hey everyone. i know this is way overdue but i've decided to leave tumblr. at first i was just disinterested but i think i've outgrown it now; i know after radio silence for so long that it's strange but i'll leave this blog up for my works. nothing will be updated so you can feel free to adopt anything you'd like, like the sephiroth series, if you want, or the rufus series.
hey everyone. i know this is way overdue but i've decided to leave tumblr. at first i was just disinterested but i think i've outgrown it now; i know after radio silence for so long that it's strange but i'll leave this blog up for my works. nothing will be updated so you can feel free to adopt anything you'd like, like the sephiroth series, if you want, or the rufus series.
Am I the only one who thinks the newest cards are just... flat? Like, the older ones used to be vibrant and full of life and the new ones just,,, aren't? I don't know if I'm making sense but it's like emotion isn't being channelled through them, it's just... a drawing on a card. I know they work hard on these cards, and I appreciate it regardless, but I'm just wondering what exactly... happened?
Preview: Solomon needs help obtaining some ānectarā for a spell he wants to try, and asks you for your assistance.
Unbeknownst to you, the so-called nectar he needs isnāt from a flower at all.
This chapter is also being posted as a part of my āDevil Domsā series on AO3.
I wrote this after getting inspired by one of @/shokujin-artās pieces with Solomon and their MC Ethan!
WARNING:Ā This chapter can be considered dub-con. If dubious consent makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.
āI need your help.ā
The smile on Solomonās face is a little disconcerting. After all, usually itās not he who is asking you for help, butā¦you decide to hear him out.
āWith what?ā
Your gaze is openly skeptical as you regard him, but his smile doesnāt waver.
āI need nectar for a spell Iāve been wanting to test out for a while. I was wondering if you could help me in that regard.ā
You blink at him, confused. Nectar? How the hell are you supposed help with that? Itās not like youāre an expert with flowers, and you certainly have no idea about flowers that reside in the Devildom.
āYouā¦want me to help you findā¦nectar?ā
He nods, bringing a hand up to his chināhis eyes turning towards the ceiling.
āWellā¦basically, yes.ā
You narrow your gaze at his phrasing, concern growing by the moment. Exactly what the hell is Solomon playing at? You know heās a bit of a sketchy bastard, and sometimes you feel like he canāt be trusted, butā¦so far, he hasnāt wronged you.
ā¦that counts for something, right?
āListen,ā you say, poking a finger into his chest. His eyes widen at the action, and he pausesāstaring at you as you continue to jab him. āIāll help you, okay? But I better not be harmed on this journey to achieve whatever ānectarā you need. Got it, wizard boy?ā
Solomon rolls his eyes at your nicknameācatching your finger when you move to press your nail into his chest once more.
āYou wonāt experience any pain,ā he says, laughing quietly. His eyes crease, a handsome smile lighting up his face, and for a second, you forget about your worries.
āI promise.ā
The next weekend, you get a text from Solomon demanding that you come over to Purgatory Hall.
Today is the dayāhe needs your help with his nectar issueāand so, you pack up your bag and head over.
Youād attempted to ask him what retrieving this nectar would entail. After all, did you need to dress in hiking boots?? Would he be taking you out into the Devildom wilderness to try and find some rare, valuable flower?? But Solomon had refused to reveal any details.
Heād simply explained that it may take a few hours, and that you should just bring yourself, and any basic necessities.
So now, here you areāstanding on the step to Purgatory Hallāwaiting for Solomon to come and let you in. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the grand wooden door is pulled open.
āTook you long enough,ā you mumble as he ushers you inside. The sorcerer can only laugh, keeping pace beside you as the two of you traverse the hallsāheading towards his room.
āSorry,ā he says. His hand moves to wipe at his brow. You notice the tiny beads of sweat sticking to his skin, and curiosity fills you. āI was preparing.ā
āPreparing for what?ā
Again, Solomon reveals nothing. He easily laughs off the seriousness of your question, waving a hand in front of him as if to try and dissipate any of your worries.
āPreparing to retrieve the nectar,ā he responds after a moment, flashing you a small smile. āIāve been trying to gather the ingredients for this spell for many, many years, and this is the last, and hardest one to collect.ā
āAndā¦you need my help in particular with thisā¦why?ā
Your eyebrows are knit together on your forehead, and youāre sure that Solomon notices your trepidation, yet he chooses not to address it. Instead, he continues a few more strides up the hall before stopping.
Youāve already arrived at his room.
He reaches out to grab the doorknob, his silver eyes darkening playfully as he regards you. The subtle shift in his demeanor has butterflies tickling the inside of your stomach, and you swallow nervously.
While youāre not as magically inclined as Solomon, you can still feel the magic leaking from inside of his room. He obviously has something planned for you once you step inside, but youāre not sure what.
EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO THROW MYSELF IN HORNY JAIL FOR 193929101872 YEARS šš But like... seriously... compliments to the author. I'd never. šššššš
description: the first moment that sparked a thousand more.
next prompt: impulse
DIAVOLOāS BALLS WERE, quite literally, to die for. Being stuffed with human world food and not the barely-tolerable food that any of the brothers tried to cook for you made a vast difference with your demeanor as the night wound down to just excitable conversation and enthusiastic advances on Asmoās part.
