Here are the fics written so far, sorted into some general categories. Some fics appear under multiple headings, and all include at least a mention of MC (usually gender neutral).
Ensemble
Personal Improvement (Demon Brothers) - also on Ao3
A Social Experience (Leviathan, Asmodeus, Mammon) - also on Ao3
Just Kidding (Beelzebub, Belphegor, Satan)
Pecking Order (Demon Brothers)
Headcanons
Indulgence (Mammon)
Proof (Belphegor)
Learn to Love the Light (Satan)
Dependability (Beelzebub)
Sexy Good Boy (Mammon)
The Mortifying Ordeal (Asmodeus)
Undateables
In the Human Realm They Call That Negging (Simeon, Solomon)
Fun in the Sun (Simeon, Asmodeus)
Recursive (Barbatos)
Affection
Indulgence (Mammon)
Reach Out And... (Leviathan)
Learn to Love the Light (Satan)
Hoodie Weather (Asmodeus)
Consent negotiation
Levels of Tolerance (Lucifer)
Renegotiation (Mammon)
Sleep series
Sleeping Habits (Asmodeus)
Every Day, Most Nights (Mammon) - also on Ao3
How The Turntables... (Belphegor)
AUs
this better not awaken anything in me (Asmodeus) NSFW - only on Ao3
Alsndkdbshbk I am so happy to have found someone who writes so beautifully, so lovely, for like all the characters. Everything feels so in character and hhhh lots of soft but also the alluding to steamy (or outright nsfw like the Asmo but on ao3) are all so good! After reading each thing I go aaah and hold my hands to my face I can’t help it!! Good writing!! Thank you!!
Thank you! :DDD
I don't know where this influx of notes is coming for, but I'm happy to see people are enjoying my writing.
After an extensive search, you found Belphegor curled up on the floor in the planetarium, body contorted around his cow-print pillow. You knelt down and poked his cheek, but it was obvious he wasn't going to wake up. Beel had enough trouble dragging him out of bed in the morning, and you didn't have anywhere near his brawn or motivation.
Still, at least being such a heavy sleeper meant that Belphegor didn't even stir as you straightened his limbs to a more comfortable position. You would have tucked the pillow under his head as well, except he was holding it clutched to his chest so tightly you didn't think you could tug it out.
So, you sat down on the ground next to him, and laid his head in your lap. He was always going on about how comfortable your lap was, anyway.Â
You stared up at the stars for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet. When you started feeling a crick in your neck, you looked down instead, at Belphegor's sleeping face.
Gently, you smoothed his hair back. It was always hanging over his face, whether he was awake or asleep, like a curtain. It did give him an air of mystery as he peered out at you from under his fringe, but it was much nicer getting to see his face in full like this. You traced a thumb over his brow gently, and were almost startled when his eyelashes fluttered open.
He looked up at you, purple eyes reflecting the starlight above, and smiled a slow smile at you.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, voice rough with sleep.
"You have a really pretty face, you know," you replied.
"Oh? Are you going to tell me it's too pretty to hide under hair?" he asked, voice teasing.
"No, you can hide it," you said, voice dropping into the same possessive tone he used with you sometimes. "That way only I get to see it."
His jaw slackened as he looked up at you. Smug over catching him off guard, you just smiled, and carded your fingers through his hair.Â
Instead of going back to sleep, however, he sat up, clambered up to his knees so he could grab your shoulders.
"Say more things like that," he demanded, and pushed you flat against the ground.
You didn't get to say anything at all, however, because he kept your mouth occupied with kissing.
Summary: MC is having a bout of gender blues, Asmo wants to help
*
You knew it was going to be a bad day after you spent too long getting dressed, going through clothing that you considered old favorites and still feeling unhappy with how each article hung on your frame. Nothing had changed since last night, and yet, this morning, it was as if you climbed out of bed the wrong shape.Â
You rubbed a hand over your face, tired and ill at ease. You'd been feeling fairly good about yourself lately, too. You almost thought you'd broken through to some new state of mind when you stopped feeling automatic revulsion every time you passed a mirror. Now, it was back to this again--pulling out your most baggy hoodie and shapeless sweatpants for the day. If you didn't have to look at yourself, you wouldn't have to resent yourself for your hips being too round, or your chest too prominent, or whatever else had you on edge today.
Breakfast was as lively as ever, and it was easier to let things happen around you as you ate mechanically, without really tasting anything. Your plate seemed to refill all by itself until you noticed it was Beel gently pushing extra portions on you, with quiet, warm concern.Â
You hadn't thought you were obvious, but after that, you caught more than one exchange of meaningful glances over your head, and you tried to perk up and assure everyone you were fine. You just didn't want to explain; feeling this way was grating enough, having to put it into words was such an exhausting notion that pretending you were fine seemed like it would require less effort.
You returned to your room later and scanned across it for some distraction that would take your mind off the sense of crawling wrongness under your skin. You still had a stack of games and anime that Levi had lent to you, but you considered going to his room instead. Gaming sessions with Levi did tend to eat up a whole day without you even noticing, and Levi was still awkward enough about interpersonal relationships that you could easily fend off any nosy questions.
But then there was a knock on the door, and you opened it by reflex, before thinking better of it.
"Asmo?" you blurted out, surprised as you found yourself facing the demon.
"Hello, dear!" He beamed at you, and when you tottered aside out of the doorway, he strode into your room with complete confidence.
"Can I help you with something?" you asked.
"No, silly! I'm here to help you!" he said, rounding on you. "I noticed you weren't your usual peppy self at breakfast, and I thought, what's the best way to cheer you up?" He pressed his palms against your cheeks, cradled your face gently. "And then I realized the answer was obvious! You just needed a little dose of vitamin me!"
You couldn't help a little chortle of laughter in the face of Asmo's overblown confidence, but that must have been his aim, given how his eyes sparkled victoriously at your reaction.
"Now, I know that what picks my mood right up is a little bit of pampering, so if you want to come by for a bubble bath-- Oh, I could wash your hair!"
"Thanks, but I already showered this morning, I think it's too soon for another bath," you replied. And getting dressed had been an ordeal you didn't want to go through again.
"Mm, that's true, we don't want to dry out your skin," Asmo said, and turned towards your room with a thoughtful look on his face. "Aha!"Â
He turned towards your chest of drawers. Most of the lower drawers were toiletries and underwear, but the top drawer was reserved for a miscellany of household objects--writing implements, scotch tape, sheets of unused stickers, tickets. You had no idea what he was searching for until he drew his hand out holding two bottles of nail polish. The shades were random--a metallic gray and a powder blue you'd only worn once--but you had half a dozen little bottles of nail polish you'd shoved to the back of the drawer not long ago.
"How about a manicure?" Asmo asked, and reached in to take out more of the bottles. "I can do your nails up all nice! What color are you feeling today?"
Your stomach sank, and the general unease you'd woken up with turned into something sharper in that moment. You looked down at your fingers shakily, to the short-filed nails that you kept neat but unpainted for the past few weeks.
You knew, intellectually, that this feeling was irrational. All of the brothers painted their nails, even Lucifer, whose perfect red varnish was always hidden under his gloves. Nail polish didn't have a gender, of course it didn't, but last time you'd looked at your painted nails, you couldn't help that it made you feel like a little girl again. You'd stripped the color off before it had even dried completely, making a mess of the cottonballs sticking to your nail polish-smeared fingers, acetone smell making your eyes water more than usual.
