yours, the loud sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, overpowering the sound of both you and Lucifer’s moans and groans. He let out a muffled grunt into your mouth, pulling away to ravage your neck again, the deep red marks from before were sure to result in dark purplish green hickeys, but he was prepared for that.  

Who would the avatar of pride be if he weren’t prepared for absolutely anything and everything?  

Your orgasm creeped up faster this time, once again making you shake and convulse with pure, unrestrained pleasure.  

“Good...” He muttered against your skin. “Just hold it out a little longer, I’m closer...”  

With a few more powerful thrusts that were perhaps a little rougher than they needed to be, he pulled out, your legs still resting on his shoulders as he released onto your stomach.  

He panted softly, slowly releasing your hands from his grasp. “I’ll get us both cleaned up just... give me a minute.” He then let out a satisfied sigh, feasting on your body, his masterpiece; with his eyes, soaking up every aspect of you. The sweat lining your forehead, the little bit of drool seeping out of the corner of your mouth, your scarlet red neck, the white lines on your stomach, the small crumbs of leftover wax still sticking to your skin.  

He moved from sitting on his knees to his butt, placing a loving hand on your thigh and gently rubbing at your slightly red flesh, shocked from both the heat of the wax and the chilling coldness of the ice.  

He sent you a drowsy smile, one that makes your heart melt. He was always so much more vulnerable, so much rawer after sex.  

After a few minutes, he clambered off the bed and picked you up with ease, carrying you off to his bathroom. He nudged open the door with his hip and set you on the counter, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he waltzed over to the tub. He turned on the water, grabbing a washcloth and dunking it in the cold water. He came back over to you, gently wiping off the white liquid from your stomach with the washcloth.  

“I know it’s cold, but it will come off easier this way.” he whispered to you, making quick work of cleaning you off.  

Once he was sure the water was heated up enough and the bath was filled, he picked you back up and set you on the edge of the tub. “Care to get in?” 

You brushed your fingers across the thick bubbles on top. Does... 

Does Lucifer own bubble bath?... 

The Avatar of Pride takes bubble baths 

Amazing.  

You slid into the warm water, letting it work its magic against your tense muscles. The bubbles reached your chin, and smelled very faintly of lavender and roses.  

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to put out the candles, Love.” He left the room, leaving you to your thoughts briefly.  

What did you do to deserve him? To deserve being treated like royalty from someone you assumed hated you from the very beginning? 

He came back, wasting no time getting into the bath with you, which was more than big enough to hold two people. He scooted up closer to you, slumping against the edge of the tub.  

Lucifer kissed your cheek, sighing softly in your ear, the taste of salt strong on his lips.  

“I love you, Lucifer, Avatar of Pride.” 

“I know.” 

He laughed, the noise vibrating deep from within his chest. A true, hearty, laugh, that was a rare sound from him, even between the two of you. “And I love you, too.” 

[that-house]

feelin' this one today lads

[dear-departed]

#hope you're hungry #bc all the stuff I write is somewhat akin to myself #next up? Maybe MC who is an absolute doormat

[dear-departed]

The brothers with MC during a breakdown

Well, this was fun to write. I'm kind of bummed, and I might go back and revise some sections because I started to get more comfortable with the prompt but by then I was already at Satan's section. I hope you enjoy it despite that :)

I also got carried away and got to 1k just in Lucifer's part, so I was just destined to make it almost an even 1k for every brother.

Also, the breakdowns are based on how I feel a lot of the time but also the MC for each character has a breakdown in a way that the brothers would be like, used to, as to relate with them better.

Warnings: Emotional, lots of crying, a bit of snot, we're talking about ugly crying, here, anger/MC fights a pillow, body image issues, mentions of insomnia, the attic incident (lesson 16), swearing, MC pulls at their hair sometimes

Word count: 7.1k

Lucifer ♥ 

Contrary to popular belief, Lucifer isn’t a stranger to breaking down. He never lets anyone see him, but there are definitely some nights where he, just like the rest of us, feel like everything is just too much.  

However, I never said he knows how to deal with other people breaking down. He’s seen Mammon and the other brothers have their bad days, but it feels different when it’s his brothers. 

When you came back to the house after a long day at RAD, things were already taking a nosedive to rock bottom. You could feel yourself slipping over the week, preparing yourself for the eventual drop that was bound to creep up on you, and today was definitely the day, you could just feel it. 

And it certainly was, as soon as you got to your room, you just collapsed onto the floor, letting out a strained sigh. You really couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was that made you feel this way, it felt like it was everything and nothing all at the same time.  

After a few minutes of just... sitting there, and thinking over the day’s events, you scooped yourself off the floor and groggily pulled out your headphones and your laptop, trying to focus on your work and the music blasting in your ears instead of that dreadful feeling in your chest.  

After what felt like hours, you looked at the still blank document on screen. 

You pulled your hands away from the keyboard, your eyes glazing over as you zoned out. After a few minutes of not blinking, your eyes began to water, first from the dryness, then the emotions came, hitting you all at once like an awful, gloomy, freight train. 

You took your headphones off and turned in your desk chair, moving to sit on the floor, maybe in a hope to feel more stable, maybe because suddenly your body felt too hot, you really couldn’t tell. 

A firm knock came at your door as dears dribbled down your face, your lips pursed and features scrunched up as you stared at the ground, a mixture of familiar sadness and emptiness tugging at your heart.  

“MC, it’s Lucifer. It’s Leviathan’s turn to cook and he was wondering if you preferred-” 

You choked down the need to wail, to scream, instead, opting for quiet breathing and sniffles. 

“...MC. Are you doing alright?” He placed his hand on the doorknob, waiting for a response. 

Shit. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a broken and crackled murmur. 

“MC. May I come in?” It really wasn’t a question, as cracked the door, peering in and spotting you on the floor. 

He slipped inside your room, quickly shutting the door behind him. He thought over his words a few times, shuffling a little closer and kneeling beside you. “Did something happen at RAD?” 

Trembling, you hurriedly tried to wipe the warm, salty, tears dripping down your cheeks, lining your face with thin red streaks. “N-No I just...” You croaked out, shaking your head “I don’t... I just- I don’t know.” You don’t know, mumbling words that half-made sense in Lucifer’s mind. Part of you wanted desperately to rip away from him, the other part of you wanted to pull him closer and sob into his chest.  

“...Everyone feels like this sometimes, MC. How do you typically deal with this?” Typically, the avatar of pride is very straight forward and well, prideful, with his actions, but this time, he slowly and unsurely placed a hand on your back, gently rubbing between your shoulder blades.  

“I usually just... curl up and hide and don’t tell anyone. And then not telling anyone makes me feel lonelier and... and- a-a... sorry. And the lonelier I feel the worse I feel and then the same shit happens and I’m... I-I'm just so tired of ignoring it and I’m tired of being so damn tired all the time and-” 

Never in the time he’s been alive did he think he could feel so connected to a human, just by them describing how they felt when they had breakdowns.  

“MC... it’s never good to bottle up your emotions...” 

Fucking hypocrite 

Leviathan never did find out what you preferred. And Lucifer never came out of your room. On nights he felt the way you did, he would typically invite Diavolo to drink, or he would distract himself with work, but something about being around you while you’re so vulnerable made him want to let you see his emotional side, too. The two of you talked some, you sat in silence for a while. Not the uncomfortable silence that felt louder than it was quiet most often felt with Lucifer, no, this was a comfortable, warm quiet that both of you mutually agreed was perfectly alright.  

He actually fell asleep at some point. Yes, it was on the floor beside your bed, given that you had fallen asleep before him and he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with you, if you were fine with him sharing the bed with you. And yes, his face did get very itchy from the carpet beside your bed, and the hard floor wasn’t very kind on his back, but regardless, it might’ve been the best sleep he’s ever gotten in his life. Just being in the same room with you, hearing your soft breathing that was no longer hitched and coarse soothed his nerves. 

