this blog interacts with and posts dark content and nsfw works. minors dni. this blog also contains oc content (coming soon). asks are open.
☆☆ 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ☆☆
𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 + 𝐛𝐲𝐟 ★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ★ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
☆☆ 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 ☆☆
i don't do requests here anymore. i do, however, accept asks, inspiration, and questions about characters/ocs. please be kind and respectful when interacting.
solmare crowdfunding for their most popular series to make ANOTHER app (after abandoning the previous two) then delivering the rewards late including the literal app they're releasing is so incredibly hilarious and predictable. i despise you solmare
a/n: long time no see! sneaking in here real quick at the tail end of mermay to post something i wrote for an event with my friends. just bc i'm mad at solmare rn does not mean i won't post . i'm also a bit out of practice with writing fic so pls be kind
content + warnings: siren!asmo x fem!reader au, semi-graphic discussions of violence, murder, and death, musings on what makes a mer. read at your own discretion.
word count: ~2.3k
the sound of the ocean is a lullaby one can’t find anywhere else.
civilization sprouted at the edge of shorelines and rivers, each droplet of water an elixir of vitality for the fragile species of man. where the water went, so too did the people, chasing fish and fresh vegetation sprouting on the bank where land and loch intertwined. so too did the animals that roamed the earth long before them, the ancestors of the beasts that will wander like unkempt vines once the humans are long gone. life thrives alongside the water. life, too, thrives inside the depths– but not often does anyone bother to wonder what happens in the murky abyss.
the seas are calm tonight. a cruel, temperamental mistress, often pounding the shoreline with choppy waves in protest of human’s hedonism just beyond her reach, has retreated into herself tonight, leaving a shimmering surface to reflect the moon’s light.
asmodeus loves nights like these. the water breaks, gently, where his head pokes through the waves. with the blessing of good weather, people gather in droves around the coast to dance and sing, make merry under golden lights just out of reach. the summer heat brings all sorts of new faces to the area. rich humans in shiny jewelry and gauzy outfits walk across the sandy beaches by day, retreating to the safety of the square once night falls.
smart. nobody would step foot out here if they knew what kind of predators lurked just beyond the tide.
there’s an islet where asmodeus indulges in a bout of people-watching on clear nights. just close enough to make out notable features– laughing man, smiling woman, curious child– but far enough away where humans can’t spot someone lurking in the darkness. cool blue and warm yellow dance across shimmering scales as they glide through the water’s surface. when he reaches the shore, asmodeus is careful to lift himself onto the rocky terrain without damaging any of his delicate features. he takes time to settle– shifting upwards to get a clear view of the party nearby, his body slunk in a way that makes escape quick and painless– before resting his chin on a rock with a wistful sigh.
if someone took a peek out towards the islet, they wouldn’t be able to make out the pale face resting just above a craggy structure crowning the tiny island. the vague shape draped over the edge into the water would be seen as some loose seaweed caught around the shoreline, stuck in the stones and clumping together into something vaguely biological as it shifts with the waves. the human mind is quick to explain away things it does not understand, especially when the haze of a long, liquor-fuel night comes to a close. and it’s surely convenient for the figure on the rocks, too– only one or two souls are ever brave enough to investigate after a long night, inebriated on an unsteady boat as they row out into the open waters.
defenseless. distracted. easy prey.
asmodeus drums his fingers on the crag. the golden glow of party lights dances across his pale skin, and for a moment the memory of sunlight flutters forth in his mind. dazzling, radiant, warm– it had been years since asmodeus had truly felt warm– a bright beacon he sought in the days before his body cowered from the light. this gulf was, theoretically dangerous, considering that he could be cornered in a precarious situation. but asmodeus has never had any trouble charming his way out of a sticky situation.
on the shoreline, a pair of drunken men jostle and storytell loud enough to echo across the waters. asmodeus’ attention piques to follow their voices. he shifts his body weight back, ready to dismount from the rock, taking an extra moment to observe the situation. they’re young. strapping. broad across their sunburnt backs (what hedonism to keep the sun all to themselves!) and stumbling in rowdy play. small lights come from their hands. as far as asmodeus was aware, humans didn’t have bioluminescence. there must be something in their unwebbed grasp producing the light. how strange! how exciting! an excited giggle bubbles up from his throat, and asmodeus shifts his weight to roll gracefully off the islet into the frigid waters.
his body dips under the surface to dart towards the edge of the gulf, the rocky shoreline concealing his lithe form. swimming through calm tides on a pleasant summer night, unsuspecting prey too dumb to notice what’s watching them? it’s intoxicating, really. asmodeus finds himself flipping in delighted circles, kicking up the faintest patch of bubbles as he writhes beneath the surface. his eyes emerge from the water to catch another glance. champagne hair clings to his skin as it greets the air. the pair of men begin to wobble towards a dock nearby. from this angle, so far away from their peers on land, it will be hard to watch their bodies disappear into the water. asmodeus can have fun with these two. maybe he can drag one under the surface in silence and watch as the other man fumbles around looking for his companion. or maybe he could lure them both out into the water with a well-timed call for help, so innocent and frail, only to snatch their fleshy bodies into the depths and watch as the oxygen leaves them in panicked bubbles, desperate cries yearning for air–
light. bright. asmodeus flinches hard, unaware of what this blinding sensation is. white clouds his vision, colors dancing as his eyes attempt to understand what curse has befallen them. asmodeus squints into the luster, fumbling blindly as he grabs at the rugged shoreline to steady himself, desperate to regain his bearings.
there is a human woman watching him.
a few yards away, crouched defenselessly on the rocks, stares another face back at him. soft. sunkissed. skin seemingly warm and blemished by the elements above water. startled. connected to some strange beacon of light near your head, which is blinding him. he’s conscious enough to see your eyes sweep over his face. then, they grow wider as the light sweeps over his lower half.
