Hi, first request ever kinda nervous but I had the idea of obey me brothers with a MC who is a chronic napper and sleeps everywhere, kinda like Belphegor? ^^
thank you for the request, ml! hope I did it justice! and don't worry about it being your first request <3
wc: 2.6k, warning: mostly fluffy but very brief description of Belphie killing MC (sorry)
obey me masterlist
Lucifer notices it almost immediately.
On the first week you came, he was far too busy getting a hold of his brothers, mediating Diavolo’s whims, and keeping the Devildom from collapsing into chaos... but soon enough, he notices your pattern.
You, falling asleep at the dinner table, chin propped in your hand.
You, curled up on the stairs, notebook still open beside you.
You, dozing off during RAD lectures, somehow managing to look peaceful even as Mammon squawks about it.
It’s… familiar.
Uncomfortably so.
The first time he catches you asleep on the sofa in the common room, knees drawn up and breathing slow and even, his chest tightens before he can stop it. For just a moment, he thinks of Belphie.
Lucifer frowns.
He doesn’t like that comparison. You are nothing like Belphegor, he tells himself firmly.
You are human. And humans are not meant to expend their energy so carelessly. Maybe that’s why you nap so much.
Still… the resemblance lingers.
Eventually though, he gets used to the routine. After Belphie is freed from the attic (by you, no less), and the weight has left his shoulders, he accepts your habits just being in your nature.
On nights when paperwork threatens to bury him alive, when the House of Lamentation is finally quiet and the candles burn low, you sit in his office with him. Sometimes you talk about the human world, about mundane things, about nothing at all.
Other times, your exhaustion claims you, and you curl up, cozy on the couch, as though it were second nature.
Lucifer never wakes you.
He tells himself that you’re safer here than wandering the halls half-asleep, or that interrupting your rest would be… “inefficient.”
Then he looks up from his desk and watches you for a moment.
Your expression is soft in your sleep, all the tension gone. There’s something almost strange about it, the way you rest so calmly in a house filled with demons.
…Endearing.
Lucifer swats away the voice in his head as soon as it appears.
What he does not ignore is the concern that settles in his chest over time. Belphegor is the Avatar of Sloth; sleeping is normal for him.
But you? You’re human. You should not need sleep like this.
One evening, he finally speaks.
“You sleep far more than humans usually do,” Lucifer says, tone measured, arms crossed as you blink awake on his couch. “Is that not…troubling to you?”
You just smile drowsily and tell him you’re a-okay, that this is just how you’ve always been.
He’s not super satisfied with that answer. But fine.
The least he can do is ensure you’re comfortable when you nap…anywhere and everywhere, so he keeps spare blankets in his office just in case.
Mammon notices because you make him look bad.
The way you can fall asleep anywhere makes other demons stop and stare. On the couch. On the floor. Once, somehow, leaned against him.
And every time it happens, Mammon’s the one getting yelled at.
"Why didn’t you wake them?"
"Why are you dragging them around if they’re that tired?"
"Are you using them as an excuse to skip class?"
"Mammon, don’t ya let them sleep like that! The other demons will think they’re easy prey! Blablabla, I’m Lucifer the high 'n mighty peaco—"
It’s ridiculous. Totally unfair. He’s not responsible for your weird human sleep habits.
The first time you doze off during one of his schemes, head tipping forward, breath evening out mid-sentence, Mammon panics.
“Oi—hey! MC?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face. “This ain’t funny, y’know?!”
You don’t stir.
For a horrible second, his mind goes somewhere dark and stupid, and his heart kicks painfully against his ribs. He shakes your shoulder a little too hard, calling your name louder than necessary—
Then you mumble something incoherent and shift closer to him.
He freezes. Ugh, all you stupid humans.
“…You do this on purpose, don’tcha,” he mutters weakly.
From then on, he becomes weirdly vigilant. If you yawn, he’s on you immediately. If you sit down for too long, he’s nudging you with his foot. If you start swaying, he grabs you by the sleeve.
“C’mon, c’mon, don’t fall asleep here,” he says, dragging you along. “If Lucifer sees this, Goldie is the one who’s in danger!”
But somehow, despite all that complaining…you always end up with a jacket over your shoulders. Or his arm blocking your head from hitting the table. Or him standing guard while you nap, scowling at anyone who comes too close.
When you wake up and thank him, Mammon scoffs, cheeks pink.
“Don’t get the wrong idea! I ain’t doin’ this ‘cause I care or nothin’,” he snaps. “You’re just… ah, yeah. And if somethin’ happens to ya, Lucifer’s gonna kill me.”
Levi doesn’t notice at first.