He’ll be damned before he ever lets you see him cry, but he would sit there and comfort you while you sobbed anytime you need it. It never occurred to him before you came to the Devildom that him and a human could have so much in common, he never thought that the mood of a human, completely chosen by fate, could have this much effect on him.  

And he never understood that the silent treatment could be so... comforting. Welcome? Warm? It was alien to him. He was under the impression that he understood more than most people, but could he stand corrected? 

Mammon ♥ 

Mammon is very familiar with emotional breakdowns; he hates people seeing him cry, though. He might cry and whine to get his way, occasionally, but that is far different from his full-on, shoulder-gripping, snotty, sobbing.  

He isn’t really aware of how he should handle it when you breakdown, though.  

It all started from of course, a day at RAD. You were spontaneously called on by your teacher on a topic that you had been struggling with for a bit.  

Your throat began to tighten, all the words leaving your brain as your mouth came up dry, hands progressively getting sweatier as you gripped the edge of your uniform, opening and closing your mouth a few times as you tried to muster up the words “I don’t know” or “I need help”. 

That, paired up with everything else during the past week, just made you snap. You tried your best to keep your cool in class, zoning out on the board as your eyes watered, clouding your vision.  

As soon as you got to the house, though, your façade was up. Tears freely poured from your face as you ran to your room on light footfalls, your bag sloppily hung over your shoulder. 

Oh my god, oh my god. If anyone saw you..., would they think you overreacted? It’d be best not to find that out. 

You darted through your doorway, closing the door as you dropped your bag by your bed. You sat by the bed, back pressed firmly to the frame as you hugged your knees to your chest, hands tightly gripping your hair. 

Your head began to race, as well as pound. Was it from your death grip on your hair? How long had it even been since you’d taken a sip of water? Thoughts overlapping thoughts overlapping any sensible words.  

You heard your door burst open, Mammon excitedly holding his D.D.D “MC! Ya won’t believe it!” He sat on the edge of your bed, having yet to notice the state you’re in. “I just got a super embarrassing video of Satan meowing at- What's wrong? Ya got a headache or somethin’?” He tilted his head, sliding off the edge of your bed and moving to sit next to you, placing his D.D.D face down on the rug next to him.  

“Oh...” He stood up, moving toward your door. For a second, you panicked, thinking he would leave. But instead, he simply shut the door and approached you once more. “...What happened? What’s wrong? Who did this? If someone did this to you, I’m gonna... Did they say anything to you? They didn’t say anything to my human, did they?! Oh, you bet your pretty little ass, I’ll kick them if they did!” He scooted closer, trying to get a better look at your face. 

“No... no, I’m just... I’m just stupid.” As soon as the words left your mouth you flinched, it just felt too... compliment fishy? Something in the back of your mind began to chant “you’re faking it, stop doing it for attention” and deep down, you knew you weren’t sitting on the floor and sobbing just for attention, after all, why would you start to cry while you were alone in your room if you were? God, everything was just too loud and your collar felt too tight and you were just way too aware of the fabric touching your skin, the shoes on your feet, the taste of salt in your mouth, the lump in your throat; everything was too hot and- 

“Hey, ya aren’t stupid. Have ya seen me? And besides, we all do dumb shit, what matters is how you deal with it. How do you deal with this normally?” He turned his body toward you, unsure if he should smile to try and make you feel better or if he should stay serious. 

“I mean... sometimes I just zone out. And I ignore it. And then I act like everything’s fine. Or I use humor to cope. But mostly, I ignore it and wait it out.” You rubbed your eyes, sniffling as you reached for a tissue. 

“Well ignoring it ain’t gonna do ya any good, you idiot!” He shut himself up quickly, eyes going wide “Wait! I don’t mean you’re an idiot, you are not stupid! I call a lot of people idiots! I’m an idiot!”  

You let out a breathy laugh, which turned more into a cough. “I know you don’t mean it.” 

He huffed, shaking his head, silently celebrating the fact that he got you to laugh, at least a little. He put an arm around your waist. “Well, c’mon, MC! We’re gonna do something to make ya feel better, anythin’ ya want! Even if it is some lame hobby, I’ll join you.”  

He usually gambles his problems away, so it’s only natural for him to assume you’d want to immediately go out and do something when you’re upset. 

“Mammon...” You slumped down onto the bed when he pulled you to your feet, shaking your head. “I just want to sit here for a while. I don’t think I’m ready to go out and face anyone yet. I just want to stay here.” You murmured, still sniffling back snot (the ugly part of ugly crying, deal with it)  

“That’s okay! Then we’ll chill here, and I won’t let no one bother you! Nothin’s gonna get to you on my watch!” He huffed. “So, do you wanna watch a movie, or what?” 

Let me be clear, Mammon is not a fan of silence. Any sort of silence is like a death sentence for him.  

“Do you wanna watch Harrison Porter? I hear there’s a new movie... Levi has it recorded; we can watch it together. If ya want.” 

Obviously, you agree because hell to the yes. It helps you calm down your nerves, and eventually he gains the courage to actually hug onto you, and for a moment, it feels like all your worries melt into his body. He’s very emotional during the movie, though. He probably ends up crying at the end of it, which makes two of you, because damn was that emotional. 

He’ll then look at you, go “see?! Now I’m the one upset! We all have our off days and... even I have my bad days! It’s nothing to be ashamed of and you should always come to me! And... can I come to ya sometimes, too?”  

Crying with you had felt somewhat relaxing, getting to be this vulnerable around you- or around anyone, for that matter- was both calming and also exciting, knowing that someone he admires and loves so much goes through the same problems as he does. 

Leviathan ♥ 

At this point, Levi’s practically best friends with his mental breakdowns. They’re kind of frequent, but short. He’s the type of person that doesn’t let it all go at once, but rather lets it out a little at a time. 

He has no idea how to cheer up someone else who feels like this, though, in all honesty, he gets kind of panicky.  

Things had already been hard to start with, but now, with more student council work and piling on top of your already busy schedule, it all just felt... hopeless. You wanted to try your best, wanted to give it your all, but your all just felt impossible.  

Another long student council meeting left you aching for some kind of distraction, just something to take your mind off it all. A good book, maybe a mobile game on your D.D.D. 

That’s all you could think about as you slipped into your room and set your bag down, pulling your phone out and sitting on the bed. C’mon, distraction, distraction, distraction... 

Perfect. A cheap mobile game you’d installed maybe three days ago was sitting on the last icon of your downloads page. If you remember correctly, it was one of those mobile games that was so stupidly easy, yet all the ads played it incorrectly. 

You opened up the app and curled your knees up on the bed, zoning out on the screen as you began to play, absentmindedly beating the easy levels, interrupted by annoying ads or cheesy sound effects. 

Until you felt yourself slipping. 

No. No no no it can’t happen now...!  

You focused a little more on the game, your eyes burning from not blinking as you tried to wash away the feelings bubbling inside your chest.  

Eventually, you turned off your D.D.D and tossed it aside, throwing yourself back onto the bed and lazily covering your eyes with your sleeves. Too bright, too... too much. It was all just too much. Fat tears began to roll down your cheeks as your breathing hitched. God, this was awful. 

“MC! Open up!” Leviathan began frantically knocking on your door, his words drawn out into somewhat of a whine. “I got us tickets to the next Ruri-Chan pannel at a human world convention!” His ceased his knocking, furrowing his brows. “MC?” 

You sat up in surprise, coughing and hacking both at the lump in your throat and just of the pure shock that Levi decided that now was a perfect time to knock.  

“M-MC?! Are you okay?!” He asked, only met with a few more gasping coughs. 

