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[philativy]

Philativy [n], a combination of philately [n]: the collection and study of postage stamps and Ivy [n]: the darling human exchange student

postmaster (me!) ivy (my mc) cabinet (masterlist)

please read rules before you go! love,

╰┈➤ ✎ tea.

dividers by @/bronzewasp & @/cyberbeat

[do not repost, redistribute, or plagiarize any of my work unless personally permitted.]

[zephyrchama]

It's nice to say "I love you" — Beelzebub likes to tell you that when the two of you are alone — but there's an even better phrase he likes to hear.

You said it to him one random night, very late into the night. He was watching a movie on TV that piqued your interest so you decided to stay. It was long, though. Demons have a different sense of time than humans do. Their movies can go on for hours and hours.

The film was interesting, no doubt about it, but your eyelids grew heavy and you began listing to the side. The spicy chips and savory snacks Beelzebub continued to offer did nothing to ward off exhaustion. His upper arm became your pillow as you sunk back into the couch cushions. At some point you even began snoring. It was hard to hear the movie.

The credits began rolling long past midnight.

Beelzebub whispered, "Hey." He slightly wiggled his elbow until you raised your face, eyes half-closed. Your cheek was red from being pressed against his bicep, and his arm suddenly felt cold without you on it.

"Want me to carry you back to your room?" he offered. There was nobody with more experience carrying sleeping people than Beelzebub. He was proud of his skills.

You shook your head.

Beelzebub did not want to leave you in the living room. You deserved privacy and a chance to sleep in. He moved his arm again when he felt you slide against him, slumping your shoulder into his side and nuzzling your face back into sleeping position.

Beelzebub made an executive decision. "I'll take you back, let's go."

Part of a chip rolled onto the floor when he stood up. You toppled over onto the open couch seat with a cranky groan but didn't put up a fight when he scooped you his arms.

"I wanna stay with you," you sighed, reluctant for your journey to the bedroom to end. Your legs dangled over his arm, occasionally bumping into each other. You grabbed the front of his shirt in a weak grip.

Beelzebub eyed you, tired and somewhat delirious in your current state. Defenseless.

"I don't think that's safe," he responded. Strong as you were, you were no match for him if you didn't have the mental clarity to wield your pact magic.

"But you make me feel safe," you replied, letting his shirt fabric fall through your fingers as you brought your hand down.

Beelzebub carried you down the hallway a little further and then slowed to a stop. A flush was spreading across his face. His stomach started doing flips and his muscles tensed.

Here was a demon, a fierce, malevolent entity with misdeeds so vile that history would only preserve them through terrified whispers. In his arms, a human. A being of skin and bones who was fated to last no more than a century. One wrong move in the Devildom and you were done for.

His heart felt like it was melting. The weight of your words was heavier than you were, weighing on his mind like a mountain of sand. Nobody had told him that in a very, very long time. Even for a demon. He made you feel safe. You made him feel a certain way, too. Though he couldn't put it into words as easily as you could.

Beelzebub brought you up higher and nestled you against his chest so he could rest his chin on your head. Your breathing was slow, so you must have dozed off again. Or maybe you were never fully awake to begin with.

He had to get you to bed, to tuck you in and make sure you fell asleep in the privacy of your own room. Beelzebub decided along the way that you might feel safer if he stayed with you. It would be cramped but you would feel warmer, and his body could shield you from nightmares, and he could tell you he loved you first thing in the morning when you woke up. That sounded nice.

[philativy]

Happy Birthday, Lucifer! (2026)

a/n: as the title says! unfortunately i have such a soft spot for this guy shsh <3

The room is black. Barely a moment past midnight, the analogue alarm you’ve abducted from your bedroom is boasting the time in vibrant red radiance from where it sits on Lucifer’s nightstand. It is his birthday. Officially.

You wriggle around under his charcoal satin sheets, adjusting so that you are facing his statuesque form. His face, typically stern and imposing, is squished into the malleable fabric of his priceless pillowcase. The remnants of his neat combover is now an unkempt salt-and-pepper nest. His breaths are nearly imperceptible, but present.

It’s a precious scene. He is vulnerable: laid bare, belly-up and exposing the personhood behind his curated veneer. You alone have the privilege of basking in it.

You alone can shatter it.

There is a moment where you consider waking him — merrily sliding past any of his frustrations to drown him in congratulatory kisses and simple affection. Awarding yourself the pride of being the first to celebrate another slow crawl towards the abstraction of infinity.

You don’t.

Squeezing yourself into the carved bend of his side, you worm your nose into the indentation of his clavicle. Your hands feel along his lower spine, feeling his muscles instinctively tighten and loosen in response to your adoring caress. Your fingertips brush rosy, raised scar tissue where he has been shortened by a wing at the stem.

He doesn’t wake, but rather mumbles incoherently and wraps you in his safety. By instinct, he seeks to harbor you. his legs hook around yours, hands encompassing your hips.

