Writing this while curled up in bed to cope with cramps. I need someone to pamper me like this TT.
[Reader's gender is not specified, but they’re on their periods]
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It was that time of the month, yet again.
Mammon sees the scene once and storms off with that adorable pout on his face. He was your "first" demon. Your first pact. HE should be the first one you go to when you're in pain. That's only fair, right?
Yet, there you were, curled up to his younger brother instead, looking oh so satisfied while you took a nap on him. Beel seemed pleased too. Of course he did, getting to put his palm on your lower belly while being so close to you. It wasn't Mammon's fault his hands didn't run as warm as his younger brother's!
The Avatar of Greed entered your room and rolled up his sleeves. He couldn't let his brothers out do him. Not when it came to you. It was time to get to work.
Mammon finds you about half an hour later, getting some water from the kitchen. He decides it's the perfect time to snatch you away before you could snuggle up to beel once more.
You yelp in shock when Mammon grabs your wrist and starts dragging you with him.
"Uhh, were are we going?", you ask, wondering what he's up to now.
"Yer room"
"Why?"
"You'll see."
Out of everything you imagined, you certainly weren't expecting this. Mammon has turned your bed into what you could only call a "nest" of sorts. Pillows arranged in a circular fashion, covered with fluffy blankets— your favourite blanket right on top. Your plushies already tucked in. 'Birb brain' you think to yourself, giggling mentally.
You don't waste a second, plopping down face first onto the cozy arrangement, not even bothering to pull the blankets over your. "This is amazing. I love you." You say that last part without much thought, focusing more on how happy and loved you felt.
Mammon turns a violent shade of red at your words, but tries to cover up his embarrassment as usual. "That's right! Expect nothing less than perfection from The Great Mammon!"
You lie there like that for a few seconds before you hear Mammon clear his throat. "So, umm, ya gonna get under the blankets, or what?"
"Oh, right." You quickly scurry under the blankets, only to find...a heating pad? You look at Mammon like he hung the stars.
"H-hey, no need ta look at me like that! I've just heard it helps with cramps...a—and stuff... Here, let me switch it on for ya."
He takes the heating pad from you and fumbles around with it for a bit before figuring out how to switch it on and placing it on your abdomen. The relief was instant, and you felt like you were melting into the blankets.
Hmm...now that you think about it, that heating pad looks awfully familiar. Didn't you see Beel use it post workout the other day? Mammon most definitely stole it.
What else is new?
"Did you know, some humans jokingly call their periods 'Satan’s waterfall'?", you give him the random piece of trivia, curling yourself up further into the warm blankets.
Mammon let's out a very undignified snort. "Let's not tell Satan about that, yeah?"
You smile at him. Before long, you feel your eyelids grow heavy.
"Hey, human. I'm gonna go get my D.D.D real quick, okay? Ya better not go anywhere!"
You yawn in response. Mammon takes it as proof enough that you weren't getting up any time soon and leaves the room.
Maybe you should rest your eyes for a while...
You are pulled out of your haze by the feeling of someone slipping under the blankets beside you and wrapping their arms around your middle. You turn your head, and are not surprised to see Belphie. Of course, the coziness of the setup has attracted him— like a moth to a flame.
Before you could greet him, you are rudely interrupted.
"Hey!! Whadya think yer doin'??"
Belphie grumbles in mild annoyance before burying his head further into the pillows.
"Get outta there!!"
And to your further amusement, Mammon grabs the back of Belphie's jacket and drags him out like a mother cat picking up a kitten by its scruff. Belphie tries to swat at him.
"HEY—"
It soon turns into both the brothers yelling and pawing at each other like feral cats, none of them bold enough to actually hurt the other. It was hilarious, watching two head honchos of the demon world behave like toddlers. And you would enjoy the show even more, if it weren't for the dull ache in your lower belly.
"What is going on?", came that familiar voice from the door— the one that never fails to make their blood turn into ice. The brothers freeze like statues.
"Lucifer—", both of them begin at once.
Lucifer looks at you. He could see the slight tiredness in your eyes. Knowing that letting Mammon and Belphie be in the same room is only going to cause further chaos, he decides to help you out a bit.
"Belphie, go to your room."
"What—"
"Now."
Belphie looks murderous for a moment. But he listens to Lucifer nonetheless as he walks out of the room, possibly imagining all the ways he could get back at his eldest brother. You could bet on a million Grimm that he's headed off to Satan's room to scheme against Lucifer.
"...and Mammon?", Lucifer continues.
Mammon almost seems to wilt at the thought of getting kicked out of the room as well— or worse, get reprimanded for the chaos he was partially responsible for.
"...let MC get some sleep. No more shouting."
You give Lucifer a small 'thank you' smile before he leaves, leaving you and Mammon alone.
Mammon sighs in relief. "What's wrong with that guy? Why's he gotta poke his nose everywhere!?" He stops for a second before grinning smugly. "But I guess I didn't mind him kicking Belphie out. Guess even he's come to realise The Great Mammon's supremacy!!"
Oh, this guy's adorable.
"Or maybe you're just his favourite little brother—", you mumble under your breath.
"Oi, what was that?"
"Nothing."
"Ya better not be making fun of me, human! Now, get some sleep. The Great Mammon will protect ya!"
You wrap the blankets around you once more, closing your eyes and stretch out your belly over the heating pad. You feel nice and warm. What a lovely environment for sleep.
And don't worry. This time, The Great Mammon will keep all possible disturbances at bay! Including a certain sloth demon glaring bitterly at him from the doorway.
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Can you tell I had absolutely no direction writing this one? I just typed out whatever came to mind. But I hope y'all like it nonetheless.
Exhaustion felt like too small a word for what weighed on you after a full day of errands and schoolwork back at RAD.
Eventually, you make your way home.
Your footsteps echo through the grand halls of the House of Lamentation—heavy, uneven, each step louder than the last. A tired sigh slips past your lips as you drag yourself toward your room at the very end of the corridor.
“All I want is a good, looooong nap,” you murmur, twisting the doorknob.
You don’t bother turning on the lights. The faint glow filtering through your window is enough—casting the room in a soft haze that only deepens the drowsiness settling into your bones.
Your heavy bag drops to the floor with a dull thud. You slip off your shoes, shrug off your RAD coat, and stretch your arms overhead with a groan—savoring the relief before you finally collapse onto it.
Your bed looks devastatingly inviting in the dim light. You can almost feel it already—the warmth, the softness, the way it’ll swallow you whole the moment you sink into it.
You hum softly to yourself, blinking away the last of your responsibilities before letting your body fall forward—
Flop!
As you land, something feels… off.
The ends of the bed, they seem to be upright now,
“What the—?!”
Before you can react, you’re suddenly engulfed by your blanket—but there’s something else there too. A Someone. Startled, you tug the blanket down, only to be met with a familiar, sweet smile.
Beelzebub.
Few crumbs had clung to his cheek. Gah, you should probably check that later before you end up with ants on your bed.
You let out a soft sigh, returning his smile despite the tiredness. “Hey, Beel… whatcha doing? …On my bed?”
He only hums, looking far too glad. “Heard you were tired after the student council meeting earlier. I thought you might need a hug.”
“By hiding under my blanket?”
“…For a surprise, Asmo said it was a good idea.”
A soft laugh escapes you, as you settle against him, resting your head on his chest while his arms wrap around you tighter, steady and comforting.
He’s warm. So, so warm.
And before long, the exhaustion you carried all day finally wins. Together, you drift into a deep, well-deserved sleep after a long day.
When you first became an exchange student at RAD, there were many things to be afraid of. For example, curse object, demon (obviously), and magical creatures that definitely weren’t in human textbooks.
But out of everything in the Devildom, Beelzebub terrified you the most.
You still remember the first time you met him. Mammon had been chosen to be your guardian but he was making a fuss and point at Beelzebub who's been snacking.
“Oi! Why can't Beel do it?!"
At first you thought, Oh, that’s nice. He looks nice. At least he didn't gave you a nasty look.
Then Beel looked at you and said in the most honest voice ever. “I’ll try. But… I can’t promise I won’t eat them.”
But the worst part was that Beel looked genuinely confused, like he wasn’t sure himself whether he could resist eating you or not. His brows furrowed, his stomach growled, “I’m hungry all the time. If they smell good, it might be hard….”
You had never wanted to run so fast in your life.
From that day onward, you developed a survival plan.
Step 1: Always carry candy.
Step 2: If Beel comes near, give him the candy.
Step 3: Hope that keeps you alive.
And it worked surprisingly well.
Every time Beel walked into a room, you would quickly pull out a piece of candy like you were feeding a dangerous animal. He never questioned it, he simply accepted it, smiled softly, and ate it immediately.
“Thank you,” he always said.
And then he didn’t eat you, which felt like a win. Over time, this strange little ritual became normal.
