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— say you’ll stay (never be severed) when they have a nightmare you die ; title creds
lucifer knows it was just a dream. he knows it wasn’t real, assures himself it wasn’t and yet he allows his heart - still thundering in his chest - to guide his sharp strides and pound on your door. the sight of you, worry for him clear though sleepy and bleary eyed, is enough for lucifer’s knees to melt and he falls forward to embrace you, relieved sigh shuddering through the air next to your ear. it feels natural when your arms circle his torso, tight hold allowing him to sink further and push back the tears that welled in his eyes. for once, lucifer’s head isn’t in charge and he relishes in your touch as his heartbeat begins to slow until it thumps a steady rhythm of i love you, i love you. unknowingly, the words fall from his lips too, escaping from deep within. and it’s the certainty in your voice as you return the confession that finally convinces lucifer he had experienced nothing more than a bad dream.
mammon doesn’t wait, can’t wait. he scrambles to your room, familiar route suddenly lasting an eternity. his feet slap panickedly against the floor as he barges in with such urgency that the door swings open with a bang. the slam is loud enough to scare you awake, half jumping out of your skin. but you don’t have a moment spare to take in what’s happening before mammon wraps himself around you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he gasps and chants, “you’re ok, you’re ok.” you bring your own arms up to envelope him, knowing not of his nightmare but of just how bravely he protects his family, from the fall to now. it’d be foolish to think he’s the second eldest for nothing. but right now, mammon trembles under your touch, one hand rubbing across his broad shoulders and the other finding its place in the foam of his hair. “i’m ok,” you whisper in return as the first tears hit your collarbone and seep into your skin, “and you are too. i’ve got you, mammon.”
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Blackie✨






Satan’s cat friend from the official Obey Me Manga
He doesn’t have the most creative names for cats…
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"Your eyelashes are really white."
Simon can feel his entire face heat up, and he guesses it's gone red too when you giggle. He can barely think with how close you are, how your entire attention is on him. He doesn’t know how to handle it, he's not used to this.
Do you like them? He wants to ask. Do you like them? They're for you. All of me is yours, if you want.
But he doesn't, and instead just basks in the heat of your touch. Your eyes wander all over his face, shining with awe that he doesn't get. He's not going to question it though, he's not stupid.
"Do you paint them too, when you put on your face paint?"
He blinks a few times, trying to search for an answer that will satisfy you, that will keep you looking at him like that. He shakes his head slightly, trying to clear the fog you've created inside his brain.
"Not on purpose," he mutters softly. You're so beautiful, he can't stop looking at you. He feels something heavy and plush grow inside his chest, fueled by the weight of you on top of his legs. He still can't believe he gets to have you on his lap.
"Does that mean you have a bicolor eyelash now and then?'
He chuckles, but it's breathless. He probably does, he had never thought about it, but who cares? Nothing really matters to him if you're near.
You care though. You seem to care about him a lot.
"Maybe," he whispers, caressing your thighs up and down with both hands. You smile at him, weaving your fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes briefly, smiling without meaning to.
"You have freckles too." He nods. His cheeks go red again, and you laugh for real this time. "Stop blushing, Si! You're making them disappear!"
He laughs too, embarrassed. You make him feel almost giddy, light. He's happy.
Your thumbs brush over the apple of his cheeks, tracing scars that right then, he doesn’t remember how he got. How could he, when your nose is almost touching his?
"You're really handsome, Si. Can see why you cover your face now, you'll cause a crash with that jaw."
He squeezes your legs softly. It's almost too much, his chest feels almost too tight. You're filling him up with something sweet and syrupy that chokes him, that he doesn't know how to breathe through. "Stop."
But he says it so low that you must know he doesn’t mean it. You give him a soft smile as an answer, kissing the tip of his nose with equally soft lips that he dreams of covering with his own.
Objectively speaking, he knows he's good looking, but it didn’t matter to him before you. To know you like that part of him too makes him warm inside, even more so when he acknowledges that you liked him well before knowing his face.
"Your hair is pretty too," you comment, like your words aren’t sending an earthquake all over his insides. Your fingers brush through it, sending shivers down his spine when they graze his skin. He tries to repress them, doesn’t want to scare you. "How do you even have it this soft?"
"Must be the mask," he answers, looking up at you with hooded eyes.
"Maybe I'll start using one too, if it gets my hair this pretty."
He shakes his head immediately, wrapping his arms around you so he can pull you closer. You're pliant, let him move you this way and that. His entire body heats up.