Obviously, he was under the impression that you were choking. Completely disregarding the fact that if you were choking, you wouldn’t be able to cough at all. But listen, our lovely snake boy is just concerned, cut him some slack.  

“I’m coming in!” He turned the doorknob and peeked in, seeing you hunched over yourself with your hands on your knees, coughing, with warm tears dripping down your face. 

Well, this certainly wasn’t what he expected to see. Then again, he doesn’t really know what he was expecting.  

“MC!” He wanted to move toward you and comfort you but as per usual, the back of his mind was telling him that there was no way you’d want to be comforted by somebody like him. “A-are you okay?... Can I... can I come any closer?”  

“Yeah...” You took a gulp of air as your coughing ceased, standing up and beginning to blindly stumble toward the desk. 

“Wait, don’t move!” he pushed you back down onto the bed gently “just tell me what you need! I swear I’ll do it! It’s always the job of someone who likes another person to take care of them... not that I think of taking care of you as a job, but if it were a job, it would be my favorite job.” 

You rubbed your forehead, suppressing a laugh at his nervous antics, furiously wiping at your eyes with your other sleeve. “Just the box of tissues on my desk, that’s all I need.” 

“Got it!” he took a few, long, strides over to your desk, skimming his eyes over the shelves and the surface of it before he found exactly what he was looking for. 

“Um, here.” He thrusted his hand toward you, tissues in hand, his lanky fingers clutching onto the flimsy cardboard of the box. Part if you couldn’t help but wondering if he felt more nervous at seeing you cry than you felt letting him see you like this. You bowed your head, takingt he tissues and pulling a few from the box, wiping away your tears and blowing your nose. 

“So...” He sat on the floor by your bed, leaning up against the edge by your legs. “Um, how often does this happen? I mean, I can say that it happens for me a lot, so it’s nothing to be ashamed of, unless it is? Unless it’s something that shouldn’t happen often which in that case I guess I’m kind of a loser but if it happens a lot with you that doesn’t mean anything because you know, people who are vulnerable with their emotions tend to be easier to get along with! Not that I’m calling you vulnerable, you’re very strong! And after all, how you feel doesn’t determine how tough you are and being tough isn’t even a valid judgment because who’s to say that toughness defines worth-” 

At this point, he’s talking far too fast, to the point you can barely make out what he’s saying. And by god, how has he not taken a single breath so far? 

“I get what you mean, Levi. It happens to me a lot too, and then you just kind of push it back and dis-” 

“Distract yourself each time it happens, right?! I mean, sorry...” 

“Exactly that!” 

It’s very unlike the 3rd eldest to come out of his shell, and even more rare for him to talk about anything aside from anime or video games or manga, but something about talking with you just... about life shit, feels way better than it should. And to think he could ever get along with a normie like you. 

He’ll definitely show you some better stuff to distract yourself with, get ready to be assigned so much “comfort content”. He also subtly tries to convey to Lucifer that maybe Diavolo should ease up on you a little bit with the whole “Hey everyone likes you so you should be in charge of a lot!”  

Satan ♥ 

When Satan has a breakdown, it usually ends with him getting absolutely pissed off. Sadness often turns into anger or resentment with him. He knows some grounding tactics for when he isn’t too far gone, so his outbursts are pretty far flung between. 

He’s pretty experienced with things like giving himself pep talks, or instructing himself to calm down, it’s not uncommon for him to talk to himself. He doesn’t usually reach out for help, because he finds if anyone says anything to him it might just set him off more. 

He’s also not too bad at guiding other people through breakdowns, too. 

It happened after a day at RAD. You’d always hated the idea of being physically weaker than others around you, it made you feel too helpless, too vulnerable. Constantly treated like this treasure, this weak little human that has to be protected because the Devildom isn’t a safe place for a human. It was just all too exhausting. Wanting to argue back to those who made snide comments, demons who sneered and upturned their noses at a human at their school. Or at least wanting to give them some form of dirty look in return. 

But alas, Lucifer was always quick to tell you to just “tell somebody, don’t get involved because if there is a fight, you won’t win it.” 

Well, what if you’re sick of relying on other people?  

You returned to the house, quickly making your way up to your room and dropping your bag. 

You took off the overcoat of the RAD uniform that stuck to your sides, haphazardly hanging it on your desk chair and sitting in the second chair by your desk, elbows planted on your knees and your head hanging low, frustrated tears streaming down your face. 

Control, control. Everything just felt so... out of your hands, so pushy, too restrictive. 

What if you cut your hair? Just on a whim hacked off a few chunks, that would sure give you some control over your life, give you at least a little power, if you didn’t have any outside of your own room.  

You wouldn’t call yourself an overly violent person, but the aching need to just punch something overwhelmed you, or to hit or throw something with all your might. Or just scream, maybe just go to a secluded area in one of the Devildom’s forests, and just sit there and scream and cry and be as loud and sad and angry as you want- no- need to be. 

You snatched a pillow off your bed, smacking the mattress over and over with it, the soft thumping of fluff hitting each other enough to alert the 4th born, who was standing just outside your door, waiting to knock with a stack of books in hand. 

“MC? Are you alright in there?” 

“I’m fine, it’ll be alright, thanks.” You seethed, the tension melting away from your bones the more you took your frustration out on this poor pillow.  

“Hm. I’m not sure I believe you.” He turned the knob, cracking open the door a little, before opening It completely and stepping inside. He neatly placed the books by the door, shutting it behind him. “So, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong, Satan.” 

“When I throw things, I don’t throw things because nothing’s wrong. Usually, people bludgeon pillows because they’re upset.” He put a hand on his hip and tilted his head, his emerald green eyes piercing holes right through your façade.  

You dropped the pillows, pursing your lips as the waterworks really began, sniffling and sobbing as you stared at the floor. “I don’t know, I’m just sick and tired of being treated like I’m helpless and at this point I really don’t feel like I’m... in control of my life. In the human world, a lot of the time, you can at least act tough and not everyone are these hulking demons who could probably crack my spinal cord like a bullwhip if they ever so please.” 

“Control, I see. That’s a tricky area, indeed.” He took a few steps forward “can I hug you?” He held his arms out, a crooked smile playing on his lips. For the avatar of wrath, he is awfully calm. 

“...yes.” Without another second of hesitation, you flung your arms around him, burying your damp face into his shoulder. 

“I can’t say I understand you entirely, as I’ve never been in the shoes of a human, but I can relate to you on the control aspect. Sometimes, I still feel like I’m not in full control, like I’ll always life as this ‘product of Lucifer’s rebellion’, or how I’m always living in his shadow. I see how you feel and you have a right to be upset, angry, even.” 

His words both stung and soothed your mind, you shook as you clung to him tighter, shamelessly wailing into his clothes, occasionally giving muffled “mhm”s.  

He’ll practice a few grounding exercises with you, and of course, a rage room date sometime in the future is a must. You’re pissed at someone at RAD? Take it out on an old fax machine! 

Asmodeus ♥ 

He’s not ashamed to cry in front of people, but his full-on ugly cry is something that not a soul has seen, and if they have, they’re either dead or sworn to secrecy. 

If you need a hype man or someone to tell you that you’re worth more than you think, Asmo’s the guy you need, he’ll spoil the hell out of you, cry with you, gossip with you, anything you need, he’s got, and he’ll do it with you.  

It was just kind of one of those insecure days for you, you’d suppose. I mean, everyone has body issues sometimes, but with everything going on, that sudden thought of “you aren’t good enough” felt like too much. But it’s not like you could do a whole lot about it, Asmo was in your room, waiting, with a horn of Demonus, a bottle of human wine, and all the stuff he needs for a good self-care night. 

Adjusting your shirt and running your fingers through your hair once more, you finally exit the bathroom, finding the 5th born sprawled out across your bed on his stomach, legs kicking back and forth to the beat of your heart as he scrolled through Devilgram.  