"I don't think..." Your voice was too quiet, so you cleared your throat and try again. "It's just not a good day for that, Asmo." You shoved your hands into the pockets of your hoodie.
Asmo's bright smile vanished as he looked at you closer, and for a second you were afraid you'd hurt his feelings. You opened your mouth to apologize, but Asmo had dropped the bottles back into the drawer, and he strode across the room before you could even get a word out.
He hugged you tight, the way he always did, clinging like he was trying to merge the two of you into one body. You didn't realize how much you needed this until you hid your face into the crook of his shoulder and heaved a pained breath that wasn't quite a sob. It was nicer than expected, when you weren't treated like something delicate and breakable.
"Never mind the manicure!" Asmo declared decisively as he rubbed your back. "Terrible idea. You have naturally attractive hands, anyway."
"Weird compliment, but okay," you replied, with a shaky laugh.Â
You let him hold you, pressed your face against his shoulder as he rubbed your back. At some point the two of you began swaying gently, not quite like slowdancing, but more like you were branches in a gentle breeze. It was strangely soothing.
After a while, you found your voice again. "This is going to pass. It's fine. It's just a bad day for gender."
He squeezed you in reassurance and hummed. His hand had moved from your back to the nape of your neck, fingers carding through the fine hairs there.
"You know," he said, "your hair has been getting a bit long lately."
You pulled your head back just enough to glance to the side, catch your reflection in the mirror hanging from your wardrobe door.
"Yeah," you conceded. You'd started feeling it plastered uncomfortably against your forehead whenever you did something that made you sweat. Now that you thought about it, this was the longest you'd had it in a while.
"How about I give you a trim?" Asmo asked. "Would that help?"
"Maybe," you said, feeling shaky and relieved. It hadn't occurred to you before, but now that you thought about it, it did sound like a great idea. "Yeah, let's-- let's do it," you agreed.
"Alright then," Asmo chirped happily. He laced his fingers with yours, and dragged you along. "Let's go to my bathroom, the lighting there is much better!"
"Okay," you laughed, letting him drag you along. You scrubbed a hand through your hair, short but about to be shorter, and imagined the sensation of your head feeling lighter after a cut. You didn't know if that would make you feel better about yourself, but you appreciated that Asmo was willing to try.
"Mammon," you said, very deliberately, "I'm gonna kiss you now."
Mammon's expression boggled for a bit before he turned all the way towards you on the couch. "...Okay?"Â
You leaned towards him, but since your legs were in Mammon's lap, that put a crick in your back as you bent yourself to get closer.
"I'm going to kiss you on the lips," you continued.
"Y-yeah, sure," he said, still a bit stunned, but now with a puzzled frown creasing his brow.
"Is that okay with you?"
"Will ya just do it?" he blurted out, and you finally closed the distance and pressed your mouth against his.Â
Mammon, in response, pushed you flat on the couch--a mercy on your aching back--and kept you pinned under his attentions like that until he got his fill. After he finished kissing you silly, he rolled onto his back on the couch, pulling you to snuggle against his side, and he settled in with a contented sigh.
The movie kept going in the background, projected on the large screen that dominated a wall of his room, but it was mostly forgotten.
"What's with the advance warning routine, anyway?" he asked after a while.
"You told me to do that."
"Huh??"
"Aren't you the one who kept telling you I should let you know beforehand, so you can mentally prepare yourself?" Mammon remained quiet for a while, and you couldn't help filling the silence. "I was just reading some stuff lately, and I figured maybe I should take it more seriously when you say things like that."
Mammon was quiet for a while, and with your head tucked under his chin, you couldn't see his face. You could almost hear the whir of his thoughts, though.
"Y'know what, just ignore that silly stuff ya read. Maybe I like it when ya plant one on me like that."
A smile split your face. "Really?"
"Yeah, I guess it's fine if you keep doing it," Mammon shrugged. "I mean, it's understandable that yer so overwhelmed by THE Great Mammon that ya can't help your feeling."
"Ah, there we go," you chuckled.
As boundary talks went, this went about as well as you expected with Mammon. You put it down as a work in progress.
Tags: MC gets charmed, cuddling, demonic true form, soppy feels towards the end
Summary: Asmo takes the opportunity to expose himself (no, not like that)
*
"Asmo, what does it feel like when you charm someone?"
The question came out of nowhere over what was supposed to be a study date--rather more heavy on the 'study' than the 'date' part for Asmo's tastes--and he raised his head from where he was doodling a little bunny on the textbook's margins to see his favorite human looking at him, expecting an answer.Â
"Well, darling, that would depend on which side of it you mean," he said, capping the glittery purple gel pen he'd been using to render his masterpiece. "For the charmer--which would be moi--it feels like having every shred of their attention on me. For the charmee, I suppose..." He rolled his shoulder in a shrug, twirled a lock of his hair as he chose his words. "It feels like everything going through their head is their own idea, even if I'm the one who put the thought in there in the first place."
It was hard to say if this was the answer they expected, because they continued to stare thoughtfully. Asmo preferred to think they were just enthralled by his beauty.
"Curious about it, aren't you?" Asmo asked, booping their nose. "I bet you regret not being able to fall for my charms."
"Sort of." They reached into their bag and carefully removed a bottle of something. The liquid inside sloshed, semi-transparent and pink. "Solomon made this for me. It's a potion that can make me more susceptible to being charmed by you."
Asmo was struck speechless at first. Whatever feeling lodged in his throat, it prickled hot and acid like tears. Yet, it felt just the inverse, especially as he reached for the bottle and plucked it out of their hands.
"And you want to try it with me? Oh, hun," he warbled, touched.Â
The liquid caught the light like glitter. Was this why Solomon had requested a bit of Asmo's blood not long ago? The magic in the potion thrummed in sympathetic reaction to his own. He had never in his life felt so tantalized by anything--had never had something he wanted so much within such close a reach. It excited him like worms wriggling in his flesh.
"Well, of course you do!" he added, scraping together a veneer of cheerfulness over the raw need that burned under his skin. "Naturally you want to give yourself over to me completely, body and soul." He smiled at them, fingers curling around the bottle possessively. When, he wondered, how soon? Could it be now? It wasn't like he'd been paying that much attention to their homework anyway.
"Of course I do," they said matter-of-factly. Oh, Asmo wished they had more flair when they said things like that, though it still made his heart go all a-flutter. But they were in serious mode at the moment, and they leaned forwards to cup their hands over Asmo's as he held the bottle. "I love you, but most importantly, I trust you."Â
Asmo didn't quite see why trust would be more important than the part where they loved him, and he wished they'd just repeat that first bit twice instead. It make him anxious to hold their trust. It felt too fragile in his hands, too easily broken when he did not know how to handle it. Humans could be so strange sometimes, too permissive about some things, too defensive about others.
Head spinning with uncertainty, Asmo fell back on something he could be certain of instead: he stole a kiss. Just a brush of the lips against theirs, deep for a split second, nipping their lip as he retreated before they could react.
Their eyelashes fluttered, and their cheeks dusted with color. It took so little to fluster them sometimes. They looked to the bottle.
"So how do you want to do this?" Asmo asked.
"Well, that's up to you," they replied. "Solomon said the effects should last a few hours, but he couldn't give an exact time beyond that." They checked the time on their D.D.D., and Asmo looked as well. It was evening, though not terribly late.Â
"Can we do it now, then?" Asmo blurted out. "Since it would fade by morning."
"Sure," they said, and took the bottle from Asmo, uncapping it. The liquid inside stirred into whorls of glitter, and an astringent smell filled the air. Asmo watched, entranced, as they brought the bottle to their lips and paused. "Asmo..."