traditionally tanned skin is translucent and almost sickly. where ears would sit on a human frame, instead is lined with flexible fins shying from the light. shimmering scales splatter across his cheeks like freckles, dancing together as they wind down the gills flaring on his neck. his mouth is open in surprise, the ‘o’ of his pale lips revealing sharp, menacing fangs glinting back at you. he watches as the light– and your gaze, oh how frightened– shifts to illuminate his lower half. the scales gather down his toned torso, blockading the skin at his waist as they become a long, muscular tail. his fins flutter under the surface of the water.
before you is a startled siren.
a deep sense of panic rises within him. if he was to indulge in his savage instincts, as every cell in his body begs of him to avoid the probability of a painful death, he would leap forward and yank you into the depths. you don’t look all that capable. surely, even if he is not the strongest of merfolk, he could ensnare you without much trouble? but a voice in the back of his head tells him to use his strengths. after all, asmodeus is no simple mermaid. where others must rely on the grace of their land-dwelling kin to save themselves, asmodeus is blessed with the gift of charm. allure.
of song.
despite the burn of his eyes under the scrutiny of pale, heavenly light emanating from beside you, asmodeus puts on his most charming closed-lip smile. he raises a webbed hand to shield himself from the shine of your mysterious beacon– light trickles through the skin between his fingers, but the shape of his hand creates a shadow that allows him to gain his bearings. human and mer languages have diverged over generations. asmodeus knows he cannot communicate with you, lure you in with a silver tongue and promises not to hurt you. human sounds are so round and elongated. to you, the sound of his vocalizations must be nothing more than chirps and clicks. nevertheless, he uses them.
‘hi, human lady. i’m sorry. i didn’t want you to have to die.’
you don’t react. asmodeus wonders if you’re paralyzed with fear. your body is stiff, eyes blown wide as you track his movements. he shoves off the shoreline and disappears into the water. when he re-emerges, though, you’ve regained some semblance of life. you scuttled back just enough to sit on your haunches, gripping the pebbles beneath you for stability. asmodeus knows that he’ll replay the movement in his mind later, long after your body’s gone cold and sunk beneath the waves. maybe he’ll take you back with him, stash your body in a cave away from his brothers and admire the way nature runs its course on your carcass. after all, humans are so interesting.
asmodeus opens his mouth, and from beneath the murky waters, a glow begins to form. it starts from within him, a bright blue forming within his sternum, illuminating his ribs and cartilage as it grows. the color grows warmer as it pulses down his arms. soft, radiant, morphing into a pinkish glow racing under his skin like blood in his veins. light moves up into his throat. the glow leaks from his gills, spills from his lips as it morphs into a bright, angry orange. his eyes are consumed with the same molten hue. generations of desperate survival form into a curse so potent that it spills from his body, leaking like arsenic into the waters around him.
a haunting melody begins to fall from his lips.
maybe his ancestors knew the words of the hymn he sings. but they’re long gone now, only remembered through the innate sense of fear their songs bring him. he should feel powerful. instead, asmodeus feels afraid. his eyes are blinded by the light coming from within. he cannot cry out, nor can he stop himself once the song starts. it’s like possession, in a sense– asmodeus is no longer himself but rather a vessel for millennia of torment from the frigid, lifeless depths below. notes swell and rise before retreating like ocean waves, enticing vulnerable prey to come forward and seek their demise with open arms. the melody is shrill, haunting, ariose like a choir of voices reaching a fever pitch. asmodeus has always been known amongst his brothers for having the most potent siren’s song. he’d once lured sailors to their deaths several knots away, back when the deadly had free roam of the seas.
his vision begins to clear, night piercing through the light like pinpricks until his line of sight is whole again. his arms preemptively open, grasping outwards for the warm body entering his arms, actin as your lifeline for just a moment until he pulls you under to your watery grave, watching the panic set in as you–
–... remain seated, horrified, watching him from the rocks.
he blinks. maybe his waterlogged eyes are deceiving him? but you stare back with the same stupid expression he’s surely wearing, like a funhouse mirror distorting his fear back at him.
for the first time in his long, long life, asmodeus has failed to charm a human. the siren’s song written deep in his bones has fallen short. he watches you with the same mix of confusion just as you do him. for several moments, the waters and land are both still. but the sound of distant voices makes his fins shiver involuntarily, the first reminder of the very real, very dangerous situation asmodeus has found himself in. humans are not supposed to know of the existence of merfolk. this human before him was supposed to die, but there you are, alive and well, resistant to the one surefire weapon he’s had at his disposal all his life. now more humans are coming his way, drawn like moths to the lights he’d displayed moments ago. his throat begins to close in panic. you shift forward onto your hands and knees to reach out to him just as he backs away into the water. his head is on a swivel, eyes darting around. they’re coming. the people. the people who shouldn’t know he exists– you shouldn’t be alive to know he exists– and their voices are growing louder–
it takes only one kick of his powerful tail to send him disappearing into the water below. he doesn’t look back, doesn’t falter as he dives deep enough to feel some semblance of safety as the pressure increases in the depths. he swims as fast as his body can take him to the aquatic entrance of the gulf. the anxiety thrumming in his chest fizzles the further away he gets, settling into his gut like stone.
only when he’s a few knots away does he dare to peak out of the water and look behind him. the lights on the horizon have disappeared, leaving a gloomy darkness in their wake. something small dots the edge of the cliffs, at the furthest peak towards the edge of the ocean. in his mind’s eye, asmodeus imagines it to be your figure, staring out at the open water in search of the creature that evaded you just as you had him. maybe you’re curious about what lurks in the depths.
or maybe you’re warning others of the beast you found. maybe you’re lining up hunters to eradicate every mer unfortunate enough to cross your path. the thought makes asmodeus’ chest tight– he banishes that thought from his mind as he sinks into the depths once more.