Craning up to his face, you peck his cheek. “Happy birthday,” you murmur, “I love you.”

dividers by @/cyberbeat, @/bronzewasp, & @/saradika-graphics

masterlist

[philativy]

Are you still taking requests? I really hope so 🤞 would you be willing to write a scenario (or headcanons of their reactions, whichever you think is better) of the brothers with a MC who often wakes up nauseous and can't eat in the morning? I first envisioned this as a fluffy fic idea, but it's okay to have some chaos as well

Burdens We Bear

a/n: mentions of vomit (naturally), overall fluffy n soft, sort of poly dynamics

Mornings with you are patient. Everything adapts to the pace which you set. There is no rushing, no fervor. Nothing that would worsen your morning ails.

It always takes you a moment to pull yourself out of the confines of your lovingly bestowed quilts and blankets. Your throat is parched, temples drumming with unprovoked ire at the dawn. Your stomach is a pit, craggy lips waiting for the slightest upset to spew forth its sedentary contents.

Everyone knows better to rush you. After the first few weeks of your arrival (accompanied by some trial and error experience), they learned better.

Lucifer and Satan joined tenuous forces for the great cause of securing anti-nausea remedies. With the auxiliary aid of a certain royal steward, a small trove of medicinal teas were secured. You have your own little section in the kitchen cabinets.

Mammon and Asmo tone it down for your sake. Lowered voices, thoughtful movements. No sudden shouts or gestures that could trigger an onslaught of vertigo. Mammon patiently lingers in your doorframe, watching with only slightly impatient quips between tightly drawn lips.

Levi tends to keep his distance out of fear of worsening it. He knows his own predispositions, and values your comfort too much to jeopardize it. He loves being your crutch, though. If your legs are wobbly and unsteady, he will take great pleasure in walking you anywhere. But you’ve gotta come to him first.

Belphie and Beel tend be to your private escorts most mornings, though. Both the most naturally quiet of the House of Lamentation brood, they will happily let you lean into them and trudge along. Carrying is also never off the table, especially for the brawnier of the two.

Really, it’s a team effort. If you ever do end up vomiting or falling, Lucifer enforces an approach of respect and humbleness. No one can laugh or snark at you for any of the natural consequences of your sickness — not unless they’re seeking a missing finger or two.

As always, there’s no plight too minuscule for them to care. If it burdens you, your boys want to help bear it.

dividers by @/cyberbeat, @/bronzewasp, & @/saradika-graphics

masterlist

sorry for the wait, anon!!

[maddymoreau]

[someiicecube]

assorted OM doodles

[philativy]

hey i’m alive!!!! just enjoying the freedom of being able to draw without restraints so writing hasn’t been my priority 🫡 if u wanna see my art yk where to find it

[zuzuzolsstuff]

Wanted to draw more of them after this one

[zephyrchama]

Dinner was quiet. Peaceful.

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 liked 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."

[lambspinal]

anywho

[belphesnore]

house of lamentation is just the hype house. its just a content house and nobody wants to admit it

[ohmyclemintine]

you always beg lucifer to stay in bed

Lucifer has been awake for about an hour now.

He didn’t want to risk waking you up. He couldn’t bear the thought of ruining that fragile, peaceful moment. And he didn’t want to leave your side either.

So he stayed.

He stared at your face for a while after he woke up.

Maybe if he looked long enough, he could memorize the way you breathed.

Your cheek was pressed into the pillow, lips slightly parted, expression soft in a way he usually never let himself be.

His arms were circled around your middle, keeping you close.

He busied himself—counting breaths, shuffling thoughts, setting his mind on work papers he still hadn’t finished.

The papers due tonight. The ones he’d promised he’d get done early, just so he could have you at his side without the pressure of time clawing at him.

Around 7AM, Lucifer started carefully separating your bodies.

He moved—slow, precise, careful not to make a sound. Like if he shifted just a bit too much, you’d wake up and immediately start looking at him with puppy eyes, begging for him to stay.

He took one step off the bed.

Just one.

And you caught his hand.

Your fingers looped around his wrist, warm and familiar, just like how you usually hold his hand.

The grip wasn’t forceful—more like instinct. Like you were afraid he might disappear if you didn’t hold on tight enough.

“...Love,” Lucifer said, and his voice came out raspier than he expected. He hadn’t spoken in too long. “Let me go.”

You hummed in reply. Ignoring his command with the audacity of someone who didn’t know—or didn’t care—that he had papers due tonight.

“You know I have work to do,” he tried again, even though every word he said felt like he was fighting the urge to stay.

He could easily pull away.

He could.

But he didn’t.

Because when he looked down, you were clearly half-asleep—your face smudged against the pillow, lashes fluttering like you were trying to remember how to wake up.

You peeked an eye open.

“...Five more minutes?”

Lucifer went still.

The pause stretched—quiet enough that the wind outside the window could be heard, rustling lightly like it was trying not to interfere.

“…Just this once,” he relented, the words sounding like they were scraped out of him.

He slipped back beside you without another fight.

Your grip tightened as you tucked yourself into him again, as if you’d been waiting for permission.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he murmured, pretending it was a warning.

You hummed again, already halfway gone.

Lucifer stared at the ceiling for a second, then let out the smallest, defeated sigh.

“…I’ll just have to work faster later.”

