Hii! I'm the anon from earlier! U can choose whoever! I personally think Asmo would be good, but it can also be Lucifer or Mammon! TYSM for answering! You can take as long as you need:)) Thank you againnn! And congrats, Stay safe! ｡◕‿◕｡
BEHIND THE MASK
Asmodeus X MC (REQUEST)
Summary: MC wears a mask 24/7, thinking theyre the most hideous think to have ever exist. However, Asmodeus thinks otherwise.
Words: 1.8k
Warning: Shit writing. The narrator kinda bullies you a little. Angst to comfort(?). The last part is rushed.
Extra: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I haven't been feeling well mentally and physically for a while now. I had to rush this to put the guilt of not finishing this behind me. I'm so sorry if it's trash.
There is a certain amount of confidence one can uphold in odd situations, that is if confidence is considered numerically quantifiable. But in an odd situation like, being around celestial beings everyday while being the only filthy mortal within their presence, you can take whatever confidence level you had and multiply it by zero. Compared to them, you had skin as dry and ashy as mud under the harsh, tropical sun, you had hair as plainly colored to fit the boring color of your eyes, a face that ages and ages until it wrinkles and rots away once its buried back in the dirt from where it came, you were nothing short of a poorly made scarecrow next to these porcelain with wings or tails.
As beautiful as they all were, one stood out the most: Asmodeus, the avatar of lust. Someone who had skin as soft and smooth as cotton, hair naturally colored to fit the roses that adorned his room while crowning his eyes like gold plates on a necklace that holds its jewel in place, he had a face that would never change even after you were long gone. He was perfect and he knew that very well. He was the treasured rose in a land of fire and sin, and unfortunately your best friend too. He loved you for all he thought you were worth, which was more than what you had in mind. He’d polish your nails and rinse your skin, he looks at you as if you were his most beloved possession. Which was funny. For someone who treasures beauty, he has never even seen your full face.
You have always worn a mask, mostly in a literal sense. After all, it would be an ungodly sight if you went outside without one next to them, no? All they could see was your tired eyes and heavy bags, the way your eyes shine— or lack thereof— with self-loathing and insecurities. Asmodeus could smell it off of you, your inner turmoil. You knew how unpleasant you were, and yet he still chose to hang around you. He hovered near you in malls and in parks, massaged your shoulders when it’s close to bedtime. If only he knew how hideous you looked underneath the piece of cheap fabric you've come to recognise as your shield.
Who could ever love a face like that? Pitiful, ever expiring, ugly. Not even a mask could hide the rot behind it.
You were on your way to his bed, a nightly routine you knew all too well. You'd use his bathroom to begrudgingly try out some skin products he insists you try. After every bath, you always manage to get your hair wet, so he blows it out for you while you sit on his bed. He cares for you. Like a princess would a frog with the promise of turning it into a prince. Except you were no prince, you're just a frog who happens to fall into a princesses hands.
“MC, come, sit!”
Asmodeus calls out to you, the blow dryer in his hand. He's already in his pajamas, sitting on his bed, legs folded. He has this smile that could charm anyone— frog or prince. You sat in front of him, back towards him, looking down at the fabric below. His skin was softer than the sheets, and they were even softer as he brushes the wet drops in your hair out. He hums a home-y tune, something to calm you down. The buzz of the hair drier ringing through the humming. You felt at ease.
“Did you have fun today, hon?”
He asks. You don't have to turn around to know that he was smiling. You sigh,
“It was okay.”
“You say that everytime.”
He chuckles. You're so predictable, why bother? Even so, he doesn't seem tired of your repetitive responses.
“You know, I did some fun things today too!” He speaks, excitement in his tone. He then went on about his day and how he wished you were there with him. Frankly, all you did today was follow Lucifer's orders and hole up in Leviathan's room. Truly nothing special.
Just like you.
“Wow.”
You spoke, the tone in your voice seemingly devoid of any interest. You didn't mean to. You just hate yourself so much you've grown accustomed to hate itself, as if that's all you can do; hate.
Yet this doesn't faze the demon drying your hair with such care. He simply turns off the dryer and gets up to walk to his dresser. He continues talking, a sweet, soothing calmness washing over you as he speaks. It is the same calmness that irks you, though. You don't deserve this.
An ugly thing like you?
“Did you see what Sitri posted about Solomon on devilgram today?”
Asmodeus takes out a hairbrush. A very intricately designed one. Laced with gold you could only dream to acquire. Actually, not even your dreams could afford that hairbrush. Asmodeus continues speaking.
“I'm starting to think everyone who has made a pact with him hates him.”
Asmodeus returns, brush in hand, he walks towards you. He continues to brush your hair with soft, gentle streaks. He knows how to take care of you so well, he knows all of you and how to care for every dry patch of skin, every rash, every bruise, and yet he has never seen your whole face.
He takes good care of you and all you do is mope and whine about how ugly you look. You're quite the hypocrite, you know that?
“You know I don't like to gossip, Asmo…”
With your shoulders slumped and your back towards him, you don't bother to look back at his expression, and you didn't have to. You've memorised every perfect detail of his perfect face down to the number of lashes to know that empathetic smile he wears when you're being difficult. A part of you hates how perfect he is, yet not a particle in your being could muster up the audacity to hate him. Insecurities do not give you the right to hate those who live comfortably in their own shell. You know this well. He sighs, smiling at your hideous figure,
“I know, hon. I know.”
He continues to brush your hair, now brushing the hair that's close to your head, causing the string of your mask to get caught in between the bristles of the brush. Asmodeus was quick to untangle it.
“I am so, so sorry, love!”
He delicately removes the string from the bristles, placing it behind your ear where it once was, leaving your mask on. It's funny, he never saw your full face. You could be a monster with no skin under that mask, just jaw and bones with no muscles covering it. You could have fangs that could sink in deep, deeper than marrow. Then again, all those reasons would have been way cooler than the truth.
You're just really, really fucking ugly.
“Doesn't it bother you?”
You asked, the lump in your throat and the blaze in your heart starting to irritate you.
“If it doesn't bother you, then it doesn't bother me. I try my best to avoid the string when brushing your hair.”
Asmodeus lovingly pats your hair, placing every strand into its place perfectly.
“No, not that– well, yes that but–”
You didn't know how to put lumps of feelings stuck in your throat into words that make sense. You try again.
“Doesn't it bother you how you don't know what I look like?”
He stops as he gets off of the bed, repositioning himself next to you, a loving hand on yours.
“Not at all.”
“You're just saying that because you're nice.”
You pull back as if your own words burned a hole through the pit of your stomach. What made you think that was a reasonable response? However, Asmodeus only smiles, not moving an inch when you pull away, not forcing physical contact.
“Although I am beautiful inside and out, that's not the reason.”
He fidgets with the brush in his hand, his gaze fixed on the brush as you cut through his words.