"No?" You softly ask, stopping your moves. He nudges you with his head like a cat, and you resume them. "Why not? We can match."
Because your face is not one that should be hidden. He's selfish, but even he can admit that covering your beautiful face would be a crime.
"I won't be able to see you," he answers just as he buries his face in your chest. He closes his eyes, and breathes in. He's home.
He feels you shake your head, still playing with the curls that are starting to form with how long his hair is getting.
"But I see you, don't I?"
You do. You do.
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Trying to talk in discord servers feels like trying to sit at the lunch table with the popular kids in middle school and totally fucking it up
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real
*MC is searching around the room*
Asmodeus: Hey MC, what’re you looking for?
MC: My will to live.
*Mammon walks into the room*
MC: Oh, there it is.
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hii its me again, can you do one where könig is handling a totally wasted and drunk reader? like where the reader just got done celebrating and having a few drinks with some co-workers. (got this idea after my tipsy friend pointed to a big bulky guy and said "i want him to take me home" and the guy just shyly waved at our crowd and it really reminded me of könig.) i'm not much of drinker since i don't have a high tolerance
Yuhhhhhh I loved this request. Takes me back to the times… now I can barely drink a pint without priming myself with Advil.
Pairing: König x reader (more so f!reader?)
Summary: You come home tipsy to König’s house.
A/N: a lil jealousy mention, but nothing too serious. Playful teasing? (Can you guys see the development of him falling in love with you and being more vulnerable maybe just a bit?)
“Home”
Your shoes knocked under you. Your feet ached. You weren’t sure how exactly your group of friends and yourself were able to squeeze into the Uber. The woman inside the Uber was intimidated, begging everyone to please use the plastic bags she had behind the passenger seat if they felt sick.
You and your group of friends had gone out to a bar for the night. It had been months of not seeing each other, one round turned to many, soon all of you clearly intoxicated, releasing the built up stress of your day to day.
You rode in the Uber, your head spinning. Maybe the plastic bag was a good idea. You just wanted to go home, take off the tight clothes on your body, hide your annoying shoes, and wipe off the sweat on your face.
Your friend kept talking to you, asking to describe the house.
You had picked König’s house to come home to, promising to spend the weekend with him for some sort of gaming event he had got tickets to. You were just happy to come home to him.
“It’s got little stones in the driveway” you mumbled, the window of the car starting to spin.
“The color you idiot.. maybe even a car?” your sober friend in the passenger seat directing the driver to slow down so she could watch.
“like dark gray rain clouds” you closed your eyes, clearly nauseated. “He’s got a g-wagon.”
“Dark gray rain clouds?” They giggled uncontrollably.
“We get it you’re fucking a German.” Another one said.
“Austrian.” You mumbled back. A finger in the air.
You searched for the house in your mind, your muscle memory focusing on the left curve the driver took, then a right up a hill. You kept ignoring the laughter behind you. The house soon came into vision, one light on outside, but the rest of the lights off inside. His car was parked in the driveway, and as soon as the Uber parked behind it, the motion sensor light went off.
“Are you sure this is the house?” You friend asked skeptically, feeling unsure. The rest of the neighborhood was asleep, the top of the hill had only a couple of porch lights on in the distance.
“Yeah it’s just a quiet neighborhood” you hiccuped, started tying your shoes up again in the dark.
You looked up again, recognizing the figure coming outside the door. His broad stance, his weight shifting equally on both of his legs, bulky arms hidden underneath a gray crew neck sweater.
God… just his figure made you fidget in your seat. You felt the anticipation to touch, feel him. Your hands itched. His stride to the car made you tingle.
He was covered up… in a face mask? He approached the car while you tumbled out of it excited. The rest of your party teasing you, as you yanked yourself away from them, and pulled towards him.
“Whoa! You’re gonna break your knees..” he lunged forward, caught you swiftly up into his arms, pulling you up, then shifting your weight onto your legs. He held you there, but could see you swaying. He held back a laugh, tucked your chin between his thumb and index finger.
“schatz…” he spoke softly as he held you closer, your chests touching, one arm wrapped around you.
“’m okay!” You held a hand up in the air. More so towards him than your friends hysterically laughing in the car behind you. Most of them were staring at him. Attempting to get any peak of his face.
He nodded gently towards them, made his voice a little deeper, huskier— “Thank you guys, goodnight.”
Another fit of giggles.
