#om! writing

[inb4belphienaps]

i realize it takes a lot of audacity for me to come here after abandoning this account and plug my writing BUT UM IDK MAN

kinda rly proud of this work? so uhh if u wanna read it, great, if u dont, no worries

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

just about lucifer and his trials n tribulations lmao

[luci-four]

Catnap {Diavolo x Reader/MC}

A/N: a fic in which i wanted diavolo to experience PAIN but also know he is L O V E D because i couldnt help but remember that he once said asmo never invites him to parties and it broke my frozen heart,

{Diavolo x Reader/MC}

Diavolo’s eyes were downcast as he walked along, listening to Barbatos drone on about his schedule for the rest of the day. Of course, he knew it was important and definitely something he needed to do as it was his duty, yet, he couldn’t help but long for a sense of freedom. He longed for a time he could simply be himself, not worry about his princely duties—he longed for something, he just wasn’t quite sure what. Of course, he knew Barbatos was simply doing his own job, but it didn’t stop the prince from zoning out. He could hear the shorter man give an exasperated sigh before repeating his last few sentences. Maybe a walk around R.A.D.’s campus would help him focus.

It wasn’t helping. He sighed during the entire walk, each time getting a little more dramatic; he hunched his shoulders and slouched a bit more with each heave, dragging his feet along the ground as though he were a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. His pitch was whiny, and he secretly did feel bad for his unbecoming behaviour towards Barbatos, but he couldn’t help himself.  

As though it were a beam of light on a cloudy day, something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and turned his entire mood around. Without raising Barbatos’ suspicion—or so he thought—his gaze honed in on a small, stray kitten walking along the path behind the shorter man. His face instinctually turned to one mixed with shock and adoration, both attempted to hide behind the thin veil of collectiveness. Golden eyes kept flickering from his butler to the tiny mammal behind him.

“As I said before, after meeting with Lucifer to go over the budget for...” Barbatos scrunched his nose before interrupting himself. “My lord, you aren’t paying attention again.”

“What?” Diavolo’s shoulders stiffened as he let out a half-hearted laugh, “Of course I am!”

“.....What are you distracted by?”

“It’s nothing! Wait--”  

Before Diavolo’s outstretched hand could stop him, Barbatos turned to lock eyes with the kitten that had caught his liege's attention. He held his stare as if the two of them had a contest going without so much as a word, until the kitten had meowed up at him.

“It’s talking to you!”

“I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be mean to it, it’s cute!”

“My lord, we do need to get through this schedule for the day--”

“I’d much rather sit with this kitten.”

Diavolo quickly jumped at the chance to get down on all fours to level with the kitten, ignoring Barbatos’ pleas for him to not ruin his uniform. He cooed as the kitten rubbed against his face, meowing softly at him in response to his badly-attempted meows, and rolled onto its back to play with one of the pendants hanging off of his coat. A genuine laugh erupted from the man as he pet the creature.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Lord Diavolo, however we do need to get going now--”

“I’ve decided to keep it!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What!”

Like a child who was told no in the toy store—or a better comparison would have been a kicked puppy—Diavolo looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pouting lip. He mumbled to himself, about being the prince and frankly doing whatever he’d like, as though he truly were a child.

“My lord, a cat in the castle would be a terrible idea. You are too busy to see to one--”

“You could do it!”

“--and I’m too busy ensuring you’re taken care of to worry about the cat as well.”

Diavolo groaned and rose to his feet, keeping his back towards Barbatos. After agreeing that he would be right, he attempted to walk off and change the subject towards the schedule Barbatos was so adamant about, only to jolt to a stop as the butler cleared his throat.

“My lord--”

“I thought you said we were busy!” Diavolo chuckled, attempting to continue again, “Let’s go!”

“The cat, my lord.”

“It ran into the bushes--”

“Please take the cat out of your coat pocket.”

Hanging his head as he was caught, he placed the kitten gently onto the path, watching it scamper away, chasing after some sort of bug. He crossed his arms and jutted his lip out into a pout, keeping his glare just a tad icy towards Barbatos. Again, he was aware he was just doing his job, but the kitten was so adorable and just the distraction he felt that he needed, and his friend simply just wouldn’t allow him to have it; so, he listened. He listened intensively, absorbing each word Barbatos had thrown him and repeated key points to prove he had listened. His eyes, however, flickered to the small animal who kept running in and out of the bushes, tempting his willpower and attention an embarrassing amount.

Before he had realized it, however, one of the seven brothers had also been walking along campus. Noticing the two of them talk, Satan minded his own business and only stopped as a kitten randomly appeared in his path. Without so much as a second thought, he scooped the animal up and kept on his way, not realizing the heartbroken, utter shock that had washed over the Devildom’s prince.

“That seems to be the end of it, Lord Diavolo. Shall we move on to our meeting--”

“Did you see that!”

Barbatos tilted his head and looked behind him where Diavolo had been pointing; he used all of his might not to raise an eyebrow at his boss.

“See... what, exactly?”

“The--”

“If you’re going to mention the cat again, then please forgive me for cutting you off. We simply cannot have the cat.”

“But Satan took it!”

“Ah, then you should take solace in knowing that cat is well taken care of. Now, moving on to our meeting, my lord.”

Without so much as another word, Barbatos ushered Diavolo off towards their next location, the cat never left his mind.

***

By the end of the day, MC had noticed something weighing on the prince. He seemed sluggish, lost in thought, a million miles away in those eyes as they sat across the room from him. During the rare moment he sat alone, MC approached him casually.

“Hey,” they leaned against the edge of his desk, “something on your mind?”

“Oh? Was it obvious?”

“I’m just a really good guesser.”

Diavolo leaned back in his chair and shot them an award-winning smile, the hearty, whimsical laugh he’s known for followed suit.

“Then that must be your version of magic, interesting. I’ll admit there is something on my mind that I just can’t shake.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

Before MC could even get the last syllable out, Diavolo slammed his hands on the desk and stood instantly. He leaned in towards them with wide eyes and a slight pout, not noticing that his sudden closeness caused MC to swallow hard.

“Satan took my cat!”

“..... I’m sorry, what?”

“My cat! He took it!”

“You... had a cat?”

“Yes! No! Kind of?”

“Diavolo, not to sound rude but... I’m really not following.”

He sat back down and bit the inside of his cheek, sighing heavily before explaining himself.

“There was this kitten, outside, it was absolutely adorable. The roundest little face, big eyes, soft fur—it was tiny, too! Just the perfect little thing, and I wanted to take it home! Take care of it! But--”

“But?” MC dragged out their syllables.