"Yes?" Asmo chirped, trying to look encouraging in case they were getting cold feet.
"I trust you because you know my limits, and you wouldn't do anything to cross my boundaries," they said solemnly. "Even if I'm charmed. Right?"
Uncertainty churned in his stomach, hot and acid, but he nodded like their words were a spell, speaking something into existence. No matter that everyone else was always suspect of his motives, shying from his touch and assuming he was going to take liberties, this was one time when someone assumed just the opposite of him.Â
"And, um, let's keep this just between us," they added.
"Naturally," Asmo scoffed. No way would he involve his brothers in this, that would just be the quickest way to turn a marvelous opportunity into a complete debacle. Which reminded him to go and lock the door as they threw back their head and downed the whole potion in one shot.
*
The potion didn't take effect right away, but Asmo had no reason to be concerned about that. Even setting aside that he knew Solomon was good for it, Asmo was also aware of the importance of foreplay, so to speak.
He made them set aside the homework that they dropped all pretense of working on, and took them by the hand towards the bed.
"I still don't feel anything," they murmured, as Asmo had them sit on the edge of the mattress.
"You should relax," he said, rubbing his palms in gentle, wide arcs across their back.
"Mm, maybe," but whatever they were going to say next trailed off as Asmo began working his way towards their shoulders and neck. They groaned as Asmo began kneading the knots out of their muscles, and he felt them becoming more pliant as they melted into his touch.
Asmo leaned in, closer to their delicate body heat and the subtle waft of their scented shampoo. He was so close that he felt the tickle of his lips brushing up against the shell of their ear, and they squirmed because they felt it too. Asmo's motions became slower, less massage and more soothing caress.
Then, it happened. They turned their head towards him, locked eyes with him, and as Asmo looked into that open gaze, he felt for the first time his powers take purchase. He poured his will into them, hot and sweet like molasses, until there was nothing left in their head but him.
"Hello, sweetheart," he purred like they were just meeting for the first time.
"Hello," they said back, just this side of dazed.
Oh, this was it. This was what he wanted. Excitement fluttered like butterfly wings in his chest, and he slipped off the bed, rising to his feet. Their gaze shifted to follow his every motion, their body leaned towards him like the pull of gravity. Asmo kept a hand on their shoulder, a gentle entreaty for them to continue sitting down.
"Now, you're going to stay calm no matter what you see, aren't you?" he said, smiling at them.
They nodded.
Asmo smiled then. Their trust still lodged uncomfortably under his skin, but less so now, when he knew the source of it was his own power. This kind of trust, that came from being drunk on thoughts of him alone, he could control.Â
There would be no better time for this than now.
He shed his glamours one by one, the layers and layers holding and shaping his appearance. It was a bit like a striptease, though Asmo had never experienced this kind of vulnerability when stripping before, because what was under all the glamours would be his true form.
This was not meant for human eyes--in truth, Asmo barely thought it was fit for anyone's eyes at all. There was the crunch of rearranging bones and molding flesh as his guise fell away, and what remained was his demonic body beneath.
His true form was grotesque, of course, more arachnid than was generally considered attractive; supernumerary limbs sprouting along an elongated torso, tail long and viciously barbed. Even those features recognizable as a human's were warped unpleasantly in this form: hair more flaxen in color, but flat and limp and thin, falling like a curtain over half his face; hands pale and smooth and graceful, but their proportions uncanny; genitals engorged hideously.
This was the true nature of lust, after all: a need so urgent that it made people debase themselves in its pursuit, accept things that they would find repulsive once their heads cleared--a sin so potent it made people embrace that which could not be loved in pursuit of a single moment of pleasure.
And here was his beloved, looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering over their calm gaze. In the deepest thrall of Asmo's charm, the thought of running off or screaming or any of the natural human reactions was simply snuffed right out of their heads.
"Tell me you love me," Asmo demanded, fixing them with his limpid eyes. The pink glow of his irises was reflected in their own.
"I love you, Asmo," they said.Â
He wasn't sure what he expected, but it sounded just like it did when they always said it. He felt a twinge of doubt--maybe his charm didn't really take--but no. They would be terrified of seeing him like this if they weren't so thoroughly in his grips. They would mean it, no matter what he asked them to parrot back. It left him uneasy, the thought that he'd had their sincerity this entire time, for all that he would declaim to all that he deserved no less.
He slid his hands along their jaw, and though the motion was familiar, it was prolonged by the unnatural length of his appendages--a longer glide of skin on skin from fingertips to the heels of his palms. He would circle their skull all the way around like this; he could sink his hands into their hair and rub the vulnerable curve where their skull met their spine. He could crush their skull with one firm squeeze, but of course, that was unimaginable.
"Do you, really?" Asmo asked, sighing as he searched their eyes. He could see how deep in their mind his charm had hooked, down and in, all the way into their soul, leaving no room for thoughts of anything else. Anyone else would be a gibbering mess right then, babbling desperately to convince him of their feelings. But his little human was made of sterner stuff; their soul a steady mass of light and tenacity.
Their hands came up around his face, which was longer and sharper, with a nose flattened to a snout, and they looked into his eyes, and they--
They kissed the bridge of his nose.
The gesture was so typical of their usual antics when they were fully in control of themselves, that Asmo had another disorienting moment of doubt--could it be they weren't really charmed? But then, they smiled at him with a glassy look in their eye, and they said,
"Of course I love you, how could I possibly not?"
It cracked parts of him that Asmo had thought frozen long ago--not like ice was frozen, but like cooled off magma set into a permanent shape. He felt the ways unmoving parts of his heart cracked and flakes under those words, which he had to believe because there was no way they weren't sincere.
He pushed them gently backwards on the bed, and they scuttled awkwardly until he pressed them flat against his pillows.Â
Whatever he intended at first, he found he could do no more than stretch himself over them, his body so large that he had to coil it awkwardly to fit the mattress, and he laid his head over their chest, where he could hear their heart under his ear.
Their arms came up around him without hesitation, holding him, rubbing his back like he'd done earlier, smoothing down his hair. They nuzzled the crown of his head as he lay there, and they murmured meaningless little assurances which Asmo didn't completely understand the need for until he realized he was trembling.
There were so many delicious things he could do with them, but not in this shape, never in this shape. He'd lost all his nerve, even if he'd had it in the first place. This was too raw, and he didn't know what this would mean for the trust they placed in him.
But he was already replete with satisfaction just from being here with them, so he closed his eyes and listened to the steady thrum of their heartbeat. This was their heart, and in some ways also his.
*
Their fingers gently carded through his hair as his head lay on their chest. Time melted into a long meaningless stretch as he listened to that pulse, like watching the hands of a clock tick seconds by and not noticing the time. Asmo gave a heady little chuckle.
"This is some potent stuff Solomon's made," he opined out loud. "How long is it going to last, anyway?"
"It wore off a while ago," came the answer.
Asmo stiffened as the words sank in.
He drew back, form crunching and squelching back into proper humanoid shape again, folding up to fit underneath his glamours again. He didn't dare look at them until his face was back on, but then once he met their eyes, still as wide and guileless as they'd been under his charm, he found he couldn't face them.Â
He shuffled to the edge of the bed, turning around towards the wall as he concentrated very hard on not hyperventilating. He'd been intending to tell them to forget while they were still under his charm! He was going to make them forget! But he overshot his window of opportunity, and now they'd remember-- each time they looked at him, they'd know--
"Asmo?"