“MC, you’re back!” He exclaimed, setting his phone aside. “Stunning, as always, just like me!” He smiled, his intentions nothing but the best, but for some reason, you felt a pang of hurt in your heart, like you just didn’t believe him.  

Regardless, you returned his smile, sitting beside him on the bed. “Of course, Asmo, you always look amazing.” 

“Oh c’mon!” He whined, a coy smile playing across his lips, one of his canines poking out the side of his mouth. “I wanna hear you say it back, MC, you should praise yourself some, too! Let me hear you say it, Hon~!” He said in a sing-song voice, sitting upright. 

The doubt in your chest bloomed into a big, ugly, flower. “Oh yeah, how could I forget? Hah, I’m gorgeous, as always!” You ran a hand through the front of your hair, making your best attempt to return his grin. 

His expression faltered as he tilted his head. “You don’t seem too enthusiastic about that. Are you fibbing to me? Do you actually think you’re as glorious as I do?” 

That was the final straw. It’s funny how these things work, how five seconds ago you were playing along with him and now here you were, about ready to sob your heart out to the Avatar of Lust. 

“Sometimes, no.” You murmured, hugging your arms to your sides, trying desperately to blink away the tears welling in your eyes. 

“I’m offended you think my judgment is flawed.” He cupped the sides of your face, thumbing away loose tears dripping down your cheeks. “We all have those moments. Even I do, and have you seen me? I’m goddamn gorgeous. Even the prettiest people have insecurities and moments where they don’t feel up to par.” 

His contact sent you flying further into the emotional abyss that was your heart. You leaned into his hands, scooting a little closer on the bed, your delicate tears now turning into sobs. 

“I don’t know, sometimes I just wonder if people compliment me because they feel pity... a-and sometimes I look at myself and then I look at other people and I just think like ‘I’m never going to compare to them’”  

He pulled you closer, snaking one of his hands around your waist, the other trailing up your spine and tangling into the back of your hair, cradling your head. “Let it all out, Hon, just cry it out, and let me know when I can talk.” He whispered. 

“I just don’t know what to do sometimes because I feel like I look good and then I look into a mirror and sometimes I look too hard and it just ruins everything and then I feel awful and I just don’t know... I don’t know, and I don’t like that I don’t know.” You rambled; your whole body racked with sobs. 

“O-okay, I think I’m done... sorry about that.” You pulled away, wiping your puffy eyes with your sleeve. 

“Hey, no! We aren’t done here, I told you to let me know when I could talk, not when you were done talking, because I have something to say to you, little Mx. “I don’t trust when other people call me gorgeous”!”  

“When have I ever taken pity on someone?! Am I not the one who usually gives people fashion advice? I wouldn’t put your beauty on the same level as mine if I didn’t believe it!” He put a hand on his hip. “You’re going to listen to me really close, MC, and I’ll repeat this until the very end; you’re stunning the way you are and if anyone- anyone- says otherwise they can answer to me! And now, dammit, we’re going to-” he paused, sniffling as he daintily wiped a tear from the corner of is eye “-we’re going to paint our nails together and we’re going to gossip and by the end of tonight, if you don’t understand how magnificently sexy you are, then I might as well retire!” 

Once again, he hugged you, the two of you left sniffling and communicating through a series of mumbles, whines, and cries. 

The two of you did indeed paint each other’s nails, and continued to hype each other up for the remainder of the night.  

Beelzebub ♥ 

Beel has many regrets, to this day, he’s still plagued with nightmares about Lilith, he feels somewhat responsible for her death. He doesn’t really break down too often, but when he’s hungry, tired, and sad, all hell can break loose.  

He isn’t very good at words, but he does his best. He can provide the best hugs, after all.  

Three in the morning. Long after most of the brothers had gone to sleep, save for the house otaku and Lucifer. But luckily, you didn’t need to worry about either of them. After all, Levi always stays in his room, and Lucifer is usually up all night if he has work to do, so it’s unlikely for him to emerge either. 

So, there you were, sitting on the counter in the kitchen, a cup of ice water sitting beside you. Being plagued with countless sleepless nights is bad enough, let alone on nights like these, nights like these when you’ve been sitting in the dark so long that you swear you can almost see light, when ice water hurts your throat. 

Your mouth was dry, dehydrated, thirsty, yet unwilling to bring the sweating cup to your lips. The longer you sat there and stared, the more tears slipped from your eyes, soaking the front of your shirt. Upon becoming aware enough to notice the tears, you felt a sob rip through your throat. “Pathetic... I’m just fucking...” you dug your nails into the dark wooden counter, which was cool and rough to the touch. Your throat became tighter as you released the sob, letting it out in a pacified whimper.  

You weren’t even sure why you were crying, all you knew was that you physically couldn’t sleep, you didn’t have the motivation to move, and you were so thirsty, yet ignoring the solution in your hand. 

Your ears rang loudly, the sound of the ringing mixed with your incoherent thoughts were enough to block out the sound of your own breathing, much less the very obvious, heavy, footfalls heading for the kitchen. 

Your eyes, fully adjusted to the dark, spotted movement in the doorway, a large, hulking, figure standing there, just staring.  

You nearly jumped out of your skin, knocking the glass of water, sending water spilling over the edge of the counter, soaking the seat of your pants. Your heart was suddenly the loudest noise in the room, your pulse pounding in your ears as your sobs picked up. 

“M...MC?” Beel blinked his tired eyes, smacking his lips a few times, crusted drool on the corner of his mouth. “Oh... I scared you. Sorry.” he was fully prepared to leave you be and just raid the fridge until he saw just how much you were shaking. Your body trembling in front of him, quiet sobs racking your body.  

“What’s wrong? Did I scare you that bad?” His brows knitted together in concern as he frowned, stalking closer to you.  

You opened your mouth, your mouth betraying you as you tried to speak. All that came out was a creaky whisper. “N-no, I’m fine. It’s fine.”  

“You’re crying. You don’t seem very fine.” He stood in front of you, trying to get a better look at your face. “You can’t sleep either? Why not?” 

“I don’t know.” Your lip quivered, honestly, just as confused as he was. “I-I just couldn’t sleep and then I wanted to go for a walk and then I got thirsty so I grabbed a glass of water but I couldn’t drink it and I don’t know why I’m like this, I don’t know why this is happening to me.” Slowly, your voice turned back into a croaky whisper, your throat still dry and tight from your crying. 

“Let me get you another cup of water. And I’ll clean it up, MC.” He said, gesturing to the puddle of water on the counter. He picked up the tipped glass, walking to the other end of the kitchen to refill it for you. You were too tired to feel embarrassed over him seeing you cry, just mostly thankful that somebody else was there now. 

He brought back the cup of water, setting it to your other side as he grabbed a kitchen towel, wiping up the puddle of water with chunks of ice in it. “Can you try taking a sip?” He looked up at you, noticing how you hadn’t even picked it up yet.  

“Mhm.” You looked at the cup of water. At the moment, it felt like a bigger task than you were up to, but you mustered up the will to pick up the glass and take a brief sip, just barely enough to wet your mouth and your dry lips.  

“Thanks” He smiled a little at you, not really expecting you to smile back, but hey, it had to be worth something. 

“No, thank you, Beel.” You cleared your throat, trying to even out your tone. 

He walked over to the fridge, staring in confusion at the chains and padlocks over the door handles. He shrugged, however, pulling apart the chains with ease. Said chains were very thick, might I mind you. Ah, gentle giant. 

He picked up a sandwich from one of the lower shelves, making his way back over to you. “...Do you want a bite?” He unwrapped half of it, holding it in front of your face. “Getting something in my stomach makes me feel a little better when I’m upset.” 