Annoying. You freed yourself underneath him and walked towards the door, him trailing behind you, which quickly shifted next to you because of how much you swayed. He chuckled as he put an arm over your shoulder and opened the door.
You walked towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, then proceeded to gulp down one of the cold water bottles in there. You gulped the last drop and then turned around.
His face mask had been taken off. He was biting his lip, trying not to laugh, his fingers lightly drumming on the countertop.
“What?” Were you that drunk? You spoke in an accusatory tone.
He scoffed, eyeing at you. You weren’t going to come at him with that attitude,
“You don’t even have the shoes that you left with on.” He laughed.
You looked down, the dress shoes you had worn were not on your feet.
He proceeded to mimic your voice, “I’m gonna have 3 adios motherf-“
You cut him off. He wasn’t going to have the opportunity to make fun of you, not in this state.
“Shuuuuuut up, what’s up with the face mask?” You laid back against the steel fridge, the coolness feeling good against your back. Somewhat trying to regain composure. Holding the water bottle close to your cheek, to hide away any evidence of redness. Now it was his turn to blush.
“Your friends.. like a little mystery, I’m happy to offer that to them.” he smirked, clearly aware that your friends had begged and begged to see him, but never had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of his face in person. He became so vain once you told him about how they oohed and ahhed about him. You smiled, he needed a little attention. And you liked that he gained it.
Now it was your turn. You made the best impression of him. You made your voice huskier, as deep as it could go —
“Ohhhhh, thank you guys gooodnight!” “Really König— we get it. Six foot fucking seven and your deep voice.”
He burst out laughing, shaking his head, the corner of his eyes forming crinkles, hiding beneath his hand.
“You’re so ridiculou-“ he cut you off.
“Have you ever been told how much of a little brat you are?” He spoke a little deeper now, his voice still full of admiration, he smirked, his voice echoed down the hallway. He came closer to you, holding your chin between his fingers again.
He could kiss you— you looked so disheveled, your makeup running across your eyes, your hair matted on your head. Some of your clothes had been tidier and tighter when you left. He looked at your eyes, wondering how on earth you had continued to come back to him. Your head barely touched the bottom of his chin, you stood on your toes trying to get some affection but he drummed his fingers down the side of your waist, hauling you up the kitchen counter.
You sat, quiet and excited. How much it made you burst that he could pick you up and place you anywhere.
“So how was the bar?” He began, then turned to grab condiments out of the fridge, strawberry jelly, peanut butter, butter, and bread. He grabbed another water for you, opening the cap.
“It was good!” You sat there watching him prepare his favorite, a peanut butter & jelly banana sandwich.
“No one really got there until 2-3 hours after us,” You rambled on, telling him about how your friends peer pressured you into shot after shot. Which you didn’t mind, you needed a distraction. Small glimpses were thrown back to you, with eyebrows raised, lips pursed, and smirks as you animatedly told him about your night.
“I think the best part was when a group of barely turned 21 year olds tried to buy us a round” you didn’t make eye contact. You knew what you were doing.
“Kind of hilarious seeing them pool their money together to buy 5 shots.”
His right eyebrow raised. A small smile formed at his lips. He swiped a banana from the hanger, began slicing it at an angle. The way you like. You were going to be in big trouble for that comment.
He arranged the banana on top of the peanut butter on the warm bread, and began to spread jelly on the other. He cuts it diagonally, then swipes the oozing jelly off the end, sucking on his finger before handing it to you on a plate.
He put the stuff away, then settled his arms on either side of you. You chewed slowly, making eye contact with him. Smiling, wondering if you looked innocent enough. Then took another bite, jelly getting caught on the corner of your mouth, before you could even grab with your tongue, he spoke low,
“Bet a 21 year old wouldn’t make you a sandwich, or keep you hydrated.” He got so close to your face, you practically felt the mint toothpaste from his breath on your tongue. Yup. You definitely struck a nerve.
He then proceeded to do the one thing you absolutely hate. He grabbed your face with one hand, then licked the corner of your mouth, followed by a firm kiss on your lips.
“I swear….to god!” You made it seem like it was disgusting, dramatically wiping your face, hiding the smile, sobering up slowly. You shoved the remaining bites of the sandwich in your mouth. He took the plate and placed it in the sink.
He hauled you up again, legs wrapped around his waist as he walked over to the bathroom, sat you down on the counter. Began removing your shoes, clothes, then he picked up the “melt” cleanser you used (he called melt because it melted in your fingers) and began to rub it in.