He’s too busy gaming or talking about his latest hyperfixation to register that you’ve gone suspiciously quiet beside him. It’s only when he pauses his game to explain a mechanic for the fifth time that he realises that—you’re not responding.
“…MC?”
No answer.
He glances over.
You’re asleep. Fully asleep. Head tilted forward, hands still in your lap.
“Oh. Oh no,” Levi mutters. “Did I… did I bore them to sleep?!”
He panics internally for a good thirty seconds, replaying everything he said, convinced this is proof he’s insufferable.
Yeah, he probably starts avoiding spending time with you at first.
THEN he starts noticing the pattern. You doze off during movie nights. You curl up in the corner of his room while he’s gaming. Once, you fall asleep standing up while he’s explaining lore while you’re both in the RAD cafeteria.
“That’s… not normal, right?” he says one day, nervously. “Humans aren’t supposed to have debuffs like this.”
He googles it. Extensively.
He definitely ends up more confused than when he started.
From then on, Levi becomes quietly accommodating.
He lowers the volume on his games when you’re nearby. Puts extra blankets within reach. Adjusts his chair so you have something to lean against if you get sleepy.
The first time you fall asleep against him, he blue-screens.
“W-Wait, MC?! I…this is—are you comfortable?!” he whispers, not daring to move.
You mumble something unintelligible and sink closer.
He doesn’t move for hours.
He tells himself it’s ‘cause waking you would be rude. Or because he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. Or because if he moves he might actually explode.
100% all three.
He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes that you’re comfortable enough around him to sleep.
Satan notices before anyone else does.
You’re very quiet about it, as one would expect. You simply fade out mid conversation or mid page..
One moment you’re there, engaged and thoughtful, and the next your eyes are slipping shut like your body has decided it’s done for the day.
At first, he finds it curious.
“You seem to fall asleep quite easily,” he remarks one afternoon, glancing over his book as you’re slumped beside him in the library.
“Do I?” you murmur. He can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not because your eyelids are drooping over.
“Mm. Yes. Consistently.”
He starts paying attention after that. Tracking it, mentally. How often it happens. Under what circumstances. How you always look more peaceful asleep than awake, as if rest is where you truly belong.
He doesn’t show that it worries him.
Humans require sleep, yes, but certainly not this much.
He reads about it. Cross-references medical texts and human psychology journals he somehow gets his hands on. None of it quite explains you.
One evening, he finally asks.
“You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?” he says carefully, closing his book. “Chronic exhaustion can be a symptom, not a habit.”
You blink at him, then smile. “I’ve always been like this.”
That doesn’t reassure him as much as you think it should.
Still, he adjusts.
He begins choosing quieter activities when you’re around. Invites you to sit beside him rather than across from him.
When you fall asleep leaning against him for the first time, he stiffens. Then relaxes.
He might shift his arm turning to the next page of his book, but he doesn’t move until you do.
And when you wake, blinking up at him in slight confusion, he offers you a small smile.
“Did you rest well?” he asks.
Asmo thinks it’s adorable.
Like, immediately adorable.
The first time he notices is when you fall asleep in his room, curled up among silk pillows and soft blankets, he gasps like he’s just witnessed the avant-garde.
Okay, maybe he also gasped because you promised you’d rate skincare products together, and now he’s just finding out which sleeping mask looks better on you.
“Oh my goodness,” he whispers. “You look precious.”
He snaps a picture. For himself. It never leaves his D.D.D.
At first, he assumes you’re just comfortable around him (as you should be).
But then it keeps happening. You nod off mid-conversation. Once, you literally fall asleep while he’s brushing your hair.
“…Okay,” Asmo hums, gently setting the brush aside. “This is more than just relaxation.”
Unlike some of his brothers, Asmo doesn’t tease you for it. He pampers you.
If you’re tired, he insists on face masks, warm baths, and soft music. He drapes you in the fluffiest robes, tucks you in like royalty, and shoos everyone else away.
“Rest is the foundation of beauty,” he says seriously. “And you, darling, deserve to be radiant!”
He does worry, though. Quietly. He asks if you’re eating well. If you’re stressed. If you’re pushing yourself too hard.
After all, inner beauty is important as well!
Okay fine, and health yadayada…
When you tell him you’re just a chronic napper, he sighs and cups your face.
“Then we’ll just make sure you nap properly,” he declares. “Only Asmo-approved sleeping conditions!”
He becomes fiercely protective of your rest.
If someone wakes you up at a time he considers unnecessary, even during an RAD class, he’s offended on your behalf.
“Excuse you,” he snaps, smile sharp. “They were sleeping.”
He’s the reason why you wake up with your skin feeling cool and a fluffy neck pillow wrapped snug on your shoulders.
Beel notices right away.
He’s been with Belphegor his whole life.
