Avarist for your love.

New Yandere writer. Don't be shy and ask for whatever you want. I'm not a fan of headcanons tho. 18+

[raphaelshalo]

im sure somebody else has already done this, but i put mammons asmr onto a google drive if anybody wants 2 watch it

suprise (part 1 )

did ya miss me (part 2)

take care and welcome home (part 3)

tell me! (part 4)

a place to come home to (part 5)

[dravarist]

Girls in the night.

[myhaeris]

"Sit. Stay awhile. I grow lonesome and eager for your presence."

[xenasaur]

seeing strange fetishes im not into on my dash is like observing an edible herb on a walk. Hmm. someone wise ☝ could make use of this... but i shan't 👴

you paint such a beautiful picture with your words anon thank you

[lvlup-levizine]

🧡 LEVEL UP! IS OUT NOW! 🧡

🐍 DOWNLOAD OUR FREE DIGITAL ZINE, NSFW DLC AND DIGITAL MERCH HERE! 🐍

Please share with your friends! Every reblog counts! We put so much work into this project, it would mean the world to us if you told us what you think. There's a comment section on the download website, but any feedback on our socials is much appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting this digital shrine to our beloved Otaku of Envy, and a huge thank you to the contributors and mods that made this all possible.

From all of us at Level Up!, we hope you enjoy!

[dhampy-moved]

the birth of satan 🦚

[tailsdollr]

evil pong

[madamscream]

Barbatos keeps delivering expensive presents before asking for your company and someone has to explain its a greed demon courtship thing. You’re scrambling to figure out how you’re even supposed to respond. He thinks it’s cute.

[elineloo]

repost

[das-sena]

[arvandus]

The Beauty of Broken Things

Barbatos x GN!Reader

Content warnings: SFW; reader with (vague) mental health issues; Reader has self-deprecating thoughts and low self-esteem; hurt/comfort; lots of dialogue; romance; first kiss (cuz I'm a sap 💚)

Author's Note: Not me coming out of hiatus to drop this at 1:20am on a weekday. ANYWAY.... I was going through it a month or so ago and this was very therapeutic and self-indulgent to write. Hopefully you'll find some comfort in it as well. 💚

You creep into the RAD greenhouse under the cover of the Devildom darkness.  The warm yellow lights, usually on to allow students to observe and take notes,  are turned off for the evening, causing the devildom flora to transform from something familiar to something alien, branches reaching like arms and long, pointed leaves stretched out like grasping fingers.

But despite the sinister threat of danger that is interlaced in the native plant life, it still feels comforting.  The gnarled limbs and black leaves feel more protective than threatening, arching over your head to provide a canopy of privacy in the quiet, uninhabited space.

Usually the greenhouse is a bustle of student activity, with botany classes often perusing the aisles with their notebooks and art students lingering with their sketchbooks.  But classes had long since ended, the busy chaos of academia ushered away by the sinking of the large Devildom moon, bringing with it night within night.

You need this.  You need the silence, the privacy, the darkness.  The House of Lamentation doesn’t offer it.  The Demon Lord’s castle is also not an option as you don’t want to impose purely for the sake of self-isolation.

No, this is perfect.  It is safe, safer than losing yourself in the real forests that press against the outskirts of the Devildom.  It is a place for hiding, a place for becoming invisible.  It is a place that makes you feel small, from the tightly clustered plants around you to the vast starry sky that slowly rotates high beyond the confines of the glass ceiling.  You could almost pretend you’re a bug, an insect, or some other small life form who’s only purpose is to exist in the here and now, moment to moment. 

Maybe then you could find peace in your mind; maybe that voice of sickness and lies that whispered louder than any demon would fall silent.

Not all days were this bad.  But the added stress, the fatigue.... you knew it was only a matter of time before you found yourself dangerously close to that pitch black rock bottom. You felt it encroaching, a shadow teasing the edges of your mind, and you knew... you knew you had to find somewhere to gather yourself, to work through it without interruption or curious eyes.

This helps.  A place of quiet, of privacy, of nature, even if the nature isn’t your own.  In its own alien way, it’s perfect.

Perfect, but also lonely. You both love and hate it, glad to be unnoticed for once but vulnerable against the rare isolation.  Rare, but not unfamiliar.  You sit with it; let it soak into your bones.  Like putting on old shoes that still fit, worn soles perfectly conformed to your feet, your mind eases into accepting that familiar ache, a feeling not often experienced anymore, but still deeply rooted in old memories and dreams.  The old loneliness hollows you out, slows the blood rushing through your veins as your mind eventually quiets to a low hum of white noise.  It brings its own twisted kind of peace; not the healthy kind that heals and rejuvenates, but the broken kind that separates you from yourself, an act of cutting rather than mending.

If you could turn to stone in this moment, you would.

But not even this will last forever, your quiet reverie interrupted by the sound of the door to the greenhouse opening and closing.  The sound of the click and the creak of the hinge is startling against the endless quiet, and it makes you jolt.  You fight the irrational urge to hide within the surrounding shrubbery, as if such an act would truly hide you at all, and instead curl in on yourself with arms and legs crossed on the stone bench where you sit.

Whoever it is, is as silent as a ghost; you hear no footsteps, nor sounds of breath.  Whoever it is does not speak, so you know instantly it is not any of the brothers or even Diavolo.  But you feel their presence, and you know they feel yours.  There is an awareness in the air that wasn’t present before, the atmosphere going from one of empty quiet, to buzzing consciousness.

A moment later, a familiar pair of polished black shoes come into your field of view, attached to a familiar set of legs that stand formally in a way that only a royal butler could accomplish.

You look up and your eyes meet Barbatos, who stares down at you with a calm, curious expression and a slight tilt of his head.  He’s still dressed in his RAD uniform, but his white gloves are removed, likely tucked into the interior chest pocket of his tailcoat.

“MC,” he says gently.  “I did not expect you to be here. You do know that the RAD campus is closed, yes?”

“I know,” you reply. 

Even so, you make no motion to move, your body still curled within itself protectively.  It isn’t so much to protect against him, but to hold onto that feeling of smallness that helps to separate you from the ache in your chest and the cacophony of your mind. 

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“Some of the flora require care after school hours, so I tend to them prior to locking up for the evening.”

“Ah.” Your sour mood strips you of your warmth, your words fading away as you retreat back into yourself.

Barbatos stares at you for a moment longer, before gesturing to the bench. “May I?”

You return his stare with your own before moving over just enough to make room for him.  The bench is small, comfortable for one, a slight squeeze for two, but he sits nonetheless, seemingly unbothered.  The proximity of him is a brand and a blessing, the heat of him surprisingly comforting while your heart thuds harder in your chest.  You’re rarely ever this close to him, any prior instances of physical contact occurring out of necessity rather than choice.

You both sit in silence for a long time.  You aren’t sure if he is expecting an explanation from you, but you couldn’t give one even if you wanted to, the struggles within yourself too tangled to fully unravel, especially with how weathered you feel.

Finally, after a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence, the smooth richness of his voice breaking the quiet that sits like a bridge between you.

“I often find the Devildom flora more beautiful in the dark.”

It is an olive branch, and you take it, a small smile curling the corners of your lips.

“Me too,” you reply.  “It feels more natural this way. When the lights are on, it feels like we’re trying to force the plants and flowers to be something they’re not.”

Barbatos stares at you for a long, quiet moment before returning his gaze ahead of him.  “Indeed. Things are more beautiful when they are allowed to be themselves.”

A sentiment you share, and yet it isn’t one you can extend to yourself, and it cuts you.

“I wish that were always true...” you mutter.

It’s a thought whispered past private lips, and you regret them instantly when his keen, green eyes, nearly black in the darkness, flick back to you.

“Why would it not be?” he asks.

You shift uncomfortably and swallow the lump that suddenly manifests where your voice is supposed to be.

“I don’t know...” you finally mutter evasively.

You feel his eyes lingering on you, and it feels as if he can read the dark thoughts that live there, shadow where sunlight should be.  But if he can read your mind, he doesn’t say so, and he doesn’t pry further.

Instead, Barbatos does something that you do not expect.  His hand covers yours, untangling your fingers from your tightly clasped palms that sit in your lap.  His touch is warm, warmer than you thought it’d be, and you can’t help but wonder how different his body really is from yours when it feels so human.

You watch as Barbatos twines his fingers with yours, a simple but shockingly intimate action.  It’s surprisingly comforting, fulfilling a longing within you that you didn’t even realize you carried so heavily until just now; an anchor of companionship, unwavering in its simplicity, gentle in its unassuming nature.  There’s a lack of expectation in Barbatos’s touch, a quiet acceptance of the here and now, of the you of this moment, rather than the ‘you’ that you always present to others, or the ‘you’ that others expect of you.

