Imagine being a normal demon in Devildom and managing to piss MC off, and suddenly the entire government is breathing down your neck. Devildom Prince and his Butler, the freaking seven demons of Avatars of Sins, the strongest Sorcerer of Humanity, high ranking Angels, and also a literal Grim Reaper. Wait, don't forget MC's admirers cuz they canonically got a lot of 'em.
Ways in which You, the MC, raise the Characters Blood Pressure
All characters, except Luke
Cw: suggestive, spoilers and lesson 16 mentions.
Lucifer
You arranged the bottles of liquor in his study. It is order, you claim. In height and color, but for Lucifer it is chaos. It is a mess, he declares, his hands having to re-route every time they search for the intended bottle.
You do not wear weather-appropriate clothing. Look at the waistcoat on him, MC, with gloves and a dramatic flair which mimics a peacock. It is about to snow, and you do not have a jacket on. You're not cold, you affirm, but the goosebumps on your skin say otherwise. What a pity, here, have his coat.
You send him those god-awful, brainrot reels on Devilgram and expect him to watch every single one. Not his feed, not his brick, but it is there thanks to you.
You decide to climb the shelves to reach for the jar of choco-chip cookies. Yes, demons are taller, but please just use a stepping stool or ask for assistance. Imagine his plight when he walks into the kitchen half-dead from exhaustion and sees you scaling the shelves like a monkey, feet and hands gripping the wood for dear life.
You act flamboyant. Not too much, but with your head held high and that smirk on your face, fully aware of your capability and achievements, throwing him a sly glance as he takes the coat off your shoulders at a ball in the Demon Lord's castle. It gets him weak.
You participate in his brothers tomfoolery. They decided it would be a great idea to rearrange the dining room's furniture. Everyone is bickering about the ideal placement, there are streaks on the floor, and is that fire???!!! Mammon he can string up in the living room, Satan and Belphegor can be on bathroom cleaning duty, but you—what does he even do with you?? When you sheepishly apologise and give that godforsaken smile, he has no choice but to relent.
You get a little too buddy-buddy with Solomon. He's from the human world, sure, it is natural to bond with one of your kind, but when he sees you two together with almost identical smirks on your faces his brows furrow. In resignation. And a little bit of trepidation. What are you planning, MC?
Mammon
You threatened to take away Goldie when he did not listen to you. Stack it away nicely in a place where he can't reach it. Maybe the freezer. Maybe the toaster. He doesn't know.
You run headfirst into danger. Listen, Mammon knows you are very strong. Capable and headstrong. But please, please, MC, thats an Abyss Snake! Those creatures have venom so potent it can obliterate demons, and you are a human! Blessed, even though, but still, have some consideration for his heart before he runs after you, who is insistent on petting it.
You get a little too close to others. Nothing wrong with that, but his brain can't stop but cry out in protest. Biology deems it so. He's your first man! Don't you forget it! Lesser demons don't get too close though, because his scowl is enough of a warning. And he's not just all bark. Second-oldest, don't you forget.
You own him. Others demons trying to get close to him, subtly trying to slot their bodies against him at a club, or even in public. You glare and with ease tug Mammon towards you, until your lips nearly touch, intent on showing them that he's not available. Only for you.
You ate his noodles, leaving none for him.
You don't pick up his calls when you're in the human world. Crows he can send in every corner of the Devildom to look for you, assured of your safety and wellbeing. But in the human world, he can't. Six missed calls, MC, better pick up the seventh, before he decides to conjure a portal and come down there.
Leviathan
You criticised the figurine in his room. It looks weird, you say, like a blob of soup. It's magic munchkin from Igotreincarnatedinto soupduringtheTangdynasty, he says. Normies don't appreciate art. Hmpgh.
You cosplayed as Henry 2.0. and crept into his room at 3 am. Imagine his plight when he opens his eyes because he feels as if someone is watching him, only to see you decked out in full fish, contacts and all. He woke up the whole house with that scream.
You don't react to every single Devilgram reel he sends you. Friends send each other reels, sure, but these are fifty reels in a span of an hour. Just an hour.