You didn’t even flinch around him anymore. He stopped looking at you like you were a snack. Beel even began saving you slices of cake or giving you food he thought you might like. He carried heavy things for you, protected you without being asked, and always made sure you had enough to eat.
But the habit never stopped.
One afternoon in the common room, Beel walked in after a practice. You didn’t think twice, your hand went automatically into your pocket, pulling out a candy you kept just for him.
He leaned forward, smiling. “Thanks, MC.” He took it gently from your fingers and popped it into his mouth.
Everything was normal.
…Until the other brothers finally noticed.
Mammon stared. “Why’re ya feedin’ him like he’s some kinda pet?!”
Asmo blinked. “Wait—has this been happening every day?”
Beel didn’t see the problem. He just happily chewed.
The demon brothers loved your cooking a little too much. You didn’t even have to make anything special. A simple soup or a quick stir-fry was enough to make them look at you like you had defeated Gordon Ramsay himself.
Every time they cleaned their plates, your heart warmed a little more. But sometimes it got overwhelming.
Your D.D.D. would buzz with messages from them at random hours.
“MC, can you cook?”
“MC please make your soup again.”
“MC I’m starving.”
And of course, half of those messages came from Beel, who always asked the most and looked the happiest when you said yes. So you ended up cooking even when it wasn’t your turn for kitchen duty.
You didn’t mind, but today you forgot to buy some ingredients. You opened the pantry and stared at the empty shelves. The only thing left was a pack of instant noodles from the human world, something you brought back during your last trip home.
You had just thirty minutes before the brothers came looking for you, so you sighed, grabbed the packet, and decided it was better than nothing. You boiled the water, added the noodles, sprinkled the seasoning, maybe added an egg out of guilt. It wasn’t fancy at all, just basic human noodle meant for quick snacking.
When you served it, your stomach twisted with nerves. You already prepared a whole speech in your head to apologize. But the moment the brothers took their first bite, the reactions were instant.
“Mm, MC! What did you put in this? It tastes amazing,”
“You can actually taste how authentic this is.”
“May I ask what you made this time, MC?”
You blinked at them slowly, confused. “…It’s just plain human-world instant noodles, guys.” Asmo gasped dramatically, “So fetch!” he exclaimed.
Lucifer only had to tell Leviathan to put his phone away twice and Beelzebub hadn't been caught stealing food off anybody's plate. Belphegor and Satan were discussing research instead of causing headaches.
You were familiar with 90% of what was on your plate. The other 10% you had learned to just try. At least two bites. Devildom food was weird and looked unappetizing but could be surprisingly delicious, and this pink bulbous tentacle-like thing was no scarier than the quetzalcoatl brain sandwich Belphegor packed for lunch.
You mixed it into your pasta and put a forkful in your mouth. It wasn't bad. Spicy, very spicy, but kind of savory and salty. You tried another forkful. Could use sauce.
"Beel, pass that black nightshade sauce, please?" you asked.
He grunted in affirmation, his mouth too full of food to say much else as he reached for the bottle in the middle of the table. Asmodeus screamed.
You dropped your fork in surprise as all of the brothers looked up. Some were annoyed, some were startled. The eldest in particular looked exhausted. Yet all of those expressions equally turned to alarm.
Leviathan stared at you, slack-jawed. "Uhh..."
Before you could ask what the big deal was, Satan exclaimed, "Your face!"
"What happened!?" Asmodeus demanded. He thew his silverware down and marched over to you, grabbing your face in his hands. It was starting to feel a little tingly.
This served as a catalyst for all the brothers to crowd around you. Mammon practically jumped across the table, knocking Satan's glass over. The latter's wrath was held at bay by concern as he began taking note of your symptoms. Beelzebub yanked your chair away from the table, rattling you even further and creating more room for Belphegor and Lucifer to get in your personal space.
"Is it a curse?" Belphegor asked, taking hold of your hand and prodding your palm. Your hand seemed fine.
"I don't sense any hostile magic," Lucifer responded, tilting your chin up.
Satan was on the right track when he theorized, "Could it be a reaction to something?"
"Water! Water!" Leviathan cried as he stole every glass that was still standing and placed them in front of you. Some were filled with wine.
Asmodeus held your head in a strange grip as he caressed your hair and lamented, "You poor thing! Asmo's here, it'll all be okay!"
"Don't be touchin' my human all intimately," Mammon growled. "I'll figure out what's wrong!"
"What is going on!?" you shouted. Their reactions were really freaking you out, it was never good when all seven were fussing over you.
"Your face's purple!" Mammon explained, dabbing your cheek with a napkin he licked the corner of. Nothing rubbed off.
"What?"
"Well, not all of it. Mostly your mouth," Beelzebub clarified, pointing towards his own face to demonstrate that you were purple from your nose to your neck.
"It's spreading," Belphegor observed. He didn't mean to cause panic but it made Mammon, Leviathan, and Asmodeus fuss even more.
"Do you have any allergies we're not aware of?" Satan asked, staring at your partially eaten dinner.
"Not to any of this," you said, "but it is my first time having that spicy pink stuff."
It was hard to remain calm and not visibly shake. Your tongue felt a little swollen, and you think they noticed you slur the last word. Asmodeus ruffled your hair some more and Belphegor tightened his grip on your hand.
"Spicy?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
Beelzebub checked that your plate had the same contents as his and asked, "Pink... Do you mean the nautilus tentacles?"
"Ew," you muttered. That's what that was?
"That ain't spicy. At all," Mammon stated. He even grabbed a piece off your plate and threw it in his mouth to make sure you were eating the same thing.
"I cooked it properly, too!" Leviathan insisted. He ushered you to take a sip of water as he continued, "I used the meat thermometer and everything since you didn't like the newt we had last week. Said it looked too raw. There should be nothing toxic about this."
"Humans frequently eat shelled fish across different cultures," Satan noted, proving it ought to be safe.
"So it was just spicy to you," Belphegor reiterated. "That's not good."
Beelzebub asked, "Can you spit it out?"
He looked about ready to do the Heimlich on you. It was a concerning sight and made you lean away from him as you shook your head. Your lips felt like tiny balloons. The swelling became more obvious when you said, "I shwallowed it."
Lucifer was already on the phone figuring out a solution. The others began reassuring you that "It's fine!"
"The Great Mammon's gonna take good care of ya, don't you worry!"
"It will all be okay."
"Hey, I think it's already starting to go away!"
"You look good in purple."
"Belphie, that's not helping!"
Leviathan made you drink another two half-filled cups, one of which contained demonus instead of water, before Lucifer elbowed his brothers aside and wrapped his coat around you. He was off the phone.
"The castle is too far, so we're heading to Purgatory Hall," he announced. "Get ready to leave. Simeon and Solomon are waiting for us."
MC who goes about the Devildom as a human, but reverts back into a little sheep when their body perceives stress.
It's very inconvenient when you lose your DDD and are worried sick trying to find it, but your hands turn into hooves and you shrink into a tiny bovid creature. When you catch a cold, it can be a struggle to even crawl into bed. Watching really scary movies, getting chased by massive beasts, and using far too much magic at once have all triggered it.
Your professor at RAD once began collecting homework and you realized you forgot to do it. Mammon laughed so hard when you transformed that you both got extra homework that night.
You accompanied Barbatos on some errands despite feeling under the weather. "Are you alright? Would you like to rest?" he asked in genuine concern in the middle of a grocery store.
"I'm fine," you answered, mere seconds before your body betrayed you and you bleated in shame.
You escaped a long, excruciatingly tedious lecture from Lucifer by turning into a sheep as he glowered at you. The callous way he glared sent shivers down your spine and your body reacted accordingly. Lucifer determined your fear was punishment enough and let you off easy. Satan and Belphegor were not so lucky.
Beelzebub ate the snack you were looking forward to eating and you got so upset that you turned into a sheep until he found a store that was open in the middle of the night and bought a replacement.
You almost missed your final exams of the semester because you forewent proper food and sleep for a week in favor of studying as much as possible. You were in a perpetual state of sheep. Diavolo nearly banned you from the campus until you were calm enough to turn back.
You and Leviathan were about to defeat the hidden boss of Dark Spirits 3, known for its legendary difficulty that only 0.5% of players can beat. It happened while you were trying to avoid the boss's last attack.
Asmodeus gave you a hug that was so tight you poofed right into a sheep. He proceeded to hug you harder (all while exclaiming, "You're just soooo cute!") and had to be pried off by his brothers.