You closed your eyes. König could be so soft with you. He was surprisingly gentle with your face, rubbing in circular motions, gently swiping underneath your eye and eyelid, then grabbed a washcloth to take it off. Put the second cleanser in your hands, he walked into the bedroom.
As you finished the routine, he came back with warm pajamas for you. You held them in your hands… “Did you place these in the dryer?”
He shrugged, picking up all of your hair in a scrunchie.
“Come on babe, brush your teeth and get ready.” He said softly. A small pat to your bum.
You were definitely sobering up now, as you brushed your teeth, admiring the way he collected the hair away from your face.
He had laid on his side of the bed, both arms behind his head, leaving your side open. The side of your nightstand had a hydration packet with another cold water bottle. You slipped in.
But of course, he needed the last word.
“A 21 year old wouldn’t have done all this. As a matter of a fact I think they would’ve let you go to sleep drunk.”
“König…”
“A 21 year old,” he scoffed, “you should be ashamed.”
He leaned in towards you, cupped your face in his right hand, and deeply kissed you. Rubbing the side of your face, a small moan came out from him. He looked at you with so much admiration and love, happy you were back home.
A small smile from him, his lips parted as he began,
“A 21 year—“
“Oh my god goodnight” you bury yourself beneath his arm as he laughs uncontrollably.
“Goodnight schatz.”
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WHAT THE FUCK?!1?1!1 HE IS SO MAJESTIC
HAPPY INCREDIBLY LATE VALENTINES!! 💛💛💛
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Chaperone ✨ || 01
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Making these colored sketches/ line sketches as (daily?) practice and to revive my art socmeds :>
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Enjoy this Christmas with 7 hot demon Santa’s 🎄🔥
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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
POV: U saw mammon working part time at a cafe,,, u wonder what is he making? 🤔🤔🤔🤔
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me mammon#omswd#om mammon#mammonobeyme#mammon x mc#obey me mc#GOSH IF ONLY I CAN HAVE THIS FINE MAN#got me giggling and shit
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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Mammon's such a fascinating character because canonically:
*good at solving complex mathematical problems in his head in a matter of seconds*
*understands people, their emotions and how they'd react to specific situations and uses that knowledge to manipulate them and get what he wants (whether that's some physical object or a certain reaction from them or just for them to calm down)*
*when there's no other choice at all, he steps up and effectively takes charge*
*a good teacher and seems to have a good balanced mix between being strict, encouraging and helpful*
*whenever Lucifer wants a job done well (no matter what the job is), he relies on Mammon (and has done so since they were angels)*
*scams usually work, he just tends to get caught at the end*
*came up with a code on the spot to tell MC he missed them while also being a comprehensible message on its own, that fit with his 'tsundere' personality*
*constantly found ways to sneak into the human world from the Celestial Realm*
*has fast and spontaneous reactions during high stake situations where you need to move/react fast*
*enjoys playing chess*
*can multitask well*
*actual emotional intelligence*
*one of the first brothers (the second?) to realise there was something wrong with Simeon*
*has a variety of skills that range from making balloon animals to fitting in seamlessly in a corporate environment*
*extremely hardworking when there's a goal he genuinely wants that he's working towards*
*when giving it his all he tends to pick up new skills easily*
*by his younger brothers' own admittance, he can do anything, complete any task and he can do it well as long as he puts effort into it*
But also canonically:
*had no idea what the fuck rent was*
*a shit liar*
*said "what if I accidentally tell MC I'm in love with them" to MC*
*constantly failing all his classes*
*easily falls for traps/curses*
*emotional intelligence fizzles out when it comes to talking about his own problems/admitting anything about himself*
*bet and lost their new house*
*managed to trick himself into believing he'd get a prize if he won a competition that Diavolo explicitly said there was no prize for*
*came up with a plan to win the competition in a matter of seconds, easily and constantly changing it to better fit the situation at hand. a plan that worked extremely well. lost the competition because he couldn't be bothered to check the title of a book*
Mammon's a character who'll break down and teach you PhD level Mathematics without breaking a sweat and then ask you what kind of animal the Pink Panther is in the next sentence.
I love him. I want to study him under a microscope.
What makes this even better is that I'm 100% sure his brothers have managed to gaslight the entire fandom into thinking he's the biggest fucking idiot alive with just the windows screensaver bouncing around in his head and nothing else
Don't get me wrong, he's a dumbass. He probably runs face first into a glass door at least once a week. But also....I mean....c'mon
In conclusion,
If you like Mammon, you're NOT a morosexual. You're a morosexual with a competency kink. Good Day.
