You could feel a familiar panic rising in your chest as you sat in the hospital waiting room. An old fear you hadn’t felt since you were sixteen when you realised you were forever tainted. One that sent you fleeing across the country, that held people at arm’s length. A dark stain that spread to anyone you touched and made you seek out the company of lesser demons because with them, at least, you could not corrupt what was already corrupted.
You had let Rosinante under your carefully constructed walls and he had suffered for it. Just as everyone who had ever tried had suffered. If you were even remotely religious, maybe you would have thanked the Lord that it hadn’t been worse. You didn’t want to think about how it could have been so, so much worse…
You looked up at the soft sound of your name. Rosi stood before you, his injured right hand neatly bandaged and held protectively against his chest, discharge papers crumpled in the other. You felt a pang of guilt and tried not to let it show on your face.
“We can go,” he said. There was no hint of pain in his words, just a deep weariness, like he wanted nothing more than to just lie down on the cold floor and sleep. They must have given him the good stuff.
You drove him back to the little house behind the church, your hands grasped so tightly around the steering wheel your knuckles blanched. Rosi had forbidden you from apologising any more.
“What kind of priest would I be if I didn’t forgive? Especially for something that wasn’t even your fault.”
But it was your fault.
Third degree burns. All because you had talked him into your hare-brained idea. All because he had seen the desperation in your face, heard it in your voice and folded. Because even after everything, he still held faith that your soul could be saved when you knew by now it was already far gone. And his brother… His poor brother’s body brought back and twisted into a costume for the same demon who killed him. It would torment him for as long as he lived. It would make him careless.
In the watery grey light of dawn, you ushered him to the bed, ignoring his protests. The very least you could do was take the couch this time.
“But the wards—“
“It can wait until later. Sleep. Before I damn my soul even more by punching out a priest.”
Rosinante obeyed, though only because he knew as well as you did that since the adrenaline of the night had worn off, he would have little choice in the matter. You helped him out of his shoes and into bed, and by the time you had pulled the covers up to his chin, he was out like a light.
You watched him until his breathing slowed and the furrow in his brow smoothed out in sleep. This man you had come to know as your only true friend in this world. The only one who saw the darkness in your soul and didn’t care that it might rub off on his. He looked like his brother. You could see it now in the line of his jaw and the arch of his nose, the long blond lashes that lay against his cheeks. Just the thought of a demon like Asmodeus taking him, twisting that calm, handsome face into something cruel and devastatingly beautiful… You couldn’t let anything else happen to him.
Without your wards protecting you, you could feel the slight tug of the contract bond. A sense of urgency low in your belly. While you still stood on hallowed ground, you could ignore it—barely the buzz of an insect in your ear. But if you focused hard enough, it swelled into a thrumming need to follow. Like the lure of some deep sea creature, a hypnotising light in the fathomless dark. It was as if your body knew instinctually where to find him.
And so you let it lead you into Hell.
You uttered a snort of laughter as you pulled up to the gates of the mansion. Of course he would choose the biggest, most expensive place he could find. The car had barely stopped moving when the gates opened of their own accord. There must have been a hidden camera somewhere. Or he could simply feel your presence. You could certainly feel his—a heady, pounding rhythm from deep in your very bones that was impossible to ignore.
You were like a puppet on a string, your body no longer your own as your foot lifted from the brake pedal and you rolled forward up the long drive. In the rear view mirror, the gates slid quietly shut behind you.
The house was silent, the windows dark. It had an Old Hollywood air to it—opulent but outdated. You let him draw you up the marble staircase, down a hall wallpapered in pale pink and gold, and through a set of white doors.
The bathroom was enormous—all white marble and gold accents under a dim, moody light. The bathtub itself was almost as large as a swimming pool, recessed into the center of the room. Asmodeus sat facing you with head tilted back and eyes closed, arms spread wide as he reclined against the edge of the pool. Droplets clung to his skin, rippling muscles beneath, and you felt a surge of arousal followed by immediate disgust with yourself. Though you hadn’t announced your presence, he seemed to notice the moment you stepped into the steamy room.
“Join me.”
Once more you found yourself unable to disobey. You disrobed slowly, taking the time to fold your clothes neatly and set them by the edge of the bath. You glanced at the demon across the pool as you leaned down. His eyes were still closed. You concealed the consecrated knife in your folded shirt and slowly slid in opposite him. It was deep enough that if you crouched, you were immersed to the chin.