One time you sneezed. It made you turn into a sheep.
c'est toi qui descelles tout ce que ma peau recèle — it's you who reveals all that my skin holds
. ˳༚༅༚ explicit content, smut, mdni: edging @ noé, teasing, vampire lovers, blood sucking (thigh and neck), marking, male + female oral receiving, deep throating, eventual manhandling, power dynamics, pet names (my love, my dear, my treasure, my girl, my heart, idk i'm weak for french pet names and used those in my head)
♱ word count: 2.7k words
♱ synopsis: the usual obedience of your lover leaves you overconfident in your power, until the moment his finely crafted control is discarded and you find yourself at his mercy aka edging noé until he can't take it anymore
Noé is sweet—so sweet. During the day as well as your midnight rendezvous, he is the type who puts you first. He only cares about making sure you feel your absolute best, that you’re completely spoiled and protected. Everything he does is about giving, about making sure you have what you want, what you need. Watching you enjoy yourself brings him a kind of delight he can’t even explain.
But that sweetness comes with a certain vulnerability. He is shy—so easy to tease, so easy to fluster. Especially when you shift the attention to him. The drag of your finger along his jawline suddenly feels deadly. Your eyes, sultry and all-consuming, have his throat run dry. Your sweetly whispered praise is the final nail in his coffin. It brings heat to warm his cheeks and turns thinking into an impossible task. He’s putty in your hands. Almost like he doesn’t quite know how to handle being the centre of your affection. And you just can’t help yourself—you love seeing him like this.
Who could’ve guessed you were playing with fire all along?
Not you.
Because to you, he seems just too predictable. So eager to please. Too easy to unravel. Let the games begin with a soft touch trailing down his chest, the slow press of your body against his, a feather-light kiss on his cheek accompanied by the maddening ring of his name from your lips, the intent as clear as your cleavage before his eyes. His breathing quickens almost instantly, the stammering reply to a whisper of something only for his ears to be heard second nature.
“Noé,” you sigh his name so prettily, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, engulfing him with your intoxicatingly sweet presence. “I want to make you feel so good, Noé,” you promise as you unbutton his dress shirt, and your touch travels deeper until you’re kneeling between his spread thighs. Eyes of adoration glance up to witness his face flush red.
He’s simply too cute.
“Y-you don’t have to—” he attempts, his voice faltering as your fingers work to undo the buttons of his pants. His protest is weak though, and long forgotten when your touch travels lower.
Those kisses you press along his stomach and thighs work like the darkest form of witchcraft. They leave him unable to resist the urge to spread his legs further as you palm his clothed erection, presenting a deeper reach. Noé is already twitching to the edge of the bed, hips pushing right against your touch as his head falls back in sweet relief the moment you undo his pants.
Greedy little thing.
You chuckle over his adorable groan once you finally wrap your hand around the base of his cock, stroking him without a care for the mess he creates on your exposed chest.
The way he trembles when you guide him right to the edge of bliss, turning soft moans ragged while he struggles to uphold that carefully crafted control he is known for. “Noé,” you call for him through his hazy mind, before placing a kiss on the leaking tip of his cock. He whimpers, his hands twitching helplessly at his sides. “What a mess you are…” you complete with a cheeky smile—one of his favourite sights.
You yearn to find out how far you can push him before he crumbles. Far enough that his mind starts to blank—but never enough for the release he craves.
Noé tries to lay out words for his reply, but all he finds are gentle moans as you press further kisses down his length and thigh before your teeth break skin to spoil your taste buds with crimsoned honey. He always tastes just as sweet as his demeanour appears to be.
“Please,” he finally whispers, his voice trembling. “Please, I—” He can’t do much but plead for you to have mercy, voice shaking, fingertips drumming against your shoulder as he clings onto you like a lifeline.
“Please what?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you continue to toy with him. “You’ll have to be more specific, my treasure.”
His response is nothing but a desperate whine upon the kiss you leave on the bite mark you created, his hands burying themselves in his hair as he tries—and fails—to pull himself together.
“Just—just don’t stop.”
As if you would have ever dreamed of stopping anytime soon. “I don't plan to,” you reply with feigned care, and Noé realises the poor choice of his words.
So who could hold it against you if you lose track of time? Dragging out your pleasure to indulge in his whines, his suffering. He begs so prettily—his voice trembling with desperation you’ve never heard before.
”My Dear, what you’re doing—” yet, another whined moan proves the thin line of sanity he dances on.
At that, you decide to break him completely.
Nothing could have prepared him for the warmth of your mouth as you welcome him to the back of your throat. You would wear a teasing grin if your lips weren’t so stretched; if you weren’t so busy bopping your head up and down his length.
“W-wait— oh—” Noé's voice appears strained, as though he's on the verge of tears, hips jerking in time with your movements. The flick of your tongue along that one sensitive vein has him gasping, his hands tangling in the sheets.
And when you glance up at him, you witness a sight you would have never expected: his eyes wide and watery, his entire body trembling as he teeters on the edge of release.
Noé’s chest feels about to explode, beads of sweat decorate his skin like pearls, and he fights the urge to lock your head in place, to simply take what he craves most—but no, he knows better than that.
Right?
He’s so close, too close. How could you not pull back again? How could you refuse to let your tongue glide over your lips, collecting the evidence of him with teasing slowness while your wide, innocent eyes stare into the depths of his soul?
But when the cold air grazes the sensitive tip of his cock, something changes. The smirk you give him—the way your eyes dare him to do something—sends his frustration boiling over.
There’s only so much Noé can take, only so far his sweetness can stretch.
He warned you with his eyes first—the tender violet shifting to scarlet as silence replaces his pleading. Suddenly, it’s not about your fun anymore. Suddenly greed seeps through his veins and clouds his better judgment.
"Noé," you warn, though your voice is barely a whisper.
The tables turn quicker than you can brace yourself, almost like a switch has been flipped in Noé’s mind. His gentle touch—the one that usually strokes your hair or holds your hand—becomes firm, gripping your waist and lifting you with an ease that leaves you in shock.
In one motion, Noé has your back meeting the soft sheets while his body cages you in.
“Noé, wait—”
“Wait?” He huffs out a laugh, in a way you have never heard him chuckle before. “Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough, my love?”
There is a momentary pause to his advances while hungry eyes devour your sprawled-out body, open and vulnerable—all for him to take.
It feels overwhelming, nearly intimidating. For the first time, you're entirely at Noé's mercy.
And he doesn’t stop looking, uncaring for how flustered you grow while tracing your figure like he wants to memorise every curve, every line. His hands follow where his eyes wandered first, undoing buttons, sliding off fabrics, pulling away everything that separates you from him.
“You’re so beautiful,” a whispered compliment followed by hips lips closing the distance between your bodies, to let his breath fan over your skin and cool your heated cheeks. “So pretty beneath me.”
Yet, Noé doesn’t give you a chance to respond, not a moment to fully process. His lips are everywhere—on your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone—leaving marks that claim you entirely. Each kiss grows hotter, hungrier, and more demanding as he leaves a trail down the line of your body.
By the time he reached between your thighs, he turned utterly shameless. “Noé,” you try again, but falter thanks to the drag of his tongue along your puffy lips, slow and so sure of himself.
Noé groans into your heat before taking your sensitive nub between his lips, sucking gently and pressing his tongue harder against you. In desperation, your hands find their way to his hair, fingers curling into the soft white strands as though you’re not sure if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away—but it doesn’t matter either way.
Noé isn’t stopping. His grip on your thighs only tightens in response, blunt fingernails digging into your skin to keep you exactly where he wants you. His teeth graze your clit ever so slightly, just enough to make your body shudder from pleasure.
“Not so mean now, are you?” he mumbles into your skin while his eyes look up to watch your despair highlighted under the moonlight.
The heat of his breath sends shivers up your spine, it causes your body to instinctively arch into him while you attempt to cover up the whines falling past your lips with the back of your hand.
Yet, his tongue doesn’t stop, the way his mouth moves against you leaves you helpless, stripping you of all control the same way you had done to him before.
You hesitate upon the growing desperation dwelling in your chest, yet eventually, you succumb. The “D-Don’t stop, please,” is nothing but a defeated stammer for Noé's very own amusement, after all, this is his first time hearing you beg—exactly like he did only a moment ago.
He doesn’t hesitate anymore, doesn’t pause to ask if you’re okay. The answer is already written all over your body—the way you cling to him, gasping his name like it’s the only word you know.
Instead, he dives deeper into desire and busies himself by pressing his lips against you again, his tongue tracing over your folds with a precision that makes your toes curl.
Your voice turns softer and sweeter, the butterflies in your stomach flutter, sending waves of pleasure to course through your body with every drag of Noé’s tongue. The heat builds, feeling weightless and nearly lost in the moment, certain that you’ll reach the peak soon, just like this.
“Noé,” you gasp again, your voice breaking as you teeter on the edge. He hums against you, the vibration sending you spiralling—if it wasn’t for the sudden loss of friction.
Did you really think he’d let you cum so easily after teasing a man who lives to be good for you?
Not this time. Not when the only thing he wants is to be buried deep inside you—to feel your warmth around him, squeezing him, holding him tight.