“But you're all about beauty and perfection! It would be weird if your ‘bestie’ was the opposite of that.”
His brows furrowed, as if confused by your harsh words. He looks up at you, seeing you eye to eye.
“Excuse me? Opposite?”
“Why else would I be wearing a mask all the time? Because I'm ugly, Asmodeus! I'm hideous and I don't know why you constantly hang around me!”
Asmodeus sits up straight, realizing this conversation was heading to a more serious direction. His shoulders relaxed, his gaze fixed on you, even his silence was gentle.
“What do you think is beautiful, hon?”
You blink once, then twice, thinking of things that you find beautiful.
“Not me, everyone but me.”
“Really?”
He tilts his head, his gaze still fixed on you. You avoid it.
“Because I think you are the most gorgeous thing that I have the pleasure of being with.”
The way he said it, the absolute sincerity of his words almost made you forget how to breathe. You look at him, he's not smiling. He's being serious. He then lets out a sigh with a small smile. He fixes his posture.
“You want to know why I fell in love with you, MC? Why I love you so much?”
He points at your heart, where it should be anatomically. He looks at you.
“Because of this. You love so much and so hard that you convinced me that being beautiful doesn't stop at what I see, but it extends to how that someone acts.”
He pulls his hand back, putting it against his cheek, looking at you with loving eyes.
“And that is such a beautiful lesson to teach someone by just being with us– I mean, look at us!”
Asmodeus points to himself, still smiling.
“I'm a demon! Humans were taught to hate us and yet here you are, loving us completely! Looking past the scales, the horns, and the wings.”
He tones it down, letting out a small huff before speaking in a gentler tone.
“You don't need to look a certain way to be beautiful. You don't have to cover all of this up. You being you is enough.”
He looks at your mask for a second. You graze your fingers against the fabric of your mask. How long has it been since you last took this off in front of people? How long has it been since you opened yourself up to others? How long have you berated and degraded yourself into thinking you were unlovable for the way you looked?
“Do you want me to take the mask off…?”
Asmodeus shakes his head.
“Don't do it for me. Do it for you. Are you ready to let people see you? Or do you need more time to be comfortable with the idea?”
You hesitate, you aren't sure. He places a palm on your hand, his thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of your hand.
“With time, hon. You don't have to drop the mask now. Let's do it one step at a time, I'll be here for every step of the way.”
HI I'm the one who asked for the mask thing a month ago? It's not to rush u or anything! I just realized I said "unconscious" instead of self-conscious!🥹
-🌹
HIIII OMG IM SO SORRY. ITS TAKING ME SO LONG BUT I SWEAR ITS GOING TO BE DONE SOON. I went through this phase of home sickness and depression from being in a new environment (still am tbh) and i havent been posting much bcus of that. Also I work at McDonald's now. BUT I PROMISE IT WILL BE OUT SOON
Hello! Idk if u take requests:')) And idk if this is off-limits, so ignore this if you'd like:))
I was just wondering if you could make one about an insecure mc who always wears masks (inside and outside of the house)?? Everyone in the game is so handsome/beautiful! I just know I'd feel unconscious, whether I'm in a relationship w any of them or not! Thank you for reading:)
I can try! If there's a specific character u'd like me to focus on, then I will get to writing as soon as I find the time. I've been really busy lately. I just got back home from graduation, and in just 4 days, I'll be flying to Australia from the Philippines, so idk if i can get to this request soon. So pls be patient with me :,)
Summary: This is a continuation of my first Mammon fic. Before jumping into this one, please read part one first. Thankyou.
Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO CONTINUE DESPITE THE WARNINGS THEN THAT IS YOUR CHOICE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Dom!Mammon X nonbinary MC, Oral (Reader receiving), No protection but no creaming inside (if he aint got no condom, don't let the mf top em), Mammon won't shut UP. Lowkey kind of rushed, not proofread.
Word count: 1.4k
Extra: This is my first time writing actual smut. I’m sorry this took so long to make huhuhu. A LOT of things happened in just a span of a month. I TRIED MY BEST I’M SORRY.
Minors DNI. NSFW UNDER THE CUT.
“I love you, MC, but I’m sorry…”
“...I’m at my limit.”
Mammon, the demon gripping you so sweetly as if you could flow out of his grip like viscous honey, has lost his wits end. Wet, desperate kisses planted themselves on your lips as he undid the buttons of your shirt with one hand. He pushes you further against the wall in an attempt to get closer to you, to merge your shared warmth until it was hot enough to set this room on fire. You can hear his shaky breaths, his hips having a mind of its own as he thrusts against your upper thigh despite the clothes getting in the way. Your vision blurs, you might as well close your eyes. He lets out one final huff before leaning back to look at you. He smiles, a smile you have never seen from him before. It’s like he’s teasing you. He speaks, his voice sultry and desperate.
“You look so fucking pretty like this, MC.”
Mammon takes off his top, throwing it to the side. His eyes never left yours, he needed to see every single reaction you gave him. For now, he likes what he’s seeing. He leans closer, gripping the ends of your blouse and takes them off of your body. You’re cold. He can sense this, he chuckles.
“Cold? Want me to help?”
He places a palm on your hip, sliding it down to feel your skin. You felt your breath hitch.
“Mammon-!”
He pulls you into him, cutting you off.
“C’mon, treasure. You told me I could have it. You can’t leave me hangin’ like this.”
His hand rests on your back, he slides it down just enough to tuck the tip of his middle finger under the bands of your pants. His chin rests upon your shoulder, you can’t see his reaction. However, it doesn’t take a genius to know what kind of expression he has on.
“I wasn't trying to stop you…”
You bury your face into his chest, in this position, you can hear his heart racing.
“...Just wanted to let you know that I’ve been waiting, wanting this too.”
For a moment, you swore you heard him gasp or at least choke. He then pushes you onto the bed by your shoulders. Here you are, back against the sheets as he hovers on top of you, one hand on the zipper of his pants. He looks desperate, frantic, he looks like he’s so close to losing it if he hadn’t lost it already a while ago.
“Fuck, MC, don’t fucking tease me like that.”
You heard him unzip his pants, he leaned down closer, close enough to kiss your neck. He whispers,
“I’m going to get re-aquainted with this fuckin’ body. Head to toe, you’re mine.”
He bites down onto your skin, going lower and lower each time.
“This body’s gunna get used to me, memorize the hell out of me. I’ll fuck it so good it’ll never forget me.”
He then looks up at you, his head in the middle of your chest.
“This goes for you too.”
He then dragged his hand down from the side of your hips to your pants, pulling them down and off of you gently but oh so desperately.
“I’ll ask ya again, okay?”
He kisses the skin right above your sensitive parts but below your belly button. He keeps his gaze locked into yours.
“Can I have it?”