“But,” Diavolo mimicked their actions, “Barbatos said it was impossible to take care of a cat as of now. He refused to let me take it, and not only that, but I had to watch in silence as Satan came along and took the cat as his own!”

“Well, if Satan took it--”

“Then it’s in good hands, yes, Barbatos said the same; that isn’t the point!”  

Diavolo held his tongue on what truly bothered him, hoping that MC-the-great-guesser wouldn’t take notice that his burst of emotions dug much deeper than just a little cat he met outside. A thought passed his mind and it clicked for him—a plan—he'd have to think more about. He composed himself, stood up and straightened out his coat before shooting another large, fake smile towards the human.

“Anyway, I have other meetings to get to, unfortunately. It is my duty, after all. My apologies for being so... emotional, but thank you for lending me your time.”

MC’s eyes followed as he stiffly walked from the room. He may have been the prince of Devildom, but MC couldn’t hide the smile on their lips towards his childish behaviour they grew to find endearing. They did wonder what deeper emotions were hidden behind his need for the cat, however.

***

Relaxing by the window, MC was startled to hear a light knock against the glass in the middle of the night. Terrified, they very slowly turned their head to meet face to face with a disheveled prince, smiling from ear to ear. Tossing fear and confusion aside, they rushed to open the window and called out to him in a hushed tone.

“Diavolo? What are you doing here? I mean... here, and also, at my window.” They grabbed his hands and helped him start to climb in. “There is a front door, you know. I’m pretty sure Lucifer wants you to use it. Should I let him know you’re here--”

“No!” Diavolo cried as he fell forward through the window. He sat up as though nothing had happened. “I’m here in secret, please keep it between the two of us!”

“Al...right, but why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it is the middle of the night, and you know it seems...” They couldn’t finish their statement due to nerves and turned away to keep the red on their cheeks hidden.

“Hm? Oh, about that!” He stood up suddenly, “I’m going on an adventure! Come with me!”

“Shh! You’re the one who said this was a ‘secret visit’, so keep your voice down!”

“Right!” He lowered his voice, “I’m going on an adventure, so come with me.”

“Where exactly is your adventure going to lead us? Does Barbatos know--”

“No, he does not and he doesn’t need to!”  

Diavolo’s eyebrows were drawn together, nose scrunched in irritation. He sighed and shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile on his lips.

“My apologies, I mean, this isn’t a matter that concerns Barbatos. I came to you for assistance this time, I thought perhaps we could have some fun; what do you say?”

MC twisted their lips to the side, eyeing whatever the tall man was hiding; it didn’t take much to see that he was, in fact, hiding something... but what was it? They nodded, agreeing to whatever plan he may have, knowing they couldn’t just let the prince of Devildom run off and make childish mistakes on his own. MC would get in trouble with Barbatos at that point, and they shivered at the thought of being on bad terms with him. Once they silently agreed, Diavolo captured their hand in his—blind to the eruption of blush across their face—and quickly slipped into the hall.

They were dragged along as Diavolo tiptoed dramatically, peeking around corners and hiding in the shadows. MC was flung around as though they were some sort of paper doll. Diavolo seemed way too out of his element to sneak around properly, so MC called out to him quietly to have him take a moment and explain just what he was doing.

“Stop, stop. You’re terrible at this. Where are you going anyway? The front door isn’t up the stairs--”

“Our destination is, though!” He said in a hushed shout, his movements a bit antsy. “We have to go up.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Hush!”

He covered their mouth with his hand, oblivious to how it caused their heart flutter, he focused his attention to the sound of walking in the hallway behind them. Diavolo rushed them along, stopping at a door and quickly attempting to jiggle his way through the lock. MC faced the hallway, wary of the approaching footsteps and faint voices as they kept watch; Diavolo simply used magic to unlock the handle, and pulled MC in so quick he literally swept them off of their feet. Both of them held an ear against the door and heard as two of the brothers made their way back to their rooms. Before MC could give a sigh of relief, they could hear Diavolo cooing at something in a baby tone. A light bulb went off in their head as they slowly turned to face the room, a look of distaste, disbelief, and irritation graced their features.

“We broke into Satan’s room.”

“Yes!” Diavolo held the kitten up to his face, laughing as it give his cheek a few kisses.

“A cat.”

“Yes!”

“We broke in... to Satan’s room,” MC put heavy emphasis on Satan being the owner, “to steal a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Diavolo!” MC shouted before quickly quieting back down, “We’re dead if we’re caught in here! Well, I will be. You’re the prince of Devildom, you probably won’t be. But I will be. Satan is going to get pissed, oh my god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I am. I’m going to die. I’m--”

Diavolo held the kitten up to MC’s face, the latter stopping their rant in their tracks as the kitten gave their nose a few kisses. They couldn’t stop themselves from getting red at how cute the prince seemed to smile at them, but they forced disapproval on their features.

“He had the kitten I wanted. I couldn’t simply ask him for it, even if he agreed, Barbatos would make me return it.”

“What difference is that opposed to stealing it?”

Diavolo sat on the ground and stared at the kitten in his hands, a faraway look of longing replaced his usual cheerful smile. MC refused to let him play it off again.

“What’s actually eating at you?”

“The difference, I guess...” he couldn’t meet their eye and instead focused on petting the cat, “is the adventure. The ability to do something so ridiculous for the thrill and fun of it all. Throwing aside the fact that I’m the prince, for once. Just being a person, since people don’t tend to treat me that way. I thought... if I could have this cat, even after being told no, I could have a sense of freedom. It sounds absolutely ridiculous hearing myself say it out loud. Definitely not the presence a ruler should have, huh?”

His sad smile broke MC’s heart in two. Without a word, they moved next to him; he thought they were going to pet the cat so he offered it to them, but their hand landed on top of his head instead. Their voice was quiet and filled with honey, each word dripping with sincerity.  

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty neat. I like hanging out with you, as you are.”

It was Diavolo’s turn to look dazed with wide eyes and a blush across his face. He quickly composed himself with a tender smile and a whimsical laugh; there were quite a few things running through his mind that he wished he could say to MC, but nothing would come out clear enough. Instead, the two of them resided in a peaceful silence, his smile and relaxed shoulders showed how thankful he was to hear that from them. They had gotten lost in the peace, petting the kitten and playing around with the spunky little thing, they hadn’t heard anything come up behind them, nor had they felt the frightful aura shift in the area.

“What are you two doing in my room?”

[luci-four]

Tug-o-War {Leviathan x Reader/MC}

A/N: Just something I thought would be fun. I can definitely see Levi being the kind of asshole to pull on the string just to get more room for himself asdklfh plus, I’m a big sucker for soulmate aus :sob:

{Leviathan x Reader/MC}

Leviathan didn’t enjoy socializing.  