“No, no, my princess,” he near tuts in mockery. Your adorable whines of frustration are effortlessly silenced by his lips crashing to yours, by the taste of you on Noé’s tongue as he kisses you harder, deeper until your protests are swallowed entirely.
“Shh,” he mutters against your lips, his breath warm and teasing. “You can wait a little longer, can’t you?”
When you instinctively reach for him, wanting to hold on to him the way you always do, Noé catches your wrists. Long fingers wrap around them, to pin them down beside your head. There is no intertwining of fingers tonight, no gentle reassurance.
Noé doesn’t ask you where or how you want him now. He doesn’t wait for you to guide him like he usually would. Instead, he puts you in the positions he wants, his hands firm but careful as he moves you, hips grinding against you to satisfy his own needs.
And for the first time, he gives in to the desire to taste you, to learn more about you. He lowers his head to your neck, and as a final act of tenderness, his lips tickle the sensitive skin as they brush along your racing pulse. “You smell so good…” nothing but a warning before you feel the sharpness of his fangs against your neck. The pain fills you with lust. A pulling sensation blossoms at the bite, deep and hypnotising, as Noé drinks from you for the first time.
Warmth spreads through you like fire in your veins. Your body feels heavy and light all at once, tingling from your fingertips to your toes. The pull of his mouth on your neck sends shivers down your spine that mingle with the throbbing heat between your legs.
A hand guides your thigh, allowing him to finally push into you. The stretch has you clenching around him, a breathy moan slipping past your lips upon the overload of sensations. Noé holds you tighter as if to anchor you to the moment, his hands gripping your hips, thumbs stroking you gently.
He becomes high from your intoxicating taste, so delicious, and satisfying—to a point he takes more than he should. But the dizziness makes you only further aware of the way he fills you. The pleasurable pain of his bite lingers, mixing with the bliss of his body moving against yours.
“Noé,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaky. When he finally pulls back, his lips are stained red and slick, a drop of blood catching the corner of his mouth. But his eyes—those beautiful, gentle eyes—look wild, burning with a need for you that hasn’t been satisfied yet.
Noé’s lips crash into yours once more, the taste of your own blood on his tongue is surprisingly sweet. His hands move again, spreading your legs further to let him thrust deeper, harder. His pace quickens, his need spilling over into every movement as his body seeks its release. You can feel the desperation in the way he holds you, the way his hips snap against yours, the way his breath mingles with yours as he chases pleasure.
And as your world narrows to the rhythm of his movements and the fire in his eyes, you realise that nothing else matters. Nothing but him.
You feel helpless, like a complete mess as he takes control in a way you never imagined. His movements are relentless, and every touch pushes you further until all you can do is cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Your nails dig into his back, leaving scratches in their wake which you know will linger long after tonight.
But he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it spurs him on. His pace quickens, his grip tightens, and you can’t help but let out another pathetic whine of his name. The sensations of the night, his demeanour, his dominance, and the roughness of your shared dance pushes you closer to the edge with every harsh drag of his cock inside your desperate heat. It feels like you're burning up from the inside.
He pauses just long enough to glance down at you, his crimson eyes a mix of hunger and something softer. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his tone has a certain edge to it, but there’s a gentleness underneath it: The way he looks at you makes your chest tighten, it brings tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as the sensations overwhelm you, and you gasp his name again, louder this time. “Noé, please…”
But he doesn’t stop. “Just a little more,” he whispers, leaning closer so his breath ghosts over your ear. His voice is coaxing now, sweet in a way that contrasts sharply with the relentless snapping of his hips, with the rough hold his hands claim over your body. “You can do this for me. I know you can.”
Somehow, some part of your rebellious nature surrenders to him in that moment and you find yourself nodding, near purring like a tamed kitten.
“That’s my girl,” Noé finally praises, his lips brushing against your temple for another gentle display of affection almost like he is taking pity on you.
He leans back in his shins, to allow him a full view of your bouncing tits and tear-stained cheeks as he readjusts his angle to hit that sweet spot inside you too many times to keep you sane. The warmth of his palms almost burns your waist as he holds you in perfect place until your long-awaited orgasm finally washes over you.
Your eyes roll in their sockets, hands reaching for Noé to entwine your fingers as the relieving waves of pleasure course through your body. He could never resist covering your figure in kisses, his lips drag along your heaving chest until another deep kiss leaves you aware of the numbness of your lips.
The only sensation capable of tearing you apart are Noé’s own pants as his hips stutter before nestling himself deep inside your warmth while he finally reaches his well-deserved high.
Rather overwhelmed by everything that just took place, he takes it upon himself to wrap you up in his arms, holding you close like he never wants to let go. His hand finds its way to your hair, stroking softly as he murmurs words you’re too exhausted to catch.
“Noé…” you whisper his name again, this time softer, almost like a question.
“I’m here, my heart,” he reassures while pressing a kiss to your forehead. His voice is steady now, back to the Noé you know—the impossibly sweet one. He cradles you in his embrace as your breathing steadies, his warmth easing the tension from your body.
You bury your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek. He repeatedly kisses your temple and whispers your name like it’s the most precious word in the world. And in that moment, you realise this is exactly what you wanted—to see every part of him, to witness his passion and his gentleness.
To know that no matter how much he loses control, in the end, his love for you, his other half, stays the same.
One thing I'd love to see you write is MC actually moving out of the HoL after their Chapter 16ing, instead moving to live in Purgatory Hall with the other exchange students. I imagine that would be very interesting!
/gen what Diavolo should have done cuz WDYM U LET MC THERE ?? lmao
this oneshot is like the third day of them being there and trying to recover from everything that happened but in future I might bring more oneshots like these cuz I LOVE PURGATORY HALL giggle, so yeah... I might make a part 2 where there is the brother's point of view too (depends on my lazy ass like always lol)
Safe place
Simeon x MC • Solomon x MC • Word count : 2.6k • angst/comfort
• summary : "After what happens with Belphegor when you let him out of the attic Diavolo decides to move you to Purgatory Hall. Now it's your third day staying there and you're healing well"
• tags : Lesson 16 spoilers , angst/comfort , idk what else to put gulps (feel free to tell me if there are any tags needed!)
• a/n : HERE I AM , It's nothing too romantic, it's just Simeon and Solomon comforting you while having feelings for you since I focused on writing about the new routine and how MC is trying to heal - and they manage to ! (with only the Purgatory Hall people (¬`‸´¬))
It has been two days since you moved from the House of Lamentation to Purgatory Hall after letting Belphegor out of the attic and him murdering you. Diavolo and Barbatos talked with Simeon and they decided that it would be safer for you to move in with the other exchanged students and go no contact with the brothers until you got better. When the news arrived to the brothers' ears tho they were not happy about it, they basically freaked out. arguing non stop with Diavolo about leaving you to stay at the House with them or at least let them visit you — not even caring about your opinion, but eventually after Barbatos explained your current situation they accepted it, wanting you to get better.
You didn't mind the life in Purgatory Hall. It was a new routine and a big change in your everyday life but at least your days were quiet and calm — something that lacked in the HoL and that you apparently needed badly judging by the drastic lowering of your stress. You were very silent but nobody pushed you to speak, they simply took care of all your needs. Simeon more than anyone, he always kept an eye on you and he was the one who let you sleep on his bed when you had nightmares about that day, comforting you until you fell asleep. He has been helping you these past two days but it's not like the others didn't do anything: Solomon stayed home with you and helped you around the house while Simeon and Luke went to RAD and Luke cooked you lots of sweets and even your favourite dishes — learning humans' dishes just to help you feel better. All of them tried their best to help you through this moment without asking or pressuring you into doing anything.
You were currently sitting on the bathroom counter, right next to the sink while Simeon gently applies a lotion on your neck to help ease the pain from the bruises Belphegor left on you. His eyes were gentle as he focused on applying the lotion without hurting you by accident, so focused that he did not even notice Luke quietly sneaking in, his eyes full of worry — he hates seeing you hurt — he walked next to Simeon and took your hand:"How are you feeling? I made some sweets if you want!" He offered, clearly trying to cheer those dead looking eyes up. His eyes full of hope and worry as you squeezed his hand and when Simeon stepped back, allowing you to look down at Luke you smiled gently at him:"I'm feeling better" You whispered and patted his head. At those simple and low words he almost jumped in excitement, it was the first time you spoke since you got there:"That's amazing! Do you wanna go eat something when Simeon is done??" He asked eagerly but Simeon talked before you could:"After I'm done we need to meet Lord Diavolo and Barbatos in the living room so I don't think MC can hang out with you, but maybe when we're done with the meeting they can go with you if they feel like it" Simeon added the last suggestion with a soft smile, making Luke nod and accept the situation way faster than usual — after all Simeon had this special power when he talked that could make anyone calm down.