You denied sleeping in the bathtub with him when you came over to his room for movie night, choosing to sleep in your bed instead. You claim its because the bathtub is uncomfortable. He assumes its because you hate his presence. Please just bring a mattress next time, MC, our Envy Avatar is in low spirits.
You take control. Shoving him against his chair, sitting on top of him as if you own him. Your smile is just a tad cruel, hands finding their way to the spots where he reacts the most. It makes him go blank. Please don't stop please please please
You stare at another demon too long. His envy can't help but take over. What is it that the demon have that he does not? What is it that enchants you so? Self-loathing follows after.
You forget to send him AP and receive it from your daily in-game logins. Sin.
Satan
You took the liberty of arranging the pile of books in his room. Like Lucifer, he has a natural order for them in mind, which you disrupted. Physics on the left, biology on the right and astronomy in the middle. Now its alll goneeee. No order. Chaos, however orderly they make appear.
You pet a cat and did not send him a picture. He knows from the cat fur on your clothes and the happiness on your face. Where is the kitty, MC, send him a pic now. He needs to meet the feline.
You asked Solomon for help with your studies. Sure, he's a very, very renowned sorcerer with whom even the demon likes to debate with, but study sessions are you and Satan's thing. Not with Solomon. Now you have got two intellectuals helping you study, as Satan acts passive-aggressive towards the sorcerer.
You two throw debates on random topics head to head. Intelligence is sexy, and that smile when you've outwitted him? Satan is about to swoon like a Victorian woman.
You don't walk alongside him. MC has the habit of frolicking along the path like a sheep. Cute. Maybe they have a faster pace than him. But he can't help but feel as if you are trying to avoid walking alongside him, unintentional that may be.
You add irrelevant items to the shopping cart when you both are out. Stick to the budget MC, stick to the budget, Satan chides, as he slips in a pack of the chocolate you prefer into the cart.
Asmodeus
You used a beauty product which he hates. Yes, that chaos snail cream is trending right now, but it gave him breakouts! Stop that, MC, here, use this instead!
You don't comment on his latest post/story/reel. You've been too busy with studies and Sorcerer society, we know. But you know he anticipates your comments the most! He wants YOU to look at him!!! Admire him!! You better add some heart emojis next time, MC.
You insist on cleaning together. He denies. At first. Complains all throughout, then insists on taking a bath together to get cleaned off.
You go out in public wearing an outfit that would have been put together by the enemy of fashion themselves. No, MC, you're so sexy haha please don't go out like that, when you've got Asmodeus right here to style you! He's already taking off your jacket and shoes, ready to drape you in finery. Always looking like a snack, his MC.
You see him for him, not for Asmodeus, Jewel of the Heavens. Your Asmodeus. Not the public image of him, not the impression he's curated of himself, but just the the person you see at home. At his most vulnerable. This sets him on fire like nothing else. Also when you match his freak
You insist on doing his nails. He's sweating for his life as you work on his fingernails. A very interesting choice of color there, MC, and oh, this nail buffer, seems a bit too.....rough.
Beelzebub
You don't look both ways before crossing the street. Sure, you are an accomplished sorcerer, but the inhabitants of the Devildom are still getting used to the law and order declared by Prince. That includes speed limits. His heart nearly jumps into his mouth during those moments.
You surprise him after his Fangol match. Him, all sweaty and red in the face. You, electrolyte in hand and that saccharine-sweet smile on your face that makes him weak. You could shove him against the wall and he would crumble.
You don't think before taking risks. Nothing peeves Beelzebub more than when you disregard your own safety. Please think twice before making hasty decisions that involve potential injury. For his sake, please, and the integrity of your physical body. Let him fuss over you.
You don't try your hair after you bathe/shower. You'll get a cold, he says, and a hairdryer is already in his hand. Sit down MC, and let Beel dry your hair. It will be quick.
You go out without him to eat. Eating together is love for Beel, nothing better than sharing a meal with your partner. So please don't deprive him of your company, MC, food tastes better when you are there with him.
You kill a fly. That was his friend, MC. His pal.