It makes something within you surrender.  It forces the dissociation from your mind, pulling you instantly back into reality, into your body. Barbatos’s tenderness, given freely without price, carves a space for itself within your chest, and it hurts, the sudden sharpness of vulnerability an open wound.  That vulnerability is unfamiliar, raw, terrifying. It calls forth your fears, makes the voices of wrongness sing louder than ever, listing all of the ways you are undeserving of this moment.  And you’re angry, angry at their presence, and their ability to ruin even this for you, to taint something peaceful and beautiful with something so ugly.

The tears finally come, blurring your vision and spilling over silently onto your cheeks.  More come immediately after, and you sniff, your nose starting to run as you wipe at your face.  A handkerchief appears within your view, and you take it, your heart too shy and embarrassed to look at Barbatos properly or even offer him a mumbled thank you.  But he shows no discomfort or disdain for your tears or lack of manners. Instead, he sits quietly with you, waiting patiently as he holds your hand securely within his own, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes on the soft skin between your thumb and index finger.

Quietly you cry, and quietly he waits.  Each second longer that you cry is a confession of your imperfection, your brokenness, and each second longer that Barbatos stays by your side is an acceptance, a forgiveness.  And so, without even speaking to one another, the very act of this shared moment provides a cleansing of your heart that you’d never felt before.  Each drop of salty water is a purge, a release.  There’s an amusing irony to it; an exorcism of sorts in a place where God isn’t welcome, supported by a creature who’s existence came from darkness.

The catharsis brings release, and the release brings fatigue.  The rigidness of your spine gives way to something more pliable, and you lean your head against his shoulder as you continue to weep, albeit gentler now that the worst of it has passed.  Barbatos lets you, his thumb barely missing a beat in its strokes against your hand.  He makes no effort to increase his physical reassurance; no arm around your shoulder, no leaning of his head against the crown of yours.  You’re grateful for it, not quite ready to be touched so completely.  Maybe soon... after all, the thought does entice you... but not yet. Not when your heart is still raw and tender.

No, this is perfect. It’s just enough.

Finally, the floodwaters of your heart recede, and you wipe away the last traces of wetness from your cheeks with his silk handkerchief. It’s damp with tears and snot now, and you know you’ll have to wash it before returning it to him.  You fiddle with it with your free hand, your thumb tracing along the cursive B that is sewn into its corner with dark thread, the color muted to black in the dark.

Your hands are still intertwined with each other, your head still resting against his shoulder, and you’re grateful for it as you find the courage to finally speak, your eyes still trained on that cursive B.

Your voice is quiet, hushed by hesitancy.  “Barbatos...I have a question...”

“Hm?”

“When I die, and my soul leaves my body.... does.... does that mean that the mental illness won’t be there anymore?  Does that part get left behind?”

“Ah,” Barbatos says softly, his voice rich with understanding. “I see.”

You sit up, although his hand still holds yours; after all, you haven’t pulled away yet.  But your eyes... your eyes are downcast, the shame of your breakdown too heavy regardless of Barbatos’s tenderness.

Now that you’ve finally confessed your fear it becomes easier to speak, and the words come more freely.  “I’m just... I’m tired of being this way.  Feeling this way, thinking this way.  It’s always there, like this big, lurking monster that I can’t escape from. Except it’s a part of me. I don’t know who I am without it. And I’m—” tears choke your words, but you force yourself to continue even as your eyes once again brim and sting.  “I’m just so afraid that it’ll never go away. Even when I die, and my soul is separated from this broken fucking body—”

A long, slender finger covers your lips, halting your impending tirade of self-loathing.  It forces you to finally look at him, and you’re surprised to see how deep the concern goes within his dark gaze.

“Shh,” he says.  “Don’t say such things.  It does the richness of all that you are a disservice.”

His words stun you into silence, and you stare at him wide-eyed.  He holds your gaze for a moment longer before taking the handkerchief from your clenched fist.  You start to protest, embarrassed at the state of it, but he ignores your concerns and uses a relatively clean spot to wipe away your new tears.

You fall silent as he cares for you, and in that silence, he begins to speak.

“You humans so often like to label and categorize things, an attempt at making sense of the world around you when you’re forever doomed to know so little. Lines of comparison drawn on a beach, not realizing that in the end, it’s all made of sand.”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“What you’re speaking of is a sickness of the mind, correct?”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it...”

Barbatos takes your palm in his hand and turns it face up.  “I’ve heard you humans often use the term ‘mind, body, and soul’ as if they are all separate.  Back when I spent time in the human realm, humans treated the soul as synonymous with the heart and the mind as synonymous with the brain, both housed within the body.”  With his finger, he draws one large circle, and within it, places two dots vertically spaced from each other.

You stare at your palm as you ponder his words.  “Yes,” you say, “that idea still lingers... sort of...”

 You take his hand in yours, and draw your own circles – a small, a medium, and a large, all inset within each other like a target.

“I think... I see the soul and mind as synonymous of each other, in way, that they depend on each other. Or...”

 You hesitate, your fears surfacing again as you stare at Barbatos’s open palm.

 “I think...” you continue slowly, “I think I’m afraid that they’re the same thing. That the soul only exists because of the mind. If that’s true, then if my mind is broken, then so is my soul, and I’ll be carrying that brokenness with me forever.  It’s like... trying to forge something using a metal riddled with impurities.  The integrity will always be compromised, no matter how beautiful the shape in the end.”

Barbatos’s open hand closes around yours, cradling your fingertips that still rest against his skin. He turns your hand over palm up again.

“Imagine this” – he draws a large circle – “is your body. And this” – he draws a smaller circle within it – “is your mind.”

You wait for the third circle, but it never comes.  You frown.

“Where is the soul?”

“Everywhere,” he says.

Your gaze lifts from your open hand to his eyes.  He smiles back at you in quiet mirth, then drops his gaze back to your hand.  His fingers retrace over the larger circle he’d first drawn into your palm.

“Your soul,” he repeats, “is everywhere.”

Confusion once again surfaces in the contours of your face. Barbatos stares at you for a moment as he searches for the words in a way that you can understand.  His eyes sink deep beneath the surface of you, and it makes you shift beneath his gaze.  After a moment he blinks, his amusement returning.

“Perhaps it is my choice of words that is unclear,” he says. “Allow me to try again.” 

He pokes your forehead with his index finger.  “Your mind is not the same as your soul the way you fear.  It is simply consciousness, self-awareness provided you by your biology,” he explains.

“You mean my brain.”

“Yes.”

“So my mind is just another part of my body.”

“Precisely.  Your body is merely the medium through which you experience this life, whether it’s through your senses, such as sight and touch, or through your consciousness.”

He returns to your hand, his fingers tracing the invisible large circle for a third time.

“Your soul, on the other hand, is a different thing entirely.  It isn’t something that can be contained to one organ within you.  Not your heart, not your brain.  It’s deeper than that, richer,” he says quietly, as if sharing a secret.

His touch travels, his fingertips gliding feather-light across your palm, up your wrist, following the tendons and veins to your forearm where goosebumps begin to awaken across your sensitive skin.

“It’s energy.  It’s life,” he continues. “It’s eternal, and it’s woven into every fiber of your being, a golden thread holding you together like the universe’s most exquisite tapestry.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers curve around your forearm until he holds it within his hand, his thumb rubbing gently against the soft skin where your veins rest beneath. His words enrapture you, his touch enthralls you. If there was ever a moment in your life you could stay trapped in forever, it would be this one.

But the moment is short-lived.  Barbatos’s soothing touch halts mid-motion, his expression turning blank, as if he suddenly remembers himself and realizes the growing intimacy of the exchange.  He withdraws his hand, and it leaves a cold emptiness where his warmth had been.

You ponder his words, but it only leads to more questions.

“My soul is everywhere...” you mutter.  “But Barbatos... if it’s woven into my body, then how...?”

“How does your soul pass on after you die?”

You nod.

Barbatos holds his chin in his fingers thoughtfully.  “You are thinking too literally.  Perhaps it is my own failure to find the right words.  Human speech doesn’t offer enough nuance to fully describe something your kind still struggles to understand.”

He ponders a moment longer, his brow knit together in concentration.  Finally his head lifts and his gaze meets yours.  “Ah.  Perhaps we can describe it as such.  Your body is made of matter, correct? And if you look deep enough, you know that all matter is made up of atoms.  But not even atoms ever completely touch.” He takes your hand in one of his and holds it up, your palm facing him, as he brings his other hand within a hair’s breadth; close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him, but not actually touching.  “There’s a negative space, ever present yet so infinitesimal that you’d never know it’s there.”  His hand finally touches yours, his fingers aligned with yours as he splays them out.  “It is this space that your soul exists, interwoven, encapsulating every atom of what you are.”

You’re staring at your touching hands, wide-eyed now, as you take in what he’s told you.  The scope of it feels nearly too vast to properly comprehend, despite how hard you try.

“It’s all very... complicated...” you mutter as you finally lower your hand back to your lap.