"Okay!! Well, see you both later then!" He happily left, glad he could hear you speaking and smiling at him after seeing you being so down and dead for the past two days. Simeon turned to you, going back to apply the lotion on your bruised skin:"Diavolo and Barbatos asked to have a meeting when we're done here but if you don't feel like it feel free to go to your room, or mine, They'll surely understand" You nodded and waited patiently for him to finish.
When Simeon was finally done Diavolo and Barbatos were already in the living room chatting with Solomon. You both left the bathroom and walked in the living room. As you entered Diavolo's lips curved up in a gentle smile, his eyes full of sympathy due to your current situation, Barbatos despite trying to keep his composure let a small sigh of relief when he saw you, your behaviour was way more relaxed in confront two days ago when Barbatos was trying to help you and you literally crawled away in terror. And now you sitting next to Simeon while holding his hand gently due to being nervous, fidgeting with his hand and waiting patiently for them to talk:"How are you feeling, MC?" Diavolo's tone was gentle as he was trying to be extra careful to avoid scaring you away. You looked up at him nodding silently and he just nodded back, understanding that it was going better:"I'm glad you're feeling better… As for the current situation, we will not let anyone in the Purgatory Hall or anywhere near you without your clear consent. Not even contact through D.D.D., we want to ensure you a complete and stress free recovery" He explains carefully, you just nod before whispering:"How are the brothers" Your tone barely audible but Barbatos was able to hear:"The brothers do miss you but they understand your needs, they keep insisting on visiting you but we will not let them anywhere near you until you're okay with it. Not even Lucifer." Barbatos tone was strict as he talked about the brothers, you could understand by his exhausted tone how many times they've probably begged him to see you.
You nod silently, appreciating their work to keep you away from the brothers until you feel better. Simeon's hand which was still in your hands suddenly squeezed your hand as he kissed your forehead:"Me and Luke will bring you and Solomon lesson notes until you feel better to come back to school. Do not rush though, we're here to assist you no matter what so please just focus on recovering" He whispered to you, stroking your hand gently and making Barbatos's smile twitch in jealousy unlike Diavolo who was just smiling at the adorable display in front of him:"Well! We're done here! If you have anything feel free to ask or else we'll be on our way, we still have few meetings to attend to before dinner" Diavolo jumped on his feet, his energetic behaviour back in his body as you simply smiled, not wanting to ask anything else. And like that they both left.
"Wanna go hang out with Luke now?" Solomon asked, turning to you as you smiled and nodded:"Sure, we're baking right?" You ask with a low tone, surprising Solomon whose eyes widen in shock but he quickly smiled, glad you felt safe enough to speak up with them:"He's in the kitchen thinking what to make for dinner" He chuckled, knowing Luke is probably stressing himself out to please your taste. You went to the kitchen finding Luke baking already, when he noticed you his eyes shined and a big warm smile appeared on his lips:"Hey MC!! I was baking this new cake Barbatos taught me yesterday afternoon, wanna help?" He looks at you hopefully and when you nod he almost cheers out loud. And like this you both spent the rest of the afternoon baking a cake and making dinner for everyone.
While you and Luke were having fun in the kitchen Solomon, still sitting on the armchair, looked over Simeon, who was also still sitting on the couch, his eyes full of hope:"So now they're even talking? They're getting better faster than I thought" "Yes, but only with us, it's still a little complicated the situation with the brothers — Simeon replies and sighs before continuing — I hope they'll get better soon, I hate seeing them like this… they look so scared most of the time…" Solomon cut in:"Not to mention they're so quiet and hesitant" Simeon nodded and they both shifted the conversation back to casual topics while waiting for dinner.
After dinner Luke went to bed, leaving you Solomon and Simeon cleaning dishes in the kitchen:"It was very good the dinner, you and Luke really outdid yourselves" Solomon complimented while passing you the dry plates to put away while Simeon silently washed the dishes. You chuckled:"Well, Luke did most of the work, I just helped him with small things and talked" Simeon smiled at your comment:"I mean, emotional support is still a job that should not be underestimated, some people suck at it…" He points at Solomon with his eyes, making you laugh quietly:"HEY! Don't you think I didn't notice you! — Solomon protested — And I am very good as emotional support when I want! Ask MC!" You raised your hands:"Don't drag me in your bickering" You tried to defend yourself, stepping back as if someone had just accused you of doing something bad. Solomon stared at you as if you had just backstabbed him and Simeon laughed.
Later on you three sat on Simeon's bed, gossiping and laughing together, Simeon was spilling the tea going on at RAD and you were all laughing at the chaos happening, light and stupid things obviously — nothing too important just to keep your mind off everything that you've been going though. You eventually fell asleep, Simeon laid you down on his bed gently as he then sat next to you, stroking your hair, Solomon chuckled, getting up from the bed and kissing your forehead before waving at Simeon — see you tomorrow! — He silently mouthed while leaving the quiet room. Leaving Simeon and you alone in the dark room.
"Goodnight" He whispered, laying down next to you and pulling the blanket over the both of you. His hands slowly setting on your thighs to avoid accidentally touching your aching back and as soon as he touches you you unconsciously move closer to press your body against his. His heart beating faster at your action but he simply nuzzled onto your shoulder and fell asleep.
The next morning Simeon and Luke had to wake up early for school, leaving you alone with Solomon. You slowly woke up at the noise of heavy footsteps approaching you and when you opened your eyes you find Solomon gently placing a tray on your lap, when he noticed you opening your eyes he smiled gently:"Good morning, Luke made you breakfast before leaving and insisted for me to give it to you and not make you more things to eat to avoid overwhelming you" He commented before kissing your forehead and sitting on the edge of the bed. You slowly started to eat, pancakes with honey were carefully laid on the plate next to a steaming cup of milk, you couldn't wait to eat everything up.
Maybe living in Purgatory Hall wasn't that bad, especially when you were taken care of so well by all of them.
"Simeon also told me to apply lotion to your neck when you're done eating" He started to yap, looking around the room before his gaze fell on you:"Wanna do it in the bathroom? I fear that if I accidentally dirty anything in Simeon's room he'll punish me…" He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly scared of Simeon's angry side — kinda like everyone. You chuckled at his fear:"We can go to the bathroom don't worry, but if you were so scared then why bringing me breakfast to bed?" You curiously asked but he simply sighed:"Well the breakfast was made by Luke so Simeon gave me permission to let you eat here… but for the lotion he said to use the bathroom since it stains" You nodded, understanding the situation as you slowly got up, almost over as you only left one slice that you offered to him.
Solomon realised what you were trying to do and with a simple chuckle he firstly refused but you insisted. After three times of you insisting he finally ate it without complaints and as soon as he finished it he took your hand, pulling you up and scooping you up in his arms:"Well, happy now? Can we go put on the lotion? I can see the pain in your eyes" He tried to tease you but you heard the underline of seriousness in his tone. You didn't complain, you let him carry you in the bathroom and place you on the edge of the sink. His hands holding your hips as he studied your neck and mumbled to himself:"The healing process it going well, it won't take long before it stops hurting both the neck and back" He nodded to himself and picked up the bottle of lotion sitting on the nearby shelf. He walked back to you and started to apply the lotion gently, his rough and cold hands were now being gentle while applying the freezing lotion on your bruises, and he was fast too! In less than 2 minutes he was already done.
"Wanna raise your shirt or can you do it on your own?" He asked, meaning for your back bruises and you simply stood up, turning around and raising the back of your shirt just to expose your back to him where a big red line spread from the nape of the neck to down the lower back meanwhile the whole back was pretty red too. At the horrific sight his hands clenched into fists from anger but he quickly suppressed it and went to work, putting the lotion on your skin and giving you a lot of relief from the constant pain:"Thank you" You whispered while pulling down your shirt but when you did he just spun you around and hugged you, avoiding touching your neck and back:"I'm sorry I wasn't there" He mumbled — feeling guilty about not being able to prevent this, prevent you getting hurt by those demons…
"It's okay… You weren't even there…" You whispered and as soon as he heard you he realised what he has done: Thinking about what happened is probably difficult for you right now and bringing it up just to let out his guilt and regret when you were the one who suffered the most was just selfish of him:"Fuck, I'm sorry… let's change the subject shall we…" He looked away awkwardly before you sighed:"So, you mentioned a good TV show yesterday night, wanna go watch it now? I can make the popcorn" You offered, wanting to just have a quiet and relaxing morning of binge watching with the sorcerer. He looked at you with a big and happy smile at your offer, immediately grabbing your hand and bringing you to the living room:"Sure! And don't worry I can make the popcor—" "NO! I-I mean… No worries! I wanna make them! You know — you chuckled embarrassed and panicked at the thought of him cooking — Luke taught me a new way of making them so I wanted to try, just put the show on the TV, It won't take long I promise" You shut him off and walked to the kitchen before he could protest.