Funny how Solmare just keeps abandoning projects and shoved Solomon so much in our faces in Nightbringer until what feels like half the fandom was going feral for some senior discount up their ass - And now they announced a new project, only the brothers are for sure gonna be in it and most importantly now we're gonna have to finance that as well apparently.
They really haven't gotten the memo that "have your cake and eat it too" doesn't work like that, have they?
I would be happier if I knew their new game was launching with the full cast of demon brothers and the established dateable characters. Barbatos is my #1 and not being able to choose him right from the start is a huge disappointment.
It was weird seeing the announcement posts trickling in last night though. I was starting to feel the hype until I saw the kickstarter mention, and then things took a weird turn. The old school gamer in me doesn't like the idea of giving money for things in development with no guarantee of what the end result will be. I understand indie developers do this because they don't have the resources like established gaming corporations do. I do not consider Solmare an indie developer which is why my standards for them are much higher.
Don't get me wrong through. It's not that I'm not willing to spend money on games, because I am. If I try a new mobile game and like it, I'll buy the "new game" bundles as an early support boost to the devs, and I'll buy merch later on if something really interests me. That being said, I'm not comfortable giving money to something I haven't seen or played yet. Both OM games have done something in the past to sour my experience, and that's not a great track record for a company asking for financial support to launch a third game we have limited information about.
As someone that spent a lot of money on OG and then reduced spending in NB, I'm not sold on Solmare's promises just yet. I'm not feeling generous enough to fund any sort of kickstarter initiative when there's no guarantee they've learned the lessons from OG and NB Obey Me. My hope is that the game exceeds my expectations, but right now, I am approaching this announcement with a very healthy dose of skepticism until we have more details and see what the actual gameplay looks like.
in the deepest corners of mammon's mind, he craves you. relentlessly, thoughtlessly, primally, you.
his lips drag against the bare flesh of your shoulder, and in an act of desperation his tongue lulls out to taste the sweat on your skin. sharp incisors prick against it as he laps like a man starved, licking and sucking and nipping until he feels he could identify your taste blind. he moves back up and smothers your lips with his own.
pleasure simmers low in his core, his nails digging into your nightclothes as he smothers you with his body. you whine something akin to his name, maybe a breathless cry, underneath him. you're so soft. so human. god above does he need you.
by nature of being a demon, his base instincts crave destruction. to pull and tear and maim. but mammon was once an angel. he understands the taste of heaven. that familiar blessing laces your bottom lip as he tugs it between his teeth.
his hands tug possessively at the bottoms you wear. in all his strength, he can't manage to get them off, and frustration makes him sweat. he ruts uselessly against you, the curve of your hip, as his tongue licks possessively in your mouth. he's caught your scent. in fact, he caught it long ago, before any of this came to be, but he's too hot and hazy to think about what's happening, about why the pleasure building in him feels so far away, why he can't get these stupid bottoms off or taste you or understand what you're saying or feel you--
the heat of reality is suffocating as colors sizzle across mammon's vision. his breath is unsteady. his hands grasp at the blanket across him, now half-discarded in the throws of his lucid dreaming. it takes him a long few moments to realize what had happened. you're not in his bed, rather, he's just so desperate to have you there that your presence plagues his dreams. and it's only until he dares to sit up that he discovers his body is more demonic than when he went to sleep.
damnit. how embarrassing. mammon flops back into his bed, willing his body to calm down enough to tuck twisted horns and massive wings back into their hiding spots.
People like you are the ones who keep this fandom alive. Thanks for your opinions bro you cook better than both solmare and solomon 🙏🏽
considering this is the result of both solomon and solmare left to their own devices... i'd say this is a low bar to cross 🤭 but cross it i will! for you, anon!
please, if you're someone that is as annoyed at obey me's shitty ending, interact with your fave fanfic writers. somebody's gotta clean up this mess, albeit out of spite or love is a bit hard to tell rn 🫠
ps. this ending up in my inbox reminded me i have some stuff sitting in the drafts. won't fix everything but god do i miss being active
i'm sure if you're following this blog that you have seen the announcement from the devs on the official obey me account. they announced that december of 2024 will bring the last batch of game content for the og obey me and obey me nightbringer apps. they're very clear that the lore of obey me will continue into other projects, and that the characters will return. please read the official statement if you have not already.
i don't anticipate anyone has been waiting to hear my opinion on the matter. but the announcement has had me thinking. i want to update you all both on my feelings about the in-game story ending and my future plans for obey me works on this blog. there's one particular takeaway that keeps coming to mind with all of this.
there is nothing wrong with enjoying romance, or with loving otome games.
i think i noticed my interest dwindling in obey me nightbringer going into season 2. there was this storyline about the brothers being summoned to return to heaven or face the threat of a war between the celestial realm and the devildom, and the drama around the plot felt very tangible and heavy with emotions. i was so sure season 2 was going to reflect these stakes. and then it just... didn't. season 2 didn't seem to care much about the previous season at all. i fell behind in playing, but i kept up with summaries made by my peers. i had every intention to catch up once the game drew me back in.
but it just... didn't.
i think nightbringer's storyline is pretty lackluster. i'm not going to claim that og was some stroke of brilliance, but the writing was pretty interesting. actions had consequences. the stakes felt important. and that's not nostalgia talking, either-- i got into this game way later than some of my peers. this blog just celebrated its two year anniversary earlier this month, and at that time i hadn't even heard of the game. i just... there was something special about og. and there was something special about the first ten lessons of nightbringer, too. it felt like there was real care put into the story, into establishing a semi-coherent line of lore between plot threads. i don't believe that care is here anymore. it hasn't been for awhile. the events are bad. the main story is bad. character complexities have been flattened down into quippy one-liners and boring texts. asmo is shallow. satan likes cats. beel is hungry. these characters i once raced to consume content for in order to analyze each dimension of their personality have all been made boring and repetitive to fit into a boring and repetitive plot.
