pothologics

[pothologics]

a/n: birthday post for the snookums

again asmo fluff bc i am incapable of anything else 🤗🤗🤗

it always took a moment for you to reorient yourself after waking up from sleeping in late. your heart seemed to have skipped at least two beats when registering that there was a pair of arms around your waist and that asmos head laid resting on your stomach.

it wasnt often you woke up before your lover, demons seemed to have a different circadian rhythm than humans did but it was always a welcome sight. asmo was never one to not be relaxing given the chance but the expression he has when he sleeps is different. its unguarded, blissful, and absolutely beautiful.

you find that a lot of things are beautiful to you now. like the expression clear and vibrant on asmos face when an akuzon package arrived, full of skincare he ordered just for the two of you to indulge in together.

together. lords above, below, and sideways were you grateful that there is a timeline where together means asmo and you with moments akin to these.

at some point in your mental rambling you felt asmos head burrowing into your stomach and subconsciously moved your hands to play with his hair. stirring awake asmo wriggled, around so his chin would sit in the middle of your torso and looked up at you, and lords help you the look he gave you reduced you to jelly.

“d’you know what today is?” he asked, batting his eyes. without letting you speak, he answered his own question, “well, of course you do! how could anyone forget such a beautiful, endearing—and not to mention dashing—figure such as myself?” his voice was half muffled due to the fact he was busy pressing kisses into your stomach and practically burying his face into it again.

“s’your birthday, right, precious?” sleep laced your throat yet your voice was still unmistakably filled with affection.

content that you did, in fact, know the importance of today, asmo started to press his lips to your neck. after a few more minutes of early morning affection, you promoted him with a question. “what d’you wanna do today, sweetheart?”

his response came muffled as he was still making busy in the crook of your neck. “anything. anything as long as it’s the two of us together, my love.”

[pothologics]

a/n: FIRST POST WOOO i love asmo w every fiber of my being so here is some sweet silly content to wash away the mischaracterization

content: fluff, cuddling, domestic cuteness

the brothers were all hanging back at RAD wrapping up a meeting of sorts, one that you had no need to hang around for. so you graciously returned to the house of lamentation and were relaxing on asmos bed, lights completely off and noise canceling headphones on, trying to soak in every grain of peace you could due to how exhausting school days tended to be.

you were laying on your stomach, peacefully listening to music while you “rested” and scrolled through multiple apps on your phone. your breathing occasionally lining up with the notes of the music. you had eventually fallen into this comfortable hazy sleep state, feeling as if you were mere inches away from REM sleep when you heard the door creak open and heard mumbled murmurs which you chose to ignore but eventually had to face as you felt the bed sink due to added weight.

grumbling you lift you head to investigate the figure that dare disturb you reaching your prized and cherished REM sleep. seeing asmo inches away from your face washed any anger and confusion from your features, immediately replacing them with a sleepy grin and a muffled noise of acknowledgement as you feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him. your face searches for a comfortable space to bury itself in and settles for asmo’s chest.

giggling he moves his hands from where they were resting on your waist to place them on your back, as he runs them up and down your back with a steady rhythmic pace, lulling you back to a state akin to sleep

“sorry i woke you my love, were you sleeping peacefully?”

all you can muster as an answer is a half hearted ‘mmhmm’ sleep still holding you in its clutches, he yet again giggles at your sleepy antics and moves his hands up yet again, arms looped under your armpits, nails gently tracing random shapes on the nape of your neck.

feeling the way your breathing seems to sync up with his fills asmo with this childlike giddy and glee. he is nothing more than grateful to be able to spend time with you like this. hes oh so glad that you chose go take a nap in his room instead of any of his other brothers, and that now you two are sleeping so early in the afternoon. he wishes no more than to indulge you in such silly little human things as this one. he is nothing more than thankful that he was given the chance to love and be loved by someone like you.

[pothologics]

Gentle.

Satan x Reader

gn reader

Obey Me! Shall we Date

If you could use one word to describe Satan, it would be gentle. Lesser demons (and maybe even his own brothers) would call you insane for saying so, but the truth was there for anyone to see, if they would just look. Wrath, as destructive as it may seem at first glance, was passion, and the green-eyed ‘monster’ you deemed your closest friend was full of it. And within the throes of his devotion, there was gentleness. Gentleness in the way he handed you his precious tomes, trusting you with its safekeeping. Gentleness in how he talked about his favorite furry friends. Gentleness in the way he looked at you, eyes filled with all things kind and good in the world.