“Hm, is it?” Barbatos replies with a curious tilt of his head.  “Here then, another example, but simpler.  If you were to lose a limb, would it damage your soul?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re separate.”

And finally, it clicks for you. 

Barbatos smiles.  “Precisely.  So, if a lost limb will not damage your soul, then why should a damaged mind?”

The weightlessness of relief begins to spread from the center of your chest, and you release a long, deep breath.

“I see,” you say.  “So when I die...”

“When you die, your soul continues on, transformed, as your body decays.”

The balloon of relief breaks and you do a doubletake.  “...transformed?”

Barbatos nods.  “Yes, by your experiences and choices in this life.”

Once again that despair rears, the dark void opening beneath your feet as you cling to your dwindling hope. You once again wrap your arms around yourself protectively, as if you are the only one who can keep yourself from falling, despite the presence of the demon directly in front of you.

“But... Barbatos,” you protest, “sometimes mental illnesses can cause people to make bad choices.  Wrong choices.  Hurtful choices.  If those can impact the soul, then wouldn’t that mean the soul does get damaged? Or tainted?”

Barbatos falls silent for a long moment, and you avoid looking into his eyes, your gaze downcast.  His hand reaches out and covers your forearm reassuringly, but your arms remain crossed.

“As a demon, I cannot attest to how just the Celestial Realm’s rules are.  I, for one, find them to be rather suffocating and arbitrary, lacking in nuance.  But even I would be shocked if such things weren’t taken into consideration when it is time for a soul to be set upon the scales of judgment.”

Scales of judgment... the idea makes you nauseous.

Barbatos’s touch to your forearm is replaced by both of his hands on your arms just below the shoulders.  You can tell from the way he moves that he is ducking his head lower in an attempt to catch your avoiding eyes, but you keep  yourself hidden lest your tears return.

“MC....” he says softly,  “are you worried that you will be judged unfairly when your time comes?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, and when you do it’s thicker, heavy under the weight of emotions.  “Maybe... or maybe I’m worried I’ll be judged fairly.”

“If you do not go to heaven when your time comes, then the Celestial Realm truly is run by fools.”

His words surprise you, and you finally catch his gaze, amusement beneath a raised, sarcastic brow.  Your skin grows hot and you avert your eyes for a different reason, your shoulders lifting slightly in subtle retreat.

“Well,” you continue, “you said yourself that the soul gets transformed during this life.  I’ve made some not-so-great choices, so far.  I’ve done things I regret; hurt people I’ve loved and even people I didn’t.  What if my soul is not as good as I hope?”

Barbatos gives a soft scoff of amusement, his brows pinching up in the center as he stares at you in wry amusement.  “My dear, the very idea that your soul is anything but good is quite literally an impossibility.”

Your tension loosens slightly. “How do you know?”

The corner of one side of his mouth quirks up slightly. “Well, to start, I am a demon. And as one of the oldest demons, I have devoured countless souls across my lifetime.  If anyone is to be an expert on the quality of a soul it would be me.”

Something about the way he talks so simply about his violence, combined with his intimate kindness, makes you feel lightheaded.

It takes an extra heartbeat for you to find enough air in your lungs to speak.  “And, uh...what does a demon such as yourself consider high quality?”

Barbatos stares distantly, and for a moment he feels ancient.  When he speaks, his voice seems almost otherworldly, holding a resonance to it that wasn’t there before.  “It varies from demon to demon.  Some enjoy the flavor of corruption upon a soul, some prefer the sweet, crisp freshness of innocence and purity... but all human souls possess something that ours lack, something that makes us crave.  We’re drawn to it, in the way your human realm plants are drawn to sunlight.” He pauses and shakes his head.  “No, perhaps that analogy is too mild.  It is more how the Devildom’s Succubus’s Kiss lures its victims into its choking vines with the sweet promise of fruit.”

You swallow for a moment, your throat suddenly dry as you stare at your now empty palms where your longing for him sits abandoned.

“You make it sound as if humans are the dangerous ones,” you chide.

A half-hearted attempt at a joke, but Barbatos chuckles nonetheless.

“Yes; perhaps you are.”

You can’t tell in this moment if he’s referring to ‘you’ as in humanity, or ‘you’ as in something far more personal.  It only makes the curiosity sharper, honed on the whetstone of your pining.

“And my soul...” you continue, “what do you sense, Barbatos?”

Dread immediately follows your bold and vulnerable question, fearing what he must inevitably see in you.  Is Barbatos the type to enjoy the flavor of corruption, to find value in broken things?  Or is he more of a purist, always a keen eye for perfection?  You fear you already know the answer as you take in his crisp RAD uniform, his perfectly smooth features.  Your gaze falls downward, an attempt to hide what you’re sure he already knows.

One heartbeat, two.  Then your chin is being tilted up by his thumb and forefinger until your eyes are forced to meet his.  There’s a hint of luminescence in them, the green noticeable now where it wasn’t before, pushing against the dark monotone of night that previously washed his irises in near-black. His eyes are searching, seeking, finding, and you can feel the magic, the power that unravels every defense, every barrier.  Finally, his gaze settles, the green quiets to a deep, sleeping forest of pine in winter.  It’s peaceful; soothing.

If Barbatos’s earlier release of your arm was to provide distance from the growing intimacy between you, then the attempt was in vain.  Because now the affection in his gaze is unmistakable, the deep shadowy green cradling you the way his fingers cradle your chin. It weakens you, makes you feel like putty in his touch.

“You glow,” Barbatos whispers, “like sunlight trapped in ripples. It’s blinding, and yet so beautiful I find it impossible to look away.  I can feel it in you, emanating like heat from a hearth, and it makes me long for a home I’ve never had.”

The hum of his voice makes you shiver, goosebumps forming across your skin.  The adoration in his eyes falters briefly, the lingering green fading to black, giving way to a dark, ancient sorrow.

“I think,” he continues, “it’s a glimpse of what heaven must feel like.  A small piece of divinity passed down to you from your ancestor.”

His fingers release your chin, but the vulnerability remains, if not slightly muted due to the distance imposed by the lack of physical contact.

“I am different from Lucifer and his brothers in that I was never an angel.  I came into existence exactly as I am, and as such I’ve never known divinity.  And yet... despite never knowing it, there is still a strange... hunger for it.  It is a peculiar thing to miss something you’ve never known.”

“You... long for Heaven?” you ask him.

Barbatos tilts his head thoughtfully, his gaze absent somewhere past your shoulder. “Not so much Heaven the place. It’s more so the purity, the grace, to feel that sense of wholeness that the divine offers. It’s why we are drawn to human souls.  Angels, you see, are far too potent. Too much divinity hurts a demon; it can even kill them.  But you... you humans have just enough of both worlds within you to allow us a taste.  It can be rather addictive, especially for younger demons who have not yet had enough millennia to control their hunger.”

His pupils dilate in the dark as he refocuses his gaze.  His eyes meet yours and linger for a moment before slowly drawing down to your parted lips.  “You are a rare case indeed.  More potent in your divinity than the average human, but not enough to hurt.”

You quirk a smile at him.  “Barbatos, are you saying I’m irresistible?”

It is a joke, one you feel comfortable making because of its ridiculousness.  But then he gives you a smile you’ve never seen before that makes your stomach drop and your body awash with heat.  There’s a directness in it, a challenge presented in a wry upward turn of the lips and the glint of teeth in the faint starlight.

“Perhaps,” he says.

You try to brush him off with a scoff and break eye contact, feigning interest in the shape of the black leaves that arch over the both of you in the darkness.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” you mutter.

“Oh? You don’t believe me,” he comments. “Perhaps there is more I can do to convince you then.”

Your heartbeat falters, tripped by hope, and you keep your eyes above and around lest you combust right in front of him. 

“Convince me?” you question.

You’re attempting to feign indifference, to protect yourself from the inevitable rejection you know is coming, because surely he’s not... he doesn’t mean.... he wouldn’t... that look in his eyes earlier... affection yes, but that can mean anything...

Barbatos takes your chin in his fingers and pulls gently until you have nowhere else to look but directly at him. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, into him.  There’s a flicker there, a glow of swirling green, like nebulae trapped within his vastness.

“Indeed,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath upon your parted lips.  You realize he’s closer than you anticipated, closer than ever before.

 Your lightheadedness is returning, and your genuinely afraid you’ll faint, so you force yourself to keep speaking.

“What kind of convincing?” you ask.

He smiles that smile again, the one that turns your insides molten.  “The kind that doesn’t require words, since you seem to doubt them so fervently.” 

His thumb draws gently across your lower lip, his half-lidded gaze transfixed.  “Would you like to be convinced?” he mutters.

You swallow and answer honestly. 

“Yes.”

Barbatos’s eyes return to yours and his lips curl into a soft, genuine smile.  He closes what’s left of the distance, his warm lips capturing yours as his fingers release your chin in favor of gently cupping your jawline.