He felt warm arms slip around his torso as they hugged him from behind, draped themselves over his back.
"Are you... going to cry?" they asked quietly, concerned.
He nearly laughed in a fit of hysteria at the question, but when he touched his face, there were already tear tracks. His breaths came quick and sharp and terribly hot, but not in the ways he usually liked.Â
"No," he replied, but was immediately proved a liar by the strain in his voice. He gurgled unhappily as he hid his face in his hands.
"Shh, Asmo," they said, curling closer along his back so they could lean over his shoulder and kiss his temple. "It's okay, tell me what's wrong."
"You saw me..."
"...Sorry?"
He lifted his head from his hands so he could wail, "You saw me like that!" Then he burst into a fresh wave of tears.
He wasn't even sure why he was crying. He was convinced they would shun him in disgust, despite the fact that they were currently holding on to him so tightly, but even knowing it was irrational, he still couldn't help the panicked sobs that heaved out of his chest.
"I'm sorry," they said. "I shouldn't have, is that it?"
"Don't apologize! It's my fault," Asmo said, shaking them off his shoulders.Â
They released him and balanced back over their heels to sit on the bed, and Asmo turned towards them, lightning-quick, latching onto them in a desperate hug.
"You won't leave me, will you?" he asked between sobs in the crook of their neck.
"Oh, Asmo, is that what you think?" they asked quietly. "I wouldn't over something so small."
This nearly broke him more than anything. A fresh well of tears had him sobbing into their shoulder for a while longer, but the quality of the pain this time was different. Cleansing, somehow. Like his soul being exfoliated. They caressed his hair tenderly throughout his crying jags, endlessly patient.
"I still love you," they said once he had calmed down some.Â
He pulled back to look at them with what was probably a puffy face and red eyes.
"Say that again," he demanded.
"I promise to say it until you actually believe it," they said, and wiped his tears with the heels of their hands.
It happened just at the end of breakfast, as you were checking your bag to make sure you had everything in order before you left for RAD.
"Oh-- Satan, those notes you gave me," you began, as you surveyed the contents of your bag.
"You can keep them. I imagine you might want to look them over before your test," he replied, gesturing permissively. Of course he wouldn't need them; he would probably ace the test regardless. Still, you appreciated it.
"Thank you, Satan," you said, and walked over to peck him on the cheek.
Mammon made a displeased sound at the display.
"Hey, what's he done to deserve that?" Mammon called out. "How's that fair?"Â Satan skewered Mammon with a baleful stare in response.
You pause for a moment, before nodding. "You're right, I should give you a kiss too," you said before rounding the table towards Mammon.Â
He looked surprised at first, then pleased for a split second before you added, "Of course, to make it fair, I'll have to kiss everyone else, too."
Mammon started sputtering, "Now wait a minute--!", as you leaned down to kiss his cheek.
"No takebacks!" Asmo declared giddily when you turned to him next. He craned his neck back, giving you all the access you needed to kiss his lips, but you kissed his cheek quite pointedly, and slithered away from his grasp before he could pull you down to take any extra liberties.
"This is what you get for not keeping your mouth shut," Satan coolly informed Mammon as the latter was still making incoherent noises of displeasure.
"Loooool, you played yourself!" Leviathan wheezed out in one long chortle. When you leaned down to give him a kiss on the side of his face, he almost flinched out of his skin. "Gah, hold on, I wasn't ready for it!"
"Too late," Asmo sing-songed as you moved on to Beel next. Asmo was clearly living for it.
Beel, meanwhile, was cleaning out the last food off the breakfast table--truly this was a house that never had leftovers--so his cheeks were stuffed full like a chipmunk's. Still, he tilted his head back, and you kissed his temple and ruffled his hair, and his expression turned pleased.
Belphie was, by all appearances, asleep with his head on the table, and you were going to plant a kiss on the crown of his head, but as you approached, he rose from his slumber and looked up at you languidly, so you kissed his forehead instead.
You moved on to Lucifer next, who had been quietly drinking his coffee as all this unfolded. He placed his coffee back on its saucer, clearly getting ready to accept his own kiss with great magnanimity, but when you approached, before you could even lean down towards him, he took your hand and spun you around to fall into his lap.
You were momentarily dazed, steadied only by the arms circling you, and you'd only gotten your bearings again when you looked up and Lucifer captured your mouth with his. He kissed you deeply, long and lingering, and you kissed back by reflex, all thoughts of keeping things fair fleeting away from you. By the time Lucifer released you, you were breathless, and your face was probably red as you staggered back to your feet.
Mammon was slack-jawed at the display, and probably more than a little miffed he hadn't thought to do that himself.
"Don't be late to school," Lucifer told you, handing you your bag as if nothing had happened.
You supposed this meant you didn't have time for a cold shower.
You discovered that Mammon was on the cover of the latest issue of Devil Style because Asmo, having come across the magazine, made the rounds to show it to everyone in the House of Lamentation.Â
It did strike you that for someone who complained so bitterly about Mammon's modeling career, Asmo seemed to put an awful lot of effort each time to bring attention to the latest of Mammon's shoots. But either way, you got your own turn with the magazine when you came to Asmo's room that day, and you sat on his bed leafing through it as Asmo sat at his vanity, going through all steps of his skincare routine with extra thoroughness.
It was slightly surreal, because you'd never been friends with someone who'd get on magazine covers before, but Mammon's photos were, you had to admit, gorgeous to look at. You'd heard before about his reputation as one of Devildom's sexiest, but the pictures you were looking at almost seemed to bely that. There was a natural charm to them.Â
You paused to stare at your favorite: a full page shot of Mammon taking off a chunky sweater to reveal the white tanktop beneath, as sunlight streamed through a window. Houseplants in the foreground and an armchair to the side with a quilt hanging off an armrest implied something of a domestic setting. Seeing the flex of Mammon's biceps, and the lean confidence of his silhouette, you couldn't deny he was attractive, though that might have been your own biases at play. But this image implied more 'boy next door' than 'demon on the prowl'. It wasn't necessarily what you expected the Devildom fashion mags to push as sexy.
Unless you were missing some cultural nuance here?
You asked Asmo about it, and Asmo scoffed at first, but after a few seconds of silence, he did answer.
"Demons are supposed to be corrupting influences, so playing against type can make one appear more desirable, you see," Asmo explained.
"So... appearing corruptible parses as attractive to a demon?"
"You've got it!" Asmo winked in the mirror at you. "As demons, it's just so hard to resist temptation, and there's nothing more tempting than leading an unblemished soul into sin."
"That's what you do, right? The image you project?" It made sense; Asmo cultivated a certain... virginal softness in his looks that you knew played against his actual personality.Â
"I've found, over the centuries, that a little drop of angelic innocence goes a long way." He smoothed over his expression and fluttered his eyelashes.
"So, that's what makes Mammon attractive? That he appears corruptible?"
"Ugh, not even," Asmo said, now exasperated. He looked at the magazine, and scrunched his nose. "The exact opposite, actually. He comes across as so genuinely good, it's like he could put a demon on the straight and narrow."
"H... He seems sexy because he could... make demons good?" you said, stunned.
You couldn't help an incredulous laugh at this. Asmo seemed to think it was some form of agreement with his point, and nodded.
"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Asmo said, gesturing vaguely before he turned back to his mirror to continue primping himself.