He actively avoided leaving his room, and didn’t waste his time with trying to get close to the “normies” who surrounded him in the universe. He was alone and didn’t mind it so long as he had his passions to keep him company—and Henry. He liked Henry’s presence.  

The tug on his finger was annoying, and at times he would find himself enraged by the fact it caused him such an inconvenience. Rhythm games were almost impossible to do and if he dared to knock over any of his figurines again, he just might call upon Lotan to punish him for his own crimes. Levi would trip over nothing, run into door frames, and worst of all, there were times this stupid string of his would pull so suddenly he’d fly out of his chair. It had him enraged, and he was ready for it to be gone. The taut string was infuriating and limited his movements far more than he liked, but no matter what he attempted to do to cut it some slack, it never seemed to work. Scissors would break under the sheer pressure he put them other, and magic simply backfired if he used it on the red line between him and whoever else.  

He was told it was supposedly attached to his “soulmate”, or whatever. He was well aware of the trope—he's seen enough anime to get the gist—but he didn’t care to find out who was on the other end. Sure, the idea of a soulmate was enticing; someone who was perfectly crafted to be your match while you were crafted the same way? The two of you meant to be together in some way, shape, or form, enriching each other's lives and making each day worth living—he wasn’t interested. All he cared about was what surrounded him and made him happy in his present state.

Levi had gotten used to the limitation on his movements; he could reach the corner of his room if he stretched as far as possible and duck underneath his desk to plug something in so long as he stuck his other hand out from underneath it. Lately, however, he found it severely odd that he was able to move a bit more freely. He was able to do whatever he wanted; spin in his chair, go wherever he pleased (his idol meet-ups were the only places he died to go, however), and found that he could even pull on this annoying little string of his. He’d yank on the cord sincerely hard at all hours of the day, hoping to inflict some sweet revenge on whoever had caused him to struggle for so long. Every time he watched the string drop a bit more, indicating the person on the other end may have fallen on their face, he couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. Levi would admit it did make him feel a bit frightened to know it insinuated that the person on the other end could potentially be much closer to him than they were before.

No, he didn’t care about soulmates. His soulmate was the very love he had for his anime, his games, his idols—for Ruri-chan! Levi couldn’t care less about the person on the other end. They were probably some normie anyway, and he had no time for that. Late at night, however, while he looked at his reflection in the loading screen, he wondered just what they might have been like. It didn’t mean he would seek them out, just... curious. Months had passed; he no longer paid attention to how the string seemed to neither pull at him nor wiggle about.  

Dammit, he needed his money back from Mammon. Luckily, he could hear his older brother’s annoying voice ring out from downstairs so he reluctantly made a move to meet him there, moaning and groaning about how disgusting he thought Mammon’s greedy actions were. Orange eyes were trained on his feet as he walked, his thoughts wandering between the idea of forcing the money he needed right then out of his brother, or demanding everything that was owed to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the stupid string around his finger once again and sighed, playing around with it a bit; what he realized made him stop in his tracks, however.

He could see the string. Well, he could always see the piece around his finger, and every so often a glimpse of a piece just a bit away from him—but never so much of it at one time. It didn’t give any sort of strain nor slack either. An overwhelming sense of panic took over his body, and he decided to give it a bit of a test; as he had done several times before, he grabbed a hold of the red cord and pulled it back, hard. Below him, he heard a loud thud as someone had fallen to the floor and Mammon call out to whoever it had been. Quickly, his heartbeat was the only thing he could hear pounding in his ears as each step he took towards the two bodies downstairs were so shaky he wondered if he could even do it without falling down.

The person on the other end was there? In the hallway? In his house? In Devildom? It was a fact he just couldn’t fathom. He didn’t care—he had been saying it for what felt like forever-- but why did the pit of his stomach feel so jittery that it hurt? He felt like he was waiting in line at a handshake event with his favourite idol; his hands were shaking and sweaty and he couldn’t quit fidgeting. It was as though he could feel every cell in his body at once and they were all shouting to the point his body felt like old TV static. He didn’t care. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care. With each step closer to the mystery person, the louder the ringing in his ear seemed to get.

Levi couldn’t bring himself to lift his eyes for a moment when he heard Mammon call out to him; instead of looking towards the person with him, he trained his gaze onto the white-haired male and put all of his focus into blocking out his peripheral vision. As his brother spoke, his mind easily snapped back to the task at hand—chewing him out for his money back. He hounded him, threatening him as he normally did, only to be blown off as he attempted to inch his way down the hall; calling after him was useless, Mammon had taken off running, leaving Levi with the so-called “soulmate”. Their presence behind him was heavy, and he faced away from them as long as possible. Maybe they wouldn’t notice it was him? Maybe they wouldn’t realize and rather fear him, knowing he was a demon? Maybe they didn’t care—he sure didn’t. Not at all.  

“Um, excuse me...” their voice was heavenly. Levi could feel his ears turn red and a shiver crawl painfully slow up his spine. “Leviathan... right? Your brothers mentioned you--”

Their voice wavered, the words dying in their throat. Were they nervous? He wasn’t. He wiped his hands on his pants before turning to look at their feet. Orange eyes dragged up their frame to meet theirs that looked like they gleamed like the stars were supposed to. He didn’t care.  

“I’m MC,” they played with the perfect little bow wrapped around their finger. He watched them bite their lip ever so slightly and subconsciously mirrored their movements. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care. He wouldn’t care. They could be the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, as though they fell from heaven alongside him, so terrifyingly perfect he couldn’t even wrap his head around it and he wouldn’t bat an eye. His throat was dry—he was gaming all night beforehand, that was why. It was hot in the house, that’s why his hands were sweaty; no, it was cold in there, that’s why he was shaking.  

Deflecting their question, he put a bit of disgust behind his voice as he spoke to them, telling them to make a pact with Mammon. He didn’t care if they did, he just wanted his money. He didn’t care if they got close to his brother. Levi ignored the pain in his chest as he thought about it. He ignored the confused, and somewhat sad, look to their face as he kept talking.

He doesn’t care about meeting some stupid normie that would be his “soulmate”. He didn’t care at all. He just wanted to go back to his room and watch the new episode he’d been waiting for, maybe get some food since his stomach had been churning the entire time he stood there. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t--

Why did his heart beat so loudly in his ears, then?

[luci-four]

Sweaty Palms. {Beelzebub x Reader/MC}

A/N: i just think holding hands with beel would be so NICE and to slowly realize you fell in love with him through the presence of said hands? HHHNNNGGG

{Beelzebub x Reader/MC}

The way their hands fit in his was like a dream.