The first time you fall asleep near him, he doesn’t react at all.
He just shifts slightly, careful not to wake you, and lets you rest against him.
From then on, Beel adapts without making a fuss.
If you look tired, he guides you somewhere more comfortable and quiet. If you start nodding off, he positions himself so you won’t slump awkwardly. If you nap near him, he stays put. He tries his best.
Because Belphie used to need that too.
He does worry, though. You’re human. You don’t have the same constitution his brother does.
“You should eat something,” he says gently, placing a snack in your field of vision as soon as he notices you rubbing your eyes of sleep.
Sometimes, if you nap alone, you wake up with a blanket tucked around you and food within arm’s reach. You never see him do it.
If anyone complains, Beel shuts it down immediately.
“They’re tired,” he says simply, tone firm in a way that leaves no room for argument. “Let them sleep.”
When you apologise—because you usually always do—he frowns.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says simply.
There are moments when he watches you sleep and his chest aches with familiarity.
That was before Belphie came back.
Now, you and Belphie often nap together.
Couch naps. Floor naps. Window naps. Belphie sprawled out like a cat, you tucked in close without even thinking about it. Sometimes you fall asleep first. Sometimes he does. Most of the time, it doesn’t matter.
Beel doesn’t really comment on it.
The three of you end up together more often than not. You and Belphie asleep in a tangled heap, Beel sitting nearby with a bag of snacks, chewing quietly so he doesn’t wake you.
It feels right.
Belphie adjusts around you instinctively, arm thrown over your waist, chin resting on your head. He makes a disturbed sound if you move too much, pulls you closer if you drift away.
Beel keeps track of the both of you. Mostly of you. Of how long you’ve been asleep. Of whether you’ve eaten. Of whether you’re breathing evenly.
To Beel, you’ll always be fragile.
Every now and then, Belphie cracks one eye open and looks at Beel.
“They’re fine,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep.
“I know,” Beel replies with a mouth full of cupcake.
Belphie snorts and closes his eyes again.
Two people Beel loves, asleep and safe in front of him.
It reminds him of when they were angels. When Belphie used to sleep curled up beside him, and Beel stayed awake just to make sure nothing went wrong.
Now, there’s you too.
It unsettles Belphie how much you remind him of himself.
He remembers your heartbeat stopping under his hands.
The way your body went limp.
The way you never fought him.
The guilt doesn’t come crashing in. It seeps. Slow. Heavy. Suffocating.
“…Idiot,” he mutters one night, his blanket half-fallen off your shoulder. He doesn’t know if he’s talking about you or himself.
Probably both.
He thinks back on that night sometimes as you’re napping peacefully in his arms.
How could he have done that to someone who was so much like him?
To someone that he cares so much for now?
…He never lets you sleep alone if he can help it.
You nap together constantly. It becomes a thing. You fit against him easily, like you’ve always belonged there. Your breathing evens out faster when he’s there. He pretends not to notice.
But he does.
Oh, and you two are found sleeping in the weirdest places.
Lucifer finds the two of you asleep on the couch, fine. Manageable, maybe a little bit cute. He throws a blanket over you and moves on.
Then he finds you asleep in the library. Belphie sprawled across an armchair, you curled up on the floor with your head on a stack of books.
Okay, fine.
It gets worse.
Mammon stumbles into the hallway one afternoon and nearly trips over the two of you asleep on the stairs.
“What in tarnation—!” He stops himself mid-yell. You both don’t budge. He sighs. Steps over you.
Levi once walked into his room to find you two asleep in his bathtub, one of his limited-edition dakimakuras sacrificed as a cushion.
He stands there for a full minute.
How’d you guys even get in here??
The final straw is when Lucifer opens the front door and finds both of you asleep on the front steps.
Outside.
At night.
“…Why,” he asks the universe quietly.
At this point, no one even tries to stop it.
They just adapt.
Blankets appear everywhere. Cushions migrate mysteriously. The brothers have learned to step over you, around you, or just accept that the House of Lamentation is now 40% nap zones.
And the dreams—
Belphie slips into your dreams gently, carefully, like he’s handling something fragile. He bends them softer. Warmer. He gives you quiet skies, endless fields, familiar comfort.
When you stir, frowning slightly, he presses his forehead to yours.
“Sleep,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
You trust him.
That’s the part that hurts the most.
One night, half-asleep, you mumble, “You’re warm…”
His eyes open.
Then, slowly, carefully, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer.
“…Yeah,” he whispers back, eyes burning, voice barely steady.
“ ‘M not letting anything happen to you again.”
obey me masterlist
hope you enjoyed!! and sorry some parts were longer than others. any interaction helps! oh, and merry christmas eve to those that celebrate!
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