#conversations with Leviathan

[luckyyyuusstuff]

Does anyone think that dating one of the demons or angels could be considered a "forbidden love" trope in some way?

With peace and power dynamics between the 3 realms being mentioned as fragile, exactly why Diavolo rejected the idea of marriage when asked in S3 by the brothers, wouldn’t it then be considered risky to, publicly at the very least, date the demon/ angel from the realm they reside in?

MC, the sorcerer that surpassed their master who is deemed the most powerful sorcerer himself, considered a powerful weapon, with an (unstable, without protection from the ring of light) immense amount of magic, in a relationship with demon/ angel could be considered they've sided with the realm their lover resides in.

The topic (and unused potential) of the tension between the 3 realms, how MC affected that during S2, and wether choosing a lover within a realm they don’t belong in would be a risky decision.

[slutifer]

mc: how old are you?

Luke: over a millennium :)

mc: …

mc: then why are you so short??

Luke: :(

[inhuman-obey-me]

Human Nature

Word Count: 1330 Description: A sudden discussion about how humans blame demons for all their problems comes up one evening in the House of Lamentation. Turns out, demons don't like to be blamed for human nature. Characters, etc: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, MC -- with a little Asmo/MC at the end can be found on ao3 here

“What is it with you humans?” 

You look up from your D.D.D. with a quirked brow, turning to Satan who seems to be wearing an expression of exasperation – at least, from what you can see while his nose is buried between pages of whatever it is he’s reading.  

“What are you talking about?” 

The demon slowly lowers the novel, now looking rather sheepish. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that in relation to you, it’s just,” He gestures to the viridian book in his grasp, “I get so tired of reading stories where humans blame demons for all of their problems.” 

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Mammon butts in, still laying upside-down on one of the other sofas in the common room as he scrolls mindlessly through Akuzon on his phone, sunglasses nearly falling off his head to the floor. “Forget just humans in stories, they do that shit all the time in real-life, too!” 

“Mammon, you probably have caused plenty of problems for humans.” Leviathan doesn’t even look up from his game, his fingers furiously pressing and pushing buttons with a loud click-clack-click that’s slightly maddening. 

“And ya haven’t?!” The second-born nearly tosses his phone as he twists to point an accusing finger at the other. “As if ya don’t get all smug about your name bein’ all over the damn place!” 

“H-Hey, it’s not my fault people are into sea monsters – oh come on!” The melody for GAME OVER. “B-but even with a good-for-nothing demon like me, humans like to create all kinds of stories and legends.” 

Shifting in your seat, you look around the room in amusement. “I mean, the stories had to come from somewhere, right? A sliver of truth in every lie, and all that.” 

“Sure, some of the stories have merit. Demons have influenced plenty of people, us included.” Satan shakes his head, placing the book to the side as he straightens up in his seat. “But there are humans who think any and all terrible things done by their own kind are somehow our fault.” 

“Right, like I’m not responsible for every greedy human who screws others over.” Mammon shoots the third-born a glare to stop him from interrupting. “But then ya got some humans going on about bein’ influenced by the devil, or demonic possession.”

“Aww, I haven’t done a possession in so long!” Asmodeus enters the room with a rather woeful expression, dropping a shopping bag onto a table before twirling around, a gleeful grin replacing his pout. “Now, what fascinating discussion are we all having here, hm?” 

“About how some humans blame demons for everything bad that happens.” You answer, resting a hand in your chin as you look at the Avatar of Lust with curiosity. “What are your feelings on that, Asmo?” 

“My feelings?” He places a hand on his chest, fingers splayed over his heart as a shadow of ire falls on his features. “Ugh, I’d say that humans are totally full of themselves!” 

“That’s rich coming from you, Asmo.” Satan rolls his eyes, earning an offended gasp from the fifth-born.

“But it’s natural for me, I mean who wouldn’t be if they had a chance to be me?” Asmodeus perches on the armrest of one of the sofas, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s true, though. I mean, I love playing games with some humans and all, but so much of that is in the past!” 

“Asmo, you still try to pull things all the time.” Leviathan huffs, ignoring his younger brother’s sharp look. “You probably aren’t helping.” 

“Excuse me, I don’t want to hear that from you, Levi. You’re the one who summons Lotan at the drop of a hat!” Asmodeus waves off the other’s protest, turning to look at you – you, who have just been sitting back and enjoying the conversation unfolding. “Us demons like to feed off all the negative energy that humans can produce, but that’s the thing – a lot of it comes from humans themselves!” 

Satan hums in agreement, also fixing his gaze on you now. “For example, we all in this room can sense if you’re feeling a really strong urge in our particular sin and even contribute to it, but we’re the Avatars, and we have pacts. Your average demon out there can tempt all they want, but temptation works best on humans that already have a proclivity to the sin or act in question.” 

“And a lot of the lil’ guys you see here, those real low-level demons? They’re manifestations of humans’ sins and negative energy. Meanin’ humans technically made ‘em!” Mammon is sitting up now, adjusting the sunglasses on his head as he leans on one knee. “So really, humans are to blame for those annoyin’ pests.” 

“I’m not arguing that.” You nod, remembering learning some of this in classes at RAD. “Well, I’m not really arguing anything, but I didn’t realize you all felt so strongly about this.” 

“Don’t get us wrong, we’re used to it. I mean, we’re demons, we have a reputation for a reason.” Leviathan shrugs, his focus going back to his console. “It’s more like a pet peeve.” 

“Just like how humans think angels are all innocent and good.” Satan’s words get a round of snickers from the room. “If a human really wants to blame everything bad on us, so be it. But then they only have themselves to blame if we lean into it.” 

It’s then that you remember hearing a story about Satan – a time where some human parents got angry and accused him of scaring their child, even though all he had done was return the child’s smile with his own. He ended up traumatizing the humans with his own anger, having them crying and begging on the floor for forgiveness, much to his delight. 

You wonder, had those humans even believed in demons before then? 