His was much larger than theirs, but it fit perfectly so that he could wrap his around in a protective manner. Theirs was always so soft while his was rough. His warmed their cold ones each and every time. He’d rub his thumb over their knuckles, they’d draw circles on the back of his. His hands felt empty if theirs weren’t there too. They held his hand each time they slept near one another, walked next to each other, or any time he didn’t need both hands to snack or otherwise, really. It was as though they were meant to be together. Their hands were pairs, please do not separate. He learned that meme from MC, too.

Beelzebub never thought much about it—it was simply something they did. It was a comfort, to him at least, and he hoped they felt the same way about it. It became natural, to constantly find his hand occupied; he was so used to it, he would fumble if he were to use two hands for something.  

One thing MC did not anticipate, however, was how dependent they would become on the presence of their hand. Would they always get this cold before? How about this lonely? The idea of “empty” was something Beel could not wrap his head around, but MC felt what they could only describe as such a hurtful feeling whenever the spaces between their fingers were bare. It was a slow realization; feelings crept up from corners of shadows inch by inch and met their eyes before they could even think about it. If he didn’t see the same level of intimacy within their hand-holding anymore, how were they supposed to face him?

Their hands started to get clammy a lot more often, having the need to excessively apologize and break away to wipe it off on their shirt. They grew nervous with each questioning glance, and brushed it off as they were just stressed about something else, or it was simply just too hot in there. They’d hesitate to offer their hand, take far too long to grab onto his in public, and “pretend” to already be asleep if they were napping together to avoid holding his hand. They felt horrible as they started to notice the flicker of sadness pass through his eyes before they gave in each time, but couldn’t bring themselves to bring up the topic. What if they caught feelings for him, but he didn’t feel the same way back? What if they ruin the relationship the two of them have because of it? What if it ruins the idea of holding hands for Beel forever? What if—their hands were sweaty again.

Beel wouldn’t stay quiet forever. He’d take notice of their behaviour and start to wonder—did he do something wrong? Maybe they didn’t like holding his hand anymore? No, that didn’t seem to be it, because they still would if he offered it. Did he make them feel uncomfortable? That seemed more plausible, but why? What did he do? He’d intertwine his fingers with theirs, only to notice they not-so-subtly refused to let their palm rest against his.  

“MC, you know, we always hold hands.” He let go and turned to look them in the eyes, determined to fix whatever he had done, “Why are you acting weird?”

Their eyes grew wide and they blubbered like a fish, opening and closing their mouth as they struggled to come up with an answer only to stutter what half-baked excuses they could think of.  

“Was it... something I did?” he looked like a kicked puppy, eyes almost brimming with tears though it were obvious he was holding them back. “What can I do to fix it?”

“No!” their shout startled him, so they sheepishly recoiled and rubbed the back of their neck. “I mean, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s... it’s stupid; it’s a problem with me. I mean, it’s a problem I’m dealing with. It has nothing to do with you. I mean, it does—not in a bad way, I mean--”

They continued rambling, noticeably getting more and more bothered by whatever was on their mind as well as how terribly they kept eating their words trying to explain themselves. Beel thought long and hard about their actions and facial expressions rather than focusing on the words coming out of their mouth. The flushed look to their skin, the way their eyes seemed to focus on anything but him all while seemingly longing for something they wouldn’t speak about. He paused a moment as the shock set in, and simply gave a gentle smile before grabbing their hand once again, tighter than he normally did, and made sure they held his back and simply turned and continued walking, tugging them along despite their cries.

“It’s okay MC, I like you too.”

[luci-four]

hello! would it be alright to request some mammon fluff? i read thru all your posts and im in love with your writing 💕

A/N: Thank you!! You didn’t give me anything really specific so I hope this is good enough for you ♥ thank you for being so patient!! ★

Hide N Seek. {Mammon x Reader/MC}

Mammon knew better.

Call him stupid, dumb, an idiot, a dumbass, a--

Too many, too many.

Call him what you want, but when it came down to the wire, Mammon was not unintelligent. He was creative, and smart in the street sort of sense—he could get by and there definitely were times where he let his knowledge shine.

Mammon new better, but he just couldn’t stop himself from pissing off Lucifer.

He didn’t even remember what he did this time. All that mattered was the heavy—frightening—presence of Lucifer’s anger, condensed to a very... vivid aura that suddenly filled the room. Before the second half of his name could pass by his brother’s lips, the second brother was on the run.

Bounding through hallways, skipping a stair or two at a time going up, jumping back down over the railing just to make his movements confusing; Mammon bolted. He was fast—he was pretty certain he wouldn’t get away from Lucifer, but ‘a man’s gotta try’, or so he told himself. If he could just get out of Lucifer’s line of sight just long enough to hide, he’d be golden! He’d strive for that, that was his favourite colour, after all. Taking several turns, ducking under furniture and hopping over others; Mammon had to bite his tongue and hold his smile until he was completely in the clear—but he was almost there! So close! If he could round the corner to the hallways fast enough, he’d be out of the line of sight to his impeding murder--

His saviour—yes! His MC! His sun! His light! His... cushion? His partner in crime? Whatever their title may have been now, he could hear their voice complaining to themselves; he slammed against them the second they stepped around the corner, covering their mouth to keep them silent. The both of them tumbled back into the small closet MC had left open when looking... for whatever it was they were looking for. Mammon didn’t know, and didn’t care.  He pulled the door shut, held his finger to his lips to try and quiet MC’s muffled words, and grimaced hard when he heard his brother’s footstep pass by. He leaned his head against the door, listening as closely as he could for the fading sounds and sighed out of relief for a moment before it was cut off by a strangled cry.

“Y’owch!” he had to fight himself to stay quiet and pushed on MC’s forehead to try and pull his hand back, “Get your damn teeth out of me!”

“Stop suffocating me and I wouldn’t bite you!”  

“Hey, shush it, will ya?” He hissed, “We’re tryin’ to stay hidden here!”

“You mean you’re trying to stay hidden!” MC emphasized their words with a particularly hard poke to Mammon’s chest, “Why was I dragged into your mess—again!”

“Not my fault you were right there!”

“Now I’m stuck in this small ass closet with you!”

“Yeah yeah, but please! Please be quiet!” he gave a hushed shout, “I’m beggin' ya!”

MC’s face screamed irritation. Mammon gave his best puppy dog eyes, pleading for them to help him out. After they sighed, they turned their head away from him, reluctantly agreeing though they were quick to give him a death glare when he tried to hug them. They both stood in silence for a while, Mammon growing more and more awkward by the minute. His eyes adjusted to the darkness he found himself in, and caught glimpses of MC while they paid no attention to the demon in front of them.