there's also a point to be made about the age rating and clear shift in audience changing from og to nightbringer. jesus. that shit was so painful and probably contributed to why nightbringer felt so juvenile at times. i am not a child. i am not particularly interested in my romance games being targeted towards kids. i'm also not all that interested in my romance games being ashamed of romance games, aka the clear conclusion nightbringer has led me to believe. the severe lack of romance in the later seasons of the franchise was utterly painful, like the game was pulling a switcheroo on the fans as to what the game would be about. where raunchy jokes and suggestive scenes would be now feels hollow-- each kiss from the characters feels like a chaste way to placate the audience into not protesting the complete and utter lack of intimate connection with the characters. not every game has to be smut, obviously, and i'm not saying i'm mad at obey me for not being straight-up pornographic. but for fucks sake-- season 2 of og opened with an aphrodesiac plotline. clearly, the writers have had no problem with coy, fade-to-black suggestiveness before. the exclusion of romance is such a detriment to nightbringer, and shows a clear lack of interest from the devs in continuing to write the romance game they promised.
basically, i'm not a fan of nightbringer. i think the story of obey me is cooked so far. it's hard not to feel a bit betrayed, either. i understand companies have to make money, and obviously choosing more profitable forms of media or audiences is a choice companies will make, but... i don't know. it feels like solmare wants to transition away from romance when most of us are explicitly here for it. what audience is left when you abandon both your genre and original format? i don't want to the story to continue in a manga or anime. that defeats the purpose of the gn!mc they created, as well as the whole damn plot revolving around the player character. if that's where the franchise's future lies, well, then... i guess i'm not going to be keeping up with it in the future.
do not misunderstand me-- i have lots of love for the obey me games. i structured this damn blog around them. i wrote fanfiction and made community and supported these games financially. but i have a right to my own interests. i started playing obey me because it was an otome game. the main drawing points were the accessibility of the format (mobile game) and the romance. lots of people are disappointed, as am i. the devs (and other fans) can scream and shout from the rooftops that "obey me isn't over", and technically, they're right, but what is obey me anymore? is it the characters they've flattened for marketability? the lore they've retconned and destroyed? the games they're no longer continuing?
to be clear, all of this is speculation. i may eat my words next year when they come out with "obey me 3: mc's return" or whatever the hell they have in store. but i'm not really interested if it's not a well-written, interesting game centered around a solid plot, familiar characters, and romance. solmare has a lot to prove should they want to capture my interest again for future projects.
as for the future of obey me on this blog? for starters, i will not be mass deleting any of my works. i personally detest when people do this, and i will not be contributing to this phenomena.
going forward, i will, predictably, branch out into other games. i've been really into love & deepspace and ikemen villians recently. both of those games have very interesting plotlines. i feel revitalized playing them-- they feel like a lover letter to the genre, giving the same level of interest and care that fans do into keeping the game running. so expect those sorts of games to end up here. i also have a separate twisted wonderland blog, as that game, even though it's not romance, is still full of wonderful characters and a very interesting storyline that i adore. but obey me has a spot in my heart forever, and i will continue to write about it. i still have many ideas, ocs to introduce, series to make, aus to explore... despite the games' story ending, the stories here will live on.
i am warning you now, though, that i will be taking many creative liberties with the lore. and if new content comes out that i'm not keeping up with, and it somehow contradicts my works... well, tough shit. solmare can kiss my ass. you will have to pry these characters out of my cold, dead, rotting hands before you can have them back.
to summarize: the obey me games are finishing the story by the end of this year. i will probably not keep up with the lore should it continue in a serious capacity in forms like manga, anime, live shows, etc. i am interested in writing more within the universe, but i will be tweaking lore as i see fit to undo the damage solmare has done recently. this blog is going to expand more into other games as well. none of my fics will be deleted en masse due to this announcement. the voice actors and people who poured all their love into these games have my affection, but solmare is on my shitlist forever probably.
★ meeting and trying to impress your older sibling
★ presenting the dateables (+ luke) with a friendship bracelet
★ dateables (+ luke) presenting you with a friendship bracelet in return
★ dateables (+ luke) playing minecraft with you
★ hand headcanons
★ social media headcanons
★ comforting their partner who's struggling with a big chest
angst, hurt/comfort. demon brothers x afab!reader. reader has a big chest but is not explicitly female. mentions of insecurity and pain due to chest size.
★ mistletoe mayhem
you bump into a certain someone slipping away at one of diavolo's parties. it's only then that you notice the seasonal plant hiding up above your heads.
☆ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
nothing yet...
☆ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬
★ an unexpected guest
solomon comes home to find you visiting purgatory hall shortly after the exchange program begins.
★ solomon's bunny boy birthday service
late one night in the hidden corners of the fall, solomon treats you to a very special birthday gift.
NSFW minors dni, solomon x fem!reader, oral (reader recieving), fingering, reader is wearing a dress, minor lucifer cuckage.
★ when solomon falls in love
love is a wonderous thing. when it sweeps through the devildom, the blade spares no expense: no one can outrun love, no matter how hard they try.
solomon x reader, angst with a happy ending, there is a deep sadness within solomon but i can fix him, minor discussions of s3 plot points.