Only then did he open his eyes. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to those eyes. Piercing blue, they felt like they could see right through you. He grinned.
“To what do I owe this… pleasure?”
You sank a little lower in the water, aware of his gaze lingering on your chest beneath the surface. “I want to negotiate a new contract.”
He grinned. “Oh [Name], I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate. You have nothing left to bargain with.”
“I still have my free will.”
You weren’t sure how much you even believed your own words, but you could tell by the quirk of his brow you had piqued his interest.
“If you don’t agree to my terms, I will make sure you will never feel the satisfaction of breaking my will. You will have to drag me kicking and screaming into Hell.”
“And your terms?”
“If you swear to never harm so much as a hair on Rosinante’s head again, I will give myself up to you. Willingly. Enthusiastically, even.”
His laugh was a cruel sound, echoing back on itself in the marbled space.
“You really think you can deny what is in your very blood? You’ve always desired something more than this mortal life. You’re hungry for it. I can see it in your gaze. I can hear your heartbeat quicken at my mere presence.”
He waded closer, leaned in until you could feel his cool breath on your face. You willed yourself to turn away but your muscles refused to obey you. You hated yourself for admitting it, but he was right.
“Why do you have this effect on me?” You whispered, tendrils of steam curling in the minimal space between you.
“Because I am the demon of Lust, my dear. I know all of your hidden desires, even those you bury deep and pretend don’t exist. I see them all, feel them all, and they call to me. We are bound, you and I, not just in blood, but in our desire.”
He reached beneath the water and took your hand, pressing it to his chest above his heart. It was beating just as quickly as yours.
You let out an involuntary gasp. His hand left yours but you could not pull away. He was warm and hard and smooth beneath your fingers. And to know you could have just as much of an effect as he had on you was intriguing to say the least. Could it really be so bad to be bound to this wonder of a man for all eternity?
You shook yourself out of your thoughts. Not a man. A demon. That beautiful face was a lie—a stolen mask twisted and warped into something that could hurt just as much as it could tempt.
Just as you began to pull back, he surged forward and captured your lips with his own, and in that moment, you knew you were too far gone to resist. He pulled you on top of him with ease, your legs straddling his waist and you whimpered as you felt his already hard length press against your stomach.
You returned the kiss enthusiastically, wrapping your arms around his neck. With one hand, you reached between your bodies and brushed your fingers over the tip of his cock. His answering groan sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.
If you could make a King of Hell make such a noise with just a touch, what else could you make him do?
Water cascaded from your naked form as he lifted you onto the edge of the bath. He looked up at you with pupils blown so wide they almost obscured the blue. You could convince yourself you could see hellfire in those black depths.
Without breaking eye contact, he slowly, deliberately parted your legs. In any other situation, you would have felt the urge to cover yourself, but for some reason you felt no shame in being bare before him. It was hard to breath in the steamy air, and even harder when he finally lowered his gaze to the junction of your thighs.
“I have waited a decade to taste you.” The words sent a shudder through you despite the suffocating heat of the room.
“Ten years is nothing to a demon,” you said, perhaps with not as much confidence as you had intended.
“Not when every moment we are apart is agony.”
He wasted no more time. Iron hands clamped down on your thighs, splaying you open like a feast before him, then his mouth was on you. That long, wicked tongue was good for more than just talk, it seemed.
You cried out, your voice far too loud in the tiled room. Your fingers wound in his damp, blond hair, pulling him closer, deeper, nails raking at his scalp in a way that made him growl against you. The vibrations were pure ecstasy. So you did it again.
This time his answering growl was accompanied by broad shoulders shoving their way beneath your thighs until your legs were practically wrapped around his head. You locked your ankles together at the base of his neck, ensnaring him so he would not stop those delicious movements of his tongue and lips. God, you didn’t want him to ever stop.
You had him right where you wanted him.
With cautious movements, you felt around behind your back until your fingers brushed the folded stack of clothes. Ever so slowly, you eased the knife from between the folds of your shirt and gripped the hilt with determination.
Before you could let the pleasure of his tongue give you reason to hesitate, you jerked the knife from its hiding place and made to plunge it into the side of Asmodeus’ neck. But with supernatural ease, his hand shot out and caught your wrist with the blade barely a millimetre from his jugular. He pulled back and it was then you noticed the hint of a forked tongue as he dragged it over his lips, glistening with the evidence of your body’s betrayal.