But you were simply bowled over by this insight into demon culture. Their equivalent of liking the bad boy wasn't looking at someone and thinking 'I can fix him', it was looking at Mammon and thinking 'he could fix me'. You would have to explain this to someone so they could grasp how hilarious it was, but you didn't think any of the demons would appreciate your amusement over this particular cultural insight. You were going to have to drop by Purgatory Hall soon.
Until then, you flipped to the next page of the magazine, with entirely new appreciation for Mammon's career.
The first time Mammon slept in your room, it happened quite by accident.
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It was in your first year in the Devildom, when Mammon still grumbled unhappily about being your babysitter sometimes, but half-heartedly and more for show. One evening, he holed up in your room to avoid Levi, who'd taken to the warpath once again, demanding that Mammon repay some debt or other.
Levi was still shy about barging into your room--he was shy even about being invited inside--so Mammon was winning himself some time by hiding with you. Unfortunately, even cowering from his erstwhile loan shark, Mammon grew bored easily, so he pestered you into entertaining him.
"How about a movie?" you offered, because you didn't have energy for much else.
"Fine, but it better not be anything lame," Mammon replied.
Of course, the moment he said that, you decided you were going to sucker him into watching the lamest movie you possibly could. He probably wanted something with car chases and explosions, so you were going to aim for something very much not like that instead.
You climbed into bed with your laptop, arranging the pillows so you could sit more comfortably with your back against the headboard, and you patted the space next to you for Mammon to sit as well. His cheeks flushed, but he remained as stoic as he was capable of, and hopped up onto the bed next to you.
With the laptop placed onto a cushion in front of you, you pulled up Hellflix.
"How about..." You blinked innocently as you looked over the list of movies on offer, "a comedy?"
Your tone was casual, like you weren't really invested in the option. Mammon didn't look like he suspected anything, though he tilted his head thoughtfully as he looked over the colorful thumbnails on the screen.
"Can't really go wrong with a comedy, right?" you prompted further, like you were stating some general fact.
"Yeah, s'fine, just pick a good one," Mammon said, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. He would obviously let you do the heavy lifting, and that was precisely what you wanted.
"Oh, this looks cool. A succubus leaves her office job in the beauty industry to become a racecar driver." You omitted the next part of the movie synopsis, which mentioned she and the co-pilot would butt heads at first before the relationship turned to mutual interest. Mammon yawned, not paying attention. Perfect.
You set the movie playing. You briefly regretted you didn't get some popcorn, but at this point going to the kitchen might have blown Mammon's cover, and anyway, you could probably do without crumbs in bed. You snuggled down into your pillows instead.
The movie started out promising enough. It was bright and colorful, and the lead character was endearingly quirky. Mammon grumbled something about 'this better not be a chick-flick' sometime during the opening scenes, but by the time the character was longingly flipping through car magazines while sitting in a bubble bath, Mammon seemed hooked. You could always tell how invested he was in a movie by how much he talked during it, and now he was muttering under his breath, urging her to follow her dreams already.
He grew obviously suspicious when the meet-cute with the love interest happened, though it was late enough into the movie that he was now invested. You could tell by the way he fell suddenly silent that he realized now it was a romcom, and you could almost see the way he was internally debating whether he should complain about it out loud. But he was stuck because he obviously wanted to watch the rest of the movie, even though he didn't want to reveal he was the kind of guy who liked romcoms.
It was cute how every thought going through his head was projected to clearly onto his expressions unless he was actively sitting at a poker table, but you kept it to yourself. You hugged a pillow to your chest and hid your smile into it when you couldn't keep it off your face.
The rest of the movie passed quickly. Some scenes stuck out in your memory, but you were pretty sure you fell asleep during the third act, and woke up only at the final scene, with the protagonist and the love interest hoisting up a trophy as confetti streamed all around them, and then kissing right before the credits rolled. Or maybe you dreamed it up, your brain able to reproduce the extremely predictable ending all on its own.
What you recall more vividly is that you woke up to the laptop's screensaver casting weak blue light. You were laying on your side, one pillow cradled to your chest and the rest cushioning your head. But in front of you, Mammon's position mirrored yours. He had fallen asleep on his side as well, facing you, and he was so close that your foreheads were nearly brushing together. You felt the tickle of his hair, and you could see the movement of his eyes underneath his closed eyelids as he dreamed.Â
His mouth was also slack, and he was drooling slightly. Gross.
But still, it was so strange to see Mammon at rest, peaceful and undisturbed, that you were compelled to look at him. This was a face carved for an angel, and at no time had you noticed it as much as you did now. If he opened his eyes, they would be gold and blue like a summer sky, and it was a pity he hid them behind sunglasses so much of the time.
Alas, you couldn't sit and admire Mammon for too long. The angle was giving you a crick in the neck, and you felt so very cold, that you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep again unless you were under the covers. You moved slowly and carefully as you closed your laptop and slipped it down between the bed and the wall, putting it flat on the floor under your bed.
You were just peeling back the bed covers to slip underneath, when Mammon raised his head, and groggily muttered, "Whass goin' on...?"
"Cold," you muttered back, tugging the bedcovers more firmly now that he was already awake. He scrambled upright to let you pull the bedcovers down, and you slipped under them as soon as you could. You shivered at the touch of the cold sheets; it would take some time for your body heat to warm them up.Â
Or, maybe not. You looked over at Mammon. In the darkness, you couldn't see much--certainly less than a demon could--but there was uncertainty in the lines of Mammon's body. Having woken, he wasn't sure if he was welcome anymore. But you hadn't planned on chasing him out anyway.
You held up a corner of your bed covers.
"Come on, I'm freezing," you said. You didn't make it an order, but you did make it sound like it was the only obvious course of action, so Mammon turned on a bit of bluster again.
"Yeah, yeah, don't rush me," he retorted, muttering about humans not knowing their place as he slid under the covers next to you.
He laid down as stiff as a board, some awkwardness obviously lingering, but your master plan had come to fruition. You glued yourself to his side, and he was exactly as warm as you expected. Maybe demons ran hotter, or maybe it was just Mammon's nature to glow from the inside like he had his own sun in his chest, but either way you were going to leech off that heat for the rest of the night.
"Hey," Mammon protested mildly as on of your legs hooked around his, and you threw an arm over his chest so you could snuggle against his side.
"Mm," you hummed contentedly as you snuggled under the covers up to your ears.
You felt a shake of laughter from Mammon.
"What'm I, yer hot water bottle?" he muttered in the darkness. "Ah, I'll let it slide, just this once."
You felt his arm move behind you, and then two pats on top of your head. You considered saying something snarky to him about not making this awkward, but the cold was finally chased out of your bones, and all you wanted was to sink into sleep.
*
The next day, by the time you woke up, Mammon was already gone.
You did notice over the next few weeks, however, that Mammon would make excuses to visit your room in the evenings. More than usual, at least. He'd demand to watch movies with you, or play games. Once, in what you assume was a fit of desperation, he even requested help with his homework.
And then he'd linger until it was late, and fall asleep 'accidentally', or, once he got bolder, outright demand to sleep in your room because it was too late for him to leave.
As for you, well... you were very good at playing dumb. He may very well have believed you didn't notice what he was doing.
Barbatos had never been one to put much stock into surprise birthday parties. In his experience, birthdays tended to fall by the wayside--at least until the student exchange program began and such things began having more weight. For most immortal creatures, a single year was a fleeting interval of time; yet it seemed a density of events could make it feel much longer.
And in regards to the 'surprise' part, regretfully, while he himself could be the spirit of discretion, he was surrounded by individuals who had neither the subtlety nor the social grace to be able to hide when they were organizing such things.