★ solomon drops his roster for you
they've been alive for so long. but when you come into the picture? everything changes. suddenly all those previous lovers are discarded for a chance with you-- they'll offer themselves all for just a chance to taste you.
obey me characters x gn!reader. nsfw, mdni. exploring the characters' previous intimate relationships before the exchange program.
content + warnings: nsfw, x fem!reader, flashing, discussions of oral
prompt: "Imagine sitting across from the brothers and nonchalantly spreading your legs to reveal no underwear under your skirt. Just IMAGINE their reactions…" (via: @shyvien-obeyme)
there's a tension in the air, a mixture of seven different reactions to the same action. seven demons who knew their master had such a commanding presence, had fallen victim to "stay" time and time again-- yet here you are, bringing all of them to their knees without uttering a single word.
lucifer pales when your legs spread. a low, possessive growl threatens to rock his chest, but he swallows hard and averts his gaze. you can see his cheeks flush a little. he meets your gaze-- he's very determined to show you he doesn't see you as a piece of meat-- and opens his mouth to scold you for such vulgar behavior. but there's this heat in your gaze, almost inviting as your eyes smolder with want. his mouth closes. he takes another look between your spread legs. fuck. you're so wet it's obscene. were you really that needy, working yourself up like that over there? he can only imagine what's running through your head, what depraved thoughts linger beneath that cheshire smile. no matter. just say the word and he's whisk you away to his room, alone, ready to please his master until dawn breaks through the darkened skies.
mammon whines, the sound loud and uninhibited, his cheeks engulfing in flames-- yet he can't bring himself to be ashamed. it takes everything in him not to pounce on you. he wants to yell, too. why? why're you so comfortable spreading your legs like that in front of all his brothers, huh?! don't you know the kind of filthy thoughts running through their heads?! the conflicting feelings make his stomach flutter. he wants to close your legs, guarding your entrance like a dragon to its hoard, greedy to keep its greatest treasure private. but he also wants to fall to his knees in front of you. to wait for your permission before burying his face in your cunt, fucking you on his tongue in front of everyone. he's getting impatient now that the thought's entered his mind-- so can you please stop looking at him like that and let him touch you already, before he loses whatever mind he has left?
leviathan can feel his shame rush to his face, burning heat pooling at the back of his neck. it's embarassing how quickly his pants grow tight and cumbersome. this-- this is too much for him. he needs to hide away, now, burrowing into a fort of blankets in his bathtub until a century or two passes and he's sure everyone's forgotten about this moment in time. but he can't. because you're staring at him. your eyes crawl up his body, lingering on his shifty feet, his quivering hands, his tented pants-- your gaze makes his head spin. he's going to pass out if you keep watching him like that. you wet your lips briefly, eyes darting to meet his before your gaze falls between his legs again, and he swears to every authority in every realm that he can feel his cock throb in need. please say something, do something. either let him retreat to lick his wounds or ride him until he's a puddle of drool and slick underneath you.
satan's cheeks flush, but he keeps his gaze steady as he thoroughly observes your sopping wet cunt. he wants to think of something clever or witty to say, but his mouth is so dry and his brain is so fuzzy-- do you know what you do to him? he's aware that you're teasing him. it's frustrating. all these eyes on you, and yet you're only looking at him. like a cat that got the cream, you're smirking, lounging in your chair like he can't see the slick gathering around your entrance. it would be so easy for his finger to slip inside you, finger fucking you senseless until you're so sensitive you writhe and dig your nails into the arms of that chair. but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? no, you're teasing the avatar of wrath. while patience is not his favorite virtue, it will be the one he has tonight-- because the moment you're finally underneath him, he's going to toy with you as much as he wants, prowl around your exposed body until he decides to pounce. after all, you're the one who wanted to play cat and mouse.
asmodeus can feel his lips curl into a grin. oh, you naughty little thing! a giggle escapes his lips as he watches you with rapt attention. oh, that slippery little cunt of yours is so cute! would you mind if he got a closer look? he wants to bask in this moment. you're biting your bottom lip and grinning right back at him, and it takes everything in him not to break the tension by letting honey filth spew from his lustful lips. sure, there's a lot he could say, but don't actions speak louder than words? in that case, he wouldn't mind running his tongue along that pretty clit of yours to taste your slick himself. he can't think of a better way to express his love for you than to ravish you as thoroughly as the tried and true avatar of lust can. the room is delightfully hot and intense, making his head spin as surges of lust bounce off the walls. oh, darling, the anticipation is killing him-- won't you just share all the dirty thoughts caught in that pretty little head of yours?
beelzebub suddenly feels like he shouldn't be here. he notices the change in the air before he notices your legs spread, ever perceptive to the emotions of his loved ones. and all of those feelings lead him to you-- specifically, that wet spot between your legs that's got everyone so riled all of a sudden. it makes him nervous. at first, he worries you've exposed yourself on accident. he looks away as his cheeks turn pink, ashamed of how quickly his mind begins to wander. but then he hears you shuffling-- so naturally, he looks back at you-- to find you pulling your skirt up further, bunching it around your thighs to give everyone a clearer view. he realizes now that you want everyone to see your cunt. now he doesn't feel so bad about staring, about the groan sitting in the back of his throat. he'll never push, never question your motives or try to touch you without explicit permission, but he can't help the way his mouth waters and his erection stirs in his pants. and judging by the way you're staring at him like a five course meal, it seems you don't mind much either.
belphegor's eyes widen in shock, before a predatory grin engulfs his face. oh. you're in for it now. you've given the game away by exposing yourself as a needy whore, and it's clear from your haughty smirk that you think you've won this game. that's cute. but you're playing with demons-- manipulative, scheming, needy demons that'd do anything to bury themselves deep inside of the very hole you're so determined to tease them with. or maybe you're just teasing one particular demon. because your eyes linger on his just a bit too long to be coincidental, flitting away to the ground or a nearby wall before meeting his again. are you feeling nervous now? you should be. make no mistake-- he sees what you're doing here, and he's already thinking of ways to handle it. you're clearly getting aroused by all the attention. he wants to help, but he's just feeling so tired. you're already so prepped and eager-- maybe he should let you sink onto his cock in this very room? he's curious to see how well you can perform with an audience.