Belphegor
You downplay your injuries. Anyone who saw you fall down the stairs in the library knows that it would have hurt. You laughed and walked it off. He noticed the way your pace faltered, the hiss of pain when no one was looking. Please, take care of yourself, MC.
You leave hair ties around the house. Belphegor woke up to one next to his pillow, another on the RAD bench. One on top of the cabinet. And it drives him crazy. You're wondering how your supply of hair ties is running out fast, meanwhile, his supply is full, ready to be given when desired.
You put him in his place. He knows he's bratty at times, being the youngest comes with its own traits. When you bite back at him, grabbing him by the hair, showing him how brats are treated, he's gone. A demon deceased. At your mercy.
You make cow puns. Yes, he can talk to cows, yes, his clothes have a similar pattern. But enough with the jokes now, MC, go along and get mooooving—
You take his favourite pillow to be washed. It is dirty indeed, but Belphegor cannot sleep without it. He's sitting by the washing machine and waiting. Until its ready to be used again.
You crack your fingers. The sound can't help but remind him of that time when you fell down the stairs, and he watched from above in damned glee—until he saw the expression on his brothers faces and the way you gasped in pain. Please do not do it in front of him.
Diavolo
You decide to serve him pickles. It's good to try new things, you say, content on eating your own serving of pickles. Diavolo stares at the offending item as if it has committed regicide.
You make him finish his work. Yes, there is a pile of reports waiting to be signed, but its only a ten minute break, MC, what harm can it do? You're like Barbatos sometimes, hovering over him. Maybe if he jumped out the window to make an escape it might work.
You challenge his authority. Diavolo has been questioned plenty of times in the past, when he was still new to governance without his father overseeing affairs. The House of Lords opposed many of his orders. But you, you are different. Standing in front of him, challenging his opinion, so bold in stating your opinion and your claim. On him. Only him. Excuse his meetings for an hour, minimum, there is a very urgent matter right in front of him, one whose wishes he's willing to bend to eagerly.
You team up with Solomon. Diavolo cannot tell what you two are planning. Nothing but chaos is guaranteed. He's already bracing himself for a surprise.
You refuse to accept his gifts. You deserve the best of the best. What do you mean, MC, that this hundred thousand jewellery set is too much? that the piles of gifts outside your room is too much? None of that now, none of that.
You wear a strong perfume. His nose is sensitive, and the scent is so harsh that it makes him nauseous. Too polite to comment, he silently bears it while you wonder as to why he keeps leaning out of the window. Maybe there's something going on outside.
Barbatos
You don't tie your hair up while cooking. It gives him the ick like nothing else can, and before you can even start on chopping up the potatoes he's already working on tying your hair, clips and a headband magically appearing.
You showed him Ratatouille. Barbatos dropped the item he was holding. You thought he had gone catatonic after.
You serve him instead. He's accustomed to being the one assisting others, but when you do it it's different. When you straighten out his tie in the way you deem satisfactory, hands running down his chest for a brief moment, he's a demon gone.
You decide to make tea incorrectly, or incorrect in his eyes. The temperature has to be a perfect 40 degree celsius, MC. Ginger has to be shredded, not cut. Milk has to be warm, not straight from the fridge. MC—just let him—he'll do it. Just sit down and he'll make you a cup. With a bloody strawberry pastry.
You went inside his room, and ten different versions of you came out. He had to spend an hour trying to ensure all your versions did not meet each other, with Diavolo asking for him every fifteen minutes.
You go to the port market without him. Sacrilege. When he sees you with fresh groceries in hand, Barbatos feels betrayed. Without him?! He'll subtly make quips at you, and the next outing will be at the port, and you're going to be besides him. For safety, he says.
Simeon
You decided to stay at Purgatory Hall for the night, but not in his room. See, MC, he has a bed right here for you! And cookies!! Four pillows!! Please don't deprive him of your company.
You fold clothes incorrectly. The sleeve is hanging out, wrinkles already forming on a pair of trousers. The handkerchief is crumbled up into a ball. Simeon just sighs. Takes the clothes from your hands, gently sets it aside.