“Did you really think that would work, my dear?”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” you panted. Your hand was shaking in his grasp, the tip of the blade just barely brushing his skin as he swallowed. It sizzled at the contact, but he didn’t so much as flinch.
“And to think I was a little disappointed that you had given in so easily.” He grinned. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”
Your legs fell from his shoulders as he stood to his full height before you, water streaming from golden muscles, ghostly trails of steam rising from his skin. The whites of his eyes had now been entirely consumed by black. With unnatural strength, he twisted your arm until the pain caused you to drop the knife. It sank below the water and came to rest soundlessly on the tiled bottom of the pool.
You silently berated yourself for being so foolish as to think such a transparent trick would work on him. Perhaps the thrall he had on you was addling your brain. Perhaps you weren’t even really trying and just didn’t want to admit to yourself that you wanted him. It was undeniable now, with the closeness of your bodies in the suffocating air and the pounding of adrenaline in your veins. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything in your life.
His head tilted as he watched you closely then, slowly, he released your wrist. You cradled it close to your chest, hoping it was only bruised. By the look on his face, that was the least of your worries.
“So,” you said, voice cracking in the tense silence. “How about those terms?”
A humourless laugh. “You truly are shameless, aren’t you, little human?” He gripped your hair, leaning in close as if to kiss you again. But his lips found your ear instead, his fingers tightening in the damp strands.
“No deal,” he said, voice cold as ice. “If I have to drag you kicking and screaming into Hell, then so be it.”
He released you roughly, then turned and left the pool. He wrapped an enormous white towel around his waist and then left without a backwards glance. From the tight set of his shoulders, you knew it would be unwise to follow.
AU where Law piss of one demon, and for punishment he's dying every 100 days, and next deaths are more brutal than rest. He's only help is kiss of true love.
“Kings being the most powerful and commanding the most legions of Hell’s army, barring Lucifer himself.”
“Yes.”
“So if this demon is a King like we suspect, only another King could compete with him in terms of power.”
Rosi paused in splashing you with a hyssop branch soaked in holy water. “What are you getting at?”
“We summon another King of Hell. That book of yours tell you how to summon them right?”
He resumed his splashing—though he had informed you this part of the ritual was technically called ‘asperges’. He proceeded to ‘asperge’ you full force in the face.
“Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”
“Why? The summoning ritual binds the demon to your bidding for as long as the spell lasts, right?”
With little else to do confined to the cottage, you had been making your way through the seemingly never-ending pile of Rosi’s books. Most of them were in Latin or Hebrew or something even older, but a few had translations you were able to understand.
“Yes, but if something were to go wrong…”
“You’ll be there as backup.”
Rosi moved on to the next phase of the warding, ‘anointing’. You hated how the holy oils smelled and wrinkled your nose at them. Rosi ignored your look of disgust and continued anyway, touching his oil-soaked thumb to your forehead, chest, and the tip of each shoulder.
“I’m flattered you think I would be an equal match for a King of Hell.”
“Well then, I might as well move in with you permanently at this point since apparently I can’t leave these grounds for the rest of my life.”
Rosi blushed then scowled. “We’ll find another solution.” He picked up his thurible and began to swing it while walking a slow circle around you. The sweet incense made your eyes water and your throat itch, but you resisted the urge to cough.
“Father… I can’t keep doing this.” You gestured vaguely to the oils, the holy water, the crucifixes, and the candles surrounding you. “I feel so useless. I need to do something!”
He set the thurible down again, muttering the last few lines of the warding spell before turning to you.
“All right.”
You blinked. You hadn’t expected him to agree to it so easily.
“I can see how much the inactivity is eating at you, so… I’m willing to try.”
You flung your arms around his neck. “Thank you!”
He cleared his throat and pulled away. “It will be incredibly dangerous though, [Name]. We would have to wait until these wards wear off or the summoning ritual may not work… And he might be able to find you while you’re unguarded.”
“I’ll take that risk,” you said softly.
Rosi searched your face and seemed to find the resolve he was looking for. He nodded. “Then let’s prepare.”
The next evening, the two of you took Rosi’s beat up old sedan far out into the desert until you came upon a crossroads. The sun had set hours ago and the chill of the night seeped into your very bones. The land was empty for miles around.
When your phone clock struck midnight, you walked out into the middle of the road and knelt, a piece of chalk gripped firmly in one hand, your consecrated knife in the other. The rosary hung from your chest, a pendulum ticking away the time on your soul. You paused.