While you always found Asmoās attention nothing more than him showing his interest or playing with you, tonight he was a little more intense--or, for lack of a better word, handsy. More so than usual, besides, and he was on you all night. If it hadnāt been for Simeon dragging him off of you to turn him towards Diavolo, who wanted his thoughts on a different festival solely for demons, you would have explodedā¦ And not in a good way.
Just remembering his fingers dancing across the skin of your shoulders was almost vomit inducing.
Asmo was your friend--you saw him as nothing more than that.
So that was why, as Lucifer became increasingly distracted and showed no signs of leaving early, you had sequestered yourself to an empty drawing room, sipping your champagne and kicking off your heels. A fire crackled softly in the corner, no doubt by Barbatosā doing to beat out the chill that seemed to creep in at night in the Devildom, and the curtains had been parted to expose the oddly artificial sky above.
āIt seems we had the same idea.ā From behind you, Solomonās voice was smooth, as it always was, but tinged with a hint of exasperation that told you he had been at Asmoās mercy as well. He swept up beside you with nary a sound, his cape absent and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it too many times, and those steely gray orbs werenāt twinkling with that normal streak of mischief that you were used to. āDo you mind?ā
Your stomach twisted with a pleasant jolt when his hand slid to rest lightly at the small of your back.
He pointed to the second glass of champagne you had stolen. It sat innocently on the windowsill where you had placed it, bubbles creeping up the sides of the glass without prompting.
āSure,ā you replied, picking it up and handing it to him. āIām guessing you had an encounter with Asmo if youāre here and not out wheedling pacts from the other brothers.ā
Solomon gave you a dry look. āVery funny. But to answer your guess, yes, I did. Heās had several more horns of demonus already and is becoming intolerable.ā
You nodded your head and tilted your glass towards his. The edges clinked softly, accenting the crackling fire in the corner. āTo the humans.ā
He didnāt answer your toast, merely watched as you tossed the final swig of your drink back. His eyes darted downwards to follow a bead of champagne that spilled down your chin and throat, vanishing between the soft curves of your breasts. The hand on your back became a little firmer, a little more restrained.
Your breath stuttered in your lungs while you swallowed, meeting Solomonās gaze when it tracked back up to your face. His eyes were alive, now, practically burning; there was no trace of exhaustion in them now. The tension that was suddenly present came with a swift brush of ozone and the smell of a storm on the horizon.
Magic.
āAre you expected anywhere in the next hour?ā he asked quietly. His voice had dropped several octaves, deep, and stroked at the embers sitting firmly in your gut that were threatening to ignite into a wildfire. You couldnāt stop the tremor that went through your legs when he pulled you close to him, pressing flush against you, one hand reaching up to brush his thumb against the swell of your lip. His hands were rough, but not entirely unpleasant. He leaned close, breath fanning over your ear and traveling down the side of your throat. āIāll make it worth your while.ā
You managed to squeeze out a breathy,āNo.ā
Both hands dropped down to your waist, squeezing firmly, fingers digging into your hips beneath the dress. His grip became strong, possessive, greedy; his lips moving from your jaw to the corner of your lips, pressing impossibly soft kisses to the skin of your cheek.
āGood.ā
Solomonās kisses were heated, slow, and painstakingly passionate. You werenāt sure if it was from the alcohol, but all you could taste on his lips was the faint flavor of the champagne and a sweet mint that he had no doubt been gnawing on all night to keep the awful tang of demonus from lingering on his tongue.
With an ease that surprised you, he lifted you to sit on the windowsill, nudging himself between your legs. Your dress made way for him, the slit panels riding up your thighs as he pressed you up against the glass of the window, teeth dragging against your bottom lip teasingly.
You remained there well until the party was over, only returning to reality when you could hear the shouts of Mammon and Beel turning down the hallway to the drawing room. Solomon groaned softly, having heard them before you did, and parted from you with a long, lingering press of his lips against yours.
The sorcerer took a moment to take in the flush of your cheeks and your swollen lips, abused and deliciously red. He couldnāt resist leaning back in and dragging the flesh between his teeth, relishing in the quiet moan you let out unbidden.
āGo,ā he said, sweeping his hands down the sides of your thighs as he removed himself from between your legs. You almost whimpered at the loss of warmth, unable to stop yourself from squeezing your legs together to relieve the pounding heat in nestled within your core. Solomonās eyes drew a lazy path down your body, a smirk making its way upon his lips as you hopped off of the sill uneasily. āBefore they find out what you were really up to.ā
Your pout almost made him snatch you back up in his arms and splay you out upon the couch you were leaning against to put your shoes on.
āWhat if I want them to?ā You inquired dazedly, tying off the last strap of your heel with a flourish. You approached him, as much as your brain was telling you to back off in a cloudy haze of lust, and rested your palms lightly against his chest. His heart beat hard underneath your fingers, a direct contrast to the cool expression on his face. āHm?ā
Solomon grasped your wrist in one hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles of your hand. āThereās a time and a place for that, but tonight isnāt either of those things. Go back to the House of Lamentation, [Name].ā
Your stomach rolled with heat. It was probably the first time he had ever said your name outright and not just āfellow humanā. You were about to yank him down and kiss him with all you were worth, when Mammonās voice drew close enough that it rang in your ears.
Solomonās smile was absolutely sinful when he leaned down just as the door slammed open to whisper,āYou know where to find me.ā
And then he was gone in a flash of bright light, the only indication of him ever standing there in the room with you being a half empty champagne glass and the lingering scent of rain on the horizon.