As the white haired man watched you go in the kitchen a smile tugged at his lips, seeing you this lively was a good sign of healing and he couldn't be happier than he is right now. Knowing you trust him enough to let him see you at your worst and still smile to him… He really was whipped wasn't him? Well, it's not like Simeon or Barbatos are any better…
• a/n : OKAY so I will write more about this scenario cause I love writing MC traumatised but right now I'm kinda hooked to A date with death ONCE AGAIN SCREAMS so yeah... // I also have another oneshot around the same amount of words which is Simeon x MC YIPPES screams so yeah nya
Imagine Simeon having you face down, hips pressed up into his whereas his hand was laid flat out on your spine, thrusts sharper and faster, one even might dare say rougher than usual, which would be impossible to even comprehend with Simeon because how does this angel and rough go in one sentence? Why, he'd never. But when he's been already fed up with the brothers bullshit, having to deal with their nerve wrecking acting, maybe a side of Solomon waltzing on up to his kitchen uninvited again, would it truly be horrible for him to take you up on your offer when you oh so sweetly suggested, nearly plead him to take his frustrations out on you? No, no it wouldn't. So on this obscurely rare occasion his soft moans have turned into whispered grunts, barley held back pants, hips still rolling as gracefully as ever with a touch of fevor this time as he drives himself deep into you, a bead or two of sweat rolling down his face, down his plump lip, onto your spine, his bed usually seemed unmovable but now he somehow managed to make it creak, for once in his life he was wringing out his bottled up emotions and by the heavens it felt good. Soft sounds of plap plap gradually got more audible in the room where air was thicker than brick. He couldn't even feel guilty could he? After all you did practically beg him for this, the brothers were testing his temperance, hell, even Diavolo had started to spike distaste in him this past week, oh and don't get him started on how much pressure coming up with the new TSL volume had put him under. So now that he was finally taking these out, within your soft heat clamping down on him and sucking him in so shamelessly, your moans of pleasure clouding his mind even more than it already was so caught up in pleasure. In fact suddenly he could remember how you once mentioned that you wished to feel what it'd feel like if he roughened you up a little, knowing him the roughest thing being a slap to the ass, at that time his eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead as he covered his face in horror, but now...now he could feel his left hand kneading and squeezing your thigh, inching closer to the doughy flesh of your backside, so so naughty, did you really wish for an angel to slap you like that? So vulgar...and yet the act itself that you were both indulging in already was, he might as well give in to his sweet lamb, his sinful little lamb, perhaps he really should, he thinks as his hand raises inching closer -
Wait. No no no what is he thinking! His pants break down into a gasp as he momentarily pauses his movements, realization settling in seconds frame by frame, how could he ever caress you that roughly...even if it was desired by you more than him, goodness and how harshly he was moving! "Oh- wh..." he stumbled with startled blinking. Why was he even rushing in the first place...how foolish, he thinks, as he catches his breath, a familiar softness returning to his turquoise pupils, eyelids melting down, lips closing into a guilty frown, Simeons hand caressed your spine, hot lips pressing against your warm skin into a gentle kiss, motioned all the way up to the back of your neck, you still lost in a haze of euphoria didn't even notice his whole existential transaction, melting into his suddenly nimble touch, so delicate. "Sweet lamb, i lost myself a bit there..." His hushed words almost fell on deaf ears as you tried to regain sense of thinking, his lips never left your neck "I cant believe i rushed our time so stupidly like this...I need cherish you more..forgive me?." warm breath tickled your ear as he suckled on your neck, you couldn't even comprehend what he was saying properly, instead nodding along with a whine, resulting in his hips continuing their previous movement but this time slower, firm yes but so so graceful, a perfect pace that blended between passionate and sweetly leisure, this way it always felt best. somehow he always managed to make that beautiful movement of hitting it juuuust where you wanted it, where it made you mewl and cling to the edges of his pillows fisting them in your hand as he rolled his hips. The angel nuzzled closer trying to merge his body into yours as he fluttered kisses all over your neck and shoulder blades, wherever he could reach in a silent apology, sinking into your deep heat once more. He made it seem so perfect you didn't even manage to notice that the pace changed at all, or his wandering hand, that was once kneading your flesh like a starved glutton, was now sliding down your arm, intertwining his fingers with yours.
A/n so like ik my main followers ain't here for obey me content BUT this has been on my mind for so long i had to guys come on, this is just a drabble i had to get it out of my system, mama was hungry for Simeon (but who isn't really)
OH MY GOD YOURE DOING OBEY ME!!! BONES, GIVE ME DOWN BAD SIMEON AND MY LIFE IS YOURS
Mkay, but you promised.
❝𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝❞
𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫: Simeon
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Suggestive themes, slight religious guilt, m!masturbation, pining, angel x human, one mention of reader as a mother, not proofread bc I'd rather die, and more.
⋆ ｡ ⋰ ˚ ⋆☁︎︎‧₊˚✩ ⋰ ⊹ ⠀.⠀
✦ Simeon who is so down bad to the point that thinking about you has become his favorite form of torture.
You're just too wonderful, and he's somehow got himself feeling pathetic around you. He can't help it, you're wonderful, and he's barely holding back every little sinful whim. Oh, how he wants to kiss you, maybe bite you, but mostly hold you close. He'd be gentle, for sure, but he's also too ashamed to do anything like the demon brothers would.
✦ Simeon who is so down bad craves to hold you every waking moment, and is very affectionate before he realizes how much he wants you for himself.
Simeon thinks you'd look really, really good on his lap. But for now, he simply holds your hands and calls it close enough. It wasn't until the first time you came to his room for a study date that he realized how much softer his voice always seems to get around you.
✦ Guilt, among other things, cloud his mind.
Simeon's meant to be a saintly thing, yes? Then why does he crave depravity when in your midst? Your damnable smile, your stupidly naive personality, everything about your soul is simply too good for him to handle. Just being around you has him popping boners.
✦ An angel, and yet he lays awake at night, imagining himself all over you.
From just kissing you, to even the consideration of putting a damn baby in you. He wants it. Would you like his baby? Would you beg for one? He'd be such a good father, you know. Haven't you seen how he handles Luke? God, and you'd make such a pretty mother.
✦ Simeon, who in his thousands of years, had never wanted something this badly.
A man who craves you so much, but for fear of tainting your pretty soul, keeps his full intentions to himself. At least, until he thinks you can both handle them and reciprocate his desires.
✦ He doesn't like to, but the thought of you replacing his hands is enough to have him getting off on exceedingly desperate nights.
Even if those nights occasionally land on a Sunday. Hell, he wouldn't mind breaking vows of chastity if it meant keeping you happy. He's already a whining mess on his bed, fist pumping around his soaked dick as he cums repeatedly from the thought of you.
✦ Simeon who is so down bad that if he manages to get close enough, he'll invite you over as often as possible.
He wants you in his arms, maybe his bed, but his room is enough. Having you there, having your scent fall into some of his things, it drives him insane in the best of ways. Once you stay over once, he has you over as much and as often as humanly possible.
✦ If he can get you to have a sleepover, then his patience is really tested.
On one hand, he tried to keep the thoughts of you at bay. On the other, your precious face was too much to ignore. He felt bad about getting into your space on your side of the bed, but he played it off as just being asleep. You're too kind to push him away, but he'll still keep the act so you don't totally freak out. The last thing he wants is to mess things up with you.
✦ He did steal just one kiss that night. But you'll forgive him, right?
I was reading through the ask about how the twst characters would react to covid, and it got me thinking about how funny their reactions would be when finding out about chicken pox, and how some parents encourage their children to get it when they are young so they don’t get it when they are older- I think they would genuinely be concerned about how MC was raised because it must be completely unheard of there.
Also the AU is so well thought out and described, I wonder how extensive your search history must be for the amount of research, or if you are just a genius. And you write your ideas so well, I love the series and worldbuilding
Dude it would freak them out so bad, especially once they find out it often leads to shingles later on ;-; Though honestly, after hearing about the way immune systems build up (like dormant diseases in vaccines and letting your kids eat dirt/ exposing them to bacteria), I feel like some of the more unhinged lads like Rook and Jade might purposely try to get MC sick or expose them to harmful magic to see just how far the limit can go.
Also thank you so much for the kind words ;-; I'm gonna be real, I kinda just research & make stuff up as I go. I'm a very type b/ unorganized person, and literally everything I've ever planned/ written down for the au has been thought up and posted on this blog within the same few hours/ days (save for a very loose outline I made like 3 months ago). I'm just a chronic daydreamer, and owe Mayo and Cleveland Clinic my life at this pont.
Synopsis: You explore your options of potential victims, nearly have a mental breakdown, drool over some blonds, and then get attacked. Not necessarily in that order!
Words: 3400+
An: This is a very violent chapter ToT keep yourselves safe and far away from anybody named Floyd! Because Floyd is the type of guy to fall in love at first punch...or kick.