“What happened if this summons him?” you asked. “We still don’t know his true name.”
“The chances are slim, but not impossible.” Rosi stood a ways back, his Bible and crucifix held close to his heart, a flashlight aimed at the spot where the two roads met. “We just have to have faith.”
How like a priest, you thought, rolling your eyes.
You carefully traced the sigil you had memorised into the road, the chalk stark white against the black. Your shadow flickered and danced as you traced the letters around the edge of the summoning circle.
B E L I A L.
You straightened, looking over your shoulder nervously at Rosi. He nodded, his fingers white where they gripped the flashlight, but the beam held steady.
You cleared your throat and chanted into the night air: “Belial! Esto subiecto voluntati meae!”
There was a moment of silence where not even the wind in the dry brush by the road made a sound, then the earth began to rumble beneath your feet.
You heard Rosi curse in a rather un-priestly manner as the flashlight flickered out. But it was only for a second. When the light was restored, a man stood before you.
Not a man.
A King of Hell.
“Why have you summoned me, human?”
Belial towered over you. Not quite as tall as your demon, but an imposing figure nonetheless. His shoulder-length dark hair was smoothed back from his forehead, and a long scar bisected his face like the grin of some deadly predator. His cruel mouth was downturned in an impatient scowl.
“I have some questions for you about a… colleague of yours. Answer them, and I’ll free you from the binding circle.”
He merely grunted, examining the nails on one hand. It was only then you realised his other arm ended in a gold hook.
You swallowed. This one certainly was a character.
“I have a contract with another King. Tall, blonde, gorgeous, et cetera. Can you tell me his name?”
He looked up at you then and grinned, his golden eyes drinking you in with interest. “You’re Asmodeus’ girl.”
You drew in a sharp breath. Asmodeus. You had a name. After all these years. And names meant power.
“I’m not Asmodeus’ anything,” you scowled.
“Maybe not yet.”
“Maybe not ever. How do I break a contract?”
Belial chuckled, cold and cruel. “You can’t.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Only the demon who made it can break a contract.” His hooded eyes ran up the length of your body, so slowly it made you skin crawl. “And if I were him, sweetheart, I would never let you go.”
You gave him a disgusted look. “Cool it, big guy. There has to be some way. What if I made a deal with another demon?”
He was back to looking bored again. “You have nothing to bargain with. Your soul is claimed already. Even I could not override another King’s binding word.”
You cursed and glanced at your phone. The midnight hour was ticking away. You needed answers and you needed them soon, before the binding spell wore off.
“Fine,” you growled. “Then how do I kill him?”
Belial laughed, long and loud. It was a sound that silenced even the bravest of insects that had dared to chirp in the presence of a King.
“You? Kill a demon king? Oh, how I wish I had been the one to answer your summons all those years ago. I see why he likes you. You have the heart of a demon, girl.”
“Answer the fucking question.”
He shrugged. “The answer is irrelevant. Unless you happen to have a Holy artifact lying around?”
You pulled out the consecrated knife. “Like this?”
He laughed again. “That toothpick? I doubt you’d even get close enough to use it. No, it will take something far more powerful than that.” His eyes shifted to Rosi, who paled under the demon’s gaze. “Perhaps you should ask your priest about it.”
You sighed. It was clear the demon was done being helpful. “Well, I wish I could say this has been enlightening…” You made a dismissing motion with your hand. “Vade, Belial.”
Belial’s eyes narrowed. “You promised you would free me, little human,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I lied. Have fun back in Hell.”
You waved cheerfully as a look of rage crossed the demon’s face, but before he could lunge for you, there was a gust of hot, sulphurous wind and, just like that, the demon was gone, the chalk circle disintegrating into dust on the breeze.
You let out a long, slow breath. “I better hope I don’t meet him in Hell. That’ll be an awkward conversation.”
Rosi huffed a laugh. “With any luck, one you’ll never have.”
The two of you turned to walk back to the car.
“You were right. That was a waste of time.”
Rosi shook his head. “Not completely. What he said about holy artifacts, if I can—"
The desert had gone silent again.
The two of you looked up at the same time to find a figure leaned against the hood of the car. The lenses of his red glasses glinted in the light of the torch, along with a white-toothed grin. You and Rosi both stopped in your tracks, from your own accord or the demon’s power, you could not be sure.
“Asmodeus,” you breathed.
The demon tilted his head slightly. “Someone’s been a busy little bee.” He pushed off the car and approached you, a hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your cheek. “I missed you.”