You act as the knight in shining armour. Sweeping in with just what he needs. He gazes at you in longing, perhaps one of a thousand years. Just kiss him MC, he'll be so good. He promises.
You text him in lingo he does not understand. "So true, bestie." ??? "Not very sigma of them." ???? "I've got major tea about the two demons who made a ruckus during curses and hexes." Tea???? Send him some reels, MC, maybe then he will get it.
You chew on a pen. People do it when they're in deep thought. Sure. But Simeon can't help it when he sees the indentations left on the body and the head. That poor pen. Crime committed.
You decided to teach Luke slang. Now he's cursing like a sailor. What will he do now, MC? Look at that sweet boy, now yapping. You've spoiled him with bad influences. How will he undo this?
Solomon
You don't sit on his lap. Never mind that there are plenty of seats around. His lap is the best seat. The chair on which you are currently sitting on feels like nettles. The sofa is too hot. His lap is the only option left.
You get a little too close to Asmodeus for his comfort. Solomon can't help but feel a pang of jealousy in his heart when you warm up to him. He's not so subtly interrupting you both, and acts as if everything is alright. Yeah, just apply that facemask on him too, he'll eat the cucumber.
You shove him into a nearby closet or an empty classroom. He barely has time to breathe before you are on him, hands fisting in his shirt, all his senses occupied by you. It drives him mad like nothing other.
You wake him up in the morning. He's catatonic at that hour. Any attempts to wake him up will be met with groans and grunts. Shaking him awake does not work. Mandatorily kisses are prescribed to wake him right up. Doctor, he needs them to wake up!
You deny his help. He knows you're a capable sorcerer, your power immeasurable. But let yourself rely on him sometimes, he's more than happy to help you. He'll drop everything to come to the aid of his beloved apprentice.
You dress up to go outside, expectedly staring at him. Solomon's sweating bullets internally, wondering if he missed a date. A special event. His book lies abandoned while he racks his brain. Was it today? Or tomorrow? Oh no no no no
Thirteen
You brought a bug in the house once. Claimed it cute and adorable. Thirteen climbed on top of the closet, did not come down till you let it outside. Banned, she tells you, from bringing them inside.
You didn't admire her latest creation well enough. She spent such a long time on it, MC! The giant bazooka!! And you gave it a glance and nodded!! Her heart!!
You get too chummy with Solomon. She declares it a crime. His cooking made her see stars during the day, and she woke up a whole day later on top of a bridge. Why do you have to hang out with that loathed sorcerer, MC?
You give her that smug smirk of yours, and she feels weak in the knees. Getting too close to her, acting so nonchalant. Her heart is doing cartwheels in her chest.
Mephistopheles
You forget titles while referring to Lord Diavolo. It's "Your Majesty," and "Lord Diavolo," MC. Don't be so rude towards his sovereign. He'll spend the whole day correcting you.
You ruffle his hair. Such an innocent gesture, but Mephistopheles can't help but stutter when you do it so casually. He's stuttering. Face hot.
You don't read the latest edition of the R.A.D. newspaper. He spent so long proofreading and collecting information, MC. And you still haven't read it. The demon is hurt. Better read it now, MC.
You bring out a chihuahua from your bag and place it on the desk. During a meeting. The tiny thing trembles. He sighs.
Raphael
You sew hastily. He can see the haphazardly put together stitches. Raphael is already gesturing you over, needle in hand. Sit down and let him fix it.
You find yourself in trouble due to the brothers shenanigans. He walks out of Purgatory Hall and sees you upside down on a tree. He sighs. Takes his spear and removes the branch, catches you in his arms.
You manhandle him. Something about the way in which you effectively guide him away from your path by grabbing his hips, or even pulling him closer gets him going.
You stop him from sampling Solomon's cooking. Its a culinary delight, he says. It is assault on the tastebuds, you claim. He's offended, already grabbing a spoonful of his food. Heaven, he sighs.
LUCIFER likes your hair. He tells people that it's because when he's tense because of work, just playing with your hair soothes his nerves.