WARNINGS: Mc does almost breakdown and experiences delusions, and you do genuinely get attacked in the end. This is a bit of a darker chapter and starts hinting towards things, so keep yourself safe!
This crazy bitch is going to squeeze you until your head pops. Why the hell did you ever think getting involved with Yuu and Co would ever end up without some form of bodily harm?
Okay, let’s rewind back to before you sadly die from oxygen deprivation or a broken neck.
The Heartslabyul lounge is large and borderline luxurious, there’s more than enough cushy seats to go around. And yet the Prefect somehow ends up right next to you as the group sits in a neat little circle.
It could be worse though? You could be sitting next to Riddle.
“I must admit that I found the circumstances odd, I’ve had Cater looking into it for me.” Riddle confesses, his fingers toying with his teacup—when did he have time to make that?
Man, maybe you should quit disassociating for now…
Cater rubs the back of his neck, his expression worrisome as he smiles sheepishly. “And I found out that all the victims have been talented players like Riddle and Trey.”
“So this really is a Spelldrive thing.” Yuu concurs, a thoughtful tilt to their head. The tilting also coincidentally makes their hair brush your shoulder. If they wanted to switch seats they really should just ask… “But Riddle, you don’t seem like the type to be careless around stairs?”
“You’ve been here a few weeks and think you know everybody?” You mutter as you lean your body to the right, Yuu deflates at your muttered cruelties but nobody else seems to have caught what you said, thankfully. “Didn’t both Riddle and, uh, Trey…? Didn’t they both say it was like they weren’t in control of their bodies, or something like that?”
“I did feel a particular sensation…” You do NOT want to hear about Riddle’s bodily sensations— “Like my body was moving of its own volition.”
“The other victims said basically the same thing!” Grim points out quite loudly. How the Prefect deals with that is beyond you, you probably would’ve dropped the entity off at an adoption shelter by now…
“I believe we can safely surmise that potential Spelldrive players are the ones being targeted.”
“You think someone is causin’ accidents to take out threats from the tournament?”
…is that not the assumptions you had come to in Trey’s room? You click your tongue in annoyance, leaning forwards in your chair to capture the attention of the group. “Isn’t that obvious by now?”
“Doing well in this tournament can make or break a future magician's career because everyone in the world will be watching it. If you fail on screen, then that moment will be immortalized forever. It’s no surprise that someone is trying to cut out all possibility of that happening.”
Cater hums, “Sure, but it’s not making much sense, y’know? Somebody using wind magic to push players off the stairs would be reallyyyyyyyy noticeable.”
“Why does it have to be wind magic?” The room goes quiet at your question, the other students thinking. “You’re right, I certainly felt no external force.” Riddle admits, his brows pinching together.
“And some people got hurt in their classrooms! Can we really assume magic was used to cause all the accidents?”
“The culprit can tell us all about it when we capture him.” The Queen proclaims, a frown marring his features, “And we intend to help you do that.”
…huh?
“YOU’RE gonna help us?” Grim seems to be the only person sharing your hesitance, it earns him a few extra points in your book. Until you remember how he destroyed your blazer and he’s knocked back down your tier list. “What’s your angle?”
“You offend us, sir.” You visibly cringe at Cater’s teasing, sing-song tone, it sounds too much like how he had back in the cafeteria. “One of our housemates was injured—why wouldn’t we wanna help him find justice?”
“We’re all house-buds here. Count us in.” Ace declares proudly while the way he puffs his chest up and glances at Yuu reminds you of a Peacock.
Deuce’s fist meeting leather makes a creaking sound as he punches his palm, a determined furrow between his brows. “He’s gonna pay for what he did to Trey!”
Is nobody else concerned about the first-year threatening bodily harm against someone? And heck, you might’ve had Deuce’s personality wrong, the kid seems so…thuggish right now.
Riddle, at least, seems mildly perplexed at the Adeuce duo. “You two seem awfully enthusiastic about this.”
“Ah! I get it, you’re gunning for that open spot on our team, right?”
“Heh. Was it that obvious?” Shameless is the only thing you think as you stand, mentally moving Ace even further down your list. “N-no! That had nothing to do with it, I just want to avenge our housemate!”
“At least have some decency like your fellow first-year,” You scoff as Ace pivots his attention towards you, “Your Vice got hurt, that’s certainly nothing to celebrate.”
“Huh?” The ginger pokes a finger into your chest, his expression turning livid. “Listen buddy, I don’t even know why you’re still here. In fact, we could solve this mess without ya!”
“Wha…what did you just say to me?” There’s ringing in your ears, spots in your vision, and you crush your fingers into fists by your sides. You ache for something, all the while Ace stares at you in confusion. “Are you going deaf or somethin’? I said you don’t have any skin in the game so I dunno why you’re still here.”
That’s not what you heard.
That’s not what he said.
He’s lying.
And everyone stares at you like you’re crazy. It puts you on edge while the nausea settles into your stomach as heavy as a rock. “You—…I have my own reasons for being here.”
The wall you had carefully put together falls all around you, your cold persona destroyed because of a simple sentence. Nobody leaps to defend you or to scold Ace for his callous words—of course they wouldn’t, it was probably just a joke. A cruel one, but it was still a joke to them.
It wasn’t a joke to you.
Riddle is the one that cuts through the silence—awkwardly clearing his throat as your breath stutters over your lame excuse. Of all the people in the room, you had at least believed he wouldn’t allow such…humor.
“Your…performance will be taken into account during the investigation.”
Colors drain out of the world as the group turns their backs on you, painting the once beautiful scenery in dulled swatches of grey and white. You can see Riddle’s lips moving as he speaks, but you don’t hear whatever he’s saying.
Something about the tournament, likely.
The only thing you can hear is a dripping sound.
Plink
You don’t know where it’s coming from.
Plink plink
Your hands tighten by your sides, surely the pain of your nails biting into your palms will force you back into reality—when had you grabbed your magical pen?
Plink plink plink
The stone is—where is that sound coming fro—why won’t someone help—since when were cruel jokes funny—please sto—
“You coming?” Cater’s hand lands on your shoulder, forcing you out of your stupor. There are still shades of gray amongst his palette, you notice his hair doesn’t shine as brightly as it once did, nor does the heart on his cheek look red anymore.
But he still brought some color back into your view—the green of his eyes, his peachy skin, even the gem on his uniform seems to shine brighter in your gray view.
You blink at him, your hands clenching around nothing. What had happened with your magical pen?
What happened to you?
“I’m—I wasn’t…”
“Ahhhh, fazed out, huh?” You nod meekly and hate that he seems to notice but doesn’t say anything, “No worries! Happens to me all the time, I’ll explain on the way there, yeah?”
You wouldn’t blame him for being annoyed with you.
And you certainly wouldn’t blame him if he chose to punish you in some way for not paying attention.
And as your phone chimes you’re sure he’s going to do just that— “There! Added ya to the group, now c’mon I’ll catch ya up on the road!”
Oh.
Cater sticks to you like white on rice as your group passes through the Pomefiore mirror, his arm thrown casually around your shoulder and keeping you close to him. Color has returned to normal so the panic in your chest has eased as you notice his hair is back to its bright hue.
“There’s a junior named Rook Hunt who’s caught my eye in Pomefiore!” The ginger explains while the freshmen (and you) ooh and awe at the splendor of the Pomefiore dorm. If Heartslabyul was a castle, then Pomefiore is a palace.
Wait did he say Rook Hunt—
“He has a blonde bob cut and a fedora—you can’t miss him.”
“Ah,” Riddle hums, “Rook is an exceptional player. He performed extremely well in last year’s tournament.”
“Which makes him a prime target.” You state, trying to shrug off Cater’s arm but it seems your luck is rotten. “Also I don’t think anyone would be crying us a river if Hunt got hurt…the guy is weird.”
“Huh? You think someone is weird? Man this guy has gotta be a freakshow!” Ace will be lucky if he even has eyes to watch a Spelldrive game after you’re done with him. “Listen you little—“
“Oh, is that him sitting over there?” Saved by Deuce… The other freshman points out a trio of—Seven they are beautiful.
You can only catch the side profile of two out of three, but beauty isn’t about the face, it’s about the air you exude. Somebody could have the most attractive features ever and it wouldn’t mean a damn to you if they didn’t have the confidence to match! And by the Seven, are those blonds confident…
But then again maybe you just have a thing for blonds.
It’s so sad those blonds happen to be the Housewarden and Vice of Pomefiore.
“Whoa. That dude’s, like, a glitter bomb in human form. He’s basically sparkling.” You think Ace is referring to the taller blond, his words draw your attention to the glitter laid upon Vil’s cheekbones and his killer side profile.
Seriously you think your heart might combust if the pretty sparkly man just glances at you.