You didn't realize it until now, but you felt yourself growing weaker and weaker. You nod, just trying to get him to do something already.
“Yes! Yes, Mammon! Stop asking!”
He scoffs, “And here I was, tryna be polite.”
He kisses your skin, lower and lower. Instinctively, you tried to squeeze your thighs together, he stopped you. His fingers dug themselves in the fat of your thighs, he glared at you.
“I thought I told ya to stop fucking teasing me.”
Without another word, without another response, he kisses your sensitive spot. You hitch, squeezing your eyes tight. He continues to kiss, lick, suck, anything that makes you feel so good you start to shiver. His hold on your thighs never falters, if anything, they grew stronger. He mumbles as he quite literally has you in his mouth, on his taste buds. His voice was breathy and desperate.
“Feels good, yeah? Gunna makes a mess on my tongue?”
You wish he would just shut the hell up. You reached down to grab him by his hair. He chuckles.
“C’mon, I know you can.”
He continues on, making you squeeze whatever strands of hair you were able to grab on his head. The pain doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He lets go of your thighs just to feel them squeeze around him, he’s smug about it.
“Go on, make a mess. We ain’t the ones cleanin’ this up. These aint our sheets.”
You’re so close to your limit.
“Oh fuck, Mammon!”
“Dun worry, treasure. I promise you will. I just need ya to cream on my face.”
You instinctively squeezed your thighs even harder, cumming right onto his face. He chuckles, getting out of his spot in between your legs to let you catch your breath. You don’t know what he did afterwards, he probably wiped his face, who knows. He then sat beside you, looking down at you.
“Are you alright? Still wanna keep going?”
He asks you. You're still trying to catch your breath and he’s over here asking questions.
“Oh don’t look at me like that. I’m just checking up on ya.”
He wipes the sweat off of your forehead, he smiles.
“Well, at least you ain’t cold anymore.”
Mammon gets off of the bed, re-positioning himself in between your legs. This time, he has your legs over his shoulder as he looks down at you. He smiles.
“You look so damn pretty.”
His pants were still on, his zipper was pulled all the way down as well as his boxers to give way to his hardened sex. He huffs, blush adorning his face.
“Gunna fuck you so fuckin’ good now.”
He slowly enters you, nice and slow.
“Yer gunna accept me, right? Let me pound into ya like there's no tomorrow?”
With the head of his cock fully inside of you, he slowly sinks his shaft into you. You let out a noise. This does not go unnoticed by him.
“Yeah you will. Of course you will.”
He then pulls himself out of you only to thrust back in with ample force and speed that makes your legs shake, he keeps talking.
“Yer my human, after all. Mine, all fucking mine.”
He pounds into you like no tomorrow. You don’t understand how he can thrust this fast and this deep, he’s making your head spin.
“Fuck– I might finish a lil’ early tonight.”
He leans forward, pounding in deeper with more force. His eyes never left yours, as if he was trying to burn this image of you beneath him, getting ravaged by him, in his retinas. For a long while, the only noise that you could hear was the noise you were making, his pants and moans, and the sound of skin pounding into skin. You’re dizzy, all of your thoughts are merging into one goop. You felt your back arch a little to accommodate him. He keeps his hand on the lower portion of your legs. He finds it in himself to speak again. However, his words have been reduced to burbles.
“I- fuck- I can’t. ‘m gunna cum…”
He goes faster, not that you thought that it was possible. The noises grew louder as he practically slammed himself inside of you.
“I fuckin’ love ya. Gunna marry ya one day. Gunna make sure we’re never apart.”
He adjusts his grip on your legs before going at it once more.
“So I won't have to miss ya, so that I won't have to wait months to see ya again.”
He keeps stuttering, he’s close.
“B-by then… we’ll be together… always, every single fucking day-! I can finally kiss ya everyday, finally hug ya, finally fuck ya! J-just wait!”
He lets out a groan before pulling out of you, evidence of his arousal spilling onto your stomach. The both of you huff, looking into the eyes of one another. He doesn’t say another word. He just gently removed your legs from his shoulders and laid down next to you. His breath was still ragged.
Summary: As he gets ready for an important day, he reminisces the moments you two spent when you were still together. However, this world is cruel. Cruel enough to peel you away from his arms and force you to marry another. You, on the other hand, wish you weren’t so stuck on what your parents think. Maybe then you would have run away from the unwanted before it was too late. Now, here you are, on stage as Lucifer watches from below. So close, yet worlds apart.
Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST WITH NO COMFORT. I did NOT hold your hand while saying this. Mentions of a breakup (the most lazy ass breakup u could ever imagine). Mentions of forced marriage to the rich. Mentions of how the world is a piece of shit. Mentions of mild manipulation from MCs parents. NONBINARY MC.
Word count: 2.5k
Extra: I ran out of creative juices by the end while making this (I broke my own heart / got heartbroken before writing this NO I WAS NOT REJECTED). I AM SO SORRY, I JUST COULDN’T RESIST.
Soft wind brushed against the pale skin of the demon, its feathery touch slowly rocking him to sleep. He closed his eyes, yet the image of the place he stood ever so still bore deep into his mind like a bad tattoo. He couldnt get rid of the image even if he wanted to. He was on top of a grassy hill with only one tree crowning the lone hill. Its leaves rustled with the wind, the sound keeping him in place. He was in a state of peace, pure and utter tranquil.
“...Lucifer!”
He hears a familiar voice, the person he yearns to embrace to complete his state of pure calmness and tranquility.
“Lucifer!”
It's getting louder now, yet he dares not to open his eyes. He trusts that they will run into his arms and embrace themselves in his sinful form. To be hated by the entire human race yet loved unconditionally by one of its children, ironic yet oh so lucky.
“Luciferrr!”
His smile grows wider, and he chuckles softly. He knows they're probably growing agitated, annoyed that he isn't looking at them. Finally, he feels it, the warmest of hugs, warmer than the rays of sun that adorn his once holy figure. However, its warmth grew hotter, burning even. Eventually, he finds himself falling. Back to the day, he lost everything and gained a few. It burns, everywhere hurts, yet he does not cry like he did before. The sky looked beautiful, dare he say heavenly, as he fell and felt the hot wind pass through the gaps of his fingers, his arm stretched out towards the sky. On the clouds, he sees you. The person, human, heard running to embrace him but never did. He hears your voice every day, and yet he never gets the chance to touch you. All you are is a ghost, passing through as if he was nothing but a blur in your vision.
But this version of you smiles as he falls. The smile was gentle, soft, as if you were happy he fell. Cause if he didn't, he wouldn't have met you– that's what he tells himself. Despite the pain, he smiles, too. Oh, what a beautiful smile you had, a twist to the knife, a smile that will never be for him. He closes his eyes, holding that image of your smile in his heart. He accepts his fall.