Find him, you wouldā¦
But first, you had a drunken Mammon to handle, his cries of āMy human!ā not as sweet as the sound of your name on Solomonās lips.
NSFW prompts for Solomon! Some of them might just be cheeky NSFW drabbles and some of them full on smut.
Send me an ask with the number and word of which ones you'd like me to do first! I plan on doing at least 20-30 of them if I can. š I will turn on anonymous asks again for this.
I don't know what's wrong with me but I'm on a Solomon binge right now so if I come back and this entire blog is just ridden with Solomon content... I have no one to blame but myself, AO3, and the glorious gods who wrote smut for him.
No, you know what--this is that one artist's fault, the one depicting Solomon with the Ars Goetia and his pacts as tattoos. š¤
Youāve been removed from the House of Lamentations...for a week. None of the brothers could argue, really.
Beelzebub feels kinda bad. If you were already cautious of them before you must have been terrified now. Being around angels and a fellow human would do some good but Beel has to resist coming over. The cookies you left are divine after all, so sweet and rich with the Celestial Realm ingredients. But when you return he should ask you why they seem to leave such a bitter taste in his mouth, maybe you fouled up with a measurement or two? Still, he eats them, getting crumbs all over the bandages that wrap around his thigh and right arm.
Satan will let Mammon off just this once. His missing tome was returned by you just a few hours ago, thwarting Mammonās scheme and while heās glad itās back, it irritates him. The very sight of it makes him want to tear it apart and burn it. The soreness from last nightās scuffle doesnāt help his vexation any. Neither does the random drop of blood staining a couple of pages. Human blood, he notes but he feels no guilt. Itās not like he was the one that accidentally hit you last night. Besides, itāll teach you to get involved in disputes between them. Though he will admit, going into his demon form over it may have been an exaggeration.
Asmodeus frowns at the silver spike earring he receives in the mail. It looks a lot like yours, which was why he ordered it. Except itās a little less intricate and it didnāt quite shine the way yours does. But thatās beside the point. Really? He just didnāt like it anymore. He didnāt like looking at it, trying it and though it likely still looks good, he didnāt like it on you, especially. Oh he always knew it looked dangerous but that was part of the charm! Now though, after recalling you accidentally cut yourself, the charm mightāve been a little dead.
Leviathan curses when he sees he didnāt save at an important point in Ruri-chan Adventures: High School Days. Impossible! He always saves so he can go back to all the cute, awesome things Ruri-chan said! And yet, thereās a gap between crucial scenes anyway. Ugh, it was all because of that stupid argument last night. He never wouldāve thought theyād get him so riled up, heād actually transform and join the fight over it, over...whatever it had been. And now the cuts on his arms sting when they come in contact with his jacket sleeves, ichor staining the inside lining. Just, ugh, this is the pits.
Mammon is still nursing a headache. He canāt remember whatever it is they got mad at him for last night, but did they really have to hit him so hard he passed out!? A little excessive, geez. At least today theyāre nice to him...almost too nice. Ah shit, was he being blamed for last night? Is that why heās been replaced as your watchdog? Were they buttering him up so they were going to punish him?! Nah! It couldnāt be, Lucifer wouldāve done it already and Lucifer hasnāt left his room since yesterday.
Sitting in his bed with his pink tinged skin slathered in some remedy Barbatos whipped up, Lucifer canāt help but feel ridiculous. What was Diavolo thinking? Playing around with Holy Oil like that? Yes it had no effect on demons but Lucifer and his brothers werenāt always demons. It couldnāt be used to trap them like it used to but it could still incapacitate them. It had been so painful, he could hardly remember what happened afterwards but apparently his brothers got into a fight over something trivial and you got caught in the middle. Heād have to apologize to you later.
Regardless when heād woken up, Diavolo was telling him (forcing him) to take the day off. Heād apologized only once but profusely, his ever-jovial smile faltering. Lucifer insisted he forgives him, it was an accident after all. Diavolo goes right back to smiling after that and tells him his duty of watching over you has been handed over to someone else for the week. Just until youāve calmed down.
Luke is so miffed about what happened! He knew those demons would lose control and try to hurt you! Luke is ecstatic to have you in Purgatory Hall, of course. You recreated his cookies perfectly the other day and your knack for picking up recipes is amazing. Well, most recipes, your devildom dishes always end up...catastrophic. Maybe it was because of your basically being abducted here that made you so uncomfortable with anything devildom related. Still, he loves your company.
Simeon is, of course, delighted to have you. Even as low spirited as you seemed when you came in this morning. You presence has always given him a sense of tranquility and familiarity, as though youāre an old friend. And so he treats you as such, even if you seemed down at first, he catches you smiling every once in a while to yourself, twirling your angel relic earring as if remembering something fond by it. He just wishes youād warm up to Solomon too.
Given the chance, youād warm up. So warm, in fact, you could set him on fucking fire and collect the ashes so you could burn that too.