You close your eyes and reciprocate, your hand resting against his chest.

It’s gentle, soft, and for all of his heavy flirting just a moment ago, it is as unassuming as when he’d first held your hand.  It washes away the last dredges of worry, calms the ever-present unease that always lingers.  The clouds of your mind finally part, even if just for this moment, and for the first time in a long while, you feel feather-light as a peaceful warmth spreads from head to toe to the tips of your fingers.

When your lips part, Barbatos keeps his hand on your cheek and plants a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Now, believe me when I say you are beautiful.  Believe me when I say that you are good.  And most importantly, believe me when I say that I am always here for you.”

Your choked by emotion, your eyes once again burning, but this time for a different reason entirely.

“Even when I’m being sad and pathetic?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly.

Barbatos  puts his forehead against yours as his lips curve into a tender smile.

“Especially then.”

[phoenixcollective]

Reblog if you would be comfortable living in a dormitory with an openly transgender or intersex individual. We’re working on a campaign for gender neutral housing and we could use your support.

[devildomditzy]

Devildom Ditzy's Birthday Bash

Here it is, in all its long-as-hell glory.

It's hard to celebrate turning 24, just like it's hard to celebrate growing up in general. This is for everyone that could use this today. Whether you enjoy your birthday, or hate it, hopefully this is one story you can enjoy for yourself.

No trigger warnings, besides language, a very small mention of blood from vigorous teeth brushing, and heavy mentions of birthdays (lol)

Happy birthday to you, whenever it is <3

You wake up to the sound of your screaming alarm, exhausted but obligated to start your day. As you stretch out and trudge to the bathroom to brush your teeth, you remember exactly what day it was. Wow. You forgot it was your own birthday? That's a new one. You shrug to yourself and continue your morning routine.

Birthdays used to be something exciting and important as a kid. Once you started to get older and the years passed by, its significance became less and less prominent to you, instead being replaced with the dread of getting older. Another step towards the inevitable. Hell, with the type of stuff you're subjected to down here in the Devildom, you assume you always have one foot in the grave anyway. Maybe... you should talk to Thirteen about that...

Well, there's one thing you can take solace in today, its the fact that you forgot what day it was. If you were that forgetful about the day you were born, there's no way any of the guys would have remembered. Except for maybe Luke. If he wrote down it in his calendar the first day he met you. And if he was there to remind them, maybe Simeon and Solomon would remember. Solomon was iffy, as he's so old himself you doubt he's keeping track of time in general. Hopefully the biggest fuss they'd make about you would be calling you over to Purgatory Hall for a slice of whatever birthday cake Luke conjured up. And if he asked for help baking it, maybe Barbatos would know too... and he'd tell Diavolo. And Diavolo would make it a national Devildom holiday or something.. You wouldn't put it past him.

And Diavolo would tell...

No. There's no way the brothers know when your birthday is. You don't remember telling any of them specifically. And none of them had mentioned anything about it approaching. None of them had been acting shifty either, and that's saying something. You know at least Levi and Asmo are terrible at keeping secrets. Mammon too if you pay him to spill gossip on any given being in the realm, family or not.

You shake yourself from your daze, spitting into the sink and seeing a mix of fluoride and blood. Whoops. Your thoughts had you brushing your teeth way too long. Splashing water on your face, you attempt to bring yourself back to reality to finish getting ready to go downstairs.

You slip on your RAD uniform and straighten out the jacket. Damn, birthdays are good for one thing. Maybe if you had told Lucifer, he would have let you skip today, or at the very least sleep in. Yawning, you look in the mirror, adjusting your hair so you look at least presentable. You mindlessly open the door to the hallway, meandering as you make your way down to the dining hall. You're in absolutely no rush to go to school. But as you approach the room, something shocking pulls you out of your stupor;

It was quiet.

Like, dead quiet.

You speed up your pace, now worried about what you'd find.

And you're surprised to find Lucifer sitting by himself, sipping on some kind of concoction, eyes meeting yours as soon as you walked in.

"Ah, good morning, MC."

"Morning, Lucifer. Where is everybody?"

He closes his eyes as he begins to sip his drink once more. "Have you forgotten its Saturday?"

You mentally face palm. Right, Saturday. No school. And here you are with your R.A.D. uniform on, looking dumb as hell.

"But it's a good thing you're dressed and ready to go. Lord Diavolo has requested your assistance."

"Oh, with what?", you question. This was out of left field.

"Extra student council work. It particularlly relates to the exchange program, so it will be you going. I will accompany you, of course."

"Oh, okay... I guess. Some kind of warning would have been nice", you mutter to yourself.

"Is there a problem, MC?", he questions in that intimidating tone that kind of still scares you to this day.

"N-no, not at all. I guess I'm ready to go."

"Excellent, then let us be off."

"No! C'mon, I told ya to the left!"

"Mammon, that's your right."

"You know what I meant!"

Hands on his hips, Mammon stands a few feet back, scrutinizing his brothers at their best attempts at following his not-so-clear instructions.

"Well if you don't like how we're doing it, why don't you do it yourself?", Levi snaps from his place on the left side of the Happy Birthday banner he holds in his hands.

"Yeah, Mammon! I don't wanna break a nail right before the party!", Asmo whines on his own ladder, holding the right side of the banner.

"Oh I'm sorry, I don't remember raising a bunch of whiners!", Mammon slides his sunglasses he refuses to take off even inside down the bridge of his nose to leer at the two youngers.

"You didn't raise us at all!", Levi exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Well I'm older than ya, that should count for somethin'", Mammon says matter of factly.

As Levi throws his hands up in disbelief at his incredulous older brother, the motion causes the other side of the banner to slip through Asmo's hands, half of the letters spelling "Birthday" scattering to the ground.

"Oh, great. That's great. Great job, you two", Mammon crosses his arms, clearly annoyed.

"You know, you're lucky this is for MC!", Levi sighs, growing increasingly tired at Mammon's attitude.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?", Mammon challenges back, not helping the situation at all.

"Becaaaause, if it wasn't, neither of us would be helping you. You should be thanking us!". Asmo remains cheery as he hops back down the latter, carefully bending down to pick up the unstrung letters to add them back to the banner. "You know we're only doing it for them!".

"Of course we're only doing it for them, you think we would go through all this trouble for you?", Satan groans, rolling his eyes as he walks by the three to set down the decorations in his hands, stopping to take stock of what was left to hang up.

"Wha- Now why'd you gotta go and say that for!", Mammon pouts back at the fourth born.

"Can you stop trying to boss people around and actual help for once?", Satan questions, roughly shoving a roll of streamers into Mammon's hands. "Here, make yourself useful."

"Tch!", Mammon grunts under his breath, but takes the streamers all the same, walking towards the supplies and grabbing a roll of tape off the table.

While the halls of the House of Lamentation could already be considered ornate, the boys were doing their best to kick it up a notch. It was a surprise party for you of all people, of course they were going to do everything they can to make it as extra as possible.

"So, is this still a surprise? Or have you already accidentally blabbed off to them", Satan asks, not sparing a glance to Mammon as he began to unroll his own set of streamers.

"Wow, ya really have that little faith in your big brother, eh?"

"Well, you follow them around like a lost dog 24/7. Chances are you already slipped up and told them something".

"W-well.. uh...", Mammon wracks his brain trying to remember exactly what he said to you that could have kind of maybe accidentally a little teeny bit ruined their plans for your party.

"So you did, didn't you!", Levi raises his voice, now taping his side of the banner to the wall.

Asmo takes a sharp gasp as he adheres his side as well. "J'accuse!"

"I-I didn't! I swear! At least I think", Mammon defends himself, muttering the last part under his breath.

Before the other three can begin to press him, the heavy front doors of the HOL swing open, two figures walking in side by side.

"We're back", Belphie calls out, walking into the house, cake in hand.

"Oh, good. How's it look?", Satan wonders, setting down the supplies in his hand to walk towards the youngest, leaning over the box in his hand.

"It held up great on the trip back", he responds.

"Sorry it took so long", Beel says to no one in particular, nodding his head affirmatively.

"I think Beel ate every other dessert they had for sale", Belphie chuckles, looking to his twin who smiles in response.

"Well, thank you for leaving this one in tact", Satan says, relieved that somehow sending gluttony to pick up your birthday cake did not end poorly.

"Of course. I'll always share my desserts with MC", Beel states, face super serious as if to show how important this was to him.

"We'll go put this in the fridge. Need help with anything else?", questions Belphie.

Satan shakes his head in response, a small smile making its way to his face. "No, no. We've only got decorations left over here and I think the four of us have it handled. Have you heard from MC yet?"

Belphie hands the cake off to Beel, taking his D.D.D. out of his pocket to check his notifications, pushing his hair out of his face to look at the screen. "Not in a bit. The last I heard they complained that Lucifer was making them go help Diavolo with official R.A.D. junk. That was about two hours ago".