So it was with no small amount of stunned disbelief that Barbatos walked into one of the rooms of the castle to have every close acquaintance shout 'Happy Birthday!' at him.
He hadn't had a clue. He'd noticed nothing. He'd forgotten his birthday was even coming up, true, but he forgot all about it most years. This was the first time someone had actually gotten the drop on him and surprised him with a birthday party without him noticing.
Lord Diavolo's laugh boomed at the look on Barbatos' face, and he patted the butler's shoulder with sympathy.
"You really didn't guess this time, did you?" Lord Diavolo asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Young Master, I am stunned. You've stunned me," Barbatos replied quite sincerely. Lord Diavolo laughed again, but he did not elaborate on how he accomplished it, only wished Barbatos a happy birthday again and wandered off.
Well-wishers followed after that, and then the cake: three-tiered with turquoise frosting, and decorated to delicately that he couldn't have done a better job himself. The candles he was instructed to blow out were numbering the same as the millennia of his life, and he had to wonder who'd sat down and made that calculation.Â
Luke proceeded to cut the cake into slices that he painstakingly made sure were equal--except for Beelzebub, who'd been given an entire tier of the cake simply so he'd leave something for the other guests to eat. Barbatos was handed the first slice, and instructed to sit down and eat it, which may have been a transparent ploy of dealing with Barbatos' instinct to serve the cake for all the others.
As Barbatos was ushered off to the table, however, he sat next to the one he suspected to be the mastermind behind this whole thing. The human exchange student looked at him and grinned, wishing him happy birthday with such a devious look on their face, that it left no doubt as to his conclusion. Oh yes, the human had been the one to pull this off.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me how you did it?" Barbatos asked, genuinely curious. When he took a small bite of the cake, the flavor was quite to his liking. If this was something Luke made, then the angel had improved his baking beyond what Barbatos expected. If it was not Luke's doing, Barbatos couldn't imagine who else knew his tastes so well.
"Oh, I definitely will," they said, "but only if you do a good enough job of enjoying yourself first."
Barbatos laughed, surprising even himself as he did, but he had no opportunity to continue the conversation. The human hadn't crowded around the table to receive a piece of cake, and now it was obvious why: at least three of the demon brothers were coming to offer them a slice, and jostling each other to be the first to do so.
As a demon of great integrity, Barbatos enjoyed himself, just as the human said. And after the party was over, he stayed to clean up, because he'd been firmly forbidden from doing anything of the like during the party itself, and now he felt his hands itching for some kind of activity.
The human exchange student stayed, either out of a real desire to help, or because they wanted to keep up their end of the bargain.
"Did you like it?" they asked.
"It was an experience I won't soon forget," Barbatos said.Â
"Okay, then, about the thing you asked... I'll tell you tomorrow. You should bask in that feeling for a bit longer."
"Tomorrow, then. I really must insist you come for tea."
The rest of the cleaning was done in companionable silence.
*
The next day came the answers Barbatos was so curious about, and he burst out laughing when he got them.
"You used my own powers to surprise me?" he surmised from their explanation, as the human nodded sheepishly. "What a notion. I am constantly astounded at the ideas you come up with."
"So you'll help me with the time-travel birthday surprise then?"
"Naturally I must," Barbatos agreed. "We shouldn't create a paradox."
The human hummed in agreement, and nodded, but then their brow furrowed.
"That wouldn't actually happen, would it?" they checked, a bit nervous.
"I wonder," was Barbatos' cryptic reply, as he took a sip of his tea.
Summary: Simeon gets some help with applying sunscreen ;)
You and Asmo had only just finally found a good spot to spread your towels in the sun, when you turned to see someone else walking towards you with his own beach towel.
"Simeon, you're finally in beach clothes!" you shouted out, and Simeon burst into a peal of laughter in response.
"Yes, I figured I should get some, if I want to fully enjoy the beach experience," he replied. "Mind if I join you?"
You glanced over at Asmo, who looked less bothered by the notion than he would have been if it were certain of his brothers interrupting instead. After spending the day together scouring the beaches for pretty shells, the three of you had developed something of a camaraderie.
"Not at all," you said, gesturing agreeably to the spot beside you--on the opposite side of the one claimed by Asmo.
"Simeon, did you apply sunscreen?" Asmo asked as he lathered himself generously with cream.
"Ah, a bit," Simeon said, rubbing the back of his neck, "but I suppose I'll have to apply it more seriously if I'll be sunbathing."
Asmo, whose fixation with skincare took very little provocation to make itself apparent, nodded with glowing approval. "Absolutely, we wouldn't want anything to damage that perfect complexion of yours." He cast a look around, then picked up his tote bag to rifle through it. "There should be an extra bottle in here that would be just perfect for you."
It didn't take Asmo long to find it, despite how much stuff you suspected was in there. He passed the bottle over to you, and you inspected it before passing it to Simeon.
"Oh, this is the stuff Mammon uses," you remarked as you looked at the label.
"You recognize it?" Asmo asked, then pulled a face. "Of course you do. I bet he makes you apply it for him every chance he gets."
"Well, you are supposed to reapply sunscreen every time after swimming," you said, though you were mild in your defense of Mammon because you suspected the same. He went through sunscreen fast; you assumed he had Asmo pick up an extra bottle for him just because of that.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure that has nothing to do with how often he goes splashing about," Asmo made a little dismissive gesture.
Simeon had taken off his light teal shirt--even folding it up and placing it on the beach towel fastidiously--and he sat down, extending his hand to take the sunscreen.
But you were struck with a sudden impish thought. "How about I do your back?" you offered.
"Oh," Simeon blinked, surprised, but he rallied quickly, "that would be very kind of you, thank you."
"Here, start with your face," you said, squirting only the slightest bit of sunscreen into his open palm. You scooted behind him quickly, before he could protest, and sat yourself on his beach towel as you poured out a generous dollop into your own hands.
Simeon glanced at you over his shoulder, a spark of mischief as like recognized like, but he made no comment. You smeared the lotion over his back in long white streaks before you started rubbing it in. Simeon spread sunscreen over his own face, as you indicated, and down the arch of his throat as you noticed when he tilted his head back to rub all the way to his collarbone, but he soon ran out of the pitifully small amount of sunscreen you'd given him.
Yet, he was trapped here under your hands as you proceeded to very thoroughly knead the tension out of his back. You'd been told before--primarily by the brothers--that you were a dab hand at massages, so why not use that to Simeon's benefit? After all, he said nothing as your thumbs dug into knots in his back and up his shoulders, and he sighed happily when you reached the back of his neck and slid your fingers against his vertebrae.Â
Asmo watched from his beach towel--making no pretense otherwise--as he lay on his belly with his chin propped on the backs of his hands and a knowing smile on his face. His legs were bent at the knee, and his feet swung back and forth in the air, but under the apparent playfulness in his posture, you could tell he was ready to pounce.
Finally, your hands slid over Simeon's shoulders and down his front, and you got generous handfuls of his pectorals before he let out a nervous chuckle.
"Ahaha, I think I can handle it from here," he said, and stopped your hands from going further down by covering them with his own.
"Oh, no, I'm happy to keep going," you said, your lips so close to his ear that you were sure he could feel your breath as you spoke.
"If you're that worried about imposing on your benefactor," Asmo interjected, "I will be happy to assist!"
"Good idea," you said, and tossed the bottle of sunscreen to Asmo, and conveniently out of Simeon's reach.