He finally wakes up. He's had dreams of this caliber lately. He turned his head to the side and saw the empty sheets that you once buried yourself in. All that's left is a ghost of you.
He gets up, getting ready for the day. He has always been surrounded by dark colors, mostly red and black, but his whole world turned gray when you slipped through his warm embrace.
He puts on a bathrobe, he remembers how you bought matching ones and would insist on wearing them together every day. You would smear skincare products on his face, taking advantage of his soft spot for you. He would laugh, take your hand, and make sure you finish what you started. He pulls on the strings, bringing himself back to reality.
He heads into the shower, turning on the faucet. Steam starts filling up the space. He remembered how you relied on said steam to cover your body as he shaves or waits for you to be done. He remembered how you would wash his hair as he sank himself in a soapy bathtub. He wonders what those same hands that used to scrub and massage his aching body are doing now. He remembers the soap you forced him to get every time. The scent just fit him so well. He still uses it, wondering if you notice when you walk past him.
He gets out of the shower, dressing up for the day. He remembers how you would play dress up with him, choosing his outfits for the day as he chose yours. You would always pick absurd ones that you were certain would diminish his pride. However, it would always have the opposite effect. He would wear each and every apparel with this smug look on his face. Yeah, you chose that for him. You slept with him, woke up with him, showered with him, and now you dressed him up. All you with and for him.
Now, he dressed himself up formally. Today was a special day, after all. He looked great, mature, as you would say. You would say that every time. You admired him with those loving eyes of yours.
“No matter what you put on, you always look so good, Lucifer.”
Your voice echoes through his head. As much as it hurts, he loves you too much to want to forget the way you sound when you say his name.
He picks up the bouquet of white flowers on his desk, observing them. His final gift to you. He remembers the gifts you gave him, too. He remembers the matching necklaces and how much of a fuss you made when you lost yours. He still has it hidden somewhere in his drawer. He would take it out when he missed you a little too much. He should probably throw them away or hide it better. Looking at them now would be a different kind of sin.
He gets out of his room, looking at how frantically his brothers were preparing for the big day. He sighs, stepping down the staircase. Immediately, his brothers froze. They looked at him with pity, what an ugly sight. This is supposed to be a day of pure joy and blessings. Why do they look like someone has died? Lucifer clears his throat,
“We leave in ten minutes. By then, I do not want to hear a single whine or complaint.”
And they nod. No arguing against their older, seemingly sickly, brother. They understood that this was a rather vulnerable time for the demon, they rather not make things worse. Of course, Lucifer knew this well, he appreciates their concern but would rather they don't treat him like you would a sick child playing general.
He takes off to the music room, footsteps leaving a rather satisfying click as they hit the floor. He needed that familiar air before being ambushed by that nauseating, heart-heavy feeling. He placed a pale hand onto the keys of his piano, fingers brushing against the black and white but not making a sound. He remembers how you would always catch him here, enjoying a bottle of his prized demonus as he sits and enjoys the music he meticulously picked out for that moment. He remembered how he’d pretend to not notice as you tiptoed closer to him. He’d catch your wrist before your fingers reached his face, attempting to poke his cheeks. He never understood why you did that, his cheeks weren’t the fluffy type. He remembers your response.
“Because it annoys you.”
He chuckles to himself, wishing he said what he wanted to say in response,
“Nothing you do annoys me. If anything, I find your antics endearing.”
Instead, he remember saying something along the lines of,
“You don’t know when to give up, do you?”
He remembers how you would chuckle and smile in response. Oh how he would hate to see you smile like that now after everything that has happened.
He looks at the clock, it’s time to leave.
The travel from the Devildom to the Human world was quiet. Well, his brothers were being rowdy but the air felt suffocating. So much so that he had to be carefully escorted by Mammon. When he came to his senses, they were standing under the bright sun, in front of a tall building. A luxury hotel, the best hotel money could buy. Is this what you requested? Is this what you wanted? He wonders, he doesn’t know you anymore. He shouldn’t, you’re not his to worry about.
Everyone was dressed for the occasion, people elegantly flooded the halls, heading for the venue. They were wearing suits and dresses personally tailored to suit them, all in your favorite color. He scrunches up his nose, irritated by the sight. You loved that color, he knew that much, he bought you gifts in that color. He saw it so frequently that it slowly became his favorite color too.
They finally entered the venue, it was decorated in your favorite things. Why wouldn’t it be? This was your special day. All he and his brothers are to you at this moment are old friends from a far away school. It had a special kind of sting, the term “old friends”, as if all their memories together, all the laughs, the pain, the tears, the celebrations, have been reduced to a grain of sand on the bottom of an hourglass. Insignificant, small, forgotten. The only thing tilting the hourglass to fill the other side is the bouquet of flowers that he crumpled up in his hand not too long ago. After all those years, he’ll finally see you again.
The demons found their place in the venue, sitting down as people cheered. He braced himself for the worse, for the shitshow he’s about to witness. He looked at the only light up place in the venue, the stage. His heart soars and sinks, his thin lips pull themselves to form a hesitant smile, there you were in all of your glory…
… Married to another.
He heard your partner was from a wealthy family, so wealthy that your parents insisted you marry them. He and his brothers missed the actual wedding and showed up to the reception, it was for the best. He knew you had strict parents, forced to fit you into twisted ideologies and restricting views. A world where boys couldn’t love boys, girls couldn’t love girls, kids were forced to become parents for the sake of empathy yet they allowed the murder of innocent lives while chasing them away from their lands and homes, and guns were seen as the solution rather than the problem. It’s a loveless, lawless world you were living in. A world where you can't love him.
He remembered how it was a normal day for him, a normal day of missing you. You were back up in the human world, as per usual. He knew– thought that you would come back to hold him. He remembered how you rang his phone, he picked it up with a smile you couldn’t see…
“How is the human world, love?”
He remembered how you sounded like you spent the entire night and day crying…
“It’s over, Lucifer.”
He remembered when he thought it was a joke.
“What did I do now? I promise to make it up to-”
He remembered the exact moment he realized you were being serious.
“I don’t want to speak to you ever again. Delete this number, and burn all of my things if you have to. Forget about me, forget I ever existed.”
He remembers when you hung up before he could demand for answers.
“It’s over, Lucifer. Thank my parents for that.”
He closes his eyes, blinded by the lights and the heavy pang of his heart. How cruel was the world to force him to learn about the truth the hard way. How cruel was the world to take away the one thing that brought him pure peace, how cruel was the world to lead him to fall in love with humanity's child, and how cruel was this child to give him an invitation to their wedding a year later.
How cruel was the world to a man who wanted to love.