How ironic, for you to see nothing but benevolence in the being borne from grief, and pain, and violence. But people seem to forget he was born out of love, too. (After all, are grief and love not the same side of a coin?) Love for the sister he never got to meet, love for his brothers whom he pretends to hate, love for the people held so dear you would start a war to protect them. That love was what drew you to him. A demon so full of passion and sorrow that you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

You didn’t always think so affectionately of Wrath, you will admit. The day you first truly met him, you were terrified of him. You genuinely thought you would (and most likely, you would have if not for Lucifer’s interference) die. A refused pact would have led to your demise. (And oh, dearest fourth-born, would you really give up your life to spite the eldest? Or was it because you didn’t think your life was your own?)

It wasn’t until the body-swapping incident with Satan and his most despised brother that the two of you began to grow close. (For how could he not follow the one who made him realize with a gentle strength that he is no one’s but his own; not but a broken off piece of a soul’s rage, but a being strong and deserving of being the fourth brother?) It turned out that Wrath itself had a weakness, and he was in no way loathe to admit it. It only took a stray alley cat for your bond to begin to grow. Cat treats and makeshift toys began to take place in your pockets, and you swear you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Wrath’s gentle smile.

Your thirst for knowledge in the strange new world you were dropped in was also a growing factor in your relationship. The day he lent you a book from his own personal library was a day you would never forget. A milestone of trust, and the day a funny feeling took hold in your chest.

Hangouts went from every few weeks, to every few days, to the point where you could not find one without the other nearby. The two of you were attached at the hip (much to the other brothers’ dismay), and maybe that’s when you started to recognize the buzzing affection within you.

Love had taken root in your heart with, and grew, grew, grew until there was no space left to fill. Your days felt brighter and the color green colored your vision when you closed your eyes. (you had never felt so full of warmth before him. You never wanted this feeling to stop.) Every thought you had now consisted of the boy you fell for, kind, sweet, gentle. (You shamefully wondered what it would be like to be within the throes of passion with your blonde (imaginary) lover. You could never look at him in the eyes the days after, and a certain lust filled strawberry blond would taunt you with a smirk and knowing eyes much to your dismay.) There was no room for the burning anger you used to hold for the hellish situation you had been thrown into by a certain prince. Only love. Kind, gentle, love.

If only there wasn’t enough space left for the fear and doubt that overshadowed your courage.

There was no questioning that you were bathing in your love for the fourth Avatar of Sin; Wrath had stolen your heart and you had blissfully let him. What you doubted was if those feelings were reciprocated or not. And if they were, just how much love did the blond hold for you the way you held for him? (Oceans worth, love. He would challenge God himself if he had to in order to keep loving you.) You cherished the friendship the two of you had built from the ground up, and the possibility of ruining it with unrequited feelings froze you with fear. You were only human, at the end of the day. And Satan was the fourth born brother, Avatar of Sin. He was Wrath, and love, and passion; ethereal, beautiful, gentle.(your bond deeper than the depths of Tartarus, you misjudge him, darling. Could you not see how he adored you so?)

So, you decide to wait. You tell yourself you’re imagining the flush of his face when he shows you his romantic poetry that somehow suspiciously resembles you. You remind yourself his gentle smile is for all of those he cares about, not just you. You wait for him to come to you, for fear of having your tender heart torn to shreds. You wait until you are sure. (Will you ever be?)

And Satan?

It infuriates him when your ignorance thwarts his romantic plans. The rage within him comes to life when the ‘I love you’’s are interpreted as platonic and his attempts at courting you seen as anything romantic. He’s not mad at you; no, never you. Moreso at the people who convinced you that you are not the most loveable being in all of the three realms. His wrath destroys him from the inside at the fact that you don’t see yourself the way he does. Your smile makes him week, your laughter brings him to his knees. How could Satan possibly not love you? There is no reality that exists where he would not fall for you.

But Satan has learned patience; he has honed the skill over his thousands of years of life. He knows to wait until you learn to see yourself the way he sees you. He has learned to be soft, and kind to those he loves. And Satan? Satan loves you. For you, he will wait. For you, he will be gentle.

[pothologics]

mammon: mc?? they’re nothing special just a human i hang out with sometimes?? i dont even like them that much??

mammon as soon as mc walks in the room: omg???? mc???? 🥺🥺 its been so long since i last saw you??? 🥺🥺🥺 i missed u so much????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 (it has been less than three minutes since they last saw each other)

[pothologics]

“Aye mijo…I thought we said no covert cops.”

As a Sweetheart kin and Milo lover…. MILO MOVE TF OVER

Anyways, for my lil Greer family, as my lil Milo Greer is Afro Latino, I think Marie would be Puerto Rican 🫣 also: Milo’s banners are always golds. So hear me out

Not only is it his and Marie’s eye color, but it is Marie’s favorite color🥹🥹