just some little drabble-esque musings about the angst of being the attendant to people who don't know you like you know them
content + warnings: angsty, some romantic coding but nothing explicitly indicating a relationship/interest, nightbringer timeline
Once, I took your medication to know what it's like
And now I have to act like I can't read your mind
I ask you how you're doing and I let you lie
But we don't have to talk about it
I can walk you home and practice method acting
I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning
Tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing
Even though we know it isn't true
{cool about it, boygenius}
life carries on.
the world still spins, the sun still rises, and the devildom grows busy with the hustle and bustle of demons. they laugh and cry and hug and party just as you remember they should. it's thousands of years before you're even a sprout in your own family tree, but you don't get a say in the way that time moves forward.
the demon brothers aren't how you remember them-- then again, you never met them shortly after the fall, did you? what a strange feeling, loving someone who's a stranger to you now...
mammon tries to be nonchalant as he steps in front of you again, shielding your body from the chaos of his family's antics. there's a strange sense of protectiveness he feels over you, even though he knows damn well you're a capable demon. but being around you leaves his head devoid of all reason. he craves you like flowers crave rain in early spring, like the dead of night craves the gentle kiss of dawn. he's glued to your side as you drift from room to room, fulfilling your attendant duties with care. there's just something about you that makes him need you. he needs to be your favorite, your closest demon, the one you think of first when anything happens. he wants to be be good enough to earn your approval-- if that ends with him humiliating himself just to get a smile from you, then he considers it time well spent.
levi hears your voice echo down the hallway, and it makes him flinch. is that your laughter? his ear presses against the cold wood to listen in. envy stirs in his gut, makes his tail flick impatiently against the wood as he strains to hear you. he certainly doesn't care about a normie demon like you. so what if you helped him keep snake? so what if he's jealous of how easily his brothers have made their way to your good side? you make him feel things he'd never thought he'd be able to feel. so... just hang out with him, alright? just sit near him and talk about snake and let him pretend for just a moment that you want to hang out with him as much as he does you.
beelzebub smiles at you from the kitchen counter, watching you curiously as mammon and asmo toddle after you. you gather ingredients from the fridge-- strangely colored, odd, completely native to the devildom-- and lay them out on the counter. then you carefully show that what to do with each ingredient, what they pair best with, what they're supposed to taste like when prepared correctly. his brothers watch wide-eyed, fascinated as you cook scary ingredients into delicious food. beel doesn't blame them. you feel like home. you're a warm hug, a nice meal, a shoulder to lean on as things get rough. he doesn't question his fondness towards you. you're just... special. he doesn't want to question what makes you feel so nice to be around-- he'd rather just bask in your warmth, like a child savoring the summer sun.
asmodeus' lips curl into a grin each time he bounds towards you. his words are honey, his expression the sweetest confection as he dotes on you. he eyes you with curiosity. you are a puzzle to him, a mix of familiarity and newness that has him wondering if he'd met you before in some previous life. he can't get enough of you, and yet, he doesn't know why. he wants a spot at every table next to you, an invitation to every event you attend, a reason to stick by your side as much as he wants to. you're something special to him. he doesn't exactly know why his heart races when you brush his hair off of his face or admire his nails when he shows you, but he's excited to find out.
satan knows rage very well. it's who he is, a fundamental part of his being like the color of his eyes or the barbs of his tail. yet when he's around you, his anger quiets-- once a snarling beast, he's reduced to a curious feline in your presence. what are you doing? why? he skulks behind you in the shadows to observe your daily happenings. he wants to analyze you. if he could pin you between microscope slides and study you as closely as he'd like, he would. you fascinate him. his wrath is a wildfire, destructive and all consuming... but around you, he finds himself to be a lit fireplace. always capable of danger, but content crackling beside you to keep you warm.
belphegor curls into his spot on the couch with a smile knowing you're nearby. the room just feels a little lighter when you're there to wrangle his older brothers. the fire crackles pleasantly, intermingling with your voice as you lecture one of his brothers outside the library. your footsteps sound louder, now, and he peeks one of his eyelids open to see your feet nearby. there's a few shuffling noises before he feels the pleasant weight of a blanket draped over his "sleeping" body. that's you. you're an old knitted afghan, familiar and cozy yet new all the same. he doesn't understand why he feels so comfortable around you. but he's never been one to question his blessings-- he waits until you leave to get cozy under the covers.
lucifer regards you with a chilliness that makes your teeth chatter. his eyes are hard as he watches you scurry about, dealing with his brothers' nonsense. his gaze is always piercing, his lips in a hard line to prevent them from curling into a sneer. just because he's a demon now doesn't mean that he embraces others-- especially not lower level demons like you. he doesn't trust you or your intentions. why do you feel so familiar? why do your smiles make him feel fuzzy inside, like he holds some unseen fondness for you? he doesn't know you! there's no reason he should gravitate towards you, and yet, he does. and it scares the shit out of him. so he'll keep putting walls between you and him until he understands the extent of your emotional sorcery.
your heart breaks a little more with each and every interaction. it's hard to put on an aloof persona to tend to the brothers' needs, but you do it. you do it because you love them. you plaster on a fake smile and walk through the doors of the house of lamentation with your head held high. if you stand tall enough, maybe you can avoid drowning in the memories you've made here in another life. you can act your way through each interaction, saying all the right things and being what they need at this time in their lives.
maybe, just maybe, you can help them become the demons you love so dearly in your own time-- even if that means breaking your own heart with each fake smile.
today is my birthday and i'm rewarding myself with self-indulgent, bunny boy solomon smut. heavily inspired by conversations w jes and this image right here
content + warnings: NSFW minors dni, solomon x fem!reader, oral (reader recieving), fingering, reader is wearing a dress, minor lucifer cuckage
word count: ~1.2k
"fuck, that's-- solomon, please."