He hears your voice as you speak about your spouse. Hesitant, shaky, uncertain. He picked it all up. Maybe he was being delusional, but he knew you wanted out of this ceremony, even if it was finished. You saw him, eyes closed in the crowd. He looked stunning. All your family members are staring at this stunning man, you chuckle. Your spouse thinks you're so in love with them that it's funny. A narcissistic bitch, that one. You wanted to call out to him, the man with his eyes closed in the crowd, you wanted to tell him that he looks older. That his wrinkles are more conspicuous, that the bags under his eyes grew darker, he looked slimmer, yet he looked so beautiful. So sinfully ethereal. You imagined jumping out of this stage and running into his arms. However, if you did that, you’d be disowned. Your parents would have to pay back the money your now in-laws funded for your family’s almost failing business. And who knows how much that is? So you sit there, head down, hands on your lap as your spouse talks about them and themselves only. Would you rather live an entire life of hell to support your parents' dreams or live a life of pure bliss in the devil's arms while your parents suffer? You don’t want them to suffer, they are your parents after all, you were hard wired to believe that. So you let it happen, let the man you love slip through your fingers. You two had a good run, after all.
Suddenly, a familiar voice snaps you out of the train of thought.
“If I were to be your husband, I would see to it that your smile reaches the Celestial realm, outshine their light, and let them know that you and I are meant to be.”
His voice echoes in your head, you almost forgot about that. How you would wake up next to him and pretend to still be asleep, only to listen to his morning rants about how much he loves you.
“We have more than enough time to stop and smell the flowers once we take Cerberus home. Let’s take it a step further and go on a date. You think that’s too important of a decision to make abrupt? Would you rather we take this to my room?”
Another one. They keep coming.
“It’s your turn to cook for everyone. You don’t want to? Fine, we’ll order. Just don’t tell my brothers about this.”
You remember everything, how he’d hold your hand, how he’d wash your hair, how he looked at you like you were the most stunning creature he had ever laid eyes upon. You remember the man you truly fell in love with. It was too late now, you’re already spoken for. How cruel the world is for genuine romantics. All you could do was mouth the words to him as he finally opened his eyes to look at you.
Summary: Simeon, your husband, has traded his celestial title for you. Now, you have to live with that fact as it haunts you in your everyday life. On top of that, insecurities lead you to say things and do things without thinking it through. However, your husband is determined to prove to you why you are worth every sacrifice.
Warning: SPOILERS!!! Angst to fluff! The narrator is a bitch. INSECURE MC. Nonbinary Reader/MC
Word count: 2.2k
Extra: Might be ooc. I haven't played the game in a while, and I don't know much about Simeon.
Sunlight sifts through the fabric of the curtains. Wind softly grazed the fabric, mimicking the motions of breath. The room felt warm, comfy, like home. You've been through a lot, you deserved this moment of peace. Your bed was soft and huge, because it was made for two. However, your husband has already left the warm sheets, now it's all for you to occupy. Simeon left for work ages ago, you stay at home most of the time.
How could you even consider going outside when you look like that?
You stretch your limbs, looking at the digital clock on your bedside table. It's 6:32 in the morning. It's time to get up. You slowly push your upper body to sit up right, still feeling a little groggy. However, your hunger overridden your desire to stay in bed. Legs dangling over the side of the bed, you were met with the mirror. It was weird, having a mirror right in front of your bed, but Simeon gently persuaded you to get one installed. It was huge, it took up your wall. You hated it.
Simeon, your husband, was a gentle soul. How could he not be? He was a former angel. An angel who loved you so much he set his heavenly wings on fire, losing his angelic title, all for you. Well, he didn't set them on fire literally, but it might as well have gone in that direction. You felt guilty. He would've stayed an angel, not running some cafe in the human world, providing for you. Sure, he was your husband, but he was so much more before this. He was an angel, now…
…he's just some guy married to someone who's better off six feet under.
You chuckled at that thought, looking at the floor, at your feet as it dangled off of the bed. He loved you, so much so that he married you. You said yes, not because you loved him too, but because it was all you could give back to the heavenly soul who sacrificed everything for you. That doesn't mean you don't love the man, you just hate yourself so much it overrides every other feeling you have for anything else.
Who wouldn't? Look at you. Mediocre. So mediocre you blend in with the background. There's nothing special about you. Your features don't work well with each other, if beauty standards were measured numerically, you'd be a negative.
And they are measured numerically. Mostly by people who think they can put a price on physical features. It doesn't matter if you're smart, kind, or talented. If you aren't a piece of ass, you're a nobody. You hated the thought, you hated entertaining It. It's the reason why you were so insecure. Every classmate, every peer, every user on social media, they all managed to out-shine you.
The only achievement you have is the fact that you're married to a former angel.
You gaze down at your hands, sitting palms down on your lap. What ugly, dry hands they were. You look at your thighs, what an ugly shape. You look up at the mirror. What a hideous creature you are. No wonder you were constantly rejected and pushed away by the people you adored. You chuckle sadly, sarcastically, a hint of anger vibrating in your throat. You were angry at the world for looking prettier than you, you were angry at the arrogant people who got away with everything just because they had a pretty face, but most importantly…
…You were angry at yourself.
You finally found the courage to stand up, feet weakly carrying you closer to the mirror as if this was your first time walking. Your eyes were glued to the eyes in the mirror, staring right into your soul.
What a hideous creature you are. This is what an angel sacrificed his holy title for? Pathetic.
Angry eyes stare right back at you. Is this what he would look like if he realized the monstrosity he married? Is this the way Simeon looks at you if he took off the rose-tinted glasses and looked at you and all of your repulsive glory? You managed to press a hand onto the mirror, palm flat on the smooth, clean surface.
You don't deserve this moment of peace.
You don't deserve jack shit.
This feeling of self-loathing, you always had it ever since you were young. It only grew stronger and more hateful when you found out Simeon was no longer an angel. You are the reason for an angel's fall, all because you needed to “stabilize your power”?
That makes you unsightly and weak.
The more you stare at your reflection, the more the flesh and features mold into one, the ugly creature you always have envisioned yourself to be emerges from the depths of your mind. You hated yourself, more than anyone could ever hate you. Why did you agree to this marriage? Why did you keep him trapped with someone like you? Here on earth, no longer something great, something like you. Stuck to take care of an overgrown baby, whining and crying about the way they look. You don't deserve a husband, you don't deserve him, and you definitely don't deserve a life.
“Love?”
A voice pierced through your train of thought, the illusion your hateful mind started to bring to life dissipated with only one word. You turn your head to the door, a tall figure standing by the light, a worried look on his face.
“MC, what's wrong?”
Simeon, still as ethereal as the day you met him, stood by the doorway of your shared bedroom. The ring glistened due to the rays of the sun shining through any vacant space surrounding him and the doorway. You stand up straight.
“Simeon.”
Your voice betrays your need to act composed.
“You're still here…”
It wasn't a question, it was an expression of surprise. You were so sure he left at around 5:00 am to prepare the cafe for opening. He steps forward, letting more sunlight in. Were the days always this bright?