On a side note, all of mammon's traits are like this,
*he's greedy but here's a long list of all the times he put his friends and family before money*
*he's a jerk but here's a long list of when he's one of the kindest people and an amazing brother*
*he's possessive but here's a long list of all the times he put mc's consent and/or choices above all else*
he drives me mad.
#obey me! mammon#obey me!#obey me shall we date#he is adorable#would sacrifice whole family just for him/j
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i love him to death<3 (dont mind that im poor on dp)



#ugh i love him so much#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me mammon#he could step on me and i'd thank him#he is so cute im crying
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🐕
mammon!!!! his tsl costume has so many details good lird I thik i cried and threw up while doodling this
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After releasing the Doodling Hearts on the Brothers headcanon, I received both of these requests for the side characters. And honestly I couldn't get this out of my head. So, these are for you @rsmrymnt-tea and anon! I hope you enjoy these!
Doodling a Heart on Their Hand - Brothers Edition
Gender Neutral MC; pronouns = you
Master List
Doodling a Heart on Their Hand - Dateables Edition

Diavolo:
Diavolo doesn’t bat an eye when you ask to see his hand, offering it up without question.
Although he is curious as to why you have a pen in your hand, and why it seems to be aiming for his skin.
He watches intently as you draw a large heart on him.
Then, you proceed to decorate it with a crown and little twinkling stars.
Once you inform him that you completed the drawing, he smiles broadly while admiring your handiwork.
Diavolo then extends his hand out and asks for yours.
When you only respond with a curious gaze, Diavolo chuckles.
“You left your mark on me. As part of this cultural exchange, I should have the honor of reciprocating the sentiment. Would you not agree?”

Barbatos:
Barbatos is visibly puzzled when you ask to see his hand, quirking an eyebrow when you insist on not explaining yourself.
Unable to deny your request, Barbatos extends his hand out.
He watches as you pull his glove off, leaving his bare hand to rest in yours.
You then pull a pen out of your pocket.
His eyes follow the pen as you press it against the top of his hand and start outlining the shape of a heart.
While this gesture was unexpected, your broad grin brings a smile to his own face, knowing that this simple drawing symbolized something greater.
Suddenly, you declare that the doodle is complete, shoving the pen back into your pocket.
As you were about to pull away, Barbatos grips your hand a bit tighter and closes the gap between the two of you.
“Are you certain a single heart is enough to convey all of your feelings for me? I’m afraid I may require further proof of your affection.”

Simeon:
Why does Simeon have to wear such long gloves?!
Studying him from the corner of your eye, you contemplate your strategy. Surely, trying to remove his glove is a greater hassle than what it is worth.
Then you smirk, plotting the perfect plan.
Turning in your seat, you grab his arm and tell him to stay still.
However, you were holding onto his dominant arm, effectively preventing him from writing any further notes.
Simeon doesn’t complain but is curious as to what you were doing.
He feels you drawing on him but is unsure of what and why. So, he continues to intently listen to the lecture while you doodled.
Once you inform him that you finished your project, he moves his arm so he can see his shoulder clearly, finding a heart with a sash wrapping around it, penned with your name across it.
Simeon beams a bright smile while releasing a light, airy laugh. He then reaches into his bag and pulls out a journal.
“I truly adore this little drawing and wish to cherish it forever, but I fear this won’t last long,” he says, pointing at his shoulder. He then hands over his journal. “Could I trouble you to recreate this design onto the cover, that way I can gaze upon it every day.”

Solomon:
Solomon knows exactly what you are doing. After all, he has seen such scenes on various tv programs.
What he doesn’t know is why exactly it is taking you so long to complete the artwork.
You sat with your back towards him, and his arm looped under yours.
His hand completely concealed from his view. All he can feel is the continuous movement of the pen marking up his skin.
He couldn’t imagine what kind of elaborate design you were drawing.
Finally releasing him while exclaiming “Ta-da!” Solomon looks down at the drawing, marveling at the intricate design.
Solomon’s finger traces along the lines that resembled one of his pact marks with the exception that a heart was the central focal point of the design.
Delicately grabbing your chin, Solomon leans in so he’s mere millimeters from your face.
“Are you saying that you are ready to be bound to me forever? Because I have no intention of ever letting you go.”
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