But really? It's just because your hair provides him something to hold on to when he's fucking you from behind. When his black gloves are entangled with your hair, “Come on love, arch that back more..!” he darkly chuckled while forcing your head closer, your sobs now clearer to his ears.
MAMMON likes your back, especially that dip above your hips where he usually puts his hand when guiding you through spaces.
But behind closed doors, it's actually because everytime he sees your back, it reminds him of times when it's filled with bite marks and hickeys, and how whenever your back hurts, nine times out of ten it's because of his dick.
LEVIATHAN likes your hands. He loves how warm they are compared to his cold ones. It reminds him you're there. How you caress his face when you kiss him and how you pet his hair.
But sometimes, it's because he likes seeing the way his cum is pooling on your palms after you jerked him off for the nth time that night, “F-Fuck...! I'm sorry, I came T-Too fast again... Here, let me clean your hands—oh... Y-You don't have to lick it...”
SATAN likes your cunt though and he's not shy about it. Sometimes, people would ask him what's his favorite part of you and he will just smile and say, “The part only I know. A hint? Hmm... It's always dripping.”
He seriously likes it, for a gentleman, he's quiet fast to get down on his knees as soon as he saw you bent over. In fact, his favorite hobby might just be eating you from behind.
ASMODEUS likes every part of you. “My favorite part? Hmm... I like every part of my love. You don't really get to think about what's your favorite when you like everything.” He says when asked.
But really? It's because there's no part of you the avatar of lust can't fuck. There's nothing not hot about you, there's nothing about you that doesn't make him horny and there's nothing about you that doesn't make him think of bending you over right then and there and breeding you.
BEELZEBUB likes your stomach. It doesn't matter if it's flat or chubby or bloated. It doesn't matter. What matters is that he can hug you from behind while squeezing the life out of your body. What can he say, the teddy bear got his own teddy bear.
And what really matters is how hot you look when you're getting pounded every night. The way he would wrap his hands around your tummy, the way you can't escape from his grasps is what matters.
BELPHEGOR likes your thighs because, “It's where I sleep. I have my pillow? Yeah, so what? I have a lover too.” is his reason, and honestly, it's because when he sleeps in your thighs, you can't move, can't talk to other people but him. Hitting two birds with one stone he says.
Though behind closed doors, it's because when he eats you out and your thighs lock around his head brings him unparalleled arousal, it gets better when he has to separate them apart and you can't stop him.
DIAVOLO likes your nails! He pays for them specifically, it doesn't matter whether it's acrylic or natural, he likes seeing you use your hand and remind him that he spends money on you.
Though, he keeps them long. That's his only rule when paying for your nails. It stops you from fucking yourself and it causes visible marks all over his body when he fucks you raw and impales you on his dick. That's why he works out on his back, so you have a larger space to scratch.
BARBATOS likes your ass. Though when asked about it, he tends to just smile and say that his answer is private or rather not work appropriate.
It's because it's one of the only places he can leave his mark on, he especially likes it when his hand print is plastered all across it, also when you can't sit down because of it. Guess you'll just have to show up to his room late at night to ask him to apply ointment, but we all know it's going to end up with even more handprint.
SIMEON likes your face. He thinks it's angelic and he makes sure you know it but showering you with kisses every waking moments beside him. He treasures you deeply. That's for every morning.
Every night, kisses is not what covers your face but rather his cum. When he sits at the edge of his bed and you kneel between his thighs as you stroke his cock until his cum drips all over your face is another reason why he likes it.
SOLOMON likes that space between your cunt and your thighs but he couldn't say it in public now can he? So instead he just laughs it off and says it's your thick, warm heart.
He found out about it accidentally. When you were punishing him and not letting him fuck your tiny hole, you decided to put his dirty cock between your thighs right and he came in an instant. There's just something about seeing how deep his cock goes that makes him cum
MEPHISTOPHELES likes your legs. He respects both women and men and would never in his life oggle them. But somehow when it comes to you, he just can't help but stare down and watch when you wear something tight.