“The new hire insisted he open the cafe, so I took this opportunity to plan a little us-day for us.”
His smile was soft, his words were gentle, an angel.
“Are… are you sure that he can handle the cafe on his own?”
“Well, Luke is there. They'll be fine.”
“You left a child to take care of the new hire?”
“No, love, I left the new hire to take care of the child.”
He smiles. You can't tell if he's joking or If he's being serious.
“Simeon, that's dangerous! What if something happens?!”
“Luke is a big boy now. He is more than qualified to work the shop. They'll be fine, love, I promise.”
He walks towards you, placing a hand on your shoulders before hugging you gently but tightly. Your chin rests upon his chest while he rocks you left and right, as if he's trying to sway you to sleep.
“...let me take care of you first.”
He lets the palm of his hand rest onto your head, fingers resting through the strands of your hair but not brushing through them. He hums.
“Are you having those thoughts again?”
You relax your shoulders. Sure, he has lost his celestial powers and rights but that doesn't change the fact that he has this naturally calming effect.
“... how did you know?”
“I know who I married, love.”
He plants a soft kiss onto your head, swaying you gently. A guilty pang fills up your heart. You don't deserve this.
“If it weren't for me, you'd still be up in the celestial realm with luke.”
There was a minute of silence, as if giving you a moment to say everything you needed to say. When you fell silent, he speaks.
“Heaven is not a place.”
“Huh?”
He smiles, letting go of the hug to look at you, hands resting on your shoulders. His eyes look right into yours.
“...It's when I look at you. Heaven is when I wake up each day to feel you next to me…”
He gently takes his hand and rests it upon the side of your face, rubbing your cheeks with his thumb.
“... I'd trade the entire world and myself if it meant I could spend even just a minute with you, my dear.”
Suddenly, he squeezes your cheeks with one hand, frowning a little.
“So don't ever blame yourself for my quote unquote fall. Blame me for wanting to be within your presence for more than just a day as if I need you to breathe.”
Those words, as sweet as they are, weren't enough for you. You brush his hand away from your face, letting your gaze drop down onto the floor.
“Stop it. Stop being so nice to me, Simeon.”
He takes a step back and straightens his posture and stance. He realizes that words from the heart won't be able to sway you.
“Look at me. Look at who you sacrificed yourself for!” You gestured to your face. “You wasted a good thing for some asshole you thought was pretty enough to wear a ring with!”
The words spill out of you. His expression is calm and composed, yet you can tell he's listening to everything you were saying. You continue,
“Wake up, Simeon. You're no longer an angel, you're a nobody.”
You can only hear yourself breathing. You don't know why you said that. Why are you self-sabotaging the one good thing you have? Do you hate yourself so much that you think it's okay to force others to feel the same? To hate you with the same exact loathing you have towards yourself? Would it be worth it?
His expression doesn't falter, his stance the same, but his voice changed.
“You're wrong.”
He responds, you scoffed. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was he that foolishly in love with you that his common sense flew out the window? Maybe it disappeared along with this celestial status.
“Angel or not, I am somebody.”
He takes a step forward, it wasn't a statement, it was said as an argument.
“I am the owner of the now popular Cafe down the road, I have made several friends at the market, I am the legal guardian of a very good kid named Luke- who will one day become the best guardian angel there is!...”
He keeps stepping forward, you retreat. “Simeon, I'm sorry-”
“... I am friends with the CEO of the Ritcher Hotel Group who is also next in line for the Devildom throne, I had my brothers taken away from me as I stand by and watch them fall, I was one of the exchange students for a program in the Devildom where I fell in love with a fellow exchange student who I am married to now- and speaking of which-!”
He stops just right in front of you.
“I am your husband.”
Silence follows as you stare into his eyes, longing for you to understand.
“... I am a lot of things, my dear. You are too.”
He looked down at your hands, they were tense. He takes both of them and raises them to level with his chest, they soften.
“You are so many things that it saddens me to think that you don't see it.”
He plants a kiss to your thumb,
“You were a confused human who always needed help.”
He kisses your pointer finger,
“You were a stubborn human who always got themselves into trouble.”
He kisses your middle finger,
“You are an excellent student of magic, Solomon can attest to that. And finally…”
He kisses your wedding ring.
“You are my wife, the amazing person I have the pleasure of marrying.”
He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, his gaze locked on the ring.
“All these lives, all these souls, all these worlds, and yet fate…”
He looks up at you, a smile on his face.
“...led you to me.”
You couldn't say a thing, you didn't even realize that you were on the verge of crying until tears started rolling out of your eyes. He wipes each one away.
“Hate yourself all you want, I'll be happy to remind you of how loved you truly are. You're not beautiful because you look pretty, you're beautiful because you're so kind and considerate.”
He chuckles,
“Almost a little too considerate.”
“Simeon, I'm sorry!”
You hiccuped, holding his hand as he wipes your tears away, he shushed you.
“It's alright. Do you want to spend the day here? We don't need to go outside. If there's something I can get you, I'll go get it for us.”
Your heart swells, melts, and cries. Your husband, your beautiful husband, loves you more than words can describe.
“What do you want for breakfast, love? I'll make it for you. My sanctuary, my heaven.”
Jealous Leviathan x MC (featuring Rafayel from lads)
Summary: As every fan does for their beloved character, you foolishly decided to post a tweet of you gushing over RAFAYEL from loveanddeepspace. Naturally, Leviathan did not take this well.
Genre: Shits and giggles, fluff
Warnings: Screenshots of text messages. That's it.
Extra: I posted these on my tiktok "@zainnaprollyloveslevi"
Summary: Out of pure boredom and maybe out of curiosity, you decided to play a light prank on Satan while he was in the library. However, he manages to turn the tables on you, reminding you why you shouldn't bother the avatar of wrath.
Warning: None, just fluff and no-brain writing. I don't know Satan that well (yes, I HAVE played the game, and I do still play it. I just pay all my attention to Leviathan) so this might be a little OOC. NOT PROOF READ. Short. GENDER NEUTRAL MC/READER
Word Count: 1.1k
Extra: This was a suggestion from tiktok! TYSM FOR BEING PATIENT!!
You didn't really think this through? Did you?
You sighed as you watched the blonde demon in front of you, a good distance from your sulking form. His pretty lashes crowned his eyes, the green hue seeping through like sunlight through blinds under the light of his own room, reading a book you two bought last week. He's obviously ignoring you. You pout, sigh, anything to get his attention. But alas, you have been reduced to background noises. You give up, resting your chin against the round wooden table. He had cleared out this table, which was once a place where old books were discarded to make way for you.