"Wow, they must really got 'em runnin around. They haven't even texted me back yet", Mammon looks at his phone is disbelief.

"They haven't texted any of us back, Mammon", Levi reminds the former.

"Yeah, but I'm their first! They text me a whole of a hell lot more than you lot!"

"That's because you text them incisively", Satan remarks, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, clearly becoming annoyed.

"But-"

"Can you shut up and keep helping me hang these?", Satan turns towards Mammon, clearly trying his best not to lash out.

"Gah! Fine.", Mammon grumbles as he makes his way towards the back wall of the room. "Hey, fish brain, primadonna, come help me out, would ya?"

Levi's anger begins to boil to the surface once more as he snatches the streamers out of Mammon's hands. "Again. You are so, so lucky this is for them", he spits vitriol as begins to unroll the bundle.

"Exactly, this is for them, so let's try to get along while we finish this, kay?", Asmo chimes in, walking over to help Levi begin to find a place to hang the crêpe paper.

"Right, then we'll be right back", Beel says as he and Belphie make their way towards the kitchen.

"Luke is also bringing a cake, so can you leave room in the fridge for his?", Satan calls out to them as they go.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll make room", Beel confirms, speeding up to begin eating enough stuff out of the fridge so that both cakes could be chilled.

"I didn't mean eat...the entire....ugh", Satan grunts, realizing there's no point in redirecting Beel when it comes to food. He looks to the watch on his wrist to gauge the time before turning back to help the others. He takes out his own D.D.D. and shoots a quick text in a secret group chat you had just so coincidentally been left out of.

OPERATION: S.U.R.P.I.R.I.S.E (12)

Satan: We're almost done over here, what's your ETA Lucifer?

Lucifer: We'll finish up soon. MC is still under the impression that this work is critical for the student council. I believe they are almost done.

Satan: Seems everything is going smoothly then?

Lucifer: I'd like to say that but...

Before Lucifer can finish his message, a picture of a very, very happy Lord Diavolo holding something very colorful in his hands pops up on the screen.

Diavolo: Satan! Look at what Barbatos and I procured at the store for MC! It's one of those colorful horses humans whack with sticks to celebrate! I believe it's called a pen-yada!

Barbatos: Pinata, my lord.

Diavolo: Yes! Yes a pinata! Now more importantly, would any of you happen to have a very big stick?

Lucifer: For... what? Exactly?

Diavolo: Well MC is going to need something to open this up this paper pony thing with!

Barbatos: Donkey, my lord.

Satan: Lord Diavolo, not to be presumptuous but... what did you fill that thing with?

Diavolo: Oh ho ho! Wouldn't you like to know! But that's for me to know and MC to find out, right Lucifer?

Lucifer:...

Satan quickly backs out of the text thread to open one that is rarely touched; and messages his oldest brother.

1 & 4 (2)

Satan: What exactly is in that thing?

Lucifer: I am honestly not entirely sure.

Satan: Great. Could it kill a human?

Lucifer: I doubt Barbatos would have let him put anything lethal inside.

Satan: But do you know if Barbatos knows if its lethal to humans?

Lucifer:...

Lucifer: I will... be right back.

Satan's attention is ripped away from his phone screen when he hears his least favorite noise; the sounds of his brother's bitching yet again.

"It's crooked."

"How is it crooked?"

"What, do ya not have eyes?"

"Well it's hung isn't it? I didn't exactly see you running to do it yourself."

"I'm more of a watch and lead kinda guy."

"IF you'd two would be so kind", Satan starts, aiming his voice at Mammon and Levi, who had already begun to argue again, "MC will be on their way home any minute now. Can you get your act together before they walk in and witness this tragedy?"

The boys grumble under their breaths but stop all the same. They know the journey from the demon lord's castle to the HOL isn't that far, so now it was crunch time.

While Levi, Mammon, and Asmo finish up decorations, Satan, Beel, and Belphie begin to set up the rest of the party, setting out various foods and refreshments.

A knock at the door startles everyone, causing the room to fall to a hush, all eyes now staring at the front door.

"Can somebody open the door? This thing is really heavy!"

A collective sigh falls over the room as Beel walks to the front door and lets Luke, Simeon, and Solomon into the common room.

Beel takes the cake from Luke's hands, beginning to walk towards the kitchen.

"H-Hey! Give that back, you big oaf!", Luke shouts up at Beel who doesn't even question his insult.

"What? You said it was heavy? I'm gonna put it in the fridge next to the one Belphie and I got them."

"O-oh", Luke suddenly looks both relieved and sheepish, looking over to Simeon only to be met with that face Simeon makes at him when he knows he needs to apologize for being rude to anyone. "Sorry, Beel."

"We appreciate the help", Simeon beams at Beel in his own attempt to smooth everything over.

"So, do you need help with anything else? I hear MC could be arriving back at the house at any moment", Solomon asks, directing his question at Satan.

"I believe that's it, besides the presents. Would you mind-"

Solomon cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, "No at all, show me the way."

As the two finish up bringing all the gifts downstairs, setting them on the table across from the snacks, everyone's D.D.D.'s buzz with a text message.

OPERATION: S.U.R.P.I.R.I.S.E (12)

Lucifer: We are almost there. Prepare yourselves.

"You heard the man, everyone get to hidin'", Mammon shoos everyone off into different corners of the room where they would be invisible from the door's threshold.

And they wait.

And... they wait.

And? They wait?

OPERATION: S.U.R.P.I.R.I.S.E (12)

Mammon: Lucifer, what the hell's goin' on, huh? We've been hidin' for like ten minutes now!

Lucifer: Something has happened, give me a moment.

There are confused murmurs and worried looks exchanged as the whole room waits for another update. Another five minutes passes by.

Mammon: Yo! Lucifer, what the hell?

Asmo: Yeah, is everything alright?

There is still no response from any member of the group that was traveling back to the house with you.

"Ugh! I can't take this anymore. I'm gonna ask them what's up", Mammon exclaims, beginning to text furiously.

"Hold it! Give them a minute. I'm sure there's a logical explanation as to why they are late", Satan reasons, not able to hide the worry also reflected onto his face.

Another five minutes...

Partners in Crime (2)

Mammon: Hey, where the hell are ya?

Mammon: You're really startin' to freak me out right now.

Mammon: And Lucifer won't answer his phone.

Mammon: If you're in trouble you better summon me right now, dammit!

Mammon starts down at his phone in quiet desperation hoping to hear something, anything from you. Please.

Finally, after another few minutes pass by, his phone dings back.

Partners in Crime (2)

MC: I'm fine.

MC: And I really appreciate it.

MC: But I kinda just really wanna be alone right now, okay?

MC: Can you tell the guys I'm fine?

Mammon grunts in frustration, annoyed by your nonchalantness about the situation.

"Are they okay?", Asmo asks, worry clearly laced in his voice.

"Yeah, Mammon, tell us what they said!", Luke echos back, also clearly afraid.

"Just gimmie a minute, alright!", Mammon stresses, beginning to type again.

Partners in Crime (2)

Mammon: Whaddya mean tell them you're alright?

Mammon: Get over here and tell them yourself, dammit!

MC: Mammon, I'm fine, okay. I'm gonna turn off my D.D.D., I need to spend some time alone, okay?

Mammon: Ya know, I really don't like it when you're all ominous!

MC: Mammon, I already know. Diavolo let it slip on the way home. I really do appreciate it, but I just want to be by myself today, alright?

Mammon: Now why the hell would anyone want to be alone on their birthday? You're being ridiculous.

MC: Have you ever stopped to think about how I feel towards my birthday? I've never told any of you about it. I don't even know how you found out, besides Lucifer peeking at my R.A.D. files without me knowing.

Mammon: Can you stop being humble just for today? Let us celebrate ya. Now tell me where you are so I can pick you up.

Mammon: MC?

Mammon: MC, ya better answer me!

Mammon: I swear when I get ahold of ya I'll...

Mammon: Okay, I don't know what I'll do. But that's besides the point. We already set up all this party stuff for you! We need ya here.

Mammon gets no response from you as his phone gets a notification from a different chat.

OPERATION: S.U.R.P.I.R.I.S.E (12)

Asmo: C'mon Lucifer! What's going on?

Diavolo: I believe... this is my fault.

Diavolo: I got a little too excited about experiencing a real human birthday party, and I kind of let the cat out of the bag so to say.

Diavolo: I believe whatever I said must have offended them, as they ran off. We we're almost there too.

Diavolo: Lucifer told us to wait here while he went after them but I believe he is having trouble finding them himself.

Diavolo: I'm truly sorry. I did not intend to upset them, especially on their birthday. Though, I'm not exactly sure what I did that was so upsetting.

Mammon: I got ahold of 'em but they quit answerin'. Said they want to be alone

Asmo: Alone on your birthday? No way! Why would they want that? :(

Mammon: No clue, but they seemed really upset.