What of your own wrath? Your envy? Your greed? All of those feelings existed in you long before you came to the Devildom, and there were plenty of times you acted on them both then and now. Has it gotten worse since you’ve been here? It was hard to tell, though you did know the brothers’ got rather pleased when you did find yourself having a burst of pride, of desire. Who was feeding off of who? 

“I guess,” you muse aloud, “we’re all connected a lot more than we realize.”  

“That’s one way of putting it,” Satan hummed. “We just like to give humans a little push, now and then. Give them a taste of freedom, of what they want. After that, it’s really up to them what they do. If they choose the path that benefits us, well, we can’t complain.”

“Oh, what humans will do to get what they desire!” Asmodeus dramatically leans off of his perch, putting an arm around your shoulder. He gives you a rather mischievous look, lips curled into a smirk as he turns your chin towards him. “So, tell me, hon – can I tempt you into anything tonight?” 

“Get your damn claws off them, Asmo!” Before you can answer, Mammon is already up on his feet and growling at the sight. “You really think you can pull that with all of us here?” 

“Y-yeah, you can’t even charm them!” Leviathan voices his envy. “PDA Police!! Stop touching them!”

As the room erupts into familiar and frustrating arguments, you can’t help but feel some mischief swell in your chest – so you raise your voice. 

“Why, yes, Asmo. You can tempt me to something tonight. Shall we?”

The brothers fall silent, even Asmodeus staring at you for a moment before his lips split into a fanged grin. “We most certainly shall!” 

With a laugh, you find yourself running out of the room hand-in-hand with Asmodeus while the other three yell behind you. 

“You little devil,” Asmodeus snickers as he pulls you along, throwing a glance your way. 

With a grin, you respond: 

“I’m only human.”

[cookiesandbiscuits]

Now Playing: Falling in Love

[Leviathan - Maybe, Just Maybe]

Pairing: Leviathan x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Who would've thought Leviathan will find such connection with someone one day? Certainly not him.

A/N: Mmmmm the third installment is here!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Ngl, I kinda struggled writing this despite considering myself a Levi kinnie 😭

Special mentions to my moots who likes Levi, @cloudcountry, @officialdaydreamer00 and @amberheavendremurr. I hope you guys like this :D

Now Playing: Falling in Love playlist

MASTERLIST

"I'm afraid of the things in my brain,

But we can stay here and laugh away the fears."

Levi finds you odd.

Sure, you were strange for a human, but what he's weirded out the most was the fact that you've been hanging out with him a lot.

Not that it's a bad thing. In fact, he now surprisingly enjoys your presence compared to when you two first met.

He just finds it odd that out of the seven demons you were living with, you chose to stick with him. After all, he's not as cool as Lucifer, as charismatic as Asmo, as smart as Satan and Belphie, or as friendly as Beel. Heck, even Mammon has more social charm than he is, despite being a scumbag.

So why in the three worlds are you here, choosing him, instead of them?

Maybe you just find a weird otaku like him fascinating?

Yes, that's probably it, the voice in his head says. It's just a one-time fixation and your attention will soon divert to something else once you've scratched your curiosity.

.

.

.

"What?"

You gave him a confused look, the video game you were playing completely forgotten. He absent-mindedly asked the question while the two of you were in the middle of gaming.

"I- uh..."

He already asked, so he might as well...

"I-I'm just curious... I'm not as interesting as my brothers, and my interests can be hard to understand sometimes, so... why do you hang out with me so much?"

Silence filled the space between you, and every second of it filled him with dread.

"Levi."

Your soft voice broke the tense quietness.

"Y-yes?"

"Look at me... please?"

It took a while before he turned to look at you, although he still struggled to look you in the eyes.

"Levi, I don't think you're uninteresting compared to your brothers. In fact, you're far from it."

You reached out to take his hand, but not before looking back to him. When he didn't move, you took it as a sign and placed your hand on top of his. You continued.

"You are the most creative and passionate person I have ever met in my life. Sure, I may not understand the things that you're into sometimes, but I love hearing you talk about them. Because that means I get to know you more, even if just a little bit."

"...Y-you're just saying that to be nice, aren't you?"

Please, don't get my hopes up any longer if you don't really mean it.

You shook your head.

"Levi, I meant everything I said. So please believe me when I say that you are just as wonderful as your brothers. And even though you don't, I will be here to tell you how amazing you are," you say, gently squeezing his hand.

Finally, he took the courage to look you in the eyes, searching for any hints of insincerity. There were none.

And as he continued to stare, a new voice in his mind spoke.

Maybe, just maybe... he could believe you, even if just a little bit.

[mammon-s]

So I was talking to my friend about how I want to keep Levi in a jar to shake again and she was like “Oh he would want to keep you in a jar too, just for other reasons” and I go “…. I wouldn’t mind that” and she’s just like

[elftism]

close enough welcome back distorted yan

(I LOVE CANTO 6 I LOVE CANTO 6 I LOVE CANTO 6)

[lilmissnatcat24]

just know that any sort of video game level where I'm stuck in an enchanted tower and need to deactivate traps to survive, is made for me and only me

[hive-fleet-blight]

I attempted to turn my second Psychophage into a Tyrannofex. It looks a bit goofy and she's a bit on the short side compared to the official model, but it was fun, albeit nervewracking to cut up the model

[quietwingsinthesky]

WAIT. Leviathan!Charlie meeting Cas for the first time, hugging him, and going :D I remember being inside you!!! Does this mean we’re best friends now??

[abyssalpriest]

Conversations with Leviathan #9, Apotheosis 27/9/23

A conversation about where I'm personally at at the moment.

Sat in a black room, told to turn the lamp off. Nothing but me and the ever-present black of the room that works as a scrying mirror I've been submerged into. I know Lev is in here, in the Astral I see him throwing in his encompassing aura strange colours that meld like nebulous galaxies, patches of oranges like the shades of Jupiter amongst unplaceable calmer, darker colours; I can't tell if it's some sort of light projector... No. Firmament-bound. It's him.