āf you keep being so quiet, Iām going to start getting suspiciousā
You scowl at the bathroom door. Your newly appointed warden is waiting outside in your temporary room for you to be done. āOh Iām sorry, did you want me to narrate everything Iām doing or are you just being a prick?ā
āMC-ā
āSecond one, got it.ā
You step out from beneath the shower, turning the valve in quick, jerky movements. They squeak as the water stops and it seems to satisfy Solomon for now. As you dry yourself off, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above the sink. You scowl at the chains of light wrapping around your chest and arms that shine the same pale gold as Solomonās ring of power. If you could see the back of your head, youāre sure the bruised lump on it would bare his mark too. Or that of his baseball bat.
Why does he even have that?
āMc?ā
You secure the towel around yourself. āShut up. Iām coming out.ā
Youāve effectively piqued Solomonās interest. When he was told another human would be attending RAD, he hadnāt expected much. But here you are, standing before him as the couldāve-been slayer of the Avatars of the Seven Sins. But realistically speaking you probably couldāve only taken three of them on with what you tried. But three would be enough, after all; you incapacitated the two most powerful demons of the House, cut up the third, held off the most aggressive and injured the strongest. Other than the cut you did yourself on your palm and his own hit to the back of your head, there isnāt a scratch on you.
A demon slayer. He had so many questions that he couldnāt ask you last night in front of Diavolo and Barbatos who definitely knew something but refused to speak on it. How did you discover your powers? Did you know it couldnāt just be human magic? Why do you hate demons and the devildom so much? What is the Left Hand?
He settles on one, āWhat exactly was your plan?ā his back to you, as you changed into sleepwear. The rustle of fabric stops for a second. He elaborates, even if you had fought the other brothers off or maybe escaped while your modified devilās trap kept them locked in the House. Where would you go? What would you do? How would you go home, if that was your goal at all? You answer him with a question of your own. āWhyād you knock me the fuck out, why save them?ā
Quid pro quo. Thereās a door in the human world, in Wyoming, USA, that opened to hell and reading Satanās book you found out it opened to this circle of hell. No one had opened that door since 2007 but you knew how. All it would take from this side was one sacrifice. You look Solomon dead in the eye as you say it and he laughs.
His laugh is as infuriating as his answer. āThe semesterās just begun MC, would be a shame to end it so early with a sudden war, eh?ā Besides, he tells you, things get a lot more interesting for him this way.
You nearly throttle him right then and there. Instead, you settle for sleeping last night off, the soft glow and hum of Solomonās magic lulling you to sleep and locking you in your room. War heād said and you decided, plans can wait till youāve had some rest.
Barbatos would be lying if he said the current conversation didnāt interest him almost as much as serving tonightās tea did but not quite. But who could blame him? It is an excellent blend and Solomon is an excellent guest. He would have been more comfortable serving at the palace but the House of Lamentations was suitable enough to host. Besides, he shares Lord Diavoloās wish to stay close to Lucifer while he heals.
āStill feeling a bit drained?ā Diavolo asks as Barbatos sets a down a plate of holyberry muffins on the coffee table of Luciferās office.
Solomon smiles, expressing his thanks before picking up his cup. āJust a bit. But not to worry,ā he says savoring the teaās rich minty aftertaste. It banishes the chill from his bones in a way even Luciferās roaring fireplace canāt. āI had enough strength left in me to bind MC to their room at Purgatory.ā
āImpressive. Especially after having to cast a memory spell so powerful just a few hour prior.ā Diavolo compliments but he says it as if heās making an observation about the weather. Not that he has to compliment Solomon at all, but from what he has gleaned in his short time in the exchange program, Diavolo is not one to be so lukewarm.
āSo, whatās the big secret? If youāll allow me to be so bold Lord Diavolo,ā Solomon says, smiling still. He puts down his cup, turning to face the demon-prince head on. āI donāt very much like being in the dark with matters I become involved in.ā
Diavolo sighs. No pleasantries will delay the conversation any further, it seems. āA Nephilim Legacy,ā he says, finishing his fist cup. Barbatos is there in an instant to refill it but all Diavolo can spare is a nod in thanks. āThatās what MC is. I know thatās your biggest question. As for your next one, yes I knew when I chose for the program.ā
āWell that certainly explains some things,ā Solomon grabs his chin, thinking back to the flashes of light, Celestial light in the devildomās sky. Then there was cutting off the power, something that couldnt be achieved by just shutting down a generator, not when all generators ran on magic and could only be disrupted by magic. But that wasnāt all, you had undone every room enchantment, broken every curse on the doors labelled off limits for you. Finally, there was the main doors of the House of Lamentations. The seal was no mere devilās trap, the likes of which wouldnāt have worked on six demons who had once been fallen angels. It was a powerful spell, one that should have drained any human of their strength to not only cast but also maintain.
But then there was the seal itself and the tattoos covering most of your skin.
āThe Left Hand.ā
Solomonās musings are cut short. Diavolo has finished half of Barbatosā brew but keeps drinking. āThe seal and the marks? Itās been hundreds of years but I would recognize those anywhere. Theyāre of the Left Hand. An order of hunters and demon slayers who protect the human world.ā
āI thought that was a myth. A lie to cover up Gabrielās fall?ā Solomon frowns, such information being unknown to him, twisting his insides.