Mammon: I need to find 'em.

Levi: Are you sure we shouldn't just give them space?

Mammon: Nah, I kinda have a feelin' somethin' else is going on. I'll start looking.

Lucifer: Good luck with that. I've searched high and low and I don't have the faintest idea of where they could have run off to.

Mammon looks up from his phone to look at everyone in the room's uneasy faces.

"Well, how about a search party?", questions Solomon. The room begins to murmur in agreement before Mammon speaks up.

"Nah nah nah, no. I got this. Let's not overwhelm them, alright?"

"Why should you get to be the one to go find them?", questions Levi, obviously jealous.

"Well I'm the only one they texted back, ain't I? They're my human, what kinda guardian would I be if I didn't look for their sorry ass?"

Luke's eyes well up with tears. "I-I hope they're okay... they didn't even get the chance to try the cake I made them...". Simeon places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Luke, Mammon's going to take care of it, isn't that right Mammon?".

"Yeah, I'm on it pipsqueak, don't even worry 'bout it".

"Oh, that makes me feel soooo much better", Luke refutes in the most sarcastic voice he can muster before taking a beat and adding on at the end, "Please make sure they're okay, Mammon."

"Yeah, I got it kid."

Mammon ruffles Luke's hat into his hair before glancing at his D.D.D. one more time.

"I'll let y'all know when I find them, so keep your ringer on. But don't go swarmin' them either, okay? I need to figure out what's goin' on with them".

"Right", Satan gives a firm nod, one hand on his chin. "We'll be here".

Mammon gives a curt nod back before heading out the door. Well, at least he knows you're not at home, so he can rule that one out. If only this whole summonin' thing worked both ways. He could just appear in front of ya right now and make everythin' okay again. Why couldn't your stubborn ass just summon him? If you're going to sulk on your birthday, wouldn't you like a sulking buddy?

He's thankful that he knows you well enough. That'd he'd be the one to find you, to find you first. That'd mean he'd be first to see you, first to check up on you, first to comfort you, first to hold you.

Okay. He's getting ahead of himself.

Well, there's not very many places a human could hide in the Devildom and be safe, and even less places where you could hide and be alone. And he knows you're not stupid enough to put yourself in danger.

Not without him there.

Process of elimination finds him where he thinks he'd be most likely to find you, the edge of the forest near the HOL. It's peaceful there. You had dragged him to that spot time and time again to just sit and stare at the lake ahead.

He's relieved but not shocked when he sees your slouched over form sitting on the ground, hands picking at and ripping individual grass blades out of the ground while you stared intently at them.

He watches you for a moment before speaking. He doesn't want to scare you, so he clears his throat first. "Care to tell me why ya wanna spend your birthday alone, torturin' innocent blades of grass in the woods? Can't say it's my thing, but it does make ya look kind of weird. But to each their own".

You give a quick little "ha", before shifting your attention back down at the ground, finding your shoelaces now very interesting.

Well, a 'ha' is better than nothin'. Honestly he's just happy you didn't ignore him, or tell him to go away.

He slowly approaches and sits down next to you on the ground, watching you twirl the aglet between your fingers.

"Tell me what's goin' on with ya, huh? It's not like ya to just run off like that. Had everyone worried sick 'bout ya."

You make a solemn noise, not looking up, continuing your fidgeting. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just...just talk to me, okay? What's goin' on up there?", he says, exemplifying his point by poking you in the forehead, causing you to giggle a very small amount.

"There ya are', he smiles back at you - but can't hide the concern on his face.

You finally drop the lace from your hand and scoot to face him. He meets your eyes and waits patiently, just like he always does. Infinitely patient, just for you.

You take a long breath, breathing out hard before starting. "I've... never told any of you when my birthday is."

He waits, letting you continue to speak.

"There's a reason for that. I don't... I'm not comfortable... ugh. This sucks."

He puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into an awkward -'you're-both-sitting-on-the-ground-criss-cross-applesauce-so-its-very-uncomfortable' half hug. What? It's the best he can do in this situation, in the current position you're both sitting in. Don't judge him.

You look ahead, now refusing to make eye contact as you continue. "I don't like birthdays. Or my birthday specifically really. I don't exactly have... fond memories of it. Like at all."

He waits a second to see if you have anymore to say before he speaks. "Yeah? Is that right?", his face hardens. The idea of you never feeling happy on the day you're supposed to be at your happiest does something to him, and it's not good.

"I stopped expecting to celebrate any of them very early on. It was just another day really. Most the time everyone would forget anyway. So, I just let them. It... doesn't exactly make for the best day."

"So the idea of celebratin' upsets you?"

"Yeah. I guess something like that. I really appreciate what you and the others were trying to do for me, I really do! But... it just brings back awful memories", you say, resuming to pull at the grass around you again.

"I getcha. We all had a problem with birthdays too for awhile."

"You did?", you question, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, heh. Another birthday just meant another year marking how long ago we fell. And ya know... how long ago we lost Lilith. And Satan, man, he had the worst time with birthdays. He was always so enraged, mad that he was born from Lucifer's image, and he sure as hell didn't want to celebrate that. And we didn't make him."

"You didn't?"

"Nah. We just left each other alone on those days. It was kinda an unspoken words kind of thing. But overtime, we all became more comfortable with the idea of bein' here. We got happier about the life we were livin' now, so it just felt right to start celebratin' em."

"I see", you respond, your grass pulling movements ceasing.

"Do you think you'd wanna give that a shot? Celebratin', I mean."

You stay quiet as he tries to catch your gaze. "We've already got the whole party set up. Balloons, presents, the whole nine yards. Luke even made ya a cake and if ya don't try it I think he'll cry so hard he'll throw up".

You giggled at his anecdote, "He so would not."

"He so would! He was so worried about ya, asked me to bring you home safe."

You sniffle a little. "He did?"

"Yeah dummy, everyone did. If you haven't noticed, we all really care aboutcha a whole lot."

You smile at his words. "I'm well aware of that".

"Then," he stands up, dusting himself off then reaching a hand out to you to help you stand, "why don't ya give it a shot. Now, I won't make ya do anything you don't want to do, but I know everyone's just really excited to see ya. We can treat it like a normal day if you really want. But, why don't ya let the people that care aboutcha take care of you for today, huh?"

You pause for a second, looking up at him.

"I promise I won't let anythin' happen to ya. And if you get there and decide you just wanna go straight to your room, then that's what we'll do. But c'mon, won'tcha at least give it a chance?"

You let out a sigh before giving a small smile and taking his hand.

"Atta human", he beams, pulling you up to your feet.

"Now c'mon, we got a very important human to celebrate."

As you begin to walk back towards the HOL, hand in hand, he wonders aloud.

"So, how exactly did Dia spoil it for ya?"

"He asked me if I'd ever seen a pen-yada."

"Of course he did."

[dravarist]

Came out exactly on my birthday and made me tear up.

[princesshamlet-deactivated20210]

Reblog if you are ASEXUAL, SUPPORT ASEXUALS, or really really want to WEAR A REALLY FANCY BLACK CAPE

[teeth-farie]

All Yours

Lucifer/AMAB Reader

☞. . . Another kofi request filled! This was a gore request, so please heed the warning and tags! Requester (candle anon) wanted something based off the first luci gore drabble I did and wanted the reader finishing onto his heart. I hope you enjoy! (1.7k words)

Lucifer was always known for his beauty. Even up in the Celestial Realm he was Michael's favorite, the apple of his eye. Asmodeus may have been the jewel of heavens, but Lucifer was the whole damn necklace.

Even now, his halo a pair of horns and two wings shorter, he’s gorgeous. Truly he was a piece of art.

Tonight, he’s a brand new canvas. You’ve spread him wide, bound his limbs to each post on the bed with strong red silks. Your paintbrush tonight is more precise than any hair; it takes the form of sharp metal, a collection of blades sharp enough to hurt just looking at them.

You pour a glass of aged demonus from his ornate decanter, swirling it in its glass. Lucifer watched your every move, lips parting with a sigh as you sit beside him. “Drink, baby.” You support your hand under his head and lift so he can drink from the glass, acidic alcohol flowing down his tongue and warming his chest from the inside out. “So messy.” You tut, pulling the glass away and wiping the dribbles from his lips with your thumb.

“Only for you.” He says, tongue darting past his lips to catch the lingering taste. “Only ever for you.”

It makes your heart warm and possessiveness fester under your ribcage. “So sweet, such a sweet boy. So well mannered and polite.” You give his cheek a pinch and he reddens under your fingers. “I ought to reward you,” you straddle his hips, unrolling the cloth of beautiful tools. The tarp crinkles under every movement.

Lucifer turns his head and watches you pick your tools. “Aht, eyes forward, look at me,” you pull him back by his chin and Lucifer’s gorgeous red eyes lock with yours. “Good boy.” He shivers, lips parting as he stares up at you. “Do you want a treat? Tell me, does my good boy want something special?”