They were close—Mammon could feel it before ever needing to see it; the heat bouncing off of one another, the overall sense of closeness—chest to chest and face to face should they turn back toward him, he was going to die. His heart raced, his pulse knocking heavy in his veins and his breath growing ragged while his knees fought to keep him up; he was dying, that was it, he was dying and was kind of, maybe, sort of, afraid of Lucifer catching him—that's it! Nothing to do with MC...

Nothing to do with the sliver of light from the crack of the door and how it catches their eye and illuminates it like the stars. Nothing to do with how sweet and comforting they smelt. Nothing to do with the soft sound of their breathing or the curve of their face or--

No, nothing to do with them. He’s obviously just getting claustrophobic.  

“So...” he started in his whisper, “come here often?”

“Do you want me to punch you right now?”

“Double dare ya.”

They clenched their fist and shifted to aim it towards his stomach before he quickly deflected them.  

“Hey, knock it off will ya? I was just jokin’.”

“Oh, scared, are you?”

“Scared? No way!”

“Your body says otherwise.”

“My body is a temple and is as sturdy as ever!”

“Is that what we call it now?”

“Watch it!”

Mammon’s mind moved on its own, as did his mouth. Without realizing it, the awkward aura around him dissipated; he felt so calm and collected, he actually felt pretty confident—it had to be because he got away from Lucifer, of course—he could do anything, he could say anything. Despite MC’s teasing tone, the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but tug up to a playful smirk; his tongue sharper than ever as he threw the teasing right back at them. The words that passed his lips brought such a delectable heat to their face, a pout to their lips, a huff to their breath and a slight lean towards him that he just couldn’t get enough of. The bold way they gave it right back to him, however, was enough to make him equally as heated; he shied away from them, angrily denied all allegations, turned his head and bit his lip the more they leaned against his chest and close to his face to eat up his reactions with a wicked smirk. What the hell were they doing to him?

“Back it up, will ya?”

“Where am I supposed to back up to!” they leaned even closer to his face, “You shoved us into a closet!”

Mammon grunted and attempted to lean away from them, only to catch a glimpse of the sliver of light in their eye once more. The way they looked at him seemed... questionable. Well, he was certainly questioning it. Their eyes seemed... unfocused, though they definitely were resting on something; their bottom lip had their teeth just barely sunken into it and he could just barely make out that their skin seemed flushed. They looked... soft, like they were waiting for something they really wanted but just couldn’t reach out and take themselves. They looked... they looked...

They looked like he did whenever they weren’t paying attention.

He didn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was because he felt like he was looking into a mirror? Or maybe because this all felt like a dream? Whatever it was, Mammon was ecstatic! He could almost jump for joy! Cheer! He was so happy! He was nervous! He was scared! Wait, those emotions didn’t mix—or did they? The perfect blend of nerves and bliss danced around like butterflies in his stomach and drums in his heart; Mammon was almost ready to thank God for bringing the two of them together in this closet. Almost. Wait, why were they in here again?

It didn’t matter! Mammon didn’t care! With eyes as wide as the moon and a smile just as bright, he grabbed their hands and interlaced their fingers, getting a shot of confidence and the need to tease to help him get the words out of his mouth.

“So,” his eyebrows gave a little smug wiggle, “we gonna kiss, or what?”

MC’s eyes went wide as though they just snapped back to reality, giving him a bewildered look for a split second before such a sweet laugh bubbled out of them. They hunched over a moment, leaning their head on his chest and trying to catch their breath as their laugh only grew louder. Mammon couldn’t help but laugh too, moving their still intertwined hands to wipe the tears off their face with the back of their own hands.

“Well?”

Mammon’s body language screamed just one big ‘please’ that he knew MC could read—he didn’t care. The way they smiled back at him made his stomach flip, watching them slowly get closer to his face made it feel like his heart was leaping square out of his throat. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, excited and partially in disbelief.  

“Will you calm down for a second?” MC laughed again, only to keep their smile and laugh once more as Mammon eagerly closed the gap between them.

Oh, he was ready to just die, then and there, in that closet with them.

It was everything—no, more—than he could have ever imagined. It was pure bliss; soft on MC’s end but a little rougher on his as he moved like an excited puppy. Feeling their smile against his lips only egged him on; a little desperate for more—and a little unmanly to whine a bit as he had, he was lucky his eyes were closed so he didn’t see the almost sinful look they shot him—he felt them move back for a moment to untangle their hands. Once their lips made their way back to his, they gently held his face where he instantly became putty.

His limbs felt heavy, and he just wanted to lean everything he had against MC—but in a way they’d never have to let their lips leave his. Was there such a way? Could he find it? The slight tease as they grazed their teeth over his bottom lip as they pulled away caused him to let out another (embarrassing) whine. Letting his head fall heavy into their hands, he simmered in the moment a while longer before lifting his equally heavy eyelids halfway just to let those pool into theirs as well. The way they smiled at him was innocent, adoring, and... happy. Mammon knew his lazy smirk gave them the same feeling as well.

Mammon didn’t think he’d find himself stuck in a closet today—he especially didn’t expect to kiss MC—but he was thankful nonetheless. Something kept nagging at the back of his mind, however, but he just couldn’t find the strength to address it when such an amazing, adorable, teasing little brat stood in front of him; he wanted more—more kisses, more time alone, more of them, more--

The room flooded with light, the force which the door was opened caused a heavy wind against Mammon’s back. Judging by the sheepish look on MC’s face, it wasn’t a good sign in the slightest. In an instant, the warmth that cradled his face—and the rest of him—had been stripped away as he was lifted by the back of his shirt and pulled away from MC and dragged out of the closet.

“Dammit Lucifer, ya couldn’t’ve waited a few more minutes!”

“Be thankful I found you when I did, thanks to MC’s laugh. Any longer and your punishment would have been tripled.”

Hearing that it was their fault, Mammon watched MC give him an embarrassed laugh, scratching the back of their head regretfully before blowing him an apologetic kiss that made him cry out.

“Aw, come on!”

[luci-four]

Hi! I read your i want to kiss you story and i can't say how much i loved it. Is just, the fluff nice feeling that left after reading it is something i don't always get when reading other fanfics (I dont mean wrong, all writers are great but yours catch me in a way others doesn't!) Do you think you could make a nsfw of satanxmc on their first time? Like, continuing the 'I want to kiss you' story? If not any scenario that you choose for them on their first time

A/N: Wow wow wow what a compliment, thank you!! Very sweet of you!!! Those kinds of emotions are always my goal when writing, so hearing that really boosts my confidence. I tried to make this a continuation to I Want to Kiss You, but im so so sorry I completely fuckin forgot about the first-time deal and my one, horny braincell said: “sexy” LKSJDGHF (also if anyone forgot, please remember my ns*w tag is “asmos fantasy” so you can blacklist it to avoid it!!)