Words are brimming at my lips: Something about a rebirth, a naming ceremony, the other side of a gateway. From screaming out of the womb to the soft blanketed arrival into the new house - old house, for isn't a baby, borne of the parents who made it, just as aware as I am in this vision that its cells came from this house? Aware that it lived here in another form?

The atmosphere is dripping with the gentle tones of his voice, but he isn't speaking. The air itself has become his words in the way that an earthquake is a hummed melody from shifting plates. On my mind is a piece I wrote long ago, one I titled "An Application for Apotheosis". 

"Sit, and think." He says, the one set of words out of the flurry of back-and-forth conversations of doubts and reassurances we just had that he says to write down. 

I ask if I'm supposed to do what comes next while writing - I'm suddenly remembering (reminded) that I wanted to record what we did last night in the Astral that left me so exhausted.

-

20230926-OTH-DB

Running, running, wolf paws on ground but we flow like a raging river. I catch in the same glimpse beside me to my right... Someone else, in wolf form too, fur rippling over muscles and fixed expression, and the glint of the morning Sun as it fights the trees for a chance at blinding me. Who this wolf is I don't know, but I know, the Wolf has overtaken me and I see him absent of human gender and descriptions and names and instead they're dressed in pheremonal and animal unspoken names, the ancient names-before-names. The morning dew surrounds my feet in the form of pungeancy - the smell tells me direction of travel as much as eyes, it tells me it evaporates upwards -  and of moistened sticks and leaves, I am surrounded by the fecund soil and bacteria and musk and roots and - the scene is so fast, but also nothing. We're gliding through Time itself. I float, etheric slithering, and when I look to my right, presumably that is Lev runniing with me as a wolf but I think the memory sinks into an abstraction because now there is no Lev and I, there is no human language, there is the thrumming topology-esque collective patterning of the Wolf, and the mycellium network that bleeds from the word "packmates"... I think when I look at him I'm thrown back into reality. Look forward: The Sun is ahead of me somehow, all is mercurial silver, unreal, all slides, scents play as if they were little fae. Look right at him: Visceral, real, the beating sound of huffed breaths and breaking twigs and beating heavy footsteps, and air that whisks past yet makes barely reaches the nerves through thick fur.

I don't feel like a wolf, and I think that's part of the point. I sank so deep into the suit of the Wolf Spirit that I was barely aware of identity. The Law of Rhythm takes over, experience becomes a hands-off ride. The words echo in my head as I write, as if I need to be the one to say it: Isn't this what godhood should be?

A significant song begins to play. Isha, O' Isha...

-

"Do you know what to do, then?" 

I awaken from memory to the same impulse as I had before I began writing, which is spreading out black tentacles into the blackness around me, something I feel myself in. He, gentle as nearly touchless fog, slides into the vicinity of my body like hands under mine to take over, entering to offer to take control so that I can concentrate. No, I can do things well enough in the Astral. i compartmentalise, I divide myself, too much and too often. What's the point being incarnated if all I do is over there... A questioning side-eye, Astral is important to, self is self even if I don't remember... But no, I want to be able to choose which body I put what, where I do what, and at current my real only choice is the Astral. 

He tells me to go to Tumblr for a second. I'm immediately brought to the Your Tags section where I'm greeted with a picture of the Sky, and then I go to the Following section to see yet another of the Sky.

"Isn't that (the blue Sky) where you store your power?" 'Store' is an interesting word. Why 'store'?

Oh, his smirk and energy burn with pages of information that he has to say on the topic, I see glints of arcane (to myself) diagrams of workings, memories, it seems, of his own libraries. He notes that he can show me those own libraries if I visit in the Astral, how I'd love to. But regardless: What do you mean 'store'?

I think I know, hence the smirk - "You do." Of course I do. Reflection, amplification, magnetics, expressions of God, language and the nature of the echoing of sound. I suppose I just wasn't expecting it to be about storage -

"You're not going to expect any of this." His voice is the colour silver itself, no metaphor, there is no sound that comes from him, there is only silver exuded. "You are going to learn new things, and you are going to remember. There will not be expectations, only those two."

I see in my mind his stomach in human form, tanned skin; he shoos me away from describing the physicality with a wave of his hand to get me back on track, and yet the metaphor escapes me. Skin, the firmament, what's the diffference? His voice overlaps and entwines mine: Tanned leather over the sphere of God's playground. 

What is the difference between storage and - he stops me.

The information he tells comes in the abstraction of sliding, overlapping tongues; wide eyes in a head haloed by the Sun; the writhing of endless, sleepy human-esque bodies, many of which who are not chopped up but nonsensically joined to other things like dolls played with by bored children, a torso attached to a snake's midsection but the girth of both are inorganically mismatched, another torso whose arm extends off into a worm-like structure... Crowns of deer's antlers on one mannequin-esque visage and a body with one foot a bird's claws and the other - I can barely see any of this, the entanglement is intense, obscuring most individuality with the veil of collective natures. A thousand - possibly infinite - bodies all mismatched, all melded together like sleeping lovers post-orgy.

"In this instance, then, the human body is an idol of God. What is God doing mingling with His creations like that? The lesser animals?" 

I'm not - I'm just - I am overcome with the smoothness of warm honey milk, I want to make you some, I want to give it to you, I want it to slide down your neck inside mine and I want to be the shivlinga that decorates you. Why? I know why.

Ah, the ceremony of water and ash. I remember, or more so my body remembers, a time when it saw me in the Astral while someone else was controlling it to have a shower. Who was it over here possessing me? Aisha, probably. Oh, vividly I was in or next to a forest, I was wearing the three equal lines on the forehead and hair like yours in a ceremony this body still doesn't understand. I want to say we were hunting, we were. You say: "It was for a special pelt," and I know what you mean by that is not a literal pelt but a smooth energy in the facade of one: a veil - this was the Mental, not Astral? The mindspace? Yes, you say. I want to wear it.

The words that pour into my mind from myself are not English. They weigh more than English words, and they're of a language you're been teaching me. I can't quite hear myself though - 

Leviathan said: 

Ka: p-g-n dahnerr gha vaiin nya artha gho herrn.