You shut down the urge to lean into his touch. “Can’t say the feeling’s mutual.”
Asmodeus hummed. “Give it time. Now what could you and my old friend Belial possibly have to talk about, hm? Do I need to be jealous?”
You flinched away from his fingers as he twirled one absentmindedly in your hair.
“Just wondering if he was taking applications for a Queen. Gotta keep my options open, y’know?”
The grip on your hair was suddenly vice-like, forcing you to look him in the face. His grin was gone.
“I do not take lightly to being teased, my dear,” he hissed. “If you were searching for a way out of this contract, you’d be better off propositioning Lucifer himself. And I can assure you, the Lord of the Abyss is not nearly as lenient as I am.”
The two of you glared at each other for one long moment, then he released you. “No matter. Your time is almost up. I can feel your willpower waning and I am nothing if not patient.” He finally took notice of Rosi and his grin was back, wider than before. “I remember you.”
Rosi’s lips had gone white, his whole body trembling. But it wasn’t fear you saw in his eyes, but hatred.
“You,” he hissed, seemingly too angry to form words. You had never even seen the priest raise his voice, let alone be rendered speechless by rage.
“I’m delighted you remember me, holy man. How long has it been, 20 years? A mere blink of the eye for me, of course.”
“How dare you take his form.”
You looked between the two, confused. Then it clicked. In the dim light it was hard to tell, but when you thought about it, there was a distinct resemblance between the two men—one man, one demon—before you.
“How dare you take the form of my brother!”
You stared at the two in horror. How had you not seen it before? How had you not made the connection? Standing before you was the image of Rosi’s dead brother, as if he had never been dead at all. As if he had lived to see his 30s.
Asmodeus laughed, his hands running over his chest with reverence. “I was not strong enough back then to choose my form, only able to possess those of weaker mind and body. But now I can choose any form I wish, and this form pleases me. Especially certain… assets.”
You blushed. You had seen those assets. And you hated to admit that you agreed.
“Rosi… Rosi we need to get out of here,” you pleaded. But Rosi could not—or would not—hear you.
“You killed him. You destroyed him from the inside and you left him to DIE! You vile piece of filth! You—” He seemed to struggle for words again.
The demon was clearly enjoying himself. “’You’ what? Foul beast from the pit? Putrid fiend of the ninth circle? I’ve heard them all, little priest. You can do better than that.”
But Rosi was clearly beyond insults. He raised his crucifix, forcing the demon to take a step back. Then he began chanting in Latin in the easy flow of someone who had spoken the words a thousand times before.
“Priinceps gloriosissime cælestis militiæ, sancte Michaël Archangele, defende nos in prælio et colluctatione…”
The demon hissed and took another step back. You blinked. It was the first time you had seen him balk. But it didn’t last long.
A vein pulsing at his temple, Asmodeus raised his hand, pointing one long finger at the crucifix. It burst into flames. Rosi screamed and dropped it on the tarmac, the flame extinguishing instantly on impact. He fell to his knees clutching his wrist, his hand red and blistered and smelling sickeningly of charred flesh.
You swore, making to run to the priest’s side, but the demon’s power held you in place. Bored with the priest now he now longer presented a threat, Asmodeus turned his attention to you once more.
“I hope you have not placed your faith in him, my dear. He seems woefully unequipped.”
“Fuck you.” Your voice was barely a whisper.
He only grinned. “Oh, you will.” He planted a swift kiss on your lips and then he was gone, the sounds of desert night returning in his wake.
((doodles i did a while ago of a reverse au, where demon dofy is a waiter and bellamy is a self conscious hungry demon. also don (no longer a demon dofy) thinks bellamy is just a pastel-goth-cosplayer and not a real demon))
((bellamy’s apartment is right above the cafe. sometimes on his day off he’ll go downstairs and use the cafe’s kitchen. (the one in his apartment is smol - i’ll prob draw the layout later)
notes from this
flashback is referring to this
lets be honest, bellamy likes “bad” boys (demon doffy has always been super nice to sad hyena boi) plus bellamy’s already smitten with demon doffy.
technically he haven't met temperance yet))
"Yo. Guess what. You're shorter than me. I'm 10' and guess what I'm gonna do." The man grabs the waiters hand and presses a swift, chaste kiss on his knuckles. "May I order an espresso, double shot please. Oh! With a bit of caramel if it's not too much trouble."
