playing favourites | demon brothers
a/n: here’s an unfinished wip that i think i worked on for like thirty minutes a while back but never got around to finishing. i don’t know if the full piece will ever see the light of day tho so have this instead lol
who is your favourite? you are asked.
dread churns at the pit of your stomach. there is no one way to pick. no possible way, no right way, no safe way to answer and not offend anyone. a problem with thousands of solutions that do not seem plausible or makes any sort of sense. a trick question.
all of them treat you so well. each of them, in their own little endearing way, but always like you are something precious. like you are something between gold and a brand new world that they have just discovered and they are unwilling to let go. like you are an amalgamation of all their hopes and dreams that they are trying to safeguard.
it’s quite the experience to be treated the way you are treated and see how they act with everyone else. to have all seven doting over you is. well. who else could say that, really? who else could say that they’ve gained the favour of the most powerful demons in the devildom? the rush of power that you feel is almost thrilling. intoxicating. addicting.
the question posed is heavy. how could you possibly dare pick just one?
you’ve grown to be lucifer’s soft spot, is what everyone says. you are the person everyone goes to when they want something from him, if only because you’re the only one he listens to. the outcome is a hit or miss but at least he doesn’t outright dismiss you before hearing you out. there are stolen kisses with lucifer, tiny moments like the little gasps he lets out whenever you reciprocate with vigour, tender touches like the two of you are star-crossed lovers who have been far too starved off of each other. that wouldn’t be too much of a lie, you think.
there’s an amused look on his face though he feigns disinterest, an upward curl to his lip that kind of makes you think he likes that you feel troubled by the question, likes seeing you squirm in place.
and mammon, so eager when it came to you. even though harsh words veil his emotions, the veil is like gossamer at best. always by your side, like he is a part of you, a part you’ve found would’ve been difficult to survive the devildom without. the one you turn to for gentle understanding. with mammon, there are the most tender of moments between his loud and brash proclamations. a possessive hand around your shoulder because you are his first. a glare over his shoulder at anyone who dared to touch you. gentle kisses, slow and languid, even if they start out rough in his eagerness to stake his claim.
of course, it’s me, manmon boasts. chest puffed, confidence rolling off of him in overwhelming waves. but there’s also something like hesitance in his eyes from the way it flitters and darts over to you and then back to everyone else. like he is uncertain of the position he holds in your life, like somehow maybe he thinks you would rebuff him as if you hadn’t been receptive to all his affections in all the moments before this.
and levi. sweet, sweet levi who flushes at the slightest of touches. there is not one part of him that dislikes your indulgence for him though, a hunger lurking underneath the facade he puts on. a deep craving that only you can satiate. always anxious - to please and be pleased - but easily reassured.
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