the steady thrum of dance music and the occasional trickle of light are all that pierce through the otherwise complete seclusion of the room. it's a private VIP space. today is your birthday-- that's your party outside, so graciously hosted and organized by the demon brothers-- and yet here you are, arching your back off of the sofa as your body writhes in pleasure.
this is all his fault.
it's your special day. preparations have been made in advance, and-- excuse your bluntness-- you've known most of the details since they were finalized weeks ago. the demon brothers are wonderful for a lot, but certainly not at keeping secrets or planning surprises. so you knew this party was coming. but when solomon waltzes up to you shortly after the night begins dressed as one of the club's bunny boy waiters-- well, the sight almost sends you to your knees, both in a fit of laughter and for... other reasons.
he's a damn flirt. seductive whispers against your ear, fleeting brushes against your body as he walks by, attending to your every need like a good little waiter-- all of it is sneaky and fitting of the devious sorcerer's usual antics. you can't deny the way his lips brushing against your earlobe make you shiver, how the show he puts on of waggling his bunny tail before he skitters off stokes dangerously at embers inside your gut.
solomon got what he wanted-- you, in a private room, moaning his name as he pleases you.
his lips latch greedily onto your clit, steely eyes looking up through pretty silver lashes to gauge every reaction, every sharp intake of breath or flutter of your eyelids. his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, steady and consistent, bumping against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur in pleasure. breathy cries leave your lips. there's no strain, nothing rough about the noises you make or the way his tongue lavishes your sensitive bud with kitten licks-- it's all soft, almost needy as you try to remain quiet and hide from any intrusive guests.
he's a sight between your thighs. solomon's always so pretty, but there's something about the way he looks right now that makes your core ache with need around his long fingers.
his bunny ears are skewed in two different directions. one is angled towards you while the other looks left. his vest is long discarded, draped hastily over a nearby couch cushion in the rush to touch you. his tie is undone around his neck, and the first few buttons of shirt are undone-- you remember unbuttoning them amidst a feverish kiss before he carefully laid your back against the couch. you're grateful for it now. pretty pink flush coats his ivory skin, creeping up his chest to flood his cheeks with blazing heat.
he pulls away from your clit just enough to catch his breath, the warm of each exhale molten across your sensitive folds. his thumb rubs a teasing circle across the bundle of nerves before caressing it properly, steadily. your hips buck into his hand and he lets out a breathless chuckle.
"how do you feel? is this okay?"
both of you know the answer to that-- judging by the way your hand clamps over your mouth to silence your noises, the twitching of your cunt around his fingers, you can both assume he's doing an excellent job. but there's a vulnerability to the way he asks, a neediness that leaks through even with the self-satisfied grin he's wearing.
does this feel good for you? do you want to stay back here with me? is this orgasm worth abandoning your party for? am i worth choosing over everyone else you could be with tonight?
"more than okay," you breathe. "fuck-- i want you, sol. wanna cum, wanna feel you inside me, i-- please."
you do not have to tell him twice.
heat flares in his cheeks, and his eyes flick away momentarily before he leans in and resumes his work. his fingers scissor inside you now, stretching your inner walls to prepare you while sucking on your clit. your thighs clamp around his head, but his pace never halts or stutters-- the needy dig of your feel between his shoulder blades awakens something within him.
he needs you. badly.
it's not long after his pace reaches a fever pitch that your muffled cries do too. your thighs quiver and tense around his head again and again, practically begging for release, until your inner walls tighten and cum leaks across his knuckles. the pace of his fingers slowly until the obscene squelching quiets to quiet, slick noises of him pumping in and out, in and out, until he's sure your orgasm is over. solomon pulls them out carefully and leans in to kiss you.
then he freezes. both of your bodies stiffen against each other. his hand comes down to the hem of your skirt, previously yanked up to give him better access to your core, and yanks the garment down before sitting up.
the click of the door opening makes fear shoot down your spine.
"... i figured i'd find you here."
lucifer's imposing silhouette obscures the strobing lights of the party outside. you can somewhat make out his facial expressions, but it's not like you need them-- you can tell he's upset from the moment the door swings open.
"sorry," solomon chirps. you can hear the smug grin in his voice, see the way he waves his hand, aloof, like the smell of sex doesn't hang heavy in the air. "i meant to lock that door earlier. didn't want any guests intruding tonight."
"what is going on in here?" lucifer asks sharply. his ruby eyes narrow in the low light.
"oh, i don't think you need to ask that. i think you know."
solomon's fingers glisten in the low light. gossamer strings of your arousal coat his fingers, dripping like molasses down his digits. there's a few seconds of thick tension in the air before his lips part and his tongue laves the cum off his fingers. it's a dirty move-- lucifer's whole body stiffens in the door way. heat burns inside your stomach when they slip into his mouth with a moan. his tongue swirls sloppy around them, lapping up every last drop of the pleasure he gave you, never once bothering to look away from the demon in the door way.
"you're a disgrace," lucifer spats, words sharp and accusatory.
"come on, lucifer," solomon cooes, like he's attempting to pacify the angry avatar instead of rub salt further into his wound. "all in good fun, right? all for mc's special day."
silence.
"mc, come join us. my brothers are looking for you."
"unfortunately, lucifer, we're not quite done yet. isn't that right, mc?"
there's two sets of eyes on you. ruby rage from across the room, wings puffed like his chest as he beckons you to rejoin the rest of the group. cold steel close by, flickering with a warmth that makes your stomach tighten and your knees weak. your body and mind are not on the same side as you glance between the two.