Pronunciation:

Kha (Not pronounced): Parjanya dahn-ERR gha vay-EEn nya AHR-tha gho h*ern

Notes:

Parjanya: Your name, obviously.

Rolled Rs.

Consonant followed by H is similar to sanskrit.

h*: This letter is not used in any language you know, likely not able to be pronounced by your tongues. it's a palatal consonant, "h" will do

This is like a mantra. It is cyclical. It has no beginning or end. Trancelike. It is a blessing, meaning something along the lines of "(I, Parjanya) have passed the gate, I have become the (one who has passed/become the gate)" - effectively it leads into itself, a less literal but more illuminting translation to highlight the cycle might be: "(I am) the one who has passed the gate, by right of being the one who has passed the gate, (etc)" 

That's a bit of a misdirection, though, what I just gave is not a translation. The actual meaning stays between us.

[salacioushyperfixations]

Send me your obey me fluff or smut headcannons! Let's chat 'bout our boys!

[23z567]

Watching my 80% done vitalazam fic wip as i think about eclipse federation highschool au

Dont look at the tags

[valer1esgallery]

Small ways they show affection

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

Leaves roses on your desk or bedside table with a small cup of tea/coffee for you in the mornings, even if he isnt there, i feel like he would make you something warm to drink along with his normal coffee he has in the morning. Its not outright said, but he cares alot for you to do this every morning without fail, its become part of his routine now, not that he minds

Mammon

I feel like he would subconsciously play with your hair or your jewelry if you both are together, you both could be lost in deep conversation and he would just reach up and start playing with a strand. If you mention it to him, he would turn red and look away, claiming that he did nothing of the sorts

He gives you small shiny objects like a crow. A small bracelet, a pair of earrings, shiny rocks, coins, a cool leaf he found, he would give you those types of things

Leviathan

Leviathan is pretty socially awkward so you don't really get large displays of PDA from the demon, but if your waiting in line or are in a large crowd, he intertwines your pinkies together or holds onto your sleeve

I feel like he would also pre-save games that he thinks that you would really enjoy, sending you a vague text about saving it for you while his face is bright red behind the screen

Satan

He leaves you little note with quotes from romance novels, i will die on this hill. If he finds a book that he thinks you will like, he will leave the book on your desk with a small sticky note that reads something like 'and for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable, and its all thanks to her/him', cheesy stuff like that

Asmodeus

This man is so into PDA, a arm around your shoulder, his hand on your waist, arms linked together, fingers interlocked, he just loves PDA. But when you both are alone, you could just be talking and you have your legs over his lap, he rests his hand on your calf as you both talk

Alone, his touches are more gentle, more loving. He likes touch, and he feels just resting a hand on your leg or just resting his head on you

Beelzebub

He knows all of your favourite devildom drinks and snacks, he makes sure that he brings enough for you while he's on snack time. Sometimes they don't make it to the house but its the thought that counts!

But when they do, he restocks your small snack draw and leaves some on your desk, making sure you never go hungry

Belphegor

He would give you a small bracelet that he tops up with magic every night so that you don't have bad dreams, Is it annoying? Yes, but is it worth it to see you happy? 100% Yes

He would just lean on you, not out of sleepiness (even though it does happen), he likes to lean against your arm or rest his head on your shoulder

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry i disappeared off of the face of the earth for a while, things came up and i was in a massive writing rut for a good long while lol

but anyways, IM BACK :D

This has not been proof read lmao, what should I do next?

[guiltyandashamed]

headcannons: jealousy

The 7 brothers and their responses to you getting buddy buddy with someone else.

Lucifer

Outwardly calm, inwardly devising a plan to remove the other person.

He tells himself it's beneath him to be jealous—but the way his jaw ticks when you're laughing a little too hard at someone else's joke gives him away.

He won’t interfere directly but will mysteriously show up at your side, arms folded, expression unreadable, standing just close enough to claim territory.

If you ask him directly? He’ll deny it, then casually change the subject and assign you more tasks so you spend more time near him.

You know he's jealous when he offers to escort you to RAD, normally he leaves earlier than anyone else, but he'll put his responsibilities aside (temporarily) until he's satisfied with time spent with you.

Mammon

Horrible at hiding it. Truly, pathetically bad.

Starts off huffy and sulky, arms crossed, muttering under his breath. “Tch, what’s so great about them anyway?”

Gets louder the more he tries to act like he doesn’t care.

Will suddenly be clingier, draping himself over your shoulder, bringing up shared memories loudly in front of whoever made him jealous.

May go full on “I’m your first, remember?!”

Will probably demand cuddles or attention afterward and won’t let go until his pride is patched (which may take a while).

Leviathan

Avatar of Envy, duh.

Withdraws first. Goes quiet. Eyes follow you but he doesn’t say much.

Starts comparing himself to the person you're talking to, convinced they’re cooler, more normie-attractive, probably a better match.

Will game aggressively to distract himself, drown himself in anime and manga, but he starts seeing parallels so he freaks out even more.

Needs reassurance, a lot of it. His face will be hiding in his hoodie and you know you've won him over when he finally stops hiding in it.

Satan

Possessive in subtle ways.

Doesn’t make a scene, but will insert himself into the conversation with charm that borders on cold.

Suddenly has facts or anecdotes that one-up the person you're with, effortlessly.

His smile doesn't reach his eyes when he’s jealous. That’s the tell.

Will call you out later in private, “You seemed very entertained tonight.”

If you reassure him, he relaxes instantly—maybe even smirks and says, “Good. I don’t share what’s mine.”

Asmodeus

Jealousy? From him? Never... unless… wait, are you flirting??

Overcompensates by trying to outshine whoever you’re talking to. Laughs louder, touches your arm more often, plays the charm up to eleven.

If it doesn’t work, he deflates a little.

Will pout in your room later, lounging upside down on your bed, demanding, “Do I not make your heart flutter anymore?”

Needs physical affection to feel reassured: cuddles, kisses, anything to remind him he's still your favorite.