āThe lie, is that Gabriel fell at all.ā Diavolo finally sets down the cup rubbing one of his temples. āTowards the end of my fatherās reign, he let some demons run rampant. Gabriel was sent to earth in human form, to send them back here. But it didnāt end with him, his children and their children formed the Left Hand. Part of the reason why my fatherās still in slumber is heās recovering from a great war he once had with them. It was declared a draw, when the Celestials interfered, siding with the humans. The treaties were drawn, and theyāve been protecting the human world for centuries since then.ā
āAnd you brought one here.ā
āI didnāt know that I did.ā
Solomon raises a brow. āYou knew about the Legacy but not about the affiliation to the Left Hand? How does that elude you of all demons?ā
Diavoloās hand on his armrest clenches and for a moment, Solomon fears heās overstepped but Diavolo takes one breath and his body relaxes.
āSolomon, what Iām about to tell you? No one can know, not yet.ā
Outside the office, Belphegorās knuckles drain white as he grips his pillow. Diavolo has brought a demon slayer to their House. One that threatened and hurt his brothers. The damned Prince didnāt listen, no one listened when he swore humans were nothing but vermin. He doesnāt stay for the rest of whatever they talk about, turning to stalk off down the hall to the foyer.
Comment if you wanna be tagged for the next ones, I think this might become a whole ass series.
P.S Iām sorry this took so long I had no idea that part one was gonna get so much positive feedback. At some point I said āokay when itgets to 666 notes, Iāll get part 2 upbu then it was there within an hour of me saying so. And I kinda panicked cause what if this one is t as good or disnt get as much interest. So thank you all very much!
This reminds me of S. M. Reine's book series a lot; specifically her series involving Elise Kavanagh. I'd suggest reading them (the first book set is a free ebook) if you need fuel for this kind of au. š
Am I the only one who doesn't like Lucifer as a love interest? As a character he's fine, but he's pretty low on my list--Belphie's above him and that's saying a lot... it's why I struggle to write him ngl.
But like... send me some NSFW asks. Please? š„ŗš Preferably for Mammon or Solomon~
"I WOULD THINK YOU'D have a nice gallon of vodka or two after that, except you're sitting in an alleyway with a Red Bull and looking at the wall." The demon at the back door grinned at her with a sly smile, watching the half breed flip him off and take another chug of the energy drink. Her fingers slipped clumsily over the aluminum can, wet and darkened with blood, leaving smears wherever she rested her hands. "On a brighter note, I'm glad you saved him. It would have been awful if he had died."
"I doubt any of you care if he did die." [Name] fumbled in her scrubs for a wet wipe of some kind, at least to get some of the more vivid parts on her arms, but came up empty. "You certainly didn't mind when I was elbow deep in his rib cage pulling out that angelic monstrosity."
She pointed lazily to the broken dagger blade laying across from her in the alleyway. Even detatched from its hilt and the hand of the owner, it glimmered dangerously with golden runes along the flat edge, lethal to any demon who touched it except for her. Her human blood came in handy sometimes when she wasn't being hated for it.
"Yes, well, what can I say?" He shrugged. The earrings in his ears glinted under the artificial light of the lamp post outside the door. "I'm the patron demon of sadism."
"Good point." [Name] took a final drink and crushed the can in her palm. She rocked forward onto her feet, wiping her hands on the legs of her pants. Another pair ruined with demon blood. "He should heal up just fine now that that's gone."
"What do I pay you?" Zotiel crossed his arms and leaned against the door. She clearly wasn't going back inside. "Lucifer says you're very expensive to work with."
"Did he?" She laughed and toed off her shoes. Those were ruined too, doused in the blood her patient had vomited when she palpated his stomach. The white was indiscernible from the dark liquid. "Let me keep that blade and I'll consider it paid."
"Deal." Zotiel smiled, holding his hand out to shake. An oddly human gesture, but she accepted it anyways, not the least bit shocked when he squeezed hard enough to make her knuckles turn white. He inhaled deeply, much to her disgust and amusement, eyes fluttering shut. When he opened his eyes again, he gave her a tiny shrug, but wasn't apologetic in the least. "Sorry. Your pain smells amazing."
"I'll take that as a compliment." She pulled her hand free. "Or should I be concerned?"
"No. It was a compliment." His smile grew wider, his eyes darker. "You have my number if you want to explore it a bit more."
Not in this lifetime. She smiled at him one last time, turning on her heel and scooping up the dagger as she went. "Thanks for the offer, but no thank you. I'm going to head out now. Drop by if you're ever in the human world."
"Doubtful, but I'll keep it in mind. See you."
When [Name] was safely around the corner and far away from the storage building, she breathed a sigh of relief. Dealing with Zotiel had been a painā¤Lucifer loved sending her on jobs that involved the demon, whether she wanted to or not, and got a sick kick out of every interaction she had with him. There had been far too many times where Zotiel got way too close for comfort and inflicted some kind of pain on her, even if it was something as simple as a pinch or poke.
If she'd had a choice, she wouldn't touch him with a thirty foot pole. And for extra measure, another ten feet, because she wasn't sure how far his range extended for sensing her pain. He'd even admitted, shamelessly, to finding even her emotional pain arousing.
The disgust she had felt when he told her that had followed her all the way to Lucifer's office.
"Ugh." She rubbed away the chills that raced up her arms and flicked out a cigarette from her back pocket. She never smoked often, but stressful situations like that one had her nerves on fire. It was why she had never completely dropped the habit, even after going cold turkey. "Why do I even bother?"