You took another, slightly larger sip of your water, quirking a brow at him. “Are you sure?” You couldn’t lie, it did sound awfully good right now. “What’s in it?”  

“It’s marked human safe, nothing that could kill you.”  

Hold on. 

The half of the sandwich that he’s presenting you with isn’t any normal sandwich, either. It seems to be the exact order you get from the local sandwich shop, the one you usually go to with Beel. 

“Beel, did you go to Scandal Sandwiches?” 

“...Yes.” 

“And you remembered my favorite?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.” 

The two of you sit there, talking about bad dreams in the time it takes you to eat your half of the sandwich, as Beel finished his rather quickly. To his credit, though, he was staring at your half, but he didn’t go for it. 

Belphegor ♥ 

Belphegor’s breakdowns are really a mixed bag. He might cry, he might go berserk, who knows? He usually keeps them on the down low, nobody but Beel ever knows when Belphie isn’t feeling good.  

Naturally, he isn’t the best at talking about his feelings, or comforting people. He’s a good listener, though! 

Belphie is known to have an ass-backward sleep schedule, as the Avatar of Sloth. Sometimes, he really wants a nap in the middle of the night, but he just feels so lonely.  

Speaking of loneliness, you were just about the same, sitting in the corner of your room. You couldn’t tell how late it was, all you could notice was the glow of the moon outside your window, peering into your room.  

Your heart felt empty, like a big hole in your chest, yet you couldn’t tell why. You had almost everything, a good home, people around you who adored you, who practically kissed the ground you walked on, a good education, and a gorgeous room. But alas, something felt as though it was missing. But the frustrating part was not being able to pinpoint what it was, just vaguely knowing that something was wrong and that you wanted to fix it.  

Frustration began to grip your head, the desperate urge to just feel something, even if it was painful, overwhelming your body. You tangled your hands into the front of your hair, scowling as you tugged, toppling over onto your side as you choked on a quiet sob.  

Were you being overdramatic? Who cares if you were? It’s not like anyone was going to see. You had the right to be as under dramatic or overdramatic if you ever so pleased.  

Belphie didn’t bother to knock, subconsciously deciding that there wasn’t any use waking you up just to ask for a nap.  

 He put a hand on your bed, confused when he didn’t feel your familiar warmth radiating from the blankets. “What?” 

You watched him squint, pulling back the covers, just to double-check his eyes.  

He sat on the edge of your bed, figuring you were just in the bathroom. But something caught his eye, your pajama shirt. “MC?...” he muttered, approaching you. 

You used your hair to cover up your face, pretending as if you’d just fallen asleep in an unconventional place. You stayed perfectly still, trying to regulate your breathing.  

“I know you’re not asleep.” 

Bullshit. 

“Hello? Silly, I said I know you’re not asleep. You’re breathing too fast.” He picked you up and carried you over to the bed, setting you down. “Well, even if you are asleep...” He stilled, feeling your warm tears soak into his shoulder, your body shaking like a leaf in his arms. “What’s wrong?”  

He pulled you up to a sitting position, gently grabbing your chin and tilting your head up, spotting the liquid on your cheeks, glinting in the delicate moonlight that kissed your cheeks, blessing every inch of your skin with that familiar glow.  

“Why are you crying?” 

“I don’t know.” You whispered, flinching at how God awful your voice sounded after quietly whimpering and crying for so long.  

“I can get that. Just... one of those nights?” He tilted his head, soft concern scribbled on his features.  

“Mhm.” 

“That happens to me sometimes, too. I’m not the sparkling definition of normal, but you aren’t weird for not being able to describe why you’re crying, y’know?” He thumbed away one of your tears, unsure of what to do.  

“Thank you, Belphie.” You let out a cough, reaching for a tissue.  

As you cleaned yourself up with the tissues, he thought, trying to devise a quick plan to make you feel at least a little better. 

He subconsciously rubbed your cheek with his thumb while he thought, staring at nothing in particular as he thought.  

“Hey. I have an idea.” He gave you a lazy grin. 

“A-and what’s that?” You asked, your voice cracking a little before you cleared your throat. 

“Curl up in that blanket.” he pointed at one of the blankets on your bed. “In the middle, just ball up.” 

“What?” 

“Just do it.” 

And so, you did, figuring you would pick your battles, at least for tonight. 

He gathered up the corners of the blanket, picking the blanket up with you in it, before gently setting you on the floor. He began to drag you using the blanket, through the house of lamentation.  

If he wanted to be a little shit, as usual, he would’ve grabbed your leg and dragged you, but he figured you needed a little extra cushion tonight.  

Eventually, he stopped in a room, unwrapping you from the blanket. To your surprise, you were in the planetarium. “I don’t know what you usually like to do when you feel bad, but it looks like you ignore it, so I’m not letting you. Talk to me, MC.” He sat next to you on the blanket.  

“I just feel lonely and I know you said it happens to you, too, but I can’t help the feeling that I overreact or something. I’m surrounded by so many great people and always talk to others but I just feel so isolated, and I don’t know why. I just... can’t explain it. It's like being in a crowd, but you feel like you’re cold and alone, or when you’re the center of attention but just feel like the observer.” You curled your knees to your chest, hugging them close. 

“I get it. That’s what it felt like after the whole attic thing. Like everyone was paying attention to me but I had no part or say in it. Is that what it’s like for you? Being the most loved exchange student but it feels more like people pay attention to the people you’re around rather than you?” He laid on his back, staring up at the stars idly as he spoke. 

“I don’t know if you like stars, but I think they’re calming. They’re pretty, and the longer you stare at them, the more you see. I think they’re kind of like you, MC. The more I got to know you, the less I disliked other humans.  

The two of you eventually fell asleep, given that Belphie’s presence alone makes people drowsy. 

[dear-departed]

"We should try that." (Beelzebub)

I had fun writing this, give me feedback, please. I feel like it was okay, but it's definitely been a while since I've written anything smutty, so maybe cut me some slack lmao.

Beel being out fav tit man as usual

Warnings: Smut, just smut. Face-sitting, MC is afab, but no pronouns are mentioned.

Word count: 1.8K

Watching a movie with Beel is always relaxing. The constant crunching of popcorn takes some time to get used to, granted that not many people have a constant stream of it going throughout the film, but regardless, he’s very nice company. He doesn’t make remarks at every corner, he’s an awesome pillow, and he doesn’t mind your constant wriggling or snuggling closer.

Well, it would have been relaxing. It should have been. But then again, you should have known better than to borrow a movie that Asmo of all people recommended. Beel doesn’t seem too bothered, a little red in the face, yes, but part of you wonders if he’s even paying attention. His eyes seem hazy, a little glazed over.  

It’s not like you should be super embarrassed seeing this sort of thing around him, after all, the two of you had been dating for quite a while, and of course, as most couples have, the two of you had also been intimate once or twice. But still, this was supposed to be relaxing, not arousing. Maybe a part of you feels guilty, what if he’s uncomfortable and just doesn’t want to say anything? Or what if he’s grossed out that you would dare show him something like this? It’s not like you can just stand up and change it, that would be so awkward and... 

It’s not like, just porn, no, but it is certainly very mature. 

“We should try that.” You’re ripped from your thoughts by your dear, ginger-haired boyfriend pointing at the screen, looking down at you with a light, nervous grin playing on his lips, his face now a darker shade of red. 

Upon looking at the screen, you see the woman on screen straddling what you presume is their lover’s face, seeing as the camera doesn’t pan down that far.  

“We have done that, Beel.” You say, smiling nervously in return. And that’s true, he had eaten you out before, and truly, he’s a beast at it. It's like his jaw never tires.  

“You’ve never sat on my face before, though.” 

Something arousing begins to brew in your gut, while your heart also slowly sinks to your heels. Oh god, that sounds so enticing but at the same time, so nerve wracking.  