Once soothed, he snaps back to being sunshine and glitter like nothing happened.

Beelzebub

Confused at first. Then bothered. Then protective.

Doesn’t know why he suddenly doesn’t like the way someone’s leaning too close to you, but it makes his stomach twist in a way that isn’t hunger.

Watches you quietly, then stands behind you like a silent wall.

Subtly moves you closer to him—maybe by offering you food or gently steering you away.

If pushed too far, he might say “I think you’re standing a little too close” straight to the point.

Tells you afterward, “I didn’t like the way they looked at you,” and hopes that’s enough to explain it.

Belphegor

Doesn’t hide it. Blatantly obvious.

Glares openly. Broods. Gives the person you're with a long, deadpan stare that makes most people nervous.

Will pull you into naps more often. Hugs you tighter. Might whisper snide things about the other person as he drifts off on your shoulder.

“Tch. Can’t believe you were smiling like that for them”

Will absolutely steal your blanket and refuse to share it until you give him a kiss or acknowledge he’s your favorite.

Grumbles less once you curl up next to him, but still mutters “Mine” under his breath when he thinks you’re asleep.

[daisies-and-domming]

Hiiii! Love your writing 😘😘 wondering if you wanted to write about mammon and a little pet play with a gentle soft Dom!AFAB Mc (or GN). Have a nice day!!!

It's Always Sunny With You (NSFW)

Summary: Mammon always takes his brothers’ harsh words head on - he doesn’t care what they have to say about him! But after overhearing his brothers talking behind his back, Mammon isn’t sure how much more he can take. Sometimes, your little puppy needs to be reminded how much you love him (and just how good he is).

Warnings: sub!mammon, dom!reader, hurt/comfort, starts out angsty with a capital A, swearing, pet play, reader calls mammon “puppy” and “pup”, mammon calls reader “master”, body worship, so so much praise

Let me know if you think I missed anything!

All characters are over 18 :) 

– – – 

Oh Mammon my sweet sweet boy :( So excited to be writing for him! He deserves all the love in the world, and sometimes he seems to forget that. Thank you so much for the request, I hope you enjoy! Sorry that there’s so much exposition, I can’t help myself sometimes…

– – –

Mammon put up with a lot.

This much was clear - as one of the seven rulers of hell, the second oldest at that, he had a lot on his plate. No matter how idiotic, or greedy, or in his own world he acts, he does really love his brothers (don’t you go telling any of them, now!).

Which made what was happening right now hurt so much more.

He knows he isn’t the world’s best older brother - hell, he could be a pretty terrible one at that - and the way he acted 99.9% of the time reflected that. Like all the times he’s pawned off some ridiculous anime figure of Levi’s (why have it if you’re just going to keep it in the box, huh?), or one of Satan’s first edition books, or one of Lucifer’s cursed records, or-… you get the point. He certainly has a greedy streak, but he can’t help it, okay? That’s his whole shtick, for crying out loud! Sure, he tends to gamble all the money he earned from pawning their stuff, but so what if he did? He always wins it all back eventually, anyhow. Especially if he has you - his lucky treasure - at the tables with him. He swears he always wins when you’re there to cheer him on.

But you weren’t here now, were you?

No one in this family had any idea of how to have a quiet conversation; Lucifer had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny anyways, so what was the point? It’s impossible to keep a secret in this house, so there really wasn’t any point in trying.

“-he doesn’t even treat them right, have you seen how unhappy they are when they’re with him?”

“And he’s so annoying, too. They don’t want to spend every breathing second with you, y’know?”

Immediately, tears blur his vision, and he picks up his pace. Stupid Satan and stupid Leviathan and stupid stupid Mammon. Do ya even love him? He wondered, fumbling his way into his room. Was he really just as bad as they were sayin’? He curled himself up on his bed, wrapped tight in the sheets, and sobbed quietly into his pillows. He knows he doesn’t deserve you - beautiful, kind, sweet, perfect you - it was inevitable that he would lose you. He never could hold on to treasure very long, anyways, how was he going to manage to keep one as precious as you? Who would want to stay with a greedy, annoying, clingy, disaster like him anyways? You were his everything, the reason the sun rose, the air he breathes, his most valued treasure. But you had so many people around you who loved you, who could love you better than him. Hell, you have the whole Devildom wrapped around your little human finger. Not to mention the angels who flock to you like you’re their reverie, and the shady sorcerer who insisted on taking you as his apprentice. All the powerful forces of the three Realms would come to your beck and call, so why would you want to have anything to do with someone like him?

Stupid, idiot Mammon. No one could ever love someone like you, anyways.

– – –

You sighed, trying your best to discreetly glance around the table. The brothers were rowdy as always, but one voice was missing - the voice of your boyfriend. While Mammon wasn’t always the most punctual, Beel had almost obliterated all the food already, and he hadn’t even come down yet to “grace the table with the Great Mammon’s presence”. Thinking of him made you smile at your food, but your smile didn’t last for long. 

He’s never this late to dinner… you chewed the inside of your cheek, worried. I wonder if he’s okay?

“-MC, are you listening to me?”

You snap your head up from your plate, Lucifer’s piercing eyes staring you down. You flush, embarrassed, and scramble to respond.

“Y-yeah, yeah of course Lucifer! Just thinking about how dinner is so good, who made it tonight, haha? My compliments to the chef, they did a-”

“You’ve said enough. I could tell you weren’t present with us, anyways.” He glances at Mammon’s empty seat, and turns his eyes back to you. “It’s pretty obvious why.”

“Yuck, you guys are so gross!” Levi shouts, sticking his tongue out. “You know that’s normie behavior, right, MC? It’s so gross how you’re ‘in love’, or whatever-”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, ignoring Leviathan’s ranting. “Go check on him.”

You perk up, looking at him, surprised. “Really? Okay!”