Very slowly, he nods. “I want you to cut me open.” He says, every word calculated and honest, like he was utterly bewitched with your entire being—controlled in your grasp like a puppet on strings.

You smile, a gentle yet wolfish smile that makes his heart beat faster. “That's what I want to hear.”

Each touch of your fingers on his chest is chilling, sending little sparks under his flesh as you make invisible lines where you’ll cut. Once satisfied, you pick up the blade.

It’s a sharp silver blade with an elegantly curved handle. The first time Lucifer confessed his desires he knelt before you, presenting the dagger in his hand like an offering to the altar of your soul. And he would be the pliant lamb you cut into.

You press the point of the blade under his collarbone and Lucifer squeezes the drop ball tighter in his fist. “Breathe in,” you press hard. “And out.” Lucifer’s deep sigh trembles as you cut in, dragging the blade down his abdomen.

It catches on his belly button and you have to take a moment to work through the cartilage. Lucifer’s breaking. He’s red in the face and trembling, biting down on his lips so hard his fangs threaten to pierce through. “Demon skin is so tough compared to human skin.” You say as a passing thought, the blade ending above his pubic mound.

There’s a poking on your ass and you move to sit on his thighs instead. His dick tents his underwear, an obscene peak tainted with his bubbling blood. “Hah, sorry,” he sighs, hot tears passing over his cheeks. “Don’t apologize. I know you can’t help being a needy little thing. I’ll just have to take care of you, won’t I?” You coo, tapping the peak of his tented underwear. Lucifer hisses, eyes clenching shut as his hips rock up.

You don’t chastise him. Instead, you resume cutting, making horizontal lines at the ends of each slice.

Lucifer’s so patient through it all, breathing heavily with each pass of your blade. Blood continues to pour in steady streams from the wounds; thick black blood that pools under his body on the tarp and stains your hands. It’s a bitter stench of pure debauchery and neither of you can get enough of it.

You set the dagger aside and grab the split skin, pulling the slabs of his abdomen aside until you can see his undulating organs below the abdominal wall. A few slices and that’s moved aside, glistening intestine and thick rib bones on display—all for you.

“So pretty, Luci.” You sigh, gently stroking your fingers over his bunched small intestine. Lucifer keens under your touch, finally, finally, making the sounds you’ve been waiting for. Truly, it’s surprising how much he can hold back when he’s determined enough. “So very gorgeous. Don’t you know that?”

He swallows shakily, eyelids fluttering with each caress of your fingers. “I-I..”

You settle back by his hips again, press your own arousal against his. “Do you feel that, Lucifer? Do you feel how hard I am for you? You did this to me- you’re so beautiful I can’t help it.”

Lucifer looks down, down past his flayed chest, down his exposed organs, down to his pre stained underwear where he sees the swell of your erection strained in your jeans. You grind against him, a little roll of your hips that has him gasping like a fish out of water. It’s unbelievably hot. Lucifer’s brain is melting into a slurry of good and more.

“I can see your heart, Lucifer. And it’s all mine, right? Your heart is mine?” Blood smears your face from where you wiped off the sweat and Lucifer swears he’s never seen something so beautiful. He nods, quickly and urgently. “Y-yours, wheeze, all yours,”

You smile, giving his cheek a pat. “Of course it is. Something so pretty is obviously a gift for me, huh?” You feel Lucifer’s cock throb against yours. “Oh? Do you like it when I call you pretty? It’s true, you’re so pretty, especially like this. Your beating heart exposed for me…such a beautiful red. Just like your eyes.” You rock your hips against him, rub your erection against his.

Lucifer’s exposed heart beats faster, contracting and expanding with fresh oxygen. “Maybe I should take those eyes next, what do you think?” You tap the bloodied blade on his cheekbone, the flat end making a sticky splat against his skin. He gives a firm shake, hot tears bubbling up into those enchanting eyes of his. “That’s ok, you need those eyes to see what I’m doing, don’t you?” And he nods, and to your delight and surprise, bats his sticky wet eyelashes at you.

You groan in pure need, rutting against him harder, enough to make him jostle under the force of your hips. “So fuckin pretty, that’s right, my pretty boy.” You lean down, sucking your face into his exposed cavity and press a kiss to his heart.

Lucifer wheezes, a loud moan tearing through his chest—ragged enough you see his organs contract and then relax. “You’re all mine, all mine. Your heart's mine too, isn’t it?” You look up your lashes at him, lips smeared with rich blood. “Yess,” he gasps, cock twitching and throbbing in his underwear. “It’s yours, it’s- fuck, all yours,” he pushes his hips up, grinds his cock against yours.

You curse, your pants far too tight and uncomfortable. “Shit, baby,” you reach down, unbuttoning your jeans as you pepper kisses over his ribcage. Lucifer audibly moans at the realization, a low whining in his throat as you push your pants and underwear down and straddle his hips. “I wanna cum on you,” you breathe, kiss up his neck with your dick in your fist. You give a few pumps, panting against the hollow of his throat. “I wanna cum on your pretty heart.”

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck, do it- do it,” Lucifer pleads, his dignity utterly destroyed by a pretty knife and a few kisses. He’s tugging at his restraints, yet the drop ball remains closed in his iron grip. You scoot up higher, knees framed under his ribcage. “You’re so gorgeous, Hah, so pretty and mine.”

You pump your cock, hissing with each pass of your thumb over the leaking head. Lucifer’s heart thump thumps below you, his fangs digging into his bottom lip with how tightly he sets his jaw. “Next time, I should fuck your pretty insides, huh?” You pant, pre dripping down from the head and threatening to drop onto his beating heart.

Lucifer can’t hold back the open moan at the thought, eyelids fluttering. “Fuck me,” he gasps, arching his back and pushing his chest up closer to your throbbing dick. “Fuck my heart, fuck my guts,”

So vulgar, so obscene. It makes you want to ravage him, it makes you want to tear him to shreds and put him back together to do it all over again.

Lucifer’s hands itch to be free so he can guide your cock down into his gooey insides, so he can jerk you off right into his blood pumping heart. The fact alone that he can’t touch you makes him burn with frustration and desperation.

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna claim you, I’m gonna make you mine,” it doesn’t take you long for your orgasm to bud closer, the obscene display of trust and vulnerability getting you close before you even began.

“Yours, yours- cum on me, cum in me,” Lucifer babbles, crimson eyes wide and blown as they train on your twitching cock, excitement and anticipation flooding through his veins.

That knot grows tighter, tighter, until it bursts, until your dick jumps in your hand and thick, hot ropes of cum splatter onto his open heart. And it burns on his heart, it burns so deliciously. He cums in that moment, hot wetness seeping through his underwear. He’s been claimed, and that thought makes him dizzy.

The last of your cum drips into a puddle on his frantically beating heart, mixing with the sheen of blood keeping him moist. “I love you,” he says, so genuine and whole. “I love you, I love you,” he repeats as you untie the binds on his wrists.

Lucifer brings a shaky hand down, rubs his trembling fingers over his cum splattered heart. You bite your lip, eyes wide as you watch him smear it in. “Lucifer..”

He brings his hand back up to his face- and licks the mix of blood and cum off his fingers. “You’ve claimed me,” he says with a loopy smile, so fucked out despite not being fucked at all.

“All yours.” Lucifer sighs and you couldn’t agree more.

—

[everlasting-elegy]

Swapped! AU (Barbatos, Diavolo)

What would the demons be like in a world where they are players of Obey Me! and you’re their favourite character? Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2.1k

Barbatos

Of course the all-knowledgeable demon would have heard of Obey Me! in passing during his time travels, but he only knew of its name, he had more pressing matters to attend to

It was only when he noticed how much time Diavolo was wasting on the game that he realised just how prevalent the game was going to be in this timeline but more importantly, how prevalent the game was going to be to him

As he supervised Diavolo playing the game, carefully making sure the game didn’t affect Diavolo’s judgement or that he was getting too addicted, Barbatos found himself getting intrigued by the game, in particular you, a character who drove the plot forward

Barbatos has downloaded the game on his D.D.D. but his poor soul doesn’t even have the time to log in daily. Instead, he drops in a few lies as he supervises Diavolo playing the game so that he can see you more

“Young Master, I recommend you use a card of (Y/N) for that battle if you want to be most efficient. Yes, I’m aware I said that the last battle and the battle before that. I merely have your best interests in mind.”