“Wow, huh... you wanna try that?” You ask, looking deep into his violet eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you see from those god-forsaken mirrors in his head is your own, red face, gently illuminated by the dim light of the T.V. 

His brows furrowed a little, his head cocking to the side. “Only if you want to. Why do you look so nervous?” Dammit, it’s like he can smell the doubt dripping off you.  

“I dunno, it just feels like it would be a lot different in real life than on screen. You know?” You began to fidget with a lock of your hair, your nails raking through it as a way to distract yourself from your overwhelming thoughts.  

“We can try it, and if you don’t like it, or if it feels bad, then we’ll stop, and then later, we’ll think ‘well, we didn’t like that before, so maybe we won’t try it again’. Does that sound okay? If you don’t want to, that’s okay too, MC.” He nodded his head once, awaiting your input. 

“Yeah... that sounds okay. I’m willing to try that. I feel safe testing this out with you. Thank you, Beel.” You leaned forward a little bit, taking his plush cheek into your hand and beckoning his face forward, to which be obliged happily, placing one hand on the back of your head and the other hand on your waist. 

He brought your back to the floor slowly, the control that he had to lower and raise you as if you were nothing to him was absolutely impeccable. His large hand that was placed on your waist made a slow trip up and down your side, before two of his fingers lovingly fiddled with the waistband of your pants, slowly wiggling them down your hips. 

As he did this, his lips latched onto your, caught in a passionate, popcorn-flavored kiss, the faint taste of whatever soda the two of you had drank prior to this still light on his mouth. His other hand made the same familiar descent down your body, helping to tug down your pants. 

After he got the fabric about to your knees, he lifted the fabric of your shirt up, breaking your fervent kiss temporarily so that he could get it over your head. His eyes slowly drifted to your exposed chest (let’s be honest, who the hell wears a bra at home?). 

He caressed your hip, rubbing his callused thumb across your tender skin as he trailed it up to your chest, giving one breast a brief squeeze before he made his way further up, his index and pointer finger pressing on your collarbone before he held your jaw in a firm yet delicate grasp, tilting your head up just a tad. 

He leaned down, his lips making themselves at home on your neck. He ran his warm tongue along the tender skin of your throat, paying extra attention on where your jaw met your neck. When he felt the goosebumps begin to sprout up beneath his touch, he knew he was at least doing something right. 

He was always so intimate, no matter what the two of you were doing, always putting your comfort and pleasure above his own. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder if most of his fun was just watching you enjoying yourself.  

He kissed down along your collarbone, then the valley between your breasts and down your stomach. Finally, he stopped, sitting up to finally pull your pants off completely. 

He stared at your underwear, his gaze directing itself back up to you. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Beel.” 

He leaned back down, planting a thoughtful kiss right above the waistband of your underwear, his warm breath tickling your skin as he whispered. ‘Thank you...”  

Balling up your underwear and pants, he tossed them to the side, grabbing ahold of both of your hands and pulling you to sit up. He briefly paused, seeming to be processing something. He turned his head, reaching for a half-empty bottle of water, taking a brief sip of it and swishing it around his mouth, then, he swallowed it. After doing this a second time for good measure, he set the bottle down and turned back to face you, smiling a little. 

“Okay so... I’m going to lay on my back, and I’m assuming you’re going to scoot yourself over my face?”  

“That sounds about right” You croaked out, throat a little dry from the number of gasps and sighs you let out from the previous kiss session.  

He nodded again, lowering himself to lay on the floor, his eyes hungrily trained on you as you gathered your wits, crawling a little closer to him. After mustering up enough courage, you began to shimmy yourself over his face, your clit perfectly aligned where his tongue happened to be.  

Leaning forward, you gently pressed your hands on to his chest, which had thankfully been bare since the two of you had started the movie. After all, his man-tits made gorgeous pillows. 

Just barely hovering over his face, he began to experimentally kiss and suck at your core, just as vigorous and hungry as you remembered it. Perhaps a little more sensitive in this position, because the sensations coursing through your body were absolutely delectable. 

He grunted softly, his hands making their way to your thighs, he pressed you down a little more. “I can take it.” He assured, coaxing you to put a little more of your weight into his face.  

Moans escaped your slack jar, tongue lolling out and head rolling back a little. Small appraisals fell from your lips as he slurped away, occasionally grunting against your heat. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his thumbs rubbing the tender skin as he continued to eat you out, progressively getting more and more desperate. 

His tongue flicked back and forth across your clit, relishing in the way your body tensed up each time his warm tongue brushed against the ball of nerves, the way your breath hitched every time you felt that shock of pleasure rides up your body, making your brain foggier by the second.  

Eventually, he began to gently suck on it, sending into a surge of ecstasy. “B-Beel!” You gasped, gripping onto his massive man tiddies abs. 

He withdrew one of his hands from your thighs, holding it out in front of you and making a grabbing motion with his fingers, signaling for you to grab his hand. He squeezed yours gently when you grabbed onto his, lacing his fingers with yours.  

That moan that naturally fell from your lips was enough to let him know that he was doing the right things, the way your hands gripped him telling him that you were nearing your high. 

Experimentally, he pulled his mouth away from your clit, blowing a gentle puff of cool air onto it, feeling as your muscles clenched after being so relaxed.  

As quickly as he pulled away, he latched on again, beginning the same routine of suckling on your twitching ball of nerves, sending you shooting to the top again. In the midst of your pleasure, your legs began to tremble, your moans getting louder as the seconds ticked by. Twitching, your hips lifted up and off his face a little. In a hurry, he pulled his hand away from your, grabbing ahold of your thighs again and pushing you further down onto his face, coaxing you to carry out your orgasm. 

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, your throat getting tight as every nerve in your legs and core felt as though they were on fire, shooting pulses of pleasure and dopamine that went from your brain all the way down to your ankles. 

He slurped up your pleasure as if he were starving, moaning into your core at the taste alone. He released your thighs from his grip, leaving red marks where his fingers were.  

You shimmied back off his face, much clumsier than when you first got on his face. 

He sat up, running his long tongue around the outside of his mouth, savoring the taste of your release. “Did you like it?” 

“Y-yes.” You fell back to sit on your butt, your shaky breaths telling him more than your words could, but regardless, he wanted to hear it. “We... we should do that next time, too. If you don’t mind.” 

“I’m glad you liked it too, I loved it. Almost as much as I love you. Maybe because it has to do with you.” He yanked the thin throw blanket the two of you had been cuddling with over the two of you, snuggling into your side. 

Needless to say, the two of you will definitely be incorporating face sitting into your sex life.  

[dear-departed]

What I'm understanding is that y'all are touch starved as hell. Um anyway give me feedback and requests in ask box please <3

[masochismt4ngo]

“Where are you going?”

Obey Me Brothers (except Belphie) Angst

Warnings : Implied Drinking, Eating, neglect, just angst

Your words echo through the hallway, as he stood down there. His back was shielding himself from your eyes. The eyes that were begging him to not leave you alone another night, the eyes that seem to well up with tears that were threatening to spill over. The moon peeked through the windows, shining down on the both of you, but you guys were in completely different worlds. The night was not going to change, and it was going to let you be alone like any other.

“Leave me alone. I have to work on paper work again.” The voice was cold and harsh. But Lucifer couldn’t help it, his stacks of paperwork were building constantly. Mammon causing trouble was not helping to get the work done either. But he did not have time to warm the bed with you, to simply wrap his arms around you. As much as he would appreciate the warmth of your body, he had to work for it. He’ll just surprise you another night and maybe then he’ll be there. But not tonight, his footsteps continue onwards to the office that separates you and him again.