Without as much as a second thought (much to the chagrin of the six brothers who were present at dinner) you throw together a plate of food and rush off to Mammon’s room. You wondered if he was sick (do demons get sick?), or maybe if he fell asleep - you knew he tended to stay out late, even on school nights. That can’t be right, you thought with a frown. He was with me last night.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost walk past his door. Double-taking, you take a few steps back and rap your knuckles on his door, to no response.

“Mammon?” Nothing.

“Hey Mammon, it’s MC! I brought you dinner, if you’d like it!”

 Still nothing.

“Mammon, are you in there…?”

A muffled “Go ‘way!” rings out, and you drop your hand that had been knocking to your side.

“At least come get your dinner, you didn’t eat!”

“‘m not hungry.”

You twist the handle, noticing he didn’t lock the door. “Alright, I’m coming in there-”

“No!” you get the door about halfway open before a force is pushing it back closed. You throw your foot in the doorframe, wincing as the door tries to slam closed through your foot. Taking a peek in, you notice the room is dark. You can make out the outline of a blanket, strewn on the floor (presumably in Mammon’s hurry to close the door on you), and about nothing else. 

You push against the door, adamant this time. “Mammon, please, if you don’t want to talk to me about whatever happened yet, that’s fine, but please, at least take the food-”

The door opens just wide enough for Mammon to snatch the plate out of your hands. You don’t even see him, really - just the blur of his arm reaching around the door, and the feeling of the door once again trying to close through your foot. 

“I took the food, ya can go now-”

“Did I do something wrong?” He falls silent at your words, and you go on. “I’m sorry if I did, but please, let me make up whatever I did wrong-”

You thought that you had done something wrong? Mammon’s dumbstruck - you were perfect, you were you, why would you ever think you were the one in the wrong? Wasn’t it obvious that this was all his fault?

“...Mammon?” you sigh. “I- if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, I’m sorry I came to bother you, you clearly don’t want me to be here.”

He can hear your frown through the door, the tears that are probably hanging at your waterline, the dejected tone in your voice. Without thinking, he haphazardly sets the plate of food down, Diavolo knows where, and throws the door open just as you’re pulling your foot out of the frame. You blink up at him, surprised, and he immediately shrinks in on himself. He knows he’s a mess right now - ruffled hair, puffy eyes, wrinkled clothes - but he also knows that he can’t have you thinking you did something wrong. He may be a terrible boyfriend according to his brothers, but he won’t be that terrible of a boyfriend.

“Oh, honey,” you say, voice as soft as velvet, taking a few steps toward him. “Are you okay?”

And you watch as he just crumples, tears flowing openly again. He’s desperately sniffling, rubbing at his eyes, trying to get them to stop, but now that the floodgates have been opened, he can’t control them anymore. 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, I’m the great Mammon, after all!” he responds shakily, trying his best (and failing) to hold in his tears. “Nothing shakes me, ya know that, treasure.”

You frown at him, worry written all over your face. You gently push your way into his room, and he lets you, looking everywhere but your face as you gently close the door behind you. The gentle click of the lock catches his ear, but he’s more focused on you. He winces as you click the light on, too, and hopes you don’t mind how he looks right now. He can feel your gaze on him, all of him, tearing apart whatever walls he was feebly trying to keep up. You always knew what was up, even when he wouldn’t say it. It was one of the things he loved so much about you - he didn’t have to be good with words, because you already know what he’s going to say.

He jumps slightly as your hands reach for his face, directing it at yours. His eyes still won’t meet yours, and you sigh.

“What’ll it take for my handsome boyfriend to look me in the eye, huh?” you croon sweetly. He can see the pout forming on your lips and the glint behind your eyes without even having to look. And he’s sure that you can feel the flush of his skin under your hands as blood rushes straight to his cheeks. It didn’t take much for you to fluster him, even now.

“Mammon.”

“...MC,” he conceded, allowing himself a peek at you. 

That was his first mistake. You were looking at him with such admiration, as if he had hung the moon and all the stars in the sky, and he didn’t know how to handle it. Why did you love him?

“Why do I love you? Why wouldn’t I love you?” You could tell he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but you pushed on before he could get a word in. “You’re kind, and you’re so sweet to me, and you care about your family above anything else, and-”

“That’s not true,” he murmurs, watery eyes looking away from yours once again. “They think I’m mean, and annoying, and that I’m making you unhappy-”

“Oh, baby,” you coo, thumbing gently at his cheek. “Do I need to remind you just how perfect you are for me? My perfect boy.”

He flushes, stammering as you lead him back to his bed. There’s a noticeable dent from where he laid, unmoving, earlier, but you ignore it. Instead, you gently guide him to lay down on his back, and sit to straddle his hips. 

“I don’t know what’s got you all in your head,” you say, leaning down to hover your mouth just above his. “But I’m going to remind you just how good you are, okay?”

Before he can stammer out an “okay” of his own, your lips are crashing against his. There’s a sort of desperation behind your movements, and it has blood rushing down to his cock prematurely. He can’t help it, not when you’re straddling his hips and kissing him like your life depends on it. His hips buck when your tongue pushes into his mouth, and his shaky hands move to grasp at any part of you he can grab. They land on the plush of your hips, trying to guide you to grind down onto his already aching cock. You pull away at this, and he whines, a genuine sort of hurt hiding in the depths of his eyes.

“Baby, baby, look at me,” you murmur, cupping his cheek. “This is about you but that doesn’t mean you can break the rules. We go at my pace, okay?”

“S-sorry,” he hiccups, tears filling his waterline. “Sorry, I’ll be good for you, I’m sorry, I’ll be a good puppy, so please, don’t hate me!”

“Hate you? Honey, why would I hate you?”

You’re appalled that he would even think so lowly of you. Hate him? He didn’t show up to one dinner and you had about lost your mind! He had always been the sun - so bright and beautiful and charming - and you had just been lucky enough to have been pulled into his orbit. You didn’t hate him - hell, you revered him.

“T-that’s what they-hic-were sayin’,” he sobbed, the tears now at full force, “That I make you unhappy and that I don’t treat you right and and and-”

You interrupt again before he can spiral any further, squishing his cheeks between your fingers in an attempt to get him to slow down. 