All you could do was stare at the figure in front of you as he flawlessly ignores you. You thought it was a good idea to prank him a little– just a smidge. He always looked so cool in public, upright and well-put, you wanted to see what it was like to startle him or get a strong reaction out of him that wasn't angry out in public. So, while he was returning the books he read in the library, you decided this would be the perfect moment to startle him. A stack of books rested upon his hand, his arms straight to keep the books steady. He was too absorbed in returning the books he had borrowed to notice your form. You didn't tell him you'd join him in the library. As soon as his hand picked up the book from the pile he was carrying, you jumped out from behind the bookshelf and yelled,
“Boo!”
His shoulders tensed, startled by your sudden presence. Unfortunately, this was enough to send the tower of books he was cradling, tumbling down onto the floor as he took a few steps back. Eyes lingered on the two of you, curious by the sounds of chaos in what was supposed to be a place of silence. A few shushed you two. You chuckled nervously, realizing you might have gone a few steps too far. He slowly turns his head, leering at you from over his shoulders. He was glaring at you angrily. Your fight or flight senses kicked in, and you bolted towards the exit of the library. Eventually, you felt bad, slowly walking towards his room, knocking on his door, apologizing through the solid that blocked you two. And yet, all he did was unlock his door, let it open a little, and go back to his spot, reading his book.
And here you are, regretting your actions from earlier deeply. You decided to try again.
“Satan… I'm sorry…”
Nothing. Not even a hum or a cough, just nothing. He's totally giving you the silent treatment. You sigh, resting your cheek on the old table.
“Sataaaannnn!”
He only blinks and flip the page. You feel the need to be more annoying. You'd find a cat and use that on him but the doors closed behind you as soon as you walked in. Like a boss level room you couldn't exit until you finished the quest. You then sit up.
“Come on, I know you can't ignore me forever!”
He finally puts his book down, you sit up straight thinking it was a sign he was finally acknowledging you, but he instead gets in his bed and covers himself in his blanket. Was he seriously going to sleep you away like you were some light cold?? You wanted none of that. You get up and march towards the bed and the lump on the bed.
“Satan! I really am sorry! Please don't ignore me… I'll do anything, just don't be mad anymore!”
Suddenly, his hand grabs your arm, pulling you into his bed, you yelp at the strain on your joints as you are forced to lay down near him. He glares down at you, looming over your strained form, sitting up to have your head close to his lap.
“Anything?”
Your face heats up, you cough as you try to sit up.
“Anything WITH LIMITS- ah!”
He doesn't let you sit up. His grip on your form was strong.
“Satan, let go!”
“First you beg for forgiveness, then you have the nerve to order me around?...”
You fall quiet, looking up at the demon in front of you. Well, at least he's giving you attention.
“...An apology won’t do, MC. That does nothing to soothe my anger...”
He trails his hands over your head, playing with every strand of your hair ever so gently.
“...You know this, and you know this well.”
You swallow a lump in your throat. You feel your heart racing. The gentleness of his trust betrays the roughness of his voice. He continues,
“You are the only human aside from Solomon who would do something as idiotic as irritating the avatar of wrath.”
Silence. You said nothing. All you could do was stare, feel afraid, and hope he chooses to spare you. Yet deep down, you liked this. The soft light of his room hits his back ever so gently, the shadow looming across his face made his eyes seem brighter than they were. It would be rude to say this, but he looked angelic, heavenly. If he were the demon who would lull you to sin like a sweet lullaby on a cold night, you'd be on your knees for forgiveness almost every hour. As scary as he was, he was beautiful.
Then, out of nowhere, he chuckles. A soft, teasing chuckle.
“Did I do good?”
You blink twice, confused.
“huh?”
He lets go of you. He chuckles once more as you sit up.
“Did I scare you?”
You were being played for a fool.
“Satan! I really thought you hated me!”
“Impossible.” He then sighed, thinking back to the moment you startled him.
“Well, at first I was annoyed at whoever thought it was a good idea to play me for an idiot at the school library, but after seeing it was you, I just let it go.”
He cocks a smile, as if bullying you for falling for his antics. “You were whining and begging to be forgiven so much that I couldn't resist getting back at you.”
You huff, genuinely annoyed but relieved that it was all just a set up prank to get back at you. He continues to speak. “Or… did you think I was arrogant enough to feel annoyed for being slightly humiliated?...”
He tilts his head back slightly, an intimidating look on his face. “...Don't you think that's something Lucifer would do? Are you, out of all people, comparing me to Lucifer?”
You jolt, trying to explain that that wasn't the case. However, he chuckles once more, amused by the different reactions you were giving him. He sighs.
please help us reach our goal we have only reached 4% of our main goal which is 35k€ please help us reach our small first goal 2000€ we lost our house and everything we own please help me as a father I ask you to To help me complete my children's education and rebuild our completely destroyed house,
Summary: You haven't seen your beloved in a long, long time. After months of parting, you finally went on a date with him. Unfortunately, all this waiting has gotten to Mammon.
Warnings: SUGGESTIVE (slight NSFW but does not show the shaboinkadoink scene), NEEDY ASF MAMMON, Pronouns used: "you" and "your", Nonbinary reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Extra: This is my first time posting on tumblr EVER. This is also my first time writing X reader/MC fanfiction ever, so please be patient with me. I did NOT put any thought to this (freestyle and not proofread), so it's a little rough.
It was cold, very much so. Devildom nights were surprisingly harsh. The streets were damp, and the air was frigid. It was as if you could pluck out ice crystals from the air if you tried hard enough. Yet here you are, running as fast as your legs could carry you, past the closed shops at the local market, your shoes made a satisfying click with every step, you didn't want to miss it.
How could you? This was a once in a lifetime chance. You were up in the human world for so long that you grew impatient. Solomon had something to do in the Devildom, something about his research you did not care enough to listen to. You picked up speed. You were almost there. You couldn't stop grinning. Despite the exhaustion you felt, you just kept smiling. Finally, you're home. You weren't referring to the house of lamentation. You don't even live there due to Solomon's request to have you near him as an essential observer for his research, that sneaky bastard. No, this time “home” was– is a person, a demon.
The fountain was in your sight, you're almost there. And yet, he isn't there. You keep running, maybe he's behind the fountain? Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist before you could register its existence and stop. It was tan, toned, and familiar. You hear his voice.
“Woah, damn. You tryna hunt me down for sport or sumn? No need for that kinda speed, I ain't going anywhere.”
Pair of blue eyes stared right at you, a smug smile on his lips, you smiled even brighter.
“Mammon!”
You pulled his arm, the one that stopped you from running past him, with just enough force for him to bend down so you could reach his face. A gentle touch to his cheek, a simple caress behind the ear, a loving glance at the skin you adorned with your petal-soft touch was enough to warm him in the coldest of nights. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you. You weren't looking at the way he looked at you, the way the background fuzzed and blurred as they pale in comparison to your loving beauty, they way his eyes only found the way you were looking at him. Sure, he’s a greedy bastard, but oh, does he love like a gentleman.