His breaking point was this one party where you wore heels and tight bottoms and he just had to have you, even if it means hurting your ankles because of how hard he's been plowing you.
RAPHAEL is innocent, it takes him some time to answer so you answered it for him. “It's obviously my tits.” and he was flabbergasted, snapping his head to your direction with a questioning look, “It's because it's the closest to my heart.” You added. He believed it, though he's still suspicious.
You noticed it when he was fucking you, he never likes to hit it from the back, you asked him why once and he answered with a breathless “I don't know... D-Don't know...” while he sucks your nipples. You sure do know though.
THIRTEEN likes her tits but she likes your tits better. And she's not afraid to say it, “My favorite part hmm?” she will then grab your tits through your clothes, “These are the best! Sad to say you'll never feel them~”
The first time you fucked her, it was apparent that she pays much more attention to your tits, always sucking your nipples even if she's on the verge of passing out from the continuous orgasms.
The folks at Purgatory Hall were being oddly... handsy.
You went there as an escape. A way to avoid the chaos and over-the-top pranking that crops up in the House of Lamentation every year on April 1st.
But Simeon and Solomon practically glued themselves to your side the moment you stepped through the foyer. They kept poking and prodding you and inventing the most asinine excuses for doing so.
"Ah! You have a leaf in your hair," Simeon said, circling behind you to mess with the back of your head.
"Wait, here's another," Solomon added. You didn't actually feel anything until the two spotted the leaves. Then it felt like your hair was full of them.
This went on for, admittedly, longer than you should have allowed. Sandwiched between the two with their hands persistently trailing down your back, you couldn't lean back comfortably on the couch. You couldn't get up to go look in a mirror. You couldn't think straight, too busy fighting the ticklish touch of their fingers over the back of your ribs while they smirked at each other.
Before you even got the chance to ask, "Why are you guys acting so weird?", Luke wandered over with a tray of fresh cream puffs. He, too, kept coming up with excuses to tap you on the sleeve or tie your shoelaces. He adjusted your socks. The pampering was excessive.
Raphael was the only one to keep his distance. However, he was constantly staring in your direction and shaking his head. He would make a great member of the PDA police with Leviathan.
Raphael kept to himself, only occasionally approaching for a cream puff, to frown at you for behaviors outside of your control, and once to ask Solomon if he would be making dinner that evening ("please don't even joke about that," you asked. "I'm serious, though? It's been too long since we last enjoyed Solomon's cooking," Raphael replied).
Everything became transparent after Solomon reached a little too low. You felt, for the briefest moment, a tap on the small of your back. You involuntarily shivered, sending strips of colorful square paper fluttering to the floor.
"What is that?" you asked, finding a topic to focus on before your embarrassment became evident.
"Nothing you need to worry about," Simeon quickly assured. He gave your back one last prod, right over the spine, before saying, "Here, I'll pick it up."
You were faster. Reaching over to pick one up caused three more to cascade down. The incessant touching finally stopped.
"Aahaha," Simeon laughed. "You found them."
You studied the strips, turning them around in your hand as they fell off you like leaves from a tree. They were like thin post-its.
"Looks like our fun ends here," Solomon said.
"Mine aren't falling off!" Luke boasted. "They're all still on. That means I win."
"Not yet, we haven't counted," Simeon said.
"But we should, fast." Solomon had the nerve to ask, "Can you stop moving for a moment?" while you were still confused, holding blank bits of paper with no explanation.
Luke clenched his fists and shifted from one foot to the other. He hovered in front of you. "Don't forget to count the ones under their shoe."
"Do those count? I wonder..." Solomon mused.
Luke insisted, "They do!"
You interrupted their banter with a slightly annoyed tone. "What is going on?"
"They're playing some frivolous prank," Raphael explained. You noticed he had a spot of cream stuck to his cheek. "They wanted to see who could stick the most paper to you before you noticed. They called it 'holiday fun,' despite being well past the age of childish games."
"And I think I won," Simeon announced, waving a wad of green slips. "16 pieces."
Solomon stroked his chin with 15 strips of white paper. "I think we need a recount. Or perhaps a round two?"