"I'll do your legs, shall I?" Asmo said, squirting sunscreen into his palm as he looked Simeon right in the eye. "Believe me, it would be my privilege," and he managed to drag that word out into something that sounded far more salacious than expected.
"Well," Simeon said tilting his head in interest, "when you put it like that, how can I possibly refuse?"
You walked into the kitchen to no less pandemonium than you were used to dealing on an average day.
Still, the way Satan and Belphie stopped their hissed argument and turned to look at you with wide eyes was almost as telling as the sight of Beel sitting on the floor, shoulders slumped miserably, his form many times smaller than it should be.
"Hey, boys," you greeted, walking casually towards the fridge. "What'cha doing?"
"Ugh, for a second I thought it was Lucifer at the door," Belphie replied, though he didn't look much relieved.
"'m hungry," Beel piped in his little kid voice. He was swamped in his clothing, now comically large on him, but the way he wrung his hands in front of his stomach was all too familiar.
"Uh-huh," you said, opening the fridge and digging in the back. "I take it the kiddie curse was for Lucifer?"
"We ordered some cursed candy off Akuzon," Satan admitted. "We were trying to figure out how to make Lucifer eat them when Beel came along and--" He gestured helplessly to his younger brother, now emphasis on the younger.
You crouched down to hand Beel the pudding you'd found in the fridge. His face brightened immediately, and he peeled off the lid, and upended the whole thing into his mouth.Â
"Can I have more?" Beel requested almost immediately, turning his unusually potent puppy dog eyes on you.
"Aw, honey," you cooed, "I'll fix you an early dinner, how about that?"
"Early dinner?" Beel's eyes grew even wider with excitement. "I like that. And then the regular dinner after, right?"
"Now you're putting ideas into his head," Belphie muttered.Â
"Hush and go find him some clothes that fit," you said instead.
"I'm going to research this curse," Satan said, slipping out of the kitchen before he could be drafted into any other task.
Belphie sighed, trying very hard to look put-upon, but he extended his hand, and Beel took it, letting himself be lifted to his feet. His shoes were too big now as well, and his pants were so long that the pant legs trailed, so Belphie picked him up in his arms instead.
"Huh," Belphie said, settling Beel on his hip. "Being the one to carry Beel instead is a new experience."
Beel was no larger than a normal child around the age of seven or eight, even though as an adult he managed to tower over everyone else. But now, skinny and pre-pubescent as he was, he seemed all the more fragile for it. Also cute. Unbearably cute. He clung to Belphie's shirt with little fists just barely poking out through the hanging sleeves, and Belphie seemed to melt inside just a little bit.
Not that Beel wasn't usually adorable in his own way, but this--just like Beel--took the cake.
"Let's go get you some clothes," Belphie said, patting Beel's back.
"But what about early dinner?" Beel asked, peering at his brother from under his mop of orange hair.Â
"We'll be back for it, don't worry."
Just like that, you were on dinner duty. It wasn't even your turn that day, you were pretty sure it would have been Satan's, but it was safe to say Satan had more urgent things to do right then, so you considered your dinner shifts officially switched.
You were just setting a pot to boil when Beel came back, bare feet slapping against the kitchen tiles. Shoes his size would have been an unlikely find, but he now at least wore a pair of shorts that were big enough to double as pants on him, and--
"Is that my T-shirt?" you asked, because you recognized the band logo on it.Â
"Belphie said you wouldn't mind 'cause nobody else has shirts small enough except maybe Asmo and he doesn't want to put me into anything Asmo would give us anyway," Beel said in one long breath. Still, even your T-shirt was a bit big on him.
Beel's nostrils flared as he rose to his tiptoes, trying to see what was boiling on the stove.
"Hey, sit here," you said, grabbing him under his arms and scooping him up onto one of the stools next to the table. "I made you some fried roc eggs to tide you over until the rest of the food is ready." You pushed the plate with four sunny egg-yolks in front of him, provided him with a fork and a few slices of bread, and turned back to cooking.
Beel had already finished his eggs, using the last of the bread to wipe the plate clean of every drop of yolk, when Belphie finally made his appearance, trailing into the kitchen with sleepy eyes.
"I'm still hungry," Beel said, his voice turning to a whine easier in his little kid voice.
Belphie eyed his plate. "Didn't you just eat?"
"It wasn't dinner, it was just to tide me over," Beel explained.
Belphie looked over at you, assessed your progress, and sighed.
"You'd think," he said, "that being smaller meant he'd eat less, wouldn't you?" Belphie muttered.
"Oh, not at all," you replied. "He's a growing boy now."
Belphie's gaze slid to Beel, who was eying the plate like he was about to try eating it too, so he ruffled Beel's head vigorously. Beel made a squeaky sound of protest.
"I guess if Satan doesn't find a cure for the curse we could let him grow up the old fashioned way," you suggested with a snicker.Â
"No," Belphie shook his head, almost swaying on his feet, "he's very cute, but raising a child is too much work."
"I'm hungry," Beel complained, looking up at Belphie plaintively.
"Ugh," Belphie muttered, "Way too cute. He might actually eat us out of house and home looking like this." But then he went and scrounged the cupboards for snacks.
You agreed that Belphie might have a point. Still, you took out your D.D.D. and took some photos. Beel was worth a whole album right then.
(No spoilers for latter lessons, but takes place fairly late in the game.)
***
"--a gross, shut-in otaku like me!" Levi finished, on the all too familiar note.
Usually by this point you would already be launching into reassurances that he certainly wasn't gross, and shouldn't talk about himself like that, but this time there was nothing but a silence that bounced off the walls, damning and louder than any words.
You reached into your bag of chips, removed a single potato chip, and ate it as you tilted your head in thought. Levi took your silence like a slap in the face, and recoiled, his face already wavering. The sound of your chewing was distressingly loud in contrast.
You finished chewing and swallowed. "I mean, is that even true anymore?" you asked after a nerve-wracking length of time.
Levi's expression twisted more into confusion than hurt. "Huh?!"Â
"Don't you kind of lose your hikikomori credentials if you become popular and people start coming to spend time with you all the time?"
"That's not-- I'm not-- You don't count!" Levi sputtered.
"Oh, I don't count, huh," you repeated, putting a hand to your chest and dramatically feigning heartbreak.
Levi looked abashed now. "Th-that's not what I meant," he rushed to add.
"I know what you meant," you said. "Give it an hour."
Now Levi tilted fully into confusion.
"Give what an hour?"
"My point to be made," you said, and placed your D.D.D. onto the lip of the bathtub, out of your own reach. It was also clearly visible to Levi as you both sat on beanbags in front of his TV, next to the bath tub. "An hour," you repeated in a portentous video game narrator voice.
Levi scowled and picked up his controller again, turning back to his game. But his reactions were off, now. His character moved jerkily around the screen, doubling back and taking wrong turns on the 8-bit map as Levi's mood roiled with the strangeness of the conversation.
You continued eating your chips slowly, savoring the taste of the limited edition novelty flavor that Levi had generously acquired for you. He'd tried to pass it as a coincidence, but he didn't really know anyone else who unironically enjoyed the taste of cream and devilradish chips.
Not even half an hour passed before there was a knock on the door.
Levi asked for the password on reflex. Surprisingly, from the other side of the door came a sigh, and then Asmo's melodious voice reciting the string of nerd trivia that Levi had set as a password for him ever since they became unlikely allies for the Bloody Moon competition.
"Come in, I guess," Levi replied, giving you a long look. Your D.D.D. was still on the edge of the bathtub, untouched as you sat there elbow-deep in greasy chips. You couldn't have called anyone over. And yet, was this what you expected to happen?