[Name] knew why she bothered. Without the underworld, she was nothing. Without the Devildom, she was nothing. The measly human side of her would fizzle away if she didn't have the Devildom to return to. It was the only thing keeping the awful urges at bay anymore. No one could pick out just what she got her power from, but she was abnormally powerful even for a half breed, alluring to even purebloods like Zotiel.
She had tossed around ideas like death or regret, but none of those seemed possible, seeing as she would be infinitely more powerful than she was now if that was the case. Whatever it was, it didn't require physical contact like Asmodeus, or the overabundance of eating like Beelzebub. It just was, and seemed to exist everywhere she went, even in Devildom.
[Name] shook herself roughly and took another puff of her cigarette. She didn't have time to bother with the origins of her power. She had to get to Lucifer's office, report her success, and return to the human world, take a quick three hour nap, and repeat it all over again. If she wasn't half demon, she would be dead ten times over already. Her stamina was astonishing, her lack of sleep even more so.
Luckily, no one questioned the back-to-back forty eight hour shifts she took without a wink of sleep.
She reached the House of Lamentation in record time, pocketing the dagger where no one could see or even sense it. One of her sorcerer friends, Solomon, had been kind enough to provide her with the spell to hide such a relic, but only after he wheedled a pact out of her and promised to only use it if he was dying.
To her surprise, she found Asmodeus and Mammon on the front steps, one sulky and the other irritated, glancing back to the door every so often. They would meet gazes, then look away, and repeat the entire thing. She wasn't even sure they heard her walk up until she was right on top of them, scaring Mammon to the point where he looked like an agitated cat, jumping a few feet in the air.
"Damnit, [Name]! What do ya think you're doin'?!"
"[Name]!" Asmodeus cooed, vastly more excited to see her, his pout taking a one-eighty as he cocooned her in a tight hug. The kiss he pressed to the side of her neck was a greeting at this point, even when he lingered a bit too long for her comfort. "It's so nice to see you again! I was worried Lucifer had fired you when you didn't show up for the raid last week."
"Could'a used your help then," Mammon supplied, in that same accusatory tone. He shoved Asmodeus aside and brought her into a hug of his own, though, even though he was as stiff as a board. He had taken to doing that after she yanked a spear out of his stomach and kept him from bleeding out by loaning him some of her power when he was worryingly weak. "Beel got sick an' Belphie took out a few minions."
[Name] patted his back and smiled when he parted from her, retreating to what she assumed was a comfortable distance for him. Any closer and he'd probably combust on the spot. She scratched her nose, cringing at the smell of blood. "Sorry, I was busy that whole week. My mother hasn't been the best lately."
"Oh! Mrs. [Surname]!" Asmo cheered. He knew the demon woman from a few centuries ago, she remembered, after she'd nearly snapped his neck for getting too close to her with the intent to seduce her. "The patron of disease. How is she?"
"Ya know she could just come back down here," Mammon suggested, leaning against one of the stone statues dotting the front lawn. "That's probably why she ain't feelin' too hot."
[Name] shrugged. "You know I can't make her, and besidesā¦ She refused. I do what I can. But why are you both outside?"
Asmodeus went sulky again. "The king released the prince from his bonds last week. If you'd been here, you would have heard everyone gossiping about it! And he's quite good looking, If I have to say myselfā¤"
"Lucifer did somethin' to get on his bad side," Mammon finished. He tried to look unconcerned, but she could pick out the worry on his face like a beacon. "Somethin' 'bout defyin' him."
"Lucifer and his insufferable pride," she sighed. She rubbed her forehead, uncaring about the blood smearing across the skin. She could only imagine what Lucifer had told the prince. "Anything else I should know?"
"Yes!" Asmodeus raised a finger. "You probably shouldn't go inside. I don't think Lucifer wants the prince to know you're here, or that you even exist. I'd suggest just going topside and reporting in later."
[Name] groaned. "I have a shift tomorrow, I can't do that. What's so bad about this Prince, anyways? He can't be that badā¦"
Asmodeus and Mammon exchanged glances.
"Uhā¦ He's pretty bad." The demon of greed screwed his face up as he recalled something. "I keep reportin' to him, so I'd know. I think ya should be careful around him. He's even got Luci on a tight leash."
Lucifer on a leash was something she couldn't imagine. But with the way that her two friends were talking about him, she figured she'd better take them seriously and just report later, like Asmo had said. She sighed and stretched out her arms, preparing her power to teleport back to the human world.
"Well, I guess I'll just report later." [Name] shrugged and let Asmo pull her into a quick side hug in farewell, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of pulling on her magic reserves. "It was nice to see you two. I'll be back whenā¤"
Her mouth froze when the door opened and power pushed past the wards protecting the house. All at once, her teleportation spell fizzled out and she was out of breath, suffocated by the energy that swelled past the barriers. Asmodeus's face twisted up into worry and slight horror, reaching over to steady her before she really lost her balance and face planted.
Not even Lucifer managed to overpower her like this, and he had been one of the first angels, once upon a time. Or he was at least stifling his to where she could converse with him comfortably without succumbing to her baser instinctsā¤the demonic side that always purred at the thought of power.
Lucifer came out first, but he wasn't the source. His energy was calm and cool, most of the time, and not boiling hot, as if she were standing too close to a fire in an insulated jacket. He was frowning, displeased, and it deepened even further when he caught sight of her steadying herself on Asmo's arm, winded.
The demon inside her was unusually quiet.