“But did I say that baby? Did I tell you any of those things?”

He shakes his head gently, but the babbling doesn’t stop. He’s refusing to make eye contact again, and you frown, mad at yourself for not seeing the problem sooner. He had no reason to be insecure, he was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you were just going to have to remind him of that.

“Silly Mammon,” you say, leaning down to leave a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Does my little puppy need another reminder of just how much I love him?”

His head bobbles in a frantic yes, eyes finally finding yours again. There’s something feral sparkling in your eyes, but before he can comprehend it you’re slamming your lips back on his, your hands running down his pants to paw at his bulge. You toy with his belt a bit and he whines into your mouth, hips shifting under you in an attempt to get you to hurry up. 

You pull away, thumbing gently at his cheek. “Use your words, puppy. What do you need?”

“W-whatever you want,” he pants, his glazed over eyes struggling to meet yours. “Anything you want, please, wan’ you!”

You try to remain composed, but you can’t help the desperate shake of your hands as you fumble with his belt. You slip off of his lap, tapping his hip gently with your pointer finger as you shift off him. He lifts them for you without a word, eyes watching intently as you guide his pants and underwear off in one swift motion. You can’t help the grin from spreading across your face when his cock slaps against his abdomen. His tip is an angry red, almost purple, and fat globs of pre-cum run down the side of his cock.

“Aw, puppy, you’re already soaking for me, aren’t you? Sweet thing,” you coo, eyes never leaving his cock. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He doesn’t get more warning than that before you’re swooping down, tongue running up the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. Your hands find his inner thighs and they twitch under your touch, trying to close around you as you slide between them. His hands scramble for purchase in the sheets as your head bobs down his length, taking him into your mouth. Another spurt of pre-cum dribbles out of his cock, and you suck it up, greedy, intent on making him fall apart under you.

“M-MC,” he stutters out between moans. “Master, please, I c-can’t take it! F-feels sho guh-good!”

You hum around him, sending vibrations coursing through him. One glance up at him and you know he’s already gone - eyes teary and glazed, hair messy, and one of his hands frantically fumbling to play with his nipple. You swirl your tongue around his leaking head and give one final bob downwards before he loses control of his hips and bucks into your mouth, painting your throat white with cum. You nurse him gently through it, suckling until his hips twitch with overstimulation. Pulling off him with a pop!, you give Mammon a lazy grin, rubbing gentle circles into his thigh with your thumb.

“Feeling better, puppy?” You murmur, kissing your way up to his mouth until you’re eye to eye, once again straddling the meat of his thighs.

He nods, and you frown down at him, unimpressed. 

“Words, pup.”

“Yeah,” he says,  dazed. “T-thank you, master, made me feel so good.”

“Good puppy,” you murmur, pecking his cheek. “Because I’m not done with you.”

He blinks up at you in surprise, and you spit on your hand, grasping at his softening cock. He winces at the contact on his sensitive cock, hands weakly moving to stop you. You grab at his wrist, giving him a warning look.

“You were doing so perfect for me, pup, what happened?” You pout down at him, giving his cock a warning squeeze. “My pretty puppy, do you think you can give me one more? Just one more, I know you can be good, hm?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, I can be g-good, hnn! So good, master, the goodest!”

He drops his hands back to his side, letting you have your way with him. Despite his earlier protests, he hardens quickly at your ministrations, tip already leaking at your touch. You lean down and press a gentle kiss to his mouth, eating up the little whimpers slipping from his maw. Once he’s sufficiently leaking all over your hand, you shift your weight, tapping his cheek to get his attention. 

“Ready, puppy?”

He blinks up at you in confusion, mouth opening to question you, but you line his cock up with your entrance and slide down, and his mouth forms a little oh instead. You flinch at the stretch, but any sort of pain quickly blurs into pleasure as you guide his tip to kiss that gooey spot inside of you. Your eyes want to flutter shut but you refuse to let them, instead basking in the drunken look on Mammon’s face. He’s clearly edging on the border of painful overstimulation and thoughtless pleasure, and when you clench around him just right, there might just be hearts in his eyes. 

“F-fuck, puppy, stretching me so good, aren’t you? Can feel you-unh!-all the way u-up here, baby.”

Your hand moves to your lower abdomen, eyes mean as you tap right where you feel him. He watches you with utter reverence, unable to look away as your pace picks up, hips rolling in a steady pattern. 

“So wet, aren’t you, puppy?” you pant, tightening your jaw to keep the moans from spilling out. “Absolutely gushing for me, gonna squirt for me like a girl?”

He opens his mouth to respond, and you slap a hand over his mouth. “Puppies don’t talk, remember? Or did I already fuck my puppy dumb?”

Your condescending tone has his eyes rolling back and his tongue lolling out, and you catch it, rolling it between your thumb and your forefinger. He’s drooling everywhere, little unh unh unh!s and masther!s slipping from his mouth. You tug on his tongue a bit, and you look him right in the eye as you spit into his mouth and let him choke on it a bit. When his eyes start to roll again, you let go, and watch him greedily swallow the mix of your spits.

“Say thank you, puppy.”

“W-woof!” he responds, and you give him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss in return.

“Good boy, remembering my rules. How about you play with your pretty nipples as a reward, hm? And then maybe I’ll think about letting you cum.”

His head bobbles as he nods, hands messily sliding up to toy with his nipples. He rolls them between his fingers, tugging, and you see his abdomen tense as he holds back from bucking up into your soft, wet heat.

You’re not doing much better, and when his tip kisses that sweet spot inside you again, you feel yourself start to unwind. You lose your pace, desperately chasing your high as your insides spasm around him.

“C-come undone with me puppy, c’mon, won’t you-ahn!-be good for me? My best boy. You c-can cum, fuck fuck fuck! Cum.”

At your command, he lets go, filling your insides with his warm cum. You shake around him, prying your heavy eyes open to look at the blissed out expression on his face. His cheeks are streaked with dried tears and drool, and the most delicious flush spreads all the way down his chest. You run a hand through his matted hair as he comes down from his second orgasm of the night, extremely pleased with how he wearily blinks at you, eyes unfocused. 