"Give it forty more minutes now," you said low.
Asmo fluttered into the room, like a passing breeze bringing in the smell of perfume.Â
"Oh, there you are, darling, I was wondering where you were," he said, face lit up as he saw you.
He sat uninvited next to you in the beanbag, and you scooted over to make space for him. Levi would have complained, except moving to make room for Asmo meant you shuffled closer to Levi instead, so he ended up biting his tongue.
"What do you want?" Levi grit out.
"Must I want something?" Asmo asked, "Is it not enough that I give my adorable brother the opportunity to entertain me?"
"He's bored," you translated.
"I'm soooo bored," Asmo whined, his shoulders rolling in a full-body sigh. But he perked up as he leaned forward to look at both you and Levi. "But what about all this? Mind if I join the fun~?"
"Let's find a game Asmo can play," you suggested.Â
"If you'd like," Asmo acquiesced with a shrug, indicating he'd had some other kind of fun in mind.
Levi gave you another sidelong glance, full of suspicion, but his head was out of the game he was playing anyway, so he exited and pulled up his game library instead. Deciding which game to choose was the trickier part, because Asmo had terrible reflexes, and an attention span worse than Mammon's when it came to playing anything. This ruled out anything requiring twitch reflexes or understanding complicated rules.Â
Asmo, meanwhile, scrunched his nose at your chips.
"All that grease and salt is going to be awful for your complexion, darling," he said, clearly disapproving.
"I'm not rubbing it on my face," you said, and defiantly sucked crumbs off your thumb. Levi nearly choked at the sound, which was borderline obscene. The little sound Asmo made in response did nothing to contradict this impression.
Levi managed to swallow back the wave of envy before it came undammed by concentrating on the list of games on the screen. He still had to make a selection.
A farming sim seemed like a safe enough choice; something bright and frivolous. Just like Asmo.
Levi passed the controller as the title screen came up, and Asmo, to his credit, managed to choose the 'New Game' option without messing anything up. Yet. When the screen went dark as the game loaded, Asmo couldn't resist looking at his reflection and primping his hair a bit. Levi did resist snorting and rolling his eyes, but it was a close thing.
The character creation screen popped up with its myriad of options, and Asmo gasped in delight.
"Oh! This is a good start! Much better than getting shoved into some ugly gray metal suit at the beginning," Asmo remarked cheerfully. He cycled through the hair and clothing options with the speed and deftness of a veteran player.Â
"Hey, beginner armor in RPGs can be colorful too," Levi protested.
"But not fashionable, apparently," Asmo sniffed.
Asmo had only just barely settled on a hairstyle and color combination he thought was adequately cute, and was scrunching his nose at the shirt options, when another knock came at the door.
"Come in," you called out, before Levi could demand a password.
Mammon's head popped through the door, and he pulled a face when he saw you there, just like he always did when you were in somebody else's company and not his.
"Eh? What're you doing here?" Mammon asked, closing the door behind him and sidling up to the three of you.Â
He craned his neck and squinted at the screen, like he was verifying that whatever you were doing, it passed his requirements for propriety. Between knowing the kinds of games Levi had in his collection, and seeing Asmo there, maybe he was not completely unjustified in some suspicion, but it still made you want to roll your eyes.
"We're watching Asmo create his character," you explained.
Mammon guffawed. "Betcha been watching him do that for a while!"
"Fifteen minutes, more or less," you said. "But to be fair, Levi takes way longer to create characters."
"It's an important step!" Levi sputtered.
"Especially with the quality of the options," Asmo added. "Look at this. A purple T-shirt with a pink butt on it?"
"That's a peach!" Levi protested, his face turning red.
"I know what a butt looks like, Levi," Asmo replied tartly.
"Wait, wait, Asmo, that black one with the gold design ain't half bad! Go back an' pick that one."Â
"That gaudy thing! Absolutely not!"
"Mammon, why are you even here?" Levi asked, now completely exasperated with his brothers.
"I was just seein' if we were still on for Devil Kart against those Purgatory Hall guys. We need ta win back our honor, ya know."
"Do we?" Levi asked suspiciously, "or are you running a betting pool again?"
Mammon made a good show of appearing indignant at the very suggestion, but he'd hit you up earlier today about whether you'd be willing to take a dive in the second half of Candy Mountain in exchange for a lump grimm sum, so you knew too much about the subject to defend Mammon without exposing him.
"Can't I be showin' an interest without ya gettin' all suspicious a' me? What makes me so weird, huh? Asmo here doesn't even play games, and I don't see ya hasslin' him!"
"I do too play games," Asmo protested.
"Really? 'Cause only thing I ever saw you play was that stupid matching thing with the gems, and I ain't seen much of even that lately."
You knew which game Mammon meant, because it was the only game app you'd ever seen on Asmo's phone. You'd watch him play in moments of boredom, swiping his screen with a completely blank look of concentration as he matched the colors of the gems in rows and columns, and they burst into sparkles.Â
"Ugh, of course you haven't seen me play, I finished it. I have to wait until they add new levels."
"Didn't that game have like ten thousand levels already?" you asked. "You mean you passed all of them?"
"Eleven thousand and sixty five," Asmo corrected primly. "And yes, I did them all. I have to wait until they add more now. I asked."
The room fell into shocked silence at this. Even Levi looked mildly dyspeptic at the thought of completing eleven thousand levels of a match-3 game. You'd played it yourself for a while, and past the two hundredth level, the number of complicated mechanics the game introduced had completely broken you.
"Anyway," Mammon said after a few more beats of silence. He gestured to the screen, where Asmo was flicking between two shirt options. "This thing got co-op or somethin'?"
You finished your chips, and folded away the empty bag. When you picked up your D.D.D., fifty five minutes had passed.
"Still five minutes left," you muttered to Levi while Asmo and Mammon bickered over the choice of pants. "Wanna play the long odds and see if the twins show up too?"
"Okay, okay, you've made your point," Levi grumbled. "I let way too many people waltz in here. I'll have to tighten security."
But Levi's heart wasn't really in it, and when he turned to watch Mammon try to swipe Asmo's controller while the latter loudly protested, there was almost a smile threatening to spread over Levi's face.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Characters: Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Additional Tags: Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Time Travel, Celestial Realm (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Asmodeus, Pre-Canon, First Time, (with some religious guilt sprinkled on top)
Summary:
**Spoilers for lesson 44
MC spends a bit more time in the past and has a bigger impact on Asmo's future predilections, in particular.
Since I ran through the scraps I already had written, right now I’m going through the list of stuff I’d planned to write but not gotten around to yet and it goes like:
-Asmo/MC/Simeon inspired by the Search for Beach Gems card (because it made me ship it)
-human!AU Asmo as process server (it makes sense in my head)
-Diavolo/OC arranged marriage fic (just had a few distinct scenes for this one, but no real plot)
-mermaid!Leviathan inadvertently trapped on land by his ill-fated love of nerdy collectibles
-space opera AU with Demon brothers as a quirky spaceship crew (because of my nostalgia for old sci-fi shows)
-ghost!AU but I could never decide which of the guys I’d want to be the ghost haunting MC’s apartment
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Demon Brothers/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Demon Brothers & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Characters: Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Additional Tags: Character Study, Self Care, Self-Esteem
Summary:
Your time in the Devildom changed you. Or rather, your time with certain demons did.
This is also on Ao3 now, if that’s your jam!
An Obey Me! Writing Blog @indulge-that-sin - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