A soft chuckle vibrates from his throat. He takes the hand that caressed the side of his face and brings it closer to his skin.
“Yeah, yeah, I missed ya too.”
You chuckled, finally looking into his eyes.
“I haven’t even said anything.”
“You didn’t have too.”
He stands up straight, trying not to strain his back from bending down too much. He keeps your hand in his, still looking into your eyes.
“I can see it in the way you looked at me.”
His voice was soft, delicate, the voice he’d use for you and only you.
“Cheesy bastard.”
“Your cheesy bastard.”
He lets go of your hand and stretches both of his arms.
“I’m yours, deal with it.”
You smiled. You used to roll your eyes at his antics, but you missed this. You missed him.
“Hell yeah you are.”
He glares at you, as if he’s about to tease you for saying something so possessive. Instead, he holds you by the waist and leads you onward.
“Cmon. I know how fragile humans are. You’ll freeze to death out here.”
He planned this. He planned to stay at a hotel with you, away from his brothers and other distractions. Of course, you approved this. You two needed that time away.
You two arrived at the hotel. It was a little over his paycheck, but he’s the type of guy to buy you the world if he could. Spoiled by a broke man, you never thought you’d see the day. As he sits on the bed, you feel a little uneasy. Usually, he’d jump into your arms. When you ran to him, he’d run to you faster. He’d cling on to you and never let go until his brothers would pry him off of you. So why? Why was he being so gentle? Did you meet up with the wrong demon?
“Hey, Mams?”
You call out to him as you put your coat on the coat rack, your back facing his form lying on the bed with his feet on the ground.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing, I just thought you fell asleep.”
“Pfft, as if.”
Just that? “As if”? No “I waited this long, ain't no way I'm wastin’ our time together!” or “I spent wayyy too much on this to waste it all on sleep.”? Now that you think about it, his date plan only consisted of meeting up by the fountain and going to the hotel. No extra activities, no nothing. This was weird. You feel the nervousness in your body grow from the pit of your stomach to your heart. You walk to the bed and lay down beside him, he doesnt turn to face you. You don't turn to face him. You two just stare at the ceiling. He finally speaks.
“So… how was your week? You know, without me.”
“Are you jealous that I’ve been around Solomon more than I’ve been around you?”
“Not really. That’s Levi's thing. I know you know you're mine.”
“Sure.”
You thought about it, how you would answer.
“Well… Solomon kept dragging me from place to place, getting equipment for his research here in the Devildom…”
You heard the sheets ruffle, he turned to face you, lying on his sides.
“...then I’d text you about our date occasionally, and that's about it.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Well, I was too busy looking forward to this date.”
You turn to look at him, your back flat on the bed. There was this bitter sarcasm in your voice. You don’t know why you feel this way, perhaps you were feeling a little bored? Shouldn't every moment be exciting when you’re with the one you love? So why do you feel this way? Maybe, you were feeling a little greedy. After being clouded in your thoughts for so long, you finally noticed the way he looked. His pupils traveled to every corner of your expression, he looked dissatisfied.
“Mammon?”
“You’re so fucking pretty and I’m sorry.”
Your heart sinks, what did he mean by that?
“....What?”
He gets up and sits on the edge of the bed, not wanting to face you.
“I can’t do this. I can’t be gentle. There ain’t nothin’ about me that’s gentle.”
You sit up, looking at his back, a worried expression painted your face. Is this going to be a breakup?
“Mammon, what's wrong?”
“Do you like me?”
“Of course, I wouldn't date you if I didn't!”
He moves his head, looking leftward, avoiding you who was sitting on the right.
“I’m not human, MC.”
“I know that.”
“I’m a demon.”
“I know.”
“I can be rough and harsh sometimes.”
“That’s a little hard to believe.”
He looks over his shoulder, looking at you.
“Huh.”
That look in his eyes, it sent chills down your spine. You tuck your legs in, as if creating distance between you two, but he grabs you by the ankle before you could push yourself even further away from him.
“Where are you going?”
He then turns around and changes his grip on your ankle, crawling closer towards you.
“No where, I was just-”
“What kinda demon am I?”
He stops, just right in between your legs. The room felt warm, even warmer than before. The lights weren’t that bright, they were orange in color, it felt like someone decided to light candles instead. Your breath hitches, surprised by his sudden change in attitude.
“What do you mean..?”
“What am I known for?”
You think about it. Should you joke about the fact he’s a little bit of a scumbag? Maybe reserve that for another time. The answer finally clears up in your mind.
“...Greed.”
“Good. Now say it. What’s my title?”
You lower your chin, eyes stuck to his dark gaze.
“....The Avatar of Greed.”
He smiles. It's soft, loving. He crawls even closer but not too close for comfort.
“Y’know, yer kinda stupid, MC.”
You were taken aback. Your brows furrowed as he teases you, you feel your cheeks burn. Just as you were about to open your mouth to argue, his hand moved from your ankle to your thigh.
“Don’t ya think it’s kind of suspicious that I wanted us to go out on a date at night? In a hotel away from the others?”
You did think about it, just a little too late. He chuckles as he looks at your startled expression.
“I’ve gone way too long without ya.”
He crawls closer, his chin ghosting above your shoulder, he whispers.
“I need my fix.”
He had the perfect opportunity to kiss your neck, take what's his, but he didn't. He rests his head, snuggling against the curve of your neck, he breathes in your scent and whines. He releases his grip on your thigh as he softens, hands resting on the bed insead.
“Please give it to me.”
You tense up, your whole body feels warm now. You slowly wrap your arms around him.
“Go ahead.”
You smile, he couldn’t see it, but you smile so softly. He’s surprisingly cute like this.
“I’m yours, aren't I?”
He snaps, releasing his head from your shoulder and his body from your embrace as he pushes forward, planting a kiss on your lips with such feverish tremor.
“Mc…” He speaks in-between kisses. “I’m the Avatar of Greed for a reason.”
He kisses your cheek,
“This isn’t enough f’me.”
He kisses your neck,
“I'm gonna need more.”
He pulls the collar of your shirt, exposing your shoulder.
“So much more.”
He plants a few kisses onto your bare shoulder,
“Please tell me I can have it. I need it. I need you.”
He bites down onto your skin. It wasn’t painful, not in the very least, but it still tickled.
“I can’t have enough of you. I’m fucking insatiable when I’m with you.”
You didn't know how to respond to that, how could you respond to that? It wasn’t until his second “please” did you respond with.
“Okay…”
You run your hands on his head, feeling the softness of his white hair, you smile.
“You can have me.”
You heard him curse under his breath as he starts to bite down on your skin even harder, sucking it, and licking the pain away. You sat there, flustered. Your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His breathing became harsh, frantic, he looks at you, one hand cupping your cheek.