If you haven’t read I Want to Kiss You, I suggest you do! ★

I Want to Touch You {Satan x MC} {NS*W}

I want to kiss you.

It sounded so redundant in his head as he’s said it so often to himself, but god, how he loved to say it against their skin.  

Feeling his breath bounce off of the crook of their neck is one of the most precious feelings to him; The way it warmed his face was nothing compared to the heat he wanted to feel radiate off of the rest of their skin. Flushed, shivering at his touch and such sweet yet sinful sounds falling on swollen lips as his teeth graze their skin until his shirt is wrinkled in their hands; their fingernails just a hair away from piercing along his back as he so desperately wants them to.  

He can feel them, the way they arch their back just to press their chest against him, an attempt to keep his lips upon their skin as long as possible; silently begging more and more for just one touch, one caress, even just one filthy word to roll off of his tongue and trickle along their body. They straddled his hips-- a spot to sit where he could admire every inch of them as though he were reading the writing of his favourite book—their legs tensing around his waist each time their body jolted with the same shock of ecstasy he was experiencing. They were seductive; their body giving little cues to show that it begged for his in the most intimate of ways—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

I want to touch you.

So badly. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of their hips—annoying how their clothes still stood in his way--- his grip holding strong and bringing their hips down against him as they slowly started to find the need to rock them to get some sort of relief from his teasing. They moved slow, drawing each movement out as long as they could to get secret pleasure without letting him know—but he did. He picked up on every little movement, as sharp as ever, and heavily craved more.

I want to touch you.

They got bold now, grinding against him with more desperation, picking up the pace, growing erratic; Satan couldn’t hide the wicked smirk that grew across his lips, already thinking about the ways he could tease them, torture them, make them beg for him to give them their long-sought after release--  

Their hands pushed him back against the headboard to his bed and ran down the front of his chest. Leaning back, he could see the fire in their eyes, just how swollen their lips had really been, and had such a beautiful view of the marks he left like galaxies hidden just beneath the wrinkled collar of their shirt. He was more than happy to give them a smile and lift his arms once they shyly tugged at the bottom of his shirt, only to rest his hands back on their hips while theirs explored every inch of his torso, their lips following close behind.

I want to touch you.

He started getting antsy. Their hips kept at such a sporadic pace that he started to wonder who the real tease was in this situation. Hands slyly moving to hold their ass—again, annoyed by the clothing keeping him from their skin—he squeezed hard, taking control of their movements and bringing their hips as close to possible to his own at a rough, quick, and almost hungry pace of his own, capturing their sultry moan with an equally rough kiss while their nails dug into his chest.

I want to touch you.

His hands only left the curve of their ass for a moment—to strip them of the clothes across their chest as well—before grinding their hips down against his previously obvious erection. He let them get their fill, marking him up, and started to trace his hands up their back, sides, and felt up their chest, quickly discovering how MC liked to be touched.

I want to touch you.

He started off gently-- feather light kisses along their chest, letting his breath tickle them just enough to stir them up. His hands were fleeting, touching here one moment before leaving the next to be replaced by his lips; he cupped their chest, only quickly brushing his thumbs over their nipples to get them hard. They let out an embarrassed sound that made them cover their face, though Satan only laughed at how adorable they were. Adorable—yes, that was what they were, but Satan wanted to make them so much more than that. Red faced, crying out, begging, everything that could ever make them so sexy and sinful that he couldn’t stand it. He dragged his tongue up their breast, dipping into their collarbones as a tease; his lips made his way to their nipple—bouncing between the two—undecided on which action caused the sweetest of sounds. Was it the way his tongue played with them, dancing and swirling around—or was it the way his teeth brushed against them for a small twinge of painful pleasure? Whichever it was, it had been working; MC’s moans only grew more frequent, their hips moving restlessly as he teased them further by dancing his fingertips around the waist of their pants.  

I want to touch you.

They beat him to the punchline; They were cheekier and much more needy than he originally thought. Their fingers trembled with the excitement that mirrored throughout his body, fumbling over the zipper and button to his pants, mumbling with apparent irritation that caused Satan to laugh under his breath. Should he help them? -- He thought not. Satan only met their efforts with a smirk, leaning in to kiss them once more as they continued to struggle; he sucked in a quick breath when they finally got to their prize. Their accomplished smile was rose coloured through his half-lidded eyes.

I want to touch you.

MC took him in their hand, a gentle hold at first as they knew the power they held over him now-- Satan knew they were going to exploit it. They stroked him softly, slowly, making sure to play with the tip just enough with their thumb to get him to sigh. He could feel the blush rising up his neck as MC’s careful kisses dragged it along.

I want to touch you.

His hands worked to get into their pants as well—it was only fair, wasn’t it? The closer he got to touching them, the faster the pace of their wrist got. It was driving him mad, the way they only teased him at times-- making him do the work by bucking against their hand and speaking breathy words against his skin. Such dirty words passed that taunting smirk of theirs, they made him bite his lip just to control himself. God, he wanted more.

I want to touch you.

Satan stripped them of their remaining clothes now, sucking another breath of air through gritted teeth as they grinded against him, skin to skin now. His hands made way back to their home—MC's hips—and gripped hard. Their skin underneath his fingertips was tempting; he could press just hard enough to leave little bruises to mark that he had been there—that he was real, they were real, this was real. He could do this—moments of such heavy intimacy—because he was real to them. He was Satan, and that was enough. Nothing else mattered.  

That drove him mad.

I want to touch you.

His face was flushed, and he knew he looked like a complete mess. Messy hair, lust filled half-lidded eyes that he only held for them, his bottom lip on the brink of bleeding with how hard he has to bite it to keep himself in check. They moved against him, their heat against his, grinding against him as they had before; the difference this time was the feel of their skin. Soft, warm, teasing. They knew he wanted them—well rather, to be in them and he made this very clear with how blunt his words were—but they got their thrill from seeing him melt beneath them. How much longer could he hold out? Not long.

I want to touch you.

He held them close, wrapping an arm around their waist and using the other to guide them onto his length. Satan laughed under his breath at how eager they were to take him all in, but told them to be patient—knowing they’d start to beg for more; those are the words he wanted to hear—those breaths, those moans, those soft little gasps that have just barely audible ‘pleases’ within them. He only allowed them to move slow, drawing the movement of their hips out as they rocked so that he could hit that sweet spot over and over again, pulling them close enough each time to nip at their shoulder.  