© ohmyclemintine, do not copy, reupload on any platform, or feed my works to AI.

[zephyrchama]

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.

[philativy]

its pretty widely understood/accepted that solomon’s white hair is due to age — i mean, we all joke about him being an old man. but here’s a thought… maybe its due to the physiological stress of demon pacts on a human body? i personally always pictured solomon as sort of “frozen in time”, which explains why his face and body never seem to age while cosmetic parts of him might (i.e. hair, pact tattoos, etc). on my old blog i discussed my thoughts on how pacts effect the human body — and long headcanon short is that there’s an agonizing buffer period where the human body is trying to accept the invasive, harmful magic of the given demon into their body. thus, maybe whenever a human strikes a pact with a demon, the stress on their body turns a sliver of their hair white. given solomon’s unbelievable amount to pacts, i think that after a while he would develop a resistance to the pain but the white parts would still develop. and after a while, he’s got himself a whole head of white hair. :)

[philativy]

OUUUAHH TMR IS THE 1 YR ANNIVERSARY OF THIS BLOG… WOAH

[melodiesz]

Happy Mother’s Day to THE single mother ❤️

[bugwithakeyboard]

I got caught in a bug zapper. Have something short while I get my footing back.

Gn!Reader x everyone (though it’s just Beel, Satan and Mammon), rated G for kissing cute boys.

————————————————————

He was so cute. Beelzebub was just so fucking cute. The over six-foot tall, athletic monster of a man was absolutely adorable and as he snores in your lap, it takes all of your efforts to not coo and pet his head. He's drooling onto your thigh, had even tried to eat your sweatpants but still, he was adorable.

When Satan had called everyone in to watch some historical movie, created in the same stylings as an ancient tome, you'd tried to sneak away to avoid it all together. Even Mammon had managed to plan a whole escape in case either of you had ended up roped into the ordeal but somehow, only you were too slow. All it had taken was one soft look from Beelzebub over the wrath demon's shoulder to keep you trapped in the living room for the night, despite Mammon's obvious rage in the doorway. It's not like you could ever refuse the gentle giant anything he asked of you, and least of all when he looked like he might sulk if you denied him.

As soon as the snacks had finished, Beelzebub had laid his head in your lap and passed out. Maybe you'd have been upset if this didn't give you a great excuse to stare at him like a weirdo for the entire length of the film. Satan nudges you once or twice when you start verbalizing your adoration but otherwise doesn't bother you as you preen over the larger demon. He barley even comments when you lean down and start peppering kisses along Beelzebub's face. You manage to distract yourself somehow and when the pop of silver hair catches your attention, you don't even feel that relieved.

"Are ya' seriously gonna just stay here for another two hours?! We can sneak ya' out right now and play 8-ball in my room, come on." There's a weird pleading in his eyes and you wonder if he's really worried about your being stuck here of if he just misses you. Regardless, it's cute and you pet his hair and lean in to kiss his forehead. Mammon whines and struggles to advocate for his idea, the gesture short-circuiting his brain. "What're ya' doing! We can do that sorta thing later- alone! Come on!" but you only shake your head and pet his more solidly. He pouts and slumps but doesn't pull away, clearly enjoying your hand in his hair.

Mammon doesn't leave your side at all after that. For the rest of the film your petting his head, even when he shoves himself in between you and the armrest. He's pressed closer to you than Beel is and the three of you smush yourselves into one end of the couch, Satan on the other. When the movie ends, you're expecting the blonde to chime in about the movie and offer trivia and fun facts, but instead he stays quiet, glaring at the screen. With both the greed and gluttony boys wrapped around you, it's too difficult to lean any closer and check on him, so you whisper out a soft 'pst' like he was a distracted kitten.

His ears twitch and while he doesn't turn to you immediately, he does huff a little and then lean further back into the couch, grabbing the remote to navigate the menu. When you call his name, he seems to lose whatever internal battle he's waging. "What?" He snaps and you would have jumped a little if you had room to. He seems to catch his temper and schools his features before turning back towards you with a pout instead of a grimace. "Don't mind me, I'm just watching a movie alone in a crowd." Satan is dramatic, but you can't say you don't understand why he's upset. Taking stock of your cuddle puddle, you shuffle to the best of your ability and pat your side.

"Get over here already." Shoulders hunch and you watch the soft red spread across his cheekbones. Satan seems to be considering the offer and weighing it against his pride. Before you can try to convince him with a line about acting like Lucifer, he slides across the couch to rest his head on your shoulder and curl his knees up to your thigh, careful not to bump your legs or wake Beelzebub, who's sat between them. With your last open space now occupied by yet another cute boy, you shimmy until you're totally settled and insist he puts on another movie. It seems to appease him and while he doesn't smile right away, he does close his eyes for a moment and breathe you in. That's when you reward him with his own forehead kiss for the evening.

That seems to be the final nail in the coffin and with the start of the next film, you and Satan cuddle up to watch, while Beelzebub and Mammon stay fast asleep in your arms. It's moments like this when you think that you're grateful for your demons, and even if they can be childish, they're absolutely adorable.