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obae-me · 8 months

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A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Full Revised Masterpost

No one asked for it, but I wanted it, so here it is! I was going through some of my old stuff, particularly this series because it was a personal favorite of mine. And boy oh boy did I feel like it was outdated. Partially because of nightbringer, but also because my writing style has changed a bit over the last few years. So, I figured I'd go through it all, edit a few things, take out a few bits I didn't agree with character wise, and add some details here and there to make it all flow a little better! Lucifer's chapter especially got a chunky overhaul (yeesh that one made me cringe). The changes aren't enormous, but just enough to make a difference I think. And now I get to put them all in one nice little post! I'll still be keeping my older versions on my masterlist. It'll be kinda neat to have both there for comparison's sake. Plus I added a little bonus scene at the end that's... a teaser of things I have planned. See if you can guess what it is. Oh, and if you're new here, hi! Enjoy a silly fic I made!

Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: Sickness, fainting, blood mention, gagging, fighting, medication use, brief taking of double doses. General sickfic things.

It spread as a rumor first. The halls of RAD were always abuzz with the latest news; the newest trend, an upcoming event, what Diavolo was having for lunch. However, lately the only thing everyone seemed to be talking about was a new airborne virus. Students clustered less frequently in the halls, sharing hushed whispers on who had been most recently afflicted. You had been assured that humans should be immune to this particular strain but to still err on the side of caution. Take the proper steps to keep yourself in good health. Waves of sickness like this always came closer to the wintertime, much like the human realm. And while the air in the Devildom carried a general sense of anxiety, no one in the House of Lamentation seemed worried in the least.

“We’re technically fallen angels, not demons.”

“Psh, you think a little virus is enough to affect us? No chance!”

“There’s no way any of us will get sick. Don’t worry.”

Pride was rampant throughout the House. So…perhaps it was only fitting that Lucifer was the first in the household to catch it.

He had shown symptoms a few days before, beginning with not having the energy to scold Mammon. Then it snowballed from there. Almost losing his balance while going up the stairs, putting too much sweetener in his coffee, failing to focus over relatively mindless things, it concerned you. Everyone else didn’t seem to notice…or perhaps they were pretending not to, taking advantage of Lucifer’s odd state and doing whatever their sinful little hearts desired. No one thought it could be that serious, otherwise they might’ve done something about it. Kept a closer eye on him… But this was Lucifer after all. He got like this sometimes, they all claimed. He was simply working himself too hard again. But…even so…you knew something was off. This was more than just your typical burnout.

Did you dare risk damaging his pride to ask? You weighed the outcomes in your mind, deciding in the end to go check on what was wrong that night. Hoping to appeal to him, you had even made some of his favorite tea. You’d even prepared a second cup for you, secretly wanting to maybe share a moment of time together… Stepping slowly to ensure you didn’t spill a single drop, you went straight to his bedroom, knocking on his door exactly twice in even beats. No answer. His study then, perhaps. So you headed there, passing the shelves of dusty tomes to see that the bookshelf which served as his secret entrance was wide open.

“Lucifer?” you called, holding yourself back on worried feet. Waltzing in unannounced did not always grant you the warmest of receptions. He preferred to have some sort of warning. Although, this time there was no response to your announcement. “Lucifer?” you asked again, your voice slightly louder. Still nothing. You couldn’t hear any music… and he wasn’t often known to wear headphones. Just a peek couldn’t hurt, could it? Just to make sure he wasn’t inside. You stepped forward and poked your head through the doorway.

At first glance, the office appeared empty, his overly grandiose chair devoid of its demon. However, after a better look, you noticed that he was inside, just not how you expected him to be. The Prideful Lucifer was crumpled on the ground, surrounded by what should’ve been a stack of papers, but now was just a scattered mess on the floor.

The heart in your chest nearly stopped, your mind jumping to various grisly conclusions. Somehow you managed to put the teacups aside without dropping them like one might do in a dramatic soap opera episode. The musical sting was audible in your mind. You rushed to him, moving him with a strained grunt so he was flat on his back. You shouted his name in an attempt to wake him, checking for wounds. “Lucifer!” He didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Burning crimson cheeks flushed brightly on skin as white as a sheet. You checked his breathing. Constant, luckily, but shaky. There was a faint tremble throughout his body. Your hand drifted down to his cheek as you caressed his face. To say he looked terrible was an understatement.

You fumbled for your D.D.D. desperately hoping that someone would pick up quickly. But who to call? Your mind ran through everyone you knew. Mammon? Barbatos? Diavolo? Perhaps Beel was your best bet. He was dependable. You didn’t want to risk anyone else taking advantage of him like this. Besides there was no way you could drag Lucifer up to bed alone, and Beel was easily as strong as three of you.