“Me? I’m goin’ to the casino to win!” The voice trumpets with determination. Mammon knew that it wasn’t right to leave you alone again. He knew but he can make it up later with the money he’ll get from the casino. He could take you both out again on a shopping spree, or a nice date. He could see the tears well up, but all he could do was wave and run out of the house. But it didn’t matter now because he’ll just cheer you up later, he’ll apologize and make it up with a new brand watch that sparkled back. As if it would fill the hole of loneliness that he swore not to cause.

“I’m going to play games again.” The voice was excited and cheery. Leviathan didn’t mean to leave you alone again, he just wanted to play games like he always did. He wanted to finish the game he just got since he’s been waiting months to get his hands on it. If you want you could of course watch him. But he was not going to acknowledge him, you knew that. When he was focusing on a game that’s all his mind was filled with. He was already in the room, door closed as he holes himself away again. He’ll be there tomorrow at school, catch you up on the details that you had missed though, maybe then you won’t feel bad.

“I’m going to study, there’s an exam coming up.” The same reply that his voice rings out for the last two weeks. Satan was usually like this when a test or exam was coming up, determined to make top marks. But now his time was occupied again with studying, only breaks he had was for meals. Even then his notebook and textbooks never left, it only put a barrier up around him. His eyes would never glance up at you, after the exam he’ll spend time with you but right now, he needs to focus on the exam. But it only hurt more, you knew he didn’t mean to prioritize his studies but it was his natural habit that was hard to break.

“I’m going clubbing again, don’t worry I won’t sleep with anyone else ♡~” The voice babbles, as he glances in the mirror to check his make up. Asmo just couldn’t give up the party life, it wasn’t going to be easy. It’s not that he didn’t care about you, it’s just he wanted to have a night out like he has been for a few nights before this. He can use his words to soothe you later, but when you find him later outside your room he is completely wasted. You would have to take care of him, but he won’t use his sweet words then. He’ll be sleeping leaving you feeling even more alone with him by your side.

“I’m going to get some snacks, I’ll be back.” The voice was innocent, but he didn’t even know that he left you alone. Beel’s stomach growls again, which causes him to go into the kitchen. It was routine and you knew it, he could never fill the void in his stomach. He would snack on anything he was able to lay his eyes upon. But it was hard to tell him anything, since you knew that he has his own issues. He was always hungry no matter how much he ate, it wasn’t even his fault. But it just seems impossible to reach out to him when he was so close but yet so far.

[dear-departed]

Strong MC (lesson 16)

I'm calling this part one of the 3 AM chronicles, it was meant to be mostly funny, but some of them got kinda angsty and obviously, there's violence.

I just got to thinking, what if in a different timeline, MC is just jacked and ends up beating the ever-loving shit out of Belphegor?

I hope you enjoy!

Also, P.S. don't be scared to use the ask box, pretty please use the ask box, I wanna know what my audience enjoys because while I love writing and I write what I want, I also want to make some of you happy as well. :)

Warnings: Violence, angst, a brief sexual joke in Asmo's section, lesson 16 spoilers

Word count: 1.9k

Lucifer ♥ 

He’s always been impressed by your strength since you first came to the Devildom, if not, a little confused. 

He’s seen plenty of strong humans, he knows body builders exist in the human world, but he thought it was a small percentage of them  

Never did he think that a strong human would be summoned to the devildom, specifically, a non-magical strong human. 

He heard a scream of absolute horror that sounded a lot like the youngest demon brother. 

At first, he’s confused, but also very concerned. Hadn’t he put a sound-blocking spell on the attic door? 

He’s quick to hurry his way up to the attic, only to see you... with the 7th ruler of hell, let me repeat that for those in the back; human who has one of the rulers of hell pinned beneath them, your foot pressing on the back of his skull, his arms bent around his backside, held in place by your knee, both of your arms struggling to keep his tail in place. 

He’s speechless. It’s not often the Avatar of Pride is devoid of any words, but this is one of those moments. 

Um. Thank goodness you’re not hurt? Yes, that’s the correct reaction. Oh thank my old man that you aren’t hurt 

I mean, he knew that was Belphie’s plan all along, to hurt the exchange student so Diavolo’s reputation is ruined, so at least that wouldn’t happen. 

Mammon ♥ 

Unlike Lucifer, your strength doesn’t make him worry any less. 

He won’t say it though, he’ll just kind of follow you around and say it’s his duty to protect you, only as your first man, of course. 

But he figured that you were safe in the house, so he didn’t worry nearly as much when you were home. 

He was just chilling in his room one day, scrolling through Devilgram when he heard Belphie’s scream. 

Well, at least it isn’t him that’s getting strung up by Lucifer. It was nice knowing you, Belphie 

… 

Huh. Isn’t Belphie supposed to be in the human world? 

He starts following the source of the screaming only to see you on top of Belphie, your eyes wide in shock, chest heaving as they stare at the back of the youngest’s head. 

Lucifer’s already ordering everybody back, so Mammon stays on the side lines and starts snapping photos, oh, these are going to going to sell so good!~ 

He can’t help but let out a little giggle, did Belphegor, the 7th ruler of hell, really get a royal ass-beating from the human exchange student? Absolute gold. 

He is, of course, worried. He kind of wants to jump in and punch Belphie himself, I mean, why the hell would you look so scared if he wasn’t being a little brat?  

With all due respect, though, with the state that Lucifer’s in, he figures it’s not a good idea to get in the middle of anything.  

Leviathan ♥ 

At first, he was kind of scared of you 

I mean, seeing you casually lifting weights with Beel kind of made him wimp out of making friends with you, but he was actually pretty shocked to find out you enjoyed the same things that he did.  

He has a bad habit of hiding behind you in social events. Not because he expects you to protect him or anything, because obviously even a strong human can’t beat a demon, let alone protect a ruler of hell.  

He was actually working on a cosplay at the time of the great ass-whooping, revamping his older Ruri-chan costume, to be exact. 

Huh, wasn’t that Belphie screaming? Weird.  

That was Belphie screaming. 

Belphie is not supposed to come back to the Devildom until the exchange program is over. Huh. Maybe he misheard it. So, he stays in his room, because why would be show anyone but convention folks his cosplay? 

Until he gets a text from Mammon. A pic of Mammon’s gorgeous, shocked face, with the caption “BRO GET YOUR ASS UP HERE” 

He trots his happy ass up to the attic, which he finds weird, how did Belphie end up here before anyone noticed him coming into the house of- 

LMAO THIS IS COMEDIC GOLD 

Wait a minute, if... if you beat the shit out of Belphie, what could happen to him if you got mad? 

He’s kind of caught in his head while this whole ordeal is going down, he wants to laugh, really, but he also wants to cower and hide. Did he really underestimate you? I mean, he knew you were strong but Belphie literally has the power of a demon behind him. He has a literal extra appendage, and yet you took him down. 

Freaky. 

Everyone was too engrossed in Belphie being humiliated to even make a big deal about his cosplay, which he couldn’t be more grateful for.  

Satan ♥ 

He’s always been grateful for your willingness to answer his questions.  

He would ask Solomon about human stuff, but a couple-thousand-year-old sorcerer isn’t really the prime example of a regular human. 

He really doesn’t have a lot of opinions about your strength, he was a little shocked, yes, and kind of felt the same as Lucifer with the whole “I thought only a small percent of humans were strong what the hell went wrong/right?” 

He’s getting his daily reading in one day, sitting down with a book and just taking a moment to himself, blocking himself away from the weight of the world outside of his room. 

He hears loud, thundering footsteps outside, like a tank is running through the house. Beel. 

He better not raid the fucking fridge again I swear to dad if he does Satan is going to lose his marbles. 

He immediately sets down his book and darts out after Beel, not saying anything quite yet, just wanting to make sure he isn’t wrongly accusing his younger brother, for some odd reason. 

Fully expecting the Avatar of Gluttony to dart to the kitchen, he’s kind of shocked when Beel takes a turn toward the staircase up to the attic. 