But Barbatos isn’t as sleek as he thinks, Diavolo sets you as his home screen and spends money to get your cards all for his butler’s sake. Diavolo even purchased a figurine of you to give to Barbatos, he never felt so embarrassed but he couldn’t deny a gift from the Demon Prince

He doesn’t have the time to read through dialogue or fanfictions so he opts for quickly scrolling through fanart of you when he’s stressed or frustrated. Your reassuring smile is all he needs to give him that extra burst of motivation

Barbatos also enjoys listening to fan made playlists about you as he does menial tasks around the castle. Playlists like “in a forbidden love with (Y/N)” and “dancing with (Y/N) in a forgotten ballroom” are his go to. He also enjoys consuming Drama CDs that feature you and your character songs, he loves hearing your voice and allows him to keep up with the stories and lore

Despite how little he plays the game, Barbatos has all of your routines memorised for the game. He knows exactly what to do in Surprise Guest events to make you happy as well as the dialogue that you’d prefer as well as all your interests and likes. What sort of butler would he be if he couldn’t even keep you happy?

Barbatos’ favourite card of you is one where you are similarly dressed as a butler, holding a knowing smile with your hand to your chest, signalling subservience. The thought of you offering your services to him, or just working alongside him to lighten his workload leaves him feeling elated for the rest of the day

Barbatos waved goodbye as Simeon picked Luke up from the castle after another lesson of baking. His movements were controlled yet gentle, efficient yet relaxed, as though he had all the time in the world to bid them a good day. With one arm, he hauled the door with a single motion, slowing down until it closed with a soft click.

And then he high-tailed it out of there.

Typically Barbatos mastered moving smoothly and silently along the tiles but now his hurried steps resonated against the walls. It was interrupting his thinking but he couldn’t slow down. Fortunately Simeon arrived just under three minutes earlier to pick up Luke than usual. His next errand could be completed fully with two minutes left to spare and if he maintains this speed to his room he would have bought himself an additional twenty seconds.

Back in his room, he pulled out his D.D.D. Ensuring his volume was down, tapping at what he needed until he heard (Y/N)’s familiar voice on the screen. Yes, his connection was fast too, everything was going according to the plan he established in his mind. At this rate he’ll be able to play three parts of the event story while being able to listen to all of (Y/N)’s voice lines as well as roughly nine dance battles where he’ll hopefully be greeted by (Y/N) in at least a third of them as a surprise guest.

One minute down, he was making good time. Halfway through a cutscene, the reflexes he honed over millennias were put to good use as he expertly tapped precisely when (Y/N) had finished speaking and skipping all the other characters. He needed to prioritise. Two minutes in, slowly turned to three. At this rate he may even be able to try and pull for (Y/N)’s exclusive UR+ card.

But then he heard it. The faint rumble that Barbatos could feel under his shoes as the earth shook. Then another. Gradually getting louder and louder as Diavolo was approaching his room, despite not being expected in at least a minute and a half. Barbatos’ tapping became urgent, surely he could at least finish the battle before Diavolo inevitably walked in without knocking. Should the young master realise this is what Barbatos has been doing in his spare time he wasn’t going to let this go, but the urge to at least play the game until completion was overwhelming, he’d only have a couple more seconds at most-

As the door swung open, Diavolo was greeted with Barbatos standing poised at the centre of his room, arms behind his back in his typical fashion.

“Ah, Barbatos,” Diavolo nodded. “These papers urgently need to be sent to a demon who is currently at the Mausoleum.”

“I’ll see to it immediately,” Barbatos dipped his head to accept the job, simultaneously reaching a hand forward to accept the papers. But when Diavolo didn’t just place the papers in his hand like usual, he looked up only to freeze.

He forgot to put his phone away. Instead it lay flat in his palm with Obey Me still on it’s interface.

“Young master,” Barbatos stammered. “I-”

“Actually… I think I’ll take care of this for once,” Diavolo pulled his hand back before Barbatos could take the papers.

“Lord Diavolo-”

“Enjoy the game, Barbatos! Although I do hope you don't neglect your duties for this,” Diavolo teased as he left Barbatos' room with a hearty laugh.

Diavolo

Caught wind of Obey Me! when Lucifer was absentmindedly complaining about his brothers who got addicted to said game. Diavolo’s eyes instantly lit up. So this is what the youths are up to these days!

The instant he had free time, Diavolo was downloading the game, hoping he’ll now be able to join in conversation should he ever run into the demon brothers again. But as he keeps playing, he finds that he doesn’t care if the topic of the game never arises in conversation, he just wants to see his favourite character, you

His boomer brain makes him susceptible to getting addicted to technology. He never realised just how much time he spent idly tapping at the game until Barbatos returned from an errand, asking if Diavolo finished the pile of paperwork only to realise said pile hadn’t been touched

Now he is constantly supervised by Barbatos, the only times he can play Obey Me! being when he’s on break or just before he goes to sleep. If Barbatos walked past the young master’s quarters in the middle of the night, he’d likely see the dim light of Diavolo’s phone from under the door

Of course he’s whaled on all your cards, outfits in game and merchandise. If an event features you, he is undoubtedly ranked in the first thousand of players. For a Demon Prince, even ‘whaling’ is a mere blip on his spending. The purchases are anonymous and untraceable to him though, as per Barbatos’ recommendation

Diavolo struggles with your Surprise Guest events, his hands are just too big, he ends up fumbling and does something you disapprove of. But it’s no problem, he can just whale on your favourite foods and items as well

Naturally his favourite card of you is the rarest and most extravagant one around. You are lined with gold and silver with far too many jewels to count. Some would argue that the card is gaudy or distracting but to Diavolo it only makes sense that a character as deserving as you would be surrounded with such wealth and glamour

Has a life-sized (possibly even larger) statue of you posing dramatically on a podium erected in his throne room. No aristocrat questions it when they see it, presuming it’s some obscure hero from one of the three realms but no it’s just Diavolo being a simp

He does enjoy reading fanfictions with you just before he heads off to sleep. Primarily the fluff and crack ones where you’re caught up in or up to your usual antics, usually having cameos of other characters. It feels like he’s part of the fun and allows him to have a pleasant night’s sleep

Perhaps it’s childish but Diavolo genuinely looks up to you, it’s clear you have an admirable personality due to your decisions in the game. If there’s ever a tough decision to make, he’d sometimes try and adopt your mindset, figuring out what you’d do in the same scenario

It wasn’t everyday Diavolo could find a plausible reason to have the demon brothers over at his castle for dinner. As chaotic as it could be, he always preferred it over the deafening silence when it’s just him and his butler. He sat attentively at the head of the table in the dining room as he overheard the brothers.

“WHOA!” Leviathan was tapping at his D.D.D. “It’s about time they had another event featuring a new UR+ card with (Y/N), it’s been months!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, sending an apologetic glance to Diavolo who only laughed jovially. Barbatos entered the room to pour them all drinks.

“I knew it was going to happen,” Leviathan ranted. “This human who’s really big in the Obey Me community went on and on about how there needed to be a new (Y/N) event. But it was kind of weird because I’m pretty sure they weren’t even that big on (Y/N)... whatever, I’m not complaining!”

“I do apologise,” Lucifer cleared his throat as he regarded his brothers. “Don’t you have something better to babble on about?”

“No, this is quite entertaining to listen to,” Diavolo urged the brothers to continue, his chest swelling with a pride that rivalled even the eldest. Lucifer raised his eyebrows but sighed in resignation, letting them continue.

“Actually, I heard about this on Devilgram!” Asmodeus exclaimed, hurriedly getting on his D.D.D to find said post. “This popular witch was saying how she was given this request by an Obey Me fan to hex an influencer to complain about the lack of (Y/N) content so that the developers would listen. She went to Devilgram to talk about it because it was the weirdest request and not only that but it was entirely anonymous! Completely untraceable. How weird and dramatic~”

Barbatos stopped pouring Diavolo’s cup at Asmodeus’ explanation.

“Oh yes, I heard about this as well,” Satan piped up. “Apparently it’s gone down as one of the most expensive witch hirings in Devildom history. Apparently enough to cover the witch’s living expenses for an entire year.”

“Was it now?” Barbatos asked, his voice strained. His head turned to his master with a painfully forced smile. Diavolo could only shrug and laugh. Disposable income was just that, and what better way to use it than to promote the one he loved?

“This all sounds very amusing,” Diavolo chuckled. “I presume this results in a positive outcome, though? I’m sure these Obey Me fans will be very happy to hear this character is getting some attention.”

Barbatos’ eye twitched at Diavolo feigning ignorance of the subject matter.

“Oh I’m very happy!” Levi cheered. “To whatever madman made that purchase, I don’t know who you are but thank you!”

“Young master,” Barbatos stood by Diavolo’s side, voice hush. “After dinner I think we need to discuss these recent purchases of yours.”

“I don’t think anything needs to be discussed,” Diavolo said dismissively as he took a sip of his tea. “A leader will do whatever they can to make their people happy. Don’t you see how happy Leviathan is?”

Barbatos could only sigh as he left to get food, leaving Lucifer who overheard the exchange to gawk at Diavolo in disbelief.

Swapped AU General Headcanons: (Leviathan, Mammon) (Beelzebub, Lucifer, Satan) (Asmodeus, Belphegor)

Obey Me! Masterlist

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