You wince as you pull off of him, and his cum weakly dribbles out of your entrance. You roll over to lay next to him, making sure to slip your hand into his. 

You’re both absolutely disgusting - smelling of sex and covered in the evidence - but you bring his hand to your face anyways, gently kissing his knuckles.

“You know I love you more than anything, right?” You say, almost so quietly he misses it, “I hate that even for a second you doubted that.”

He tries to stop the feeling bubbling to his chest, but it’s hard to ignore when you nuzzle your face into his neck. He’s never really had the luxury to love like this, since he’s fallen to the Devildom, and it fills him with an inexplicable warmth. He rolls to face you, and he stiffens as your eyes find his.

“‘m sorry I made you worry,” he says, slinging an arm over you and pulling you closer. “I just…I’m not the best person, y’know? So I figured you finally saw that.”

You nip at the juncture when his neck meets his shoulder and he yelps.

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that. He’s the kindest, most loving, most exciting person to be around, and I’m the one who’s lucky to have him.”

The fierceness in your gaze catches him by surprise - why would you care so much? Sure, he’s the Great Mammon, but under all of his pizazz, he was just a boring, regular demon. Lucifer is influential, Leviathan is passionate, Satan is smart, Asmo is beautiful, Beel is strong, and Belphie (despite his brat behavior) is soft and sweet. But he didn’t bring anything to the table, not like they did.

“Stop that,” you say, louder this time. 

“Get out of your head and look at me. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. You’re not annoying, and your brothers don’t know how much you do for them when they’re not looking. You’re an amazing brother, and the perfect partner. I love you, okay? I love you so much, my Mammon.”

“I love ya too, MC. Thank you for remindin’ me,” he huffs out, embarrassed at the tears springing to his eyes again.

He sniffles, hiding his head into your hair and pulling you closer. You hold him just as tight, and he drifts off in your arms, the tension of the day slipping away in your embrace.

– – –

“Do you think Mammon is okay?”

Lucifer glances up from his place at his desk, glasses crooked and face a little flushed. He tries his best to subtly adjust himself, and rubs at his temples, exasperated. Sometimes, being aware of everything happening in the house was more of a curse than a blessing. Your voice as you cooed at his brother was going to stick with him for eons to come.

“I can assure you, Leviathan, he is more than okay.”

Word Count: 3897

[zephyrchama]

(Based on that one scene from B99)

“Lucifer, your wrist looks kind of funny.”

All eyes turned to the Avatar of Pride when Leviathan pointed this out. They were supposed to be organizing the house library, but it was a long and boring task. One that everyone wanted to finish quickly, yet nobody could find the motivation to make any real progress.

“Oh no! What happened?” Asmodeus leaned over a table to try and steal a peek. Lucifer’s wrist was, indeed, bent in an odd manner. He used his non-dominant hand to shuffle some papers in order.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, Asmo!” Mammon jeered. “Back off, leave the guy alone.”

Lucifer ignored his brothers, icy gaze focused on the documents in hand. They were papers that had been misfiled and did not belong in the library. He reminded everyone in the room to “behave yourselves” before disappearing into his office.

Curious eyes followed him until he was truly out of sight. Then, the brothers exchanged fascinated looks. It’s not every day that Lucifer get injured.

“Alright, everybody bring it in. Huddle up.” Mammon ushered everyone to come close with a sweep of his hand. The boys reluctantly formed a loose circle.

“What are you up to now?” Belphegor asked with a sigh. “I want to finish this already.”

Mammon pretended not to hear as he whisper-shouted, “so, he wouldn’t say what happened, which can only mean one thing.”

”He’s in a fight club,” Beelzebub suggested.

“No. He did it doing something he’s embarrassed by.” Satan was quick to catch on to the truth.

Beelzebub followed up with, “oh. Could be a sports injury. I sprained my wrist playing fangol last year.”

“Really? I don’t remember that,” Belphegor said.

Leviathan asked, “you think Lucifer was playing fangol?”

A deep growl suddenly came from the doorway. There was no warning or indication that Lucifer would be back so quickly. Yet, the man in question had returned. His menacing quickly caused the group to shut up.

“I can hear you speculating about the nature and origin of my injury from my office, but I don’t think it’s relevant to your jobs. The jobs you should all be doing right now. Get to work.”

The brothers scattered like roaches back to their respective corners of the library. All except for Satan, who Lucifer beckoned over with his finger. Satan hesitated at first, but it was better to go along with Lucifer when his mood was sour. The two stepped out for a minute, far enough away that no one else would overhear.

“What?” Satan was fed up with this conversation and it hadn’t even started.

“Do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Satan’s eyebrows flew up and he took several seconds to think about the question. What an odd offer. There was nothing for Lucifer to gain by telling him this, was there? Though, if he spent too long thinking Lucifer might change his mind and leave his little brother wondering what happened forever. With an oddly docile tone of voice, Satan responded, “...Yes.”

While Satan was busy wondering how to respond, Lucifer had taken out his DDD. He was scrolling through a menu in search of something. “I was hula hooping. Diavolo and I attend a class for fitness and for fun.”

“No way.” Satan's true thoughts leaked out. It was so dumb, it couldn’t be true.

Lucifer raised his phone to Satan’s eye level. The proof was there. ”I’ve mastered all the moves. The pizza toss. The tornado. The scorpion, the oopsie doodle.”

With each and every silly name, Lucifer swiped to a new photo on his phone. There he was, doing the pizza toss. Showing Diavolo how to do the scorpion. Performing a flawless oopsie doodle. Satan was stupefied, his mouth ajar.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because no one…” Lucifer selected all of the images. He tapped on a trash can in the corner of the screen. The images, every last one, disappeared. “…will ever believe you.”

“No!” Satan lunged for the phone in vain. “You sick, twisted, son of a-”

“You got your answer," Lucifer told him. "Get back to work."