I mean, yes, he heard a scream that sounded an awful lot like Belphegor from the attic, but he kind of figured Mammon maybe just had a voice crack when he was being strung up again.  

And that’s when he sees it. 

Like Lucifer, he’s just kind of... shocked. Speechless. He knew you were strong but literally pinning down the 7th ruler of hell? That’s a big feat for a lower demon, let alone a human. 

Asmodeus ♥ 

He praises himself for his slender figure but he never said he didn’t enjoy muscle on his lovers, either. 

From the day you arrived in the Devildom, he’s begging you to carry him, or give him a deep-tissue back massage, or really, anything, he makes any excuse to be around you. 

He loves how strong you are, he can take a little manhandling, you know that, right MC? Just don’t be rough on his face <3 

He was sitting in his room on that fateful day, getting out his nail polish and waiting for you. You did mention that you had one more thing to take care of before you could join him, but should it really be taking this long? 

He’s used to hearing screams in the House of Lamentation, from Mammon being strung from the ceiling, and of course, screams from his own bedroom, but this was unlike any of those.  

It was Belphie, screaming, no, shrieking at the top of his lungs. 

Did he come back early? Oh, I bet he didn’t remember to keep those gorgeous nails of his painted. 

He hears the thumping of two pairs of feet racing through the hallway, and immediately he’s intrigued.  

So now he’s trailing behind Satan and Beel up to the attic, where he finds Belphegor, the 7th ruler of hell, pinned beneath... you? 

But... MC... why isn’t he the one being pinned? Has he not been good to you? 

In all seriousness, he’s shocked, horrified, even. You look so... frightened. Deep in his chest, he feels as though your heart beat is part of him, your thundering pulse. 

He doesn’t like seeing your pretty little face contorted in fear. 

Beelzebub ♥ 

He’s absolutely stoked that he gets to have a workout buddy in the Devildom! I mean, you can’t lift the same amount of weight as he can, because he’s a demon, and huge, and... yeah 

But still, you’re great to have around. He feels a little less hungry when he’s around you, it’s like you ease the pain, the pain of feeling like he’s starving all the time, and the pain of not having Belphie around. 

There’s not much Beelzebub wouldn’t do for you. 

That being said, there’s also not a lot he wouldn’t do for Belphegor, either. 

He’s been awaiting his twin’s return for who knows how long, so when he hears that scream from the attic, he’s confused. He starts to wonder if his mind is playing tricks on him, maybe he’s starting to hear things from being too hungry.  

No. No, there’s no way he could just ‘imagine’ hearing Belphie shriek. He can also feel a little pang in his chest, his heart rate picking up as if he himself were panicked. 

He wastes no time thundering down the hall and up the attic staircase, completely unaware that both Satan and Asmo are hot on his heels. 

He pushes past Mammon with one broad shoulder, staring down at you with Belphie pinned beneath him. 

Something in his head is so confused. Who should he be upset with? Should he be upset at anyone? Why do you look scared? Why is Belphie in his demon form? 

His mind feels like its going through a rinse and spin cycle. 

“...Lucifer. What’s going on?” 

The words roll from his tongue, his tone less of a question and more of a demand, the need to get some answers. 

Belphegor ♥ 

I mean yeah, you looked sort of strong, but he’s literally one of the rulers of hell. Really, his plan should have worked out fine. 

You just opened the attic door and of course, he offers you a hug. How can you protest? After all, he’s just been so nice to you. 

“In any event, MC, all I can do is thank you. Now I can finally achieve what I set out to do!” He says as he sprawls out his arms toward you, a hazy smile on his face. 

Blinded by the joy of finally accomplishing your goal of freeing Belphegor, you accept his hug, melting into his arms.  

“Ah... this really brings back memories. This feeling... I wonder how long it’s been since I’ve touched a human?” 

His comforting embrace starts to sing a different tune, his body suddenly tensing up.  

“So, MC... how can I express how I’m feeling right now? What can I do?” He scowls, his horns sprouting, his tail slowly unfurling and beginning to snake around your leg, his attire changing before your very eyes.  

You feel his cool, slender fingers lace themselves around your neck, his nails digging little crescents into the soft flesh of your throat.  

As your head starts to spin, he cranes his head back a little, letting out a giggle that turns into an open-mouthed cackle, his menacing canines gleaming beneath the dim glow of the attic lights. 

“Heheh... FUCK-” As quickly as his demeanor changed, so did the tables. The tables didn’t just turn, they did a fucking backflip. 

Before he can even get over the rush of adrenaline that clouds his thoughts, you’ve already escaped, scrambling to try and pin him. 

He’s shrieking like a banshee as the two of you tussle, his inner dialog just repeating “what the fuck went wrong” over and over again. 

This couldn’t have gone any worse.

[dear-departed]

Nadia sneaking into bed

I was gonna do all The Arcana characters but I lost steam after I did Nadia's so I left it as is, hope y'all like it, sorry it's so blocky and doesn't flow too smooth.

Warnings: None, just tired Nadia and fluff

Word count: 600

The countess stared out the carriage window, her tired eyes skimming past the stars that sprawled across the sky. Just ten more minutes... ten... and finally, she could rest in her own bed. The first time in a week that she would be able to cuddle up to you, to feel her own sheets.  

The room she had stayed in while she was away was far from shabby, but still, she craved the familiar weight on your side of the bed. 

‘A watched pot never boils..’ she thought, leaning her head against the glass, feeling the rumbling of the carriage rattle the insides of her skull. She tried to force her mind to think of something else, something that didn’t feel as if it were right at the tips of her fingers, so close, yet just far enough away that she couldn’t have it at the moment. 

Think, Nadia, think... 

Her head shot up as she felt the carriage slow, gently pulling to a graceful stop, the clip and clops of horse hooves halting. Had she really spent ten minutes thinking about how much she missed you? How much she missed her bed? 

“My Lady,” a member of the carriage staff opened the door to the carriage, their hand outstretched for Nadia to grab ahold of. “Thank you, but I believe I’m alright.” She smiled, nodding toward them. She hopped down from the carriage, landing on her feet with a soft ‘thud’ against the cobblestone pavement.  

She walked up the palace steps, nodding toward the two guards who opened the doors for her. Aside from the night shift guards, the palace was asleep. No soft pitter patter of the staff, only her own, grand steps as she strode toward her shared bedroom with you. 

As she approached the tall bedroom door, she stared at the handle, almost hesitating before she grabbed ahold of it and carefully turned it, pushing the door open. Usually, she would at least rinse off, if not bathe herself completely, but her bones ached so much, her eyes were so heavy, that she just wanted to sleep. 

She saw your sleeping form in front of her, your arm tightly wrapped around a pillow. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest. You’d missed her this much? 

She stripped off her clothes, neatly folding them into a pile and setting them onto a chair in the corner of the room. She then slid on a night gown and walked around to her side of the bed, carefully pulling back the covers and sliding herself into the large bed, sinking into the covers with a relaxed sigh. 

After relishing in the comfort of her own bed, she slowly began to shimmy the pillow out of your arm, scooting over to take its place. After coaxing your arm to rest around her waist, she trailed her delicate fingers up your arm, then to your shoulder. Her hand dipped into the curve of where your neck met your collar. 

“Nadia?” You rasped, your groggy eyes opening to meet her face, subconsciously leaning into her hand, which now was planted on your cheek.  

Lovingly, she rubbed circles into your skin, admiring every single one of your features with steady eyes. “Hush now, my Dear. I’m here now, go back to bed. We’ll chat in the morning.” Her smooth voice said in a cool whisper. She leaned in, placing a ginger kiss on your forehead, “I’ll see you in the morning, Love.” She muttered against your skin, slowly drifting off into a blissful and dreamless sleep, tucked safely into your arms.