The boy sitting across from them is adorable with artfully arranged lavender locks and light blue eyes that catch the light perfectly. He’s not the usual beauty that Pomefiore hosts, he’s a shade too cute, but it does make him stand out in the trio.
“Non, Epel, non. When you lift your teacup, do not insert your finger through the handle. It is most inelegant.” Oh great, your group is literally crashing a tea party.
Or, tea party…practice? Did people actually need to practice how to hold those delicate little cups?
“Oh…Right. I’m sorry.” Either way, the poor boy seems to be doing terribly with his cup-handling practice. He holds the handle much tighter than you would think is possible from such delicate looking hands. His knuckles almost turn white at Rook’s chiding.
Vil sighs in a theatric manner, his long, elegant fingers toying with a handheld mirror. “I just cannot decide how I want to do my makeup on tournament day! I’m thinking maybe that new foundation from Felicity Cosmetics?”
Oh Seven you’re too poor for this. “Feli—Cater we’re all too poor to be here.”
Boisterous laughter from Rook distracts Cater from responding to your tearful statement, “Mon belle Vil, the Roi du Poison…Surely your beauté is not so faint that you need makeup to shine?”
“Of course I don’t!” Vil smiles as if Rook was an amusing court jester, “But I don’t dare miss an opportunity to accentuate it further!”
“I admire that passion. Magnifique, Trés magnifique!”
“He’s such a simp…” You mutter, eyes sliding away from the scene to the rest of the group. Cater huffs a laugh, his breath hitting the back of your neck and almost startling a scream out of you. “Weren’t you just drooling over both of them?”
“I was not drooling, I was being very respectful about my looking at their assets.” Very, very respectfully looking at Rook’s arms, those are certainly the arms of an active man…Cater ogles with you.
“Uhhhhh…” Grim side eyes your little duo, “And you’re sayin’ this guy is some kinda incredible athlete? Somehow, I doubt he’s gonna be the target.”
“Yeaaahhh, maybe we should peace out and move on,” Cater grins and throws up a peace sign while he’s actively dragging you back to the mirror, “We might need to get sweetie here a drink~”
Yuu blinks at the innuendo—at least it sounded like one—and looks from you to the trio, their brows furrowing in confusion. “…what’s so special about blonds…”
The group passes through the Hall of Mirrors once more and follows behind Cater as he scrolls on his phone, checking his list of potential victims. Surprisingly he ends up stopping by the cafeteria and actually getting you that drink…
“Lemonade?” You ask as you take a cautious sip from the bottle, Cater grins at you with a teasing light in his eyes. “Since ya can’t get a sip of your favorite blond this’ll have to quench your thirst!”
…You take another sip of the lemonade.
“Next on Cay-Cay’s big list of potential targets,” Cater makes a big show of showing off his phone and the mile long list in his notes app before motioning to the courtyard where two tall boys are now the stars of your little show, “Are Jade Leech and his twin brother Floyd. They’re both sophomores at Octavinelle House. Word is, they work so well together on the field that other teams don’t know how to counter them.”
“I don’t know about that, the two probably know each other better than anyone else.” The boy deflates a bit at your explanation, his eyes losing a bit of shine. “…but hey, we never know, right?”
He blinks at you before breaking into a small smile, “Right! I’ll keep believing until proven otherwise!”
That—That is not what you were trying to suggest to him. You’re genuinely amazed, is he going through life pulling non-existence meanings out of every interaction?
“Whoa!” Grim exclaims, “They have, like, the exact same face!” It’s a bit uncanny how alike they look like, the same teal hair, the same heterochromatic eyes, you aren’t able to tell which twin is which.
“Is it just me, or do they make all the other students look tiny in comparison? They’re giants!” The group observes the two with hesitance, those twins really are giant compared to the other students.
“I could see that being a big advantage for ‘em.”
You can’t imagine someone willingly messing with either of them on the field.
“So what do we think? Could they be in danger?”
You scoff, your eyes rolling. “I’m pretty sure they’re more dangerous than whoever is hurting other students. I mean, look at them!”
One of the twins wraps his arms around a smaller Scarabia student in a threatening manner. His cruel, lackadaisical grin shows off dangerously sharp teeth.
“If I were the culprit, I’d save them for last.” Riddle hums, an uncomfortable expression on his face as your group witnesses the strange display. “Like you said, just look at those two, I wouldn’t want to get anywhere near them—especially Floyd.”
As if he has a second sense for his name, twin number 2, that you now know is Floyd, catches sight of your group and approaches with a wide smile. “Oh ho ho! What is UP, Lil’ Goldfish?”
“Bwah! He spotted us!”
…Who is this us? As far as you’re concerned Floyd seems fixated on Riddle, not anybody named us. The audacity to be dragging you into his bad situations…
“What brings you to our humble abode, huh? Playing hide-and-seek? Sounds like fun.” Seven, this guy is creepy. The lilt of his voice is borderline hostile with a manic glee, this dude could never be a victim. He makes them.
“F-Floyd…I’ve asked you several times to stop calling me by strange nicknames.”
“But you’re so small and red! How are you NOT a goldfish?”
“This guy seems like he’s a few cans short of a tuna casserole…”
When did Grim get behind you— when did Floyd get in front of you actually? The uncanny boy had moved way too quickly and is practically right up on you in an attempt to catch sight of Grim, his face lighting up in a way that sends shivers down your spine. “A talking cat? Now THAT’S something you don’t see every day! Can I squeeze you ‘til you pop?”
“Huh?!”
“Uh, no?! Stay away from me, weirdo!” Grim stays tucked behind your legs, using you as some sort of meat shield. You’re not sure how long he thinks you’d be able to hold off this behemoth if he really puts his mind to ‘squeezing’ Grim…
Why is he seeking protection from you actually??? You’re not his cat-mom or dad or whatever, you’re not even a weird uncle! “Myah, protect me!”
…okay, that might make your heart grow a few sizes for Grim.
You shift just a bit, putting yourself chest to chest with the incredibly amused Floyd, all in an attempt to protect an entity that you barely like.
“My, it would appear a contingent from Heartslabyul House has paid us a little visit.” The other twin, Jade, seems perfectly polite and sane compared to his twin. His uniform is much neater and one of his hands lands neatly against his chest in some mimicry of a heartfelt motion.
He seems more palatable than Floyd who is clearly crazy. But there’s still something in those eyes that makes your hair stand on edge… “Here to assess the competition in advance of the Spelldrive tournament, perhaps?”
“Nah. We…can’t really go into it, though.” Cater shrugs and looks nervous at how close you and Floyd are. You don’t miss the way Floyd’s hands twitch like he’s itching to wrap them around you and, what was he said?
Squeeze you ‘til you pop?
“We take a dim view of spying at Octavinelle.” Shudders run down your spine as Floyd instinctively fixes his height as his twin speaks, towering over you now. “I would ask you to justify your actions, suspicious as they are. And please, spare no detail.”
“This guy sure talks fancy, but man, his eyes are stone cold.”
The eyes never lie, you think. You see your own terrified expression reflected in Floyd’s eyes, you’re worried those eyes are going to be the last thing you see.
The twins remind you of predators. Ones that seem amused by the prey that’s wandered directly into their lair. “Ya gonna start talkin’ or am I gonna have to get squeezy?” Floyd giggles as lays a hand on your shoulder, his touch is like a shock to your system and—
You kick him.
Right in the…well, the only place you can reach. Which is…yeah.
He falls to his knees—breathless and gasping, and laughing? Is he actually crazy?—everybody in the courtyard seems to gasp and hold still for a moment. Shocked at your retaliation, even Jade’s careful and poised mask falls as he stares blankly at his writhing twin.
You’ve got to run, get away from these crazies—
You freeze as Floyd kicks at your legs. A shudder runs through you as your cheek scrapes against the concrete path, the stinging in your palms doesn’t feel nearly as bad as the pain in your jaw.
Floyd lunges for you once again, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, then your neck, and he’s squeezing you—
He’s squeezing you— you’re choking as he tightens his arms around your neck, resting your head in the crook of his elbow in a mimicry of intimacy—your pathetic kicking and hitting doesn’t seem to do much to him, hell he seems thrilled when you resort to biting him.
“C’mon! I bet’cha can’t get your teeth through my skin!”
Your voice is raspy as you beg and plead with him. When that doesn’t work you resort to yelling insults with fierce hatred.
“Awwh, you’re gonna hurt my feelings!”
You think you’re going to die as you feel his grip get even tighter.
“Where’s that fight from before, huh?”
Then you and Floyd are burning.
Blue flames lick up his arm, startling him into letting you go. Someone grabs you by the shoulders and tries to help you to your feet, whispering assurances into your ear as they get you away from those evil twins.
Your body feels like lead—weighted and useless.
But Seven, you crack a smile as you hesitantly touch at the ring of bruises you can feel forming on your throat, it felt so good to kick that bastard in the dick.