They were gorgeous. Face doused in lust, a thin layer of sweat coating their body, closed eyes and lips that parted only to call out swears against God and to sing his name so deliciously.

MC needed more-- he knew that. Allowing them to up their pace and matching them move for move, watching as the entirety of his length disappear over and over again, soaking in the sinful sounds that filled the room and allowing his thoughts to play over just how he wanted them next. On their back? Their hands and knees? How does he want them—where does he want them? How fast? How rough? This was one of the only things he never thought through.

Not that it mattered, because MC did as they liked. Despite his orders, MC continued to tease him. Using filthy words that tainted their lips, stopping their movements just to hear a whine bubble from deep in his throat; it was clear to see they were set on being a brat the entire time. It was only fair he shows them who was superior, right? MC wanted him to work for it—it was obvious by the way they whispered against his ear words that he secretly prays never fall on other’s ears, the way they nipped at his skin, the way their fingertips danced across his chest and the way they knew just how to bounce in his lap to get him worked up enough to make a move.

A moan, a groan, a quickened pace of breathing as the long-awaited filthy word finally passed his lips.

“Fuck.”

He tossed them onto their back, hovering above them with a serious, demanding fire in his eyes. Satan slid his hands up their arms, holding their wrists down above their head and leaned in close to whisper in their ear; just five words were all they wanted—all they needed—to know what sort of night they had gotten themselves into.  

With a deep, rich, sultry, a little raspy voice, he whispered,

“I want to touch you.”

[luci-four]

Hey four can I get some of that sweet sweet soulmate au with solomon perhaps 👀

A/N: No, solely because you asked ヽ(｀⌒´メ)ノ im joking im joking........ unless???? Nah im kidding here you go shelby uwu (if anyone is curious and isnt familiar with tarot, the Tower card, in this story, is in the upright position with the idea of “massive change/chaos/destruction”)

Amare. {Solomon x Reader/MC}

The night was warm. Summer Solstice. The moon was full; rare, beautiful, powerful. The trees around them held centuries of wisdom and the magic in the air was genuine and electric; the leaves slightly danced above their heads as the wind spirit herself whispered words of love to the faeries that danced among the branches. Magic roamed the Earth, free, happy, and within all that graced it.

He could see nothing but them. The way the light caressed their skin and illuminated their eyes, the way their smile was just as airy as the spirits that pranced around them, how the gentlest of flowers they held in their hand seemed to intermingle with their own skin. Summer Solstice is a time to slow down; the day is meant for self-reflection and charging of magic. For doing less and being more.  

Solomon had always been less so that he may give his love more.  

Summer Solstice is the longest day of the year, a day charged with playful magic to taunt those who don’t fully appreciate the sentimental features of the day. Solomon spent it with the first love of his life; young and restless, their souls just recently finding their place on this plane. He was happy, strong, in love. He knew nothing of sorrow or fear, for the spirits, the magic, the runes and the cards never warned him as such. His soul was free to love theirs, roam the Earth together, to exist simply among the magic that coursed through his veins and pumped through the very heart that only had a beat for the love who stood in front of him now. No fear. No pain.

The night was perfect, and so were they. With forest creatures as their witnesses, they spoke of love and marriage, the idea of being together for all of eternity. Their skin was soft as he held their face in his hands, his knees straining to keep themselves up as the look in their eyes knocked the wind out of him.  

They both leaned in, hoping to tie their bodies together as they have their spirits. Closer, closer, their breath fanning across one another’s face, smiles just barely grazing against each other.

Solomon had pulled the Tower card.

It was cold this time. Solomon opened his eyes when he felt the warmth of another stand beside him. It was a familiar presence, and laying his eyes on them caused the wave of realization to wrap him in warmth as though he were bundled in a blanket. He held out a hand, asking if they’d like to join him; their eyes remembered him as well, their souls both still in their youth and mighty playful.  

They danced among the snow-covered ground, the wet soaking into their poor, thin shoes. Their laughter was warm, his smile was bright; neither of them paid any mind to Jack Frost’s painful bite. Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. Yule is a time to welcome back the return of the sun—where life begins once more. Here, in front of him now as several years have passed, he’s able to welcome his sun back home, in his soul, where they were meant to be.

Watching their step and prancing around to keep their bodies warm, they roamed what used to be a thriving village that fell at the hands of Pestilence as neither of their magic could save those who suffered. Broken homes, unfortunate souls who couldn’t seem to understand what had happened, and piles of those lost to the clammy hands of The Black Death. The spirits of those who lingered decided to play in their game of tag and brought along the bitter wind that caused them to shiver; Solomon held them close.

Standing there, simply allowing themselves to mend the broken bridge between their souls as their bodies had become strangers. They looked up and stuck their tongue out, smiling as a snowflake just as uniquely beautiful landed on their tongue—Solomon wished he could commit such an intricate shape to his memory. He looked down at them as they looked up, smile begging for him to lean down and share in his warmth.

Faces close, breath warm between them so that the winter’s frozen fractals could no longer show themselves, they leaned further and further, electricity between one another’s magic jolting through every inch of their skin--

Solomon had seen a crumbling Tower in the distance.

He gasped as he came back to Earth from travelling through the clouds.

Metal upon metal clanked loudly around him; he could hardly think. Screams of pain, of anger, of fear rattled through his ears and echoed throughout the headgear he had donned on his head. Shiny, heavy, the light off of those who wore things similar blinded him whenever he got a solid chance to see around him. The aura was dark, angry, nasty; it blanketed his heart and made his soul feel so lonely.

Violence was futile. He didn’t want this—weapons were useless and senseless killing hurt his empathy. Where had the love of magic gone? Where had love gone?

Through the crumbled tower his footsteps caused the rock beneath them fall away. It was dangerous, he was aware, but he wanted to hide away regardless. At the top of the stairwell, he found a struggle as both of them toppled over one another in an attempt to keep dominance, and their life. On his back, attempting to push himself up, the tip of a sword tapped against the dip between his collarbones and warned him to stop. With a fluid motion, his helmet had been knocked off of his head and he held his breath, waiting for the moment where it all went cold.

His dark eyes opened to meet those wet with tears, oh so familiar. Their weapon had been tossed aside and they carefully, cautiously, knelt down to become level with him. A face full of confusion and soul burning with recognition, they gently reached out for him; as the cold metal caressed his face, all other senses grew dull to the chaos around the two of them. As Set rose in the distance, Solomon could only focus on the curve of their face in front of him, the width of their smile, the darkness those beautiful eyes have seen this lifetime.

Without so much as a whisper or ghost of a word, the two leaned in, ready for whatever the fate of knights had to bear so long as their souls suffered it together.  