"and do you really wear these all the time? they look brand new."
barbatos looks over his shoulder to see what you might be referring to-- the spoon he's stirring with stills in his hand as his attention is drawn to you.
your hands open and close, outstretched before you, as a pleased smile graces your lips, your cheeks brighter from the heightened temperature of the kitchen around mealtime. his gloves-- previously set aside while he was kneading pastry dough and left off after for convenience-- are now slipped onto your hands. they don't fit you properly, of course. they're molded to barbatos' hands like weathered railings on a busy staircase, accustomed to every line, every vein, every plane and bump gathered through his existence. your hands stretch and shimmy, but they do not fill the space inside the gloves like he would.
a smile settles on barbatos' face as a chuckle escapes him. what a curious little thing you are.
"waited until i turned my back to steal my gloves, did you?"
you grin. "maybe."
he carefully sets the stirring spoon on its designated resting spot before crossing the kitchen and coming to join you. he settles in quietly behind you, chest against your back, coming to get a good view of your hands as you stretch them out in front of you.
there's an innocent affection in watching you toy with his gloves. like offering your lover your coat in the cold, a strange sense of satisfaction settles over him as you adjust them around your joints. a part of his uniform, so insignificant and menial to him, has become an object of your fascination. he doesn't deny himself the pleasure of pressing a chaste kiss against your temple.
a giggle bubbles up your throat. what a lovely sound, he thinks. the two of you are alone in the kitchen-- maybe that's why he lets his bare hands skim affectionately up your sides, soft and gentle as the find their way to your wrists. warm fingertips skim under the edge of the white fabric, unrolling a part folded under itself before giving a calculated tug on the garment, easing them on to your fingers more comfortably than you had managed alone.
"i must admit," he murmurs next to your ear. you can hear the amusement in his voice as he does. his fingers wrap around the exposed part of your wrists, drawing your hands closer to where you both stand. "they do look quite nice on you, my love."
Could I please request a little treat with my beloved Barbatos and/or Asmo? 🧡
"oh, mc, you're my hero! i love you so much! i've never loved anyone more than i love you!"
"laying it on a little thick, don't you think?" you tease.
pumpkin pulp squelches between your fingers as you slop it into a bowl nearby, and asmodeus cringes visibly from his seat several feet away. you're elbow deep in a pumpkin at the dining room table-- his pumpkin-- and he can't help but feel a mixture of relief and worry. you're ruining the manicure he did for you a few days ago with all that scraping and-- blegh, just the sight of that orange goo makes his stomach turn. but you're so brave for toughing out such a henious activity! he thinks you look pretty, gorgeous in the warm light of the fireplace, even with your hair pushed back by that frilly headband he gave you and a string of pumpkin guts smeared on your cheek. though, he does wish it wasn't obstructing his view of your smooth skin... but there's no way in hell he's wiping that off for you.
he's been excluded from pumpkin carving for years because he simply refuses to dirty his hands with such a nasty activity. but here you are-- his angel, cupcake, the sweetest thing he aims to devour tonight in his sheets when this is all said and done (after you've thoroughly washed your hands)-- offering yourself up to do the hard work for him so he can decorate the porch with a jack-o-lantern like everyone else. such a simple gesture. yet it makes his heart pound in ways he hasn't felt in years.
this is sacrifice. taking time to do something for someone else with no benefit for yourself. this is love. what a peculiar, delicious sensation.
"y'know," he murmurs lowly, "that i always mean it though, right? you mean everything to me."
he stands and wanders close enough to let his fingers brush against your shoulder-- light, but hardly innocent.
"enough to scoop your own pumpkin?" you say, hiding warm cheeks behind a handful of orange goop.
"ummm..." asmodeus takes a step back. your laugh, this time, makes his lips curl into a pout. oh, he'll get you later, you devious little thing.
thinking about satan's tail telling on him despite how composed he tries to be. it's a wild little appendage, all barbs and sharp edges people usually avoid. it flicks about in irritation, scratches floorboards and furniture like a riled cat when he's aggravated over something or other. when he's calm, it winds around his leg like an obedient pet waiting for its master's command.
but with you? it's a different story.
ankles. wrists. legs. arms. hips, even. the spiney tail has a mind of its own, constantly wrapping around your vulnerable points to keep you tethered to satan's side. he could be mid-argument with one of his imbecile brothers when he stops to recognize a weight tugging somewhere vaguely behind him-- you, barbs poking at your wrist as it keeps you ensnared yet unharmed, smiling sheepishly at him as he grows flustered by the trap he's got you in. one of the brothers gives you a silent thanks before slipping away from what was surely an impending fight.
satan's cheeks are rosy as he gingerly grabs between the links of his tail and tugs. but the damn thing is too partial to you. each tug only finds it tightening its grip on your fragile human skin. after several minutes of various strategies to free you-- yanking, ignoring, even attempting to coax it back to his side-- your delighted giggle makes him flop down on the couch in defeat.
the two of you must come to terms with a simple fact: satan, consciously or not, deems it necessary to keep you by his side.
mammon always looked so alive at the casino. he was vivacious in everything he did, loud and boisterous with words and actions alike, but there was always something different about seeing him in action. the twinkle of his eye, the sharpness of his grin-- mammon on a winning streak was truly a sight you'd never tire of seeing. his favorite nights are when you accompany him. you're seated next to him or, on a particularly good night, in his lap, and he can't help but flash those ocean eyes at you through the rim of his sunglasses. you know what he wants. so dutifully hold out your hand, making a show of relenting, for him to tug you closer and press a kiss on your knuckles. for good luck, he declares to anyone who will listen. mammon makes sure that you're tight against his side when the dice leave his hand. his fingers linger on your thigh, eyes bright as he waits to snag another victory. his lips are on yours before you even realize he's won again, greedy hands grasping at your sides, savoring the oh-so-sweet taste of victory.