"Whatever ya do, don't provoke 'im," Mammom advised, moving to her other side to rest a firm hand on her shoulder. He completely ignored the bits of gore left on her scrubs. "Don't talk unless he speaks to ya. Just be quiet. He'll ignore ya."
It didn't stop the dread creeping up her legs like phantom chains.
Out next came the source of the powerā¤the topic of their discussion.
The Prince of Devildom.
[Name] was sure that if she wasn't so winded, her breath would have hitched at his appearance. He was tall, a few inches more than Beel, and he was already tall enough. His skin was golden bronze, nearly the same color as Mammon's, unusual as nearly everyone else was as pale as the moon. His hair was a deep crimson, reminiscent of fresh blood, and even from her distance, she could tell his eyes were a bright, burning gold.
Her fingers tightened in Asmo's bicep. He mistook it for fear and patted her knuckles soothingly.
His clothes, though, were spattered with blood. The white shirt he wore was ruined beyond saving, and behind him, a butler held a blazer in his arms, stone faced and nonchalant. [Name] probably admired his physique more than she should have, gradually regaining her breath and watching the muscles in his arms flex when he crossed his arms.
He was terrifyingly handsome.
She nearly forgot she was supposed to be breathing for a moment.
The prince ignored Lucifer entirely, a slight that showed as he walked past the former angel and walked down the steps at a leisurely pace. His butler followed, his own power nothing to scoff at, and she realized, belatedly, that they were walking towards them.
This time she felt Asmo and Mammon's grip on her tighten, not her own.
Her concern was for nothing. They walked past without a glance in their direction, the butler not even regarding them with a glance.
She sighed in relief. It was too soon.
[Name] heard a quiet sniff and it didn't belong to Mammon or Asmo. Lucifer's face drew tight. The demons beside her stiffened.
She should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
The prince paused half a foot from them, his head tilting towards her direction. The butler moved as he turned on his heel, poised easily to look back at her halfway.
[Name] swallowed the curse that was bubbling up in her throat.
"A half breed?" She felt his scorching gaze sweep up the length of her body, from her toes to her head, lingering on the blood dyeing her arms red, then at the necklace on her throat. Her mother's necklace. She had to fight not to tuck it in her shirt. "I didn't know Lucifer kept half breeds in his employ."
"Yes." The butler nodded. "A recent addition. A healer."
Asmo's quiet intake of breath wasn't lost on her. Clearly this demon had some sort of knowledge that they didn't.
"What's your name?" Those eyes were fixed on her again, boring into her own like molten gold. Now she really couldn't breathe.
Mammon's tightening grip on her shoulder, close to fracturing bone, told her to answer.
"[Name]," she answered, but it was strangled, breathy as she struggled underneath the power he was letting off. His eyebrows lifted, ponderous, then he turned away. She felt as if someone had left her out to melt on a hot sidewalk.
"Pretty name." His mouth quirked up, just a bit. "Let's go, Barbatos."
[Name] melted just a little more.
And then they were gone, like they had never even been there to begin with. She took a breath and slumped against Mammon, who was for more rigid than Asmo, and rested her hand over her chest, wincing at the ache from having her breath stolen for so long.
"This is bad," Mammon sighed, wrapping his arm around her back when her legs went wobbly. "Really bad."
"Definitely." Asmo shook his head in agreement. "Let's get you inside, [Name]. You can report while you recover."
The whole walk inside, those golden eyes haunted her.
JAPAN WAS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE when you slowed down enough to admire it. Diavolo had, had more than his fair share of trips to the above world, but he had never spent them quite like thisā¤or, perhaps, he was far more used to having a body slumped at his feet with a gun to their heads.
Tonight, it was only his fists that sported the evidence of his recreational activities. Knuckles raw and bloodied, he rejected the demonic energy that flowed through him, that demanded he heal himself. Taking lives was not something he did lightly, and reminding himself of itā¤like a human wouldā¤made his thoughts just that bit heavier. Just that more burdened.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Lucifer crept up beside him without him knowing, arms crossed in a permanent expression of calm. "You aren't usually so quiet after a session."
Diavolo glanced back towards the metal door to the questioning room almost lazily, then looked towards the city lights once more. He completely skipped over Lucifer entirely, favoring the tender skin on his hand instead. "It's rare that I get to take in the frivolities of the human world like this. It almost makes me miss it."
"I wasn't aware you favored the human realm." Light. Deceptively curious. "Or that you frequented it enough at all to lament the loss."
"I never said that I did."
"I didn't accuse you of anything, Diavolo."
"You were thinking it." The redheaded demon shrugged off his blazer and tossed it over the back of a plastic chair. His crisp white shirt was now stained dark red with blood, drying to an unusual hardness, and flecks of it still clung to his face, some fresh and some old. "I'll need to buy a new wardrobe after this."
"Beel did tell you to let him take over," Lucifer reminded him gently, as if he were dealing with a different beast tonight. Which he was; Diavolo might have hid it well, but underneath the cool admiration of the city, he was boiling with unspent rage. "But no. You kept going, and still keep the reminders, I see."
Diavolo narrowed his eyes. He swept up his sleeves, drenched in blood from the wrist up, and pinned them at the elbows. "It keeps me from reverting to my baser instincts. Which you would know nothing about, seeing as Mammon draws it out of you on a day to day basis."
"You're being short with me. Should I worry?"
"Don't ignore what I just said." The prince patted his back pockets and pulled out a soiled cigar. He examined it in the dim light of the moon and shrugged, placing it between his lips and flicking it to a light with his power. "Mammon isn't as stupid as you think he is, Lucifer. I gave him to you for a reason."
"Yes, wellā¦ he has yet to prove that." Except the slightly guilty expression on his face proved otherwise. "Or anything, really."
"Is that what you do?" Amusementā¤thin, but barely there, threaded with a demand for an answer. "Let him get under your skin until you can't take it anymore, then take it out on his flesh?"
"Diavoloā¦" Lucifer warned.
"Don't. I've seen the scars. The wounds he has when he reports back to me." He released a solid stream of smoke through his nose, taking pleasure in the bewildered look that the other demon sent him. "You didn't think I was just going to hand him over to you just like that, did you? I suppose you did, with that look on your face."
The sparkling lights of Japan seemed to dim in the face of the fallen angel's wrath. His anger was potent, his desire to hurt and maim rising to the surface, cracking that veneer of crafted elegance that he desperately desired to keep.
"What I do to my people is my business," he began, the beginning threads of his horns poking through the glamour,"notā¤"
"They're not your people. They're mine." Diavolo abandoned the kind faƧade with a sneer. It tired him to use it when there was no one else to witness it but Lucifer himselfā¤the one who needed to be reminded of his place. "You're just a pawn on a chess board playing lapdog. Your life debt to me is forever; or did you forget about that little factoid? I'm sure Lilith would be disappointed in you."
The angel's entire body stiffened at the thinly veiled threat. The princeā¤the heirā¤was only serious when he wanted to be. And that tone, that wordingā¦ It put Lucifer on edge.
"Diavoloā¦" His voice was soft now, not tinged with the anger that he fixated on Mammon. "Pleaseā¦"
"I got her out, like you asked." The demon prince leaned over the railing and inhaled a heady breath of smoke. Released it into the night air. "I got her a new life, like you asked. I stripped her of her demon and her status. I would think the least you could do was quit abusing your subordinatesā¤or am I thinking too highly of you?"
"No." Lucifer was choked. "No, you aren't."
Diavolo huffed. He raked a hand through his hair, grimacing at the tugs and pulls from the dried blood. "Leave."
"What?"
"What I said. Leave. Go back to the underworld."
"And the human?"
"I don't care. Let Beel eat him. He was a waste of time, anyways." Another puff of smoke. "And Lucifer?"
The fallen angel paused outside of the balcony doorway. "Yes?"
"If you question me again, I'll be paying a little visit to Lilith. And I know you don't want that. Do you?"
No anger. Only fear radiated off of him now; and loathing.
"No."
"Good." Diavolo ripped the cigar from his lips and ground it into dust on the railing. "Now get out of my presence. Consider yourself banned from the human world until I feel like you've groveled enough."
And for Lucifer, the hit to his pride was enough. He sunk down into a portal without as much as a farewell, the entrance closing with an audible snap.
"Angels," the prince huffed, thumbing away the buttons on his shirt with practiced ease. "So loyal, and yet so very defiant. Maybe I should have killed that little Seraphim after all."
He lingered in the human realm for a few more hours, watching the glittering lights of the city once more, but the allure had vanished. All that was left was an immense void that he couldn't fill. Not even the bright lights of humanity could fill it.
Diavolo's mood soured. His knuckles suddenly felt tight, like he needed to hit something for a few hours more. To break bone, turn marrow into dust, obliterate souls and drown his enemies in their blood.
SOFT CURVES. THE GENEROUS length of thigh thrown over the top of a crushed velvet duvet. Lace, black and immaculate, draping exquisite flesh, formed, molded. A silk nightgown, rucked up and sitting prettily around sheer lace clad breasts, straps fallen loosely off of delicate shoulders. Parted lips, stained red, soft as petals. Quiet breaths, deep and slow with sleep. Hair, pulled generously back, to expose the lovely skin of an untainted throat. A hip bone, exposed, curving downwards and disappearing into lace panties.
A sinful painting of innocence and desire, one that he couldn't have. One that he couldn't touch. One that he couldn't taste. One that he couldn't worship.
"I WOULD THINK YOU'D have a nice gallon of vodka or two after that, except you're sitting in an alleyway with a Red Bull and looking at the wall." The demon at the back door grinned at her with a sly smile, watching the half breed flip him off and take another chug of the energy drink. Her fingers slipped clumsily over the aluminum can, wet and darkened with blood, leaving smears wherever she rested her hands. "On a brighter note, I'm glad you saved him. It would have been awful if he had died."
"I doubt any of you care if he did die." [Name] fumbled in her scrubs for a wet wipe of some kind, at least to get some of the more vivid parts on her arms, but came up empty. "You certainly didn't mind when I was elbow deep in his rib cage pulling out that angelic monstrosity."
She pointed lazily to the broken dagger blade laying across from her in the alleyway. Even detatched from its hilt and the hand of the owner, it glimmered dangerously with golden runes along the flat edge, lethal to any demon who touched it except for her. Her human blood came in handy sometimes when she wasn't being hated for it.
"Yes, well, what can I say?" He shrugged. The earrings in his ears glinted under the artificial light of the lamp post outside the door. "I'm the patron demon of sadism."