With the ghost of a kiss just before his lips, he felt the Tower beneath him crumble to pieces.

Startled, he woke up with a start. He found himself beneath a tree whose leaves had been freshly turned green and the soft petals had only recently welcomed the suns warmth. It was quiet here, peaceful, welcoming to the changes. The book in his lap was heavy—a grimoire or spell book of sorts—Solomon couldn’t remember which one he had picked up. It hadn’t mattered, anyway, as he idly flipped through the pages to keep himself busy. Young love blossomed like the flowers, and Solomon had been waiting for his turn.

A pair of hands covered his eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile. Guessing wrong a few times just to get a laugh from them before he was able to pull them into his lap, his book now discarded. They were pink, like the flowers they loved to go see in the forest, a hue that always graced his eyes. They sat together, against the tree that felt like home to one another, and simply existed. They ushered in a new beginning, beautiful change, something happy within the dark times the world played around them.  

Their souls were at peace once more, the magic in between them fading only for a moment to allow them to realize just how important the feeling was. They were together, they were happy. They were spring and sweet and Solomon couldn’t help but find himself sleepy as he held them in his arms, as their warmth and feel of home made him feel the safest he’d been in centuries.  

He closed his eyes, feeling the darkness that accompanied sleep welcome him with a hug as hands cupped his face once more, a different feeling closing in near his face that he couldn’t help but smile at as lips brushed against his own. He smiled, half asleep, his physical begging them for their lips to fully meet his own, but his unconscious dragging him down the abyss.  

Solomon dreamt of falling from a tower.

He fell for so long, and awoke bound—he didn’t like that. His feet no longer touched the ground; he could feel the magic within his heart grow angry, dark, full of absolute hatred far before he opened his eyes.  

Tied to a stake as crowds around him screamed of the Devil’s Magic, cried of demons and evil, when they were the ones whose hearts had been dipped in darkness. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. How could he end up in a place like this when the magic he used had never been for ill intent?  

Eyes darting around, he looked. His soul knew what he had been looking for—would he not find it this time? His mind did not know, but the core of him did. His eyes found nothing.  

Desperately, secretly, he felt another pair of hands brush against the pair tied behind him. On impact, they made every inch of his body tinkle; warmth. Familiarity. Home. He turned his head, desperate to lay his eyes on them when in the softest of voices, they asked him not to look. They didn’t want his soul to suffer any more than it had been. As much as possible, they intertwined their fingers with his, allowing what little time they had left to connect their souls once more. He didn’t want to leave yet—he asked them their name this time, smiling when he mentioned it suited them.  

They were scared, he could feel it. He didn’t wish to let them know he was too. Silently, his eyes started to tear up, and he let himself cry as flames started to tickle at both of their feet. He smiled when they sent him off with a goodbye, their fingers never letting go until the very end.  

It all grew dark and far too warm for his liking. Solomon had been too warm for too long.

He sighed and opened his eyes—why was the café he found himself in so damn hot? The leaves outside had changed to such gorgeous hues and the cold breeze was starting to chase those who ventured outdoors. Perhaps it was only so warm because he had come in from such weather? He sat at a small table in the corner and flipped through another book.  

People came and went, chatter hit highs and lows and the bell above the door started to have a sweet sound to it. Someone had come by to ask if he needed anything, and he could hardly remember what he ordered. A different voice greeted him this time, gifting him with a warm drink and a complimentary sweet that he could immediately smell the cinnamon baked into.

Solomon put his book down and smiled, thanking them and accepting the drink with obvious gratitude. All it took was a brush of the hand once again to cause his eyes to widen and meet theirs as though it were a mirror. The bustle of the small place melted away in an instant, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time shooting through his body as several things he thought had been lost awakened within him. He could see them awaken too, though they had been much more confused than he was.

He cupped their face not as gently as he would have liked as he was desperate; desperate to hold, to kiss, to love them once more as his simple life found what it had been missing once again. Their eyes grew misty, and a smile graced their features as he pulled their face down to his quickly, passionately, like the movies they’d been playing about love the past handful of years. Something cliché, but lovely, as their lips grew ever closer to his.

The radio station playing softly on the speakers played a song by some niche band called Tower.

He felt tapping on his nose and begrudgingly opened his eyes. The angelic blue eyes in front of him taunted him, he pushed his friend’s hand away.  

Solomon had fallen asleep—it wasn’t normal for him to sleep in class—much less in a school such as this one. Being among one of the new students was odd, but it wasn’t as if a place like this wasn’t... familiar to him. He’d been around people, creatures, beings like this before—long ago—he’d lie if he said it didn’t remind him of a home he could no longer remember.  

Magic here was strong—he was strong—and he liked that. It never seemed to fix this deep gash inside of him that never seemed to want to heal, but it was a nice change of pace. Or, so he thought. He wasn’t sure what it was a change from—but the cards constantly told him it was a good one. What secrets were the cards hiding from him this time?  

Another one was supposed to join the class today—another human, they said—making them a pair in a demon-dominating population. He wondered what they’d be like, after all, talk had already gotten around with everyone’s assumptions. His feet were heavy as he walked through the hallway—he just hoped they’d be able to survive.  

Footsteps came up the empty stairs, and he watched for whoever owned them. An audible gasp passed by his lips as the light from the window above shone onto their hair and illuminated the pair of eyes that locked with his.

Old, familiar, home, love. Such deep emotions hit Solomon all at once, to the point he couldn’t help but let his eyes start to tear up. A smile curved onto their lips, and one donned on his own as he moved closer to them, reaching out to touch them once again; such a beautiful smile spoke such rich words.

“You must be Solomon.”

[luci-four]

Pride.

A/N: Not me sharing a creative writing class assignment from last semester that i wrote about lucifer because i am a simp and im fairly certain my entire class and professors thought i was some devil worshipper. Nuh uh. Not me. Wrong bitch

anyway HELLO i’ve been gone a while due to life but i have a handful of stuff for you! ★

Ghosts roam these halls, though they all look like her.

His eyes still haven’t adjusted; shadows creep away to hide

but for some reason, they all seem to look

like either of them. Perhaps they were? Were they the scorched

remains of their passion that illuminated against the walls?

His feet were heavy, dragging along the floor

the panels of wood creaking like the post to that

old bed of his. He was pride embodied,

chest puffed and chin up, a lazy smile across his lips;

he was graced by the goddess herself,

allowing him a sinful dance with the devil

for the night as the moonlight made her look

so beautiful. As warm as their bodies had been

together, his body felt so cold now that the sunlight has

touched his skin, and her hands were no longer there

to provide the burns. Her ghost was the only thing left

to haunt him in the morning.