You dialed Gluttony, doing your best to not bite your knuckles in worry. Each echoing ring felt far too long… Pick up… Pick up! “Oh, MC, you called at a good time.” The breath that came out of you was almost a gasp. “I’m getting ready to order food since the kitchen is empty. What do you want? I’ll get it for you?” Beel sounded like he was still in the middle of chewing, which probably meant he just now emptied out the kitchen. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that though.

“Beel- Beel! I… I came into the office and… Please come down to Lucifer’s study, I- I need your help! Lucifer- Lucifer he’s…not well.” Your voice shook, doing your best to form comprehensive words aside from the panic. You’d hid the fact that he collapsed to save some of his pride. Even though it would be fairly obvious once Beel got here…

Beelzebub’s tone went more serious. He swallowed whatever food he had left before speaking again. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

Now that Beel was coming to help, you felt a bit more relaxed, but not by much. You put your D.D.D. back into your pocket and knelt beside Lucifer’s body. His head was lifted up with your shaking hands, letting him use your lap as a pillow. You brushed away the hair that was now starting to stick to his skin. You’d never seen him like this before, and you were certain that Lucifer would rather die than be discovered like this. Nevertheless you couldn’t help but pet his head.

It wasn’t too long before Beel came in, messy crumbs all over his shirt as he left in a haste. Once he saw the state Lucifer was in, he scanned back over his shoulder. “Mammon is busy arguing with Levi, Belphie is taking a nap, Asmo’s out, and I’m hoping Satan is in his room. Let’s get Lucifer to bed quickly.” He came over and quickly lifted his elder brother up off the floor. It didn’t matter how long you had been around him, any time Beel was able to show of just how strong he was, it left you in awe. “Why don’t you go ahead of us and meet me in his room?” Beel asked. For a second, you blinked in a stupor before you quickly nodded, bolting as fast as your feet would take you up the stairs towards the second floor to his grand master bedroom.

Careful of potential eyes, you looked around for anyone before opening the door. As Beel said, you could hear Mammon and Levi going at it, but they were a few rooms away. You invited yourself inside, leaving the entrance open just a crack so Beel could easily come right in. Now to prep Lucifer’s bed. It was extremely large, entirely unnecessary for one person, but a perfect fit for the Demon of Pride. You took one corner of the silky sheets and folded them aside. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After what seemed like eternity- but was realistically only a few minutes- both brothers entered the room. You got up and quietly shut the door behind them while Beel placed Lucifer on the bed.

“What do we do now?” you asked. “Should we call a doctor?”

Beel’s mouth tightened. It was obvious he was worried, but he shook his head. “We… can’t. We leave him alone and he’ll probably call someone when he wakes up.”

You stood there, jaw open, not able to fully process the words. “’We can’t?’ W-What do you mean, ‘we can’t’?”

“It’s sort of an unspoken rule… If Lucifer ever gets sick we have to leave him alone. Even just the fact that we brought him up here might get us in trouble.” Beel looked a bit downtrodden.

You stammered over your words. “I- but- we can’t- That’s the most ridiculous and hypocritical rule I’ve ever heard! If it were someone else, Lucifer would have everything covered as soon as possible!”

“It’s mostly to keep Satan and Belphie away… and to make sure Diavolo doesn’t find out. He tends to be a worrier.” Beel explained. He shrugged, glancing over at his brother for a moment as he thought. “I’ll go keep watch over this room. Maybe if you take care of him, he won’t be as upset. Please…take care of him MC.” With that he left, however you could still hear him outside the door, already munching on something as he stress ate.

You nervously paced. Taking care of him sounded easy in theory, but in actuality you had no idea how to take care of a demon. Would it be the same as a human? Probably not but that was all you knew how to do, so it had to be better than nothing, right? So you left the room for just a moment to grab a few things. A glass of water so he could stay hydrated and a bowl of cold water with a soft rag to bring down his temperature.

When you returned to the room, you froze. Lucifer was sitting up slightly in bed, looking disoriented. A relived sigh released all the built up tension in your lungs. “Oh, thank Diavolo… Lucifer, are you okay?” His head swung around at you, eyes a bit wide. He didn’t notice you had entered. “MC… what’re you doing in here? I--” He cut himself off in shock as you placed the cup of water in his hands and the bowl on his nightstand. You got the rag damp, wringing out the excess.

“Do you not remember?” you asked him, raising a hand to put the rag against his face. Embarrassed and clearly overwhelmed, he swatted your touch away and forcefully put the glass back in your hands.

“Enough of this fussing! There’s no need for it.” He scowled, but his dry lips were a bit poutier than he intended. “I don’t know what’s gotten you to believe you needed to come in my room, but I don’t remember inviting you. It’s about time you took your leave.” His tone was stern but his words didn’t have the usual sharp impact they normally did when he was upset. They just sounded tired. Strained. You frowned. You couldn’t tell if he was unaware he collapsed or just glancing over the fact he did. Either way he was clearly lying about being alright. You decided not to bring up the study situation for his pride’s sake, but even with your two fully ordinary human eyes you could tell that he needed to be looked after.

You’d defied him before and hadn’t died yet. Sure there had been close calls, but… what was going against him one more time going to do? “I’m not leaving," you told him.

Lucifer disapproved. His eyes went narrow and air around him grew even hotter. A few more red splotches showed up on his face… “Would you like to say that again? I hope for your sake I misheard you.”

“I’m not leaving you right now, Lucifer.” You stood your ground. Sometimes stubbornness needed to be met with more stubbornness. Lucifer clenched his jaw and stood up. Too quickly. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, clutching tightly the only thing keeping him from falling over. You. He had his face buried in your shirt, his breathing now ragged. Seeing him like this was torture… although there was something about seeing Pride be humbled that gave him further access to your heart. He wasn’t some untouchable distant concept. He was a person who got sick sometimes, just like you. Once more, you ran your hand through his hair, tender fingers rubbing at the pressure points on his scalp. Even him just being this close made you hot. He was a burning furnace. “You’re not well, Lucifer… And I know you won’t ever admit it so you don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to ask, I’ll do the begging, just please let me take care of you. You take care of everyone else, so when you can’t even take care of yourself let me take care of you. Please.”

He didn’t respond, just kept his face hidden. For a second, he motioned as if he was going to push you away… but he pulled you closer, his grip on your clothes getting tighter. Acceptance… You bent down to grab one of his arms to help him get to his feet. His throat cleared as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was clear he had a lot to say, but he kept everything to himself. Lucifer’s eyes wandered, looking at everything in his room except for you. Slowly, you reached towards his neck, taking the stuffy tie off of him. Kneeling down, you removed his dress shoes, tucking them aside. He loosened a few of his own buttons, already looking a little better without so many unnecessary layers. Finally, you took both his hands in your own, feeling the curves of his palms before stripping his hands of their gloves. When he got back inside his bed he turned away from you. Sulking and feeling thoroughly defeated probably. Flustered, if you could allow yourself to think so. You tried hard not to smile. He would absolutely kill you if he knew you thought he was being cute.

With a hand on his shoulder, you urged him to lie on his back. Once he begrudgingly did, you pulled the blankets up to his neck and had the rag in hand again. You ran the cool fabric across his cheeks before folding it up and settling it across his forehead. Then you went over to one of his record players, scouring through his large collection until you found the record that he told you was a favorite of his. And not one of his cursed ones. You placed it on the player, making sure the music was loud enough to be heard but not enough to keep him up. It started with a soft piece, something calm and hauntingly beautiful. Hopefully it would help him relax.

Lucifer already had his eyes closed again, the red in his cheeks gone down from cherry to coral- in other words, just a touch. However, it was enough to make you feel less antsy at his condition. You had been so close to contacting Diavolo, but now it seemed as if you didn’t need to. Since you had just had your hands in the water, they were cool to the touch, so you gently brushed them against his cheek again. This time he moved his head to melt into you. A soothed hum left his throat. He grabbed your sleeve, now looking up at you with an expression entirely different than just a few minutes before. “Please…don’t leave tonight.” His voice was soft and hush, almost as if he didn’t want to hear his own words. You rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. A shiver ran through his body and it was hard to tell if it was from your touch or from the fever.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Sleep now.” He shut his eyes and with a large shuddering sigh, he seemed to drift back to sleep. You took the rag, it already warm, and you touched your forehead to his. “Sweet dreams.” You whispered.

Lucifer recovered fairly quickly. What had left lesser demons bedridden for a week or so only had the eldest brother recovering for a handful of days. Now, he had done his best to keep himself isolated, but once his siblings eventually learned how bad off he had been- despite your best efforts to keep it a secret- they all came in on their own time to check on him. At the end of the day, even if they often had each other by the throat, they cared for each other deeply. You had to wonder if the extra unexpected TLC was part of what got Lucifer back up on his feet so rapidly.

Mammon was in and out of Luci’s room pretty frequently. Despite yours and Pride’s warnings, he was determined to do his duty as second in line and take care of his sibling. So, no one was all too surprised when Greed fell ill not even a single day after Lucifer was symptomless. But, what did catch everyone off guard was that Mammon was not the only one who got suddenly sick. Out of every other brother, Satan was also next to fall ill to the Devil’s Cold. Lucifer commented proudly that Wrath had been excellent in his service, bringing him specially crafted potions to lesson pain and bringing him up special meals to restore his vigor. All was revealed much to Satan’s dismay. Apparently it was meant to be a secret. He tried to twist it into some sort of reverse psychology prank, but everyone knew Satan was acting out of worry. So, a proper deed was returned in kind, Lucifer looking after the both of them to the best of his abilities. Such a doting older sibling through and through. Although, despite the rare opportunity to have Lucifer wait on them hand-and-foot, Mammon and Satan were both acting strangely difficult. Satan’s denial of Lucifer’s fussing made more sense, strained relationship and all, but Mammon’s sudden cold stubbornness was rather uncharacteristic. So, while the eldest was busy finishing the two extra workloads of Student Council business, he asked that you check up on the second-eldest.

You eagerly agreed. For not only was Mammon being reserved towards his siblings, but also towards you… It was a sensation you weren’t used to, him being so close to you and all. This would be a good excuse to see him. Approaching his room, you knocked on his door, pressing your ear against the expensive looking wood only to hear a groan from inside. It wasn’t what you would define as a dismissive groan, so you let yourself in. Overhead completely off, extra light from his displays all dimmed, you were left stumbling around in darkness for the light switch. Once you flicked it on, the pained moan you heard before returned, albeit louder this time. Seemed he was sensitive to light at the moment. You bit your bottom lip and flicked his light back off, opting to use the glow from the screen of your D.D.D. instead.

The faint light gave you enough vision to spot giant lump under the covers of his bed. Not a single part of Mammon’s body was exposed. He was all bundled in a ball. You came over, a nice hot drink in your hands in a shiny golden-colored mug. Lucifer had told you that the concoction was good for demons, and among that one of Mammon’s favorites. To you, it just smelled like cinnamon and milk.

You gently pressed your hand over the bed lump, shaking it slightly as you announced your presence with a soft voice. “Mammon, it’s me… Lucifer sent me. I have something for you.”

The blob of blankets shifted, little chirps of discomfort making their way to your ears. He scuttled away from you at first, the blanket pulled tighter around him. It required several minutes of coaxing for him to come out. The covers fell away as he finally sat up in bed, hair sticking up every which way. His black tank-top was sticking tight to his torso, his face devoid of the normal vibrancy it usually held. Not only that, but it seemed the exhaustion had him stuck halfway between his demon and human form. His body marks were present across his body, but they were very translucent. His horns were absent from his head, but you could see his wings tucked against his back. His nails were the sharpness of talons. Normally, his eyes shined at you, little flecks of gold floating in the seas of blue. Now his color was dulled. But at the sight of you, a bit of him perked up. You were a much needed presence. Even if he talked up a big game over text about ‘not needing to see you’, at the end of the day, having you at his side was what he wanted most of all. You could read from his expression that he regretted not having you come in sooner.

You held out the drink for him, and he reached for it with shaking hands. Worried he’d spill it, you cupped your own hands around his, giving him the added support as he brought the rim of the mug to his lips, taking mini sips while giving himself breaks to breathe in-between. You frowned… He was barely able to hold and consume his own drink. When he was done drinking it, you put the half-empty mug aside on his nightstand.

“Th-ank you, huma-hu… MC,” he croaked, his eyelids fluttered and he fell back onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He let his hand dangle over the side of his bed, his fingers almost grazing the floor. Your heart ached seeing him in this position… but you secretly had to admit, he was being awfully cute. His tsundere nature was gone, you only wished he didn’t need to be this far gone to be sweet with you. You ran a hand through his crazed hair. A little greasy. He would need to wash up. You’d let Lucifer handle that one. Mammon turned his head slightly, just enough to see you with one eye cracked open. You saw it glisten with tears for a split second before he turned back into his pillow. Lucifer was probably caring in his own demanding way, but you wanted to bet he’d never been treated like this before.

You shook your head a bit at that thought and went about rummaging though his clothes to find a cleaner outfit for him to wear. Lucifer could help him get changed out of those sweaty things later. You folded up a suitable replacement and placed it on his couch, pushing aside empty shopping bags. Then you sat beside Mammon on the mattress, reaching for the rag Lucifer had brought to him earlier. Mammon must’ve been tossing and turning for a while, seeing as it was at the end of his pillow case, threatening to fall to the floor. You dipped it in the bowl of cool water that was left on the nightstand, feeling the feverish warmth dissolve out of it.

“Mammon…Mammon, turn your head,” you asked. He raised up his dangling arm to reach for the covers…and pulled the fabric over his body with a huff. You had been wrong, apparently. There was still a twinge of tsundere left in him. It was comforting, at least, knowing that he still was the embarrassed little demon with that playful attitude you adored. You covered up a small smile with your hand. “Mammon, please. Pretty please? Pretty please with Grimm on top?” You pleaded with him, leaning on him with your own body till he squirmed under your pressure.

“Oi…” he croaked. “Fine…” He shuffled around under his sheets before showing just the upper part of his head, his gaze plastered on anything other than your face. You tried hard not to chuckle, you really did. He was being so stubborn about this. You placed the cool rag on his forehead and heard him sigh. You used a finger to pull down his blankets so you could see his features. You cupped his chin to move his head and guide his gaze towards yours. You stroked his cheek and watched a twinge of color return to his cheeks as he blushed.

“Do you need anything else, Mammon?” You asked him gently. It was a bold move to ask Greed what he wanted. You could only begin to imagine what he’d ask for. Cold cash? A new pair of shoes? A car? At the moment though, you didn’t care what he asked, you’d get it for him if it was within your power…and your budget.

To your surprise, he frowned at the thought of being pampered, apparently. He licked his cracked lips and shook his head. “N-Nah…you can…go.” Had hell frozen over? Was this why Lucifer had asked you to check on him? Was he so miserable right now, he couldn’t even turn to his sin? Or was there something more to it?

“Mammon… you’re not being greedy by letting me help you. I can grab you whatever you think you need. Hell, I’d go fishing in Lucifer’s wallet if I thought it would make you feel better.”

The second-born tried to laugh a little but just ended up coughing. After he wrestled control over his own lungs, he blinked a little, thinking. “Can I…have some water, maybe?” He talked as if this was a new sensation, as if he had never coveted anything in his life.

“Of course. Anything else?” If you managed to poke and prod a little more of his sin to come out, you’d feel a little better.

“I…don’t know…” Poor Mammon seemed pretty out of it, like he was dangerously close to falling asleep, but being forced awake by the sheer discomfort in his body. If you could help him out, he might stop tossing and turning.

“Okay,” you nodded, a little idea illuminating in the back of your mind. If he couldn’t be greedy, you’d be greedy for him. “I’ll be right back with a few things, okay?” His fingers snagged onto the end of your sleeve, upset at the thought of letting you go, but his hand dropped back to the bed. With an assuring squeeze to his shoulder, you left his room.

A quick text was sent to the other residents of the House, requiring a quick meeting in the common-room. You tried hard not to pace as you waited for each brother to trickle in, a curious look on all their faces. Lucifer showed up last, his arms folded but appearing more concerned than frustrated. “I’m assuming this has to do with Mammon,” the eldest chimed in before anything was said.

“Exactly.” Turning your head, you gave each brother a determined look before setting your plan in action. “We’re all putting together a Get-Well-Basket for Mammon!”

A sleepy voice raised a little. “Huh?… A Get-Well-Basket?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you know, like a little assortment of gifts to show someone you care. It doesn’t have to be much, but just grab things you think would make him feel better! Oh, and he likes words of affirmation, so you all have to write a nice note!” A few of them tried to groan, but you were hearing none of it. “Go on! Right now! The master of your pact demands you! Don’t make me use ‘stay’.” The grumbles turned into quick agreements as the able-bodied set off in their quest to prepare their brother a basket. You hurried off to your own room, grabbing an open Akuzon box off your floor, a set of pens and a stack of sticky-notes off your desk. Then you looked around for something to give your precious demon of Greed. A lot of the things you owned… had been bought by him. You guessed you hadn’t realized till now how much he bought things for you. He deserved some nice things back… Not wanting to leave Mammon waiting too much longer, you snagged a nice pair of socks and a crystal you’d bought at a nearby magic shop. They got thrown in the box as you went back to the common-room.

A few other brothers were already there by the time you returned. Pleased with them, you set the box on a nearby coffee-table and handed each of them a pen and a note. “Now, your little letters. Make them nice or I’ll force you do them again!”

Dramatic huffs and puffs were made for the show of things, but they all seemed to really think about something nice to say. “How’s he doing, by the way?” Beel wondered aloud, speaking as he recently entered the room. Different eyes flickered down to the floor. Seems they all were wondering the same thing but none of them knew how to say it.

“Not the best,” you admitted, taking a few of the brother’s gifts and settling them in the reused box. “Which is why I thought this little pick-me-up would do him some good.” The rest of the demons fell silent, finishing their notes and attaching them to their gifts.

“Tell him- Tell him I said to feel better,” Levi sighed, giving you a little wave before returning to his bedroom.

“Yeah! Tell him that if he misses out going to that party with me next week, I won’t ever forgive him!” Asmo’s eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, kissing his note before putting it with his gift. The other siblings had similar sentiments, their well-wishes eventually compiled into one box. You found yourself smiling. This would help for sure. With the box and the water he originally asked for in hand, you returned to his room.

Mammon was sitting up again when you came back, his knees tucked against his chest, his finger tugging at a loose thread on the hem of his blanket. The soft light coming from a book lamp on his nightstand helped you keep from tripping on the floor. When you walked in through the door, you could’ve sworn you saw him smile. His eyes took turns observing you and the curious box in your arms. “Wha’s that?” he wondered, his words slurred slightly.

“It’s for you.” In a few steps, you were back at his side, giving him the water first for him to drink before settling the Get-Well-Basket at his feet. “From me and all your brothers. To make you feel better.”

It was clear he was confused for a good while. “For…me?” But then, that little glimmer in his eyes returned as he started to rummage through the box. He read a few of the notes, scoffing and tossing most of them aside. Whatever they all had wrote had clearly touched him and made him embarrassed. It seemed as if this idea of yours was a success.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

The demon of greed had to think deeply again before putting the box of gifts on the ground near his bed. He sighed a little, letting his legs leave his chest and go flat under the covers. Mammon hesitated before holding his hand out. “Y…Yo…” Even if he hadn’t fully said it, it was clear what he wanted in his time of need. You.

Something in your chest squeezed. You took Mammon’s hand and pulled him towards you, embracing him in a hug. His weary head rested on your shoulder, his shoulders relaxing, the tension leaving his body as your hand found it’s way between the joints of his wings. “You didn’t have to ask. I’m here whenever you need me. It’s not selfish to want someone by your side when you don’t feel well. And I want to be here...with you.” You could hear his little gasp as you held him, his breathing eventually becoming slower, calmer. With you at his side, he finally had enough peace of mind to relax. “Get some sleep if you can… everybody is waiting for you to get better…”

Mammon was now well on the mend thanks to your efforts. Sprung up like quite the spring chicken with you doting on him. He got his energy back faster than Lucifer did, but his symptoms lingered longer. It was rather amusing actually. Hard to steal stuff while your sniffles give away your location sneaking through the halls. Although, even with two counts of demon-caretaking under your belt and a self-proclaimed gift of healing, you had yet to check up on Wrath. Not to say you didn’t want to, you just… couldn’t. Banned, in fact. Deterred by Lucifer himself. But you just wanted to help. Lucifer was constantly busy, not to mention that his knowledgeable yet vengeful younger brother was expending all his strength that he should’ve used to recover busting the house to pieces in several fever-fueled rampages. It had seemed like the logical choice, and rarely did Lucifer prevent you from keeping an eye on his brothers. So why now of all times?

“He’s being…unreasonable,” was Lucifer’s answer. Out of all the possible reasons, this seemed among the most pathetic. A rearranged ‘because I said so’ with some vagueness sprinkled in. Disappointing.

“If I remember correctly, you were also pretty unreasonable,” you stated, trying to hold back a smirk steadily curling across your lips. He just scowled, glaring you up and down, trying to decide if he abhorred your backtalk or found it endearing. He leaned back in his cushy seat in his study, placing down his much too expensive pen by the pile of work he needed to finish by tonight. Another lecture on getting better rest tickled the back of your throat, tempting you. Recovered or not, he needed to give his body proper sleep lest he fall into another bout of sickness…

“And if I remember correctly, we agreed it would not be discussed again.” His sharp expression softened just a touch, a light shade of pink gracing his cheeks as he recalled how you took care of him in his weakened state. Before he thought about it too hard, he cleared his throat. Staggering hairs were brushed away from his forehead as he folded his arms in front of his chest. It heaved in a sigh. “His body and mind have been considerably weakened, therefore he has little to no control over his anger. He is Wrath, and I shudder to think what may befall you should you try to talk to him right now.” He peered deep into your eyes, taking note of your unwavering stance and stern composition. “And yet I suspect you’re going to go see him anyway.”

Bingo. Your hobby of thrusting yourself into dangerous situations formed another greying hair on Lucifer’s head. With a look equal parts exhaustion and worry, Pride lifted his hand and snapped his gloved fingers. Something in the house shifted. The magical lock placed on Satan’s room was broken for you. Although, Lucifer had to go over some rules, ensuring that, at the very least, Beel would be just outside should anything happen. You were to be whisked out of there at the first trace of danger.

The demon’s door was right in front of you now, and for a second you hesitated. You took a deep breath, clutching to your chest some medicine and a hardcover book from the human world containing old fables. Knowing him, he’d probably read it already, but it was worth a try. You knocked on the door, glancing a look at Beel before loudly stating your presence to the inhabitant of the room. Pushing the door open, you were pleased to find that so far you were unharmed, which was admittedly a great first step.

However, you quickly found yourself awash in a sea of books. A mess in Satan’s room was pretty normal. But this… was on a new scale. Honestly, you were almost impressed. Books and scrolls were haphazardly stacked, covering the floor, basically everywhere. You couldn’t even see his bed, it was hidden somewhere in this labyrinth of tomes. You held your breath, not even daring to breathe for fear everything around you would come tumbling down. The last thing you wanted was to be crushed to death. If the books didn’t kill you, you had a wary feeling Satan might for disturbing his ‘organized library’. So, you carefully weaved your way through slender passageways in the piles before you found, what you assumed, was Satan’s bed.

The reason you could only ‘assume’ is because at this juncture in time it hardly looked like a bed at all. Just a quick glance and it would’ve blended in with any other heap in this room. It was camouflaged with more books, torn pages, binders, pamphlets, a few cat figures, dioramas, etc.. Self reminder to check to see if there were any shows on demon-hoarders in the Devildom…

A jagged green-tipped tail dangled from beneath the bed-pile. It twitched and flicked, sending some novels skidding across the floor. You inhaled deep through your nose.

“Satan? It’s me.”

Satan’s tail whipped across the space between you and the bed. It struck one of the impossibly high stacks of books, sending it teetering and tottering threateningly before it crashed down. If you hadn’t taken a few steps back, you would’ve been one with that pile… You huffed to yourself. Rude… You wanted to help him and this was how he was treating you?

“Satan, please.” A book whizzed past your head and you winced, the sting of a little paper-cut blooming across your cheek. The air in the room was suddenly noticeably hot. You knew these were demons. You knew they were capable of destroying you in seconds, but that didn’t stop your stubborn nature from feeling absolutely offended. And so, as if you had a death wish, you scolded him. “Satan!” You strutted over, throwing the covers back and sending even more clutter to the floor, but at least you could look at him. But a part of you wished you couldn’t.

Teeth were bared as his mouth formed a menacing scowl. Hair was messy and untamed. His eyes were glowing an unnatural green, a lens behind his irises reflecting back at you like a creature in the shadows. A deep resonant rumble emanated from his chest. He looked absolutely feral, but it wasn’t till he pressed himself into the corner of his bed and the wall, knees close to his chest, that you put your fear beside yourself. Yes, at first glance you may have been entirely convinced he was going to tear your throat out, but then you ran your gaze over him a few times… His face was covered in patches of crimson. He was only wearing a green long-sleeved shirt and stripped boxers covered in kittens wearing top-hats. There was a sheet of paper skewered onto one of his horns, and he now was curled up protectively against the wall in a little ball. He was scared.

“Get out,” he demanded. It would’ve been threatening sounding if his lungs didn’t sound as if he swallowed a squeaky toy. He was wheezing, fingertips shaking, his tail protectively curled up against his legs, the tip of it quivering.

To be honest… you wouldn’t leave this room right now for all the Grimm in the Devildom. “I’ll leave after I’m done helping you out a bit,” you assured him, but he didn’t want that answer.

“Get out! Out, out, out!” He clutched another book in his hand and chucked it in your direction with a shout, this time missing you by a mile. You blinked. Was he…having a meltdown?

“Satan, throwing stuff at me isn’t going to make me leave any faster, so cooperate and I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.” You smiled softly at him. Wrath had no retort nor nearby ammo left, so he tucked his face into his knees, letting you get to work. It would take you hours to clean the room, but you did what you could for the moment, tidying up at least the chaos surrounding his bed. How he would’ve slept with that mess on him was beyond your understanding. Or maybe that was one of the reasons why he was being so cranky. Books aren’t exactly great nest material.

You shook off his blankets, puffed up his pillow, and then took a hesitant scan at the medicine you’d put on his nightstand. Lucifer had told you where to get it. Supposedly a powerful medication that tasted as bad as the one taking it felt. It was also administered as a liquid, because for all their power, demons hadn’t made capsules a widespread thing yet. You had no idea how you were going to get Satan to take it.

Maybe being sweet first. “Satan,” you cooed, sitting yourself beside him on the bed while he remained curled up in a tight angry ball. “I have some medicin-“

“No.”

Figures, you were reaching with that one. Maybe begging? “Satan, please, please, please, pleaaaaase take-“

“Bite me.”

You scoffed aloud. He was absolutely, without a doubt, being a brat. On par with Belphie right now. You took a moment to recall how you convinced Lucifer and Mammon. Lucifer was only won over when you stood your ground and told him what to do for a change, challenging his pride. Mammon, you went out of your way to get him things, stoking his greed. With wrath…did you? Time to indulge in a little more sin.

“Satan, I swear to the Father above and Diavolo below, if you don’t quit fighting against me when I’m trying to help you, I’m going to shove this entire freaking thing down your throat till it’s the only thing you can taste for decades!” You raised your voice, shouting at him with a fury in your chest you’d never used before, ever. Especially not against Satan. But, against all odds, you were alive, and instead of smoke coming out of his ears, Satan looked up at you from behind messy bangs. Shocked beyond belief, his mouth slightly ajar, he uncurled himself from his position and sat up slowly, his head looking down.

“Tch.” He puffed air through his teeth, giving in finally. Your attempt, while perhaps mediocre without any demonic snarling and mysterious fog, was successful. You hummed to yourself in glee, taking the cap off the bottle and pouring in the medicine. It smelled God-awful, and you felt sympathy for him, but if it was going to make him feel better, he needed it. You held it up to his lips. He growled in frustration but then parted his mouth to let you pour in the foul mixture.

Already pale skin turned even ashier as the glop slid down past the lump in his throat. He looked like he was going to be sick. He slumped his posture and began to release shuddering coughs that nearly turned to gags. You instinctively put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down along the ridge of his spine. Once he was done with the episode, he sat back up, swaying in his seat back and forth until you held onto him, gently bringing him back down onto his pillow. You moved the hair out of his eyes and sighed in relief. Thanks to whatever magic Devildom medicine had, his redness had already gone drastically down, and he looked fairly calm for now. Mellowed out. Some strong stuff…

His eyelids couldn’t decide if they wanted to be open or shut, struggling to fight sleep. “Rest,” you whispered, getting up off his bed, pulling the covers tighter around him, urging him to go to bed. After you helped him, then you would leave him alone, that’s what you promised… even if you desperately wanted to stay. With a little turn, you picked up the book you had brought with you. He grabbed your wrist before you could even attempt to leave. A tilt of the head, and he sleepily read the cover before letting his hand drop back onto the mattress.

“I bought that…for you,” he mumbled. With a grin, you nodded. He had bought it for you during the adventure to London. It was filled with old fairytales and fables, the authentic gruesome kind, not the kind human kids grew up on. Both had their perks in his mind, but Satan seemed particularly fond of the ones that broke free from the stagnant ‘happily ever after’.

“I brought it here for you to read, but you need sleep. Besides you have plenty of other books here…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for his horn that still had the paper stuck to it. You yanked it free with a light chuckle.

“But…” He wanted to argue, but had no energy left to. “Will you…” Satan started, gripping at his own sheets so tight you thought he would rip holes in them. “Read…to me?” Your heart soared so fast you almost went lightheaded. You sat back down on his bed, fussing over him just a bit more, fixing his messy hair. He groaned as you did but let you do it anyway.

“Of course! I’ll read for you whenever, Satan. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“You…” He almost sounded frustrated, like he couldn’t comprehend how you could be so kind especially after the mood he was just in. Then he settled as you flipped the book open to the first page, recounting terribly sad events with a terribly soft voice. Every so often he’d correct you if you fumbled on a word, or correct the inaccuracies of the story itself, but eventually he went to sleep. His eyeballs moved frantically under his eyelids as he slept. His voice would squeak out some incomprehensible word while he dreamt, his fingers twitching in random increments. You noted that his tail that was draped off the side of the bed was now gently curled against your leg. His demonic appendage was rough, sharp in some places, and yet you could hardly feel it with the way he was holding you now. He was comfortable around you.

You used the stray paper that had been on his head as a bookmark, placing the book back on his nightstand for later. “I guess they all get to live happy ever after this time,” you whispered to him in his unconscious state before you pressed the back of your hand against his cheek. Your knuckles tickled his jawline, making his face twitch closer to your hand. “Sweet dreams, Satan. Feel better.”

Lucifer and Mammon were now considered fully healthy and back on their feet with Satan not too far behind them. For a few days, there was hope that the worst was over. It wouldn’t spread any further. The sound of sniffles and the scent of disinfectant wipes would finally dwindle. But, whenever you hope too hard, things always seem to go in the opposite direction. Hopes were dashed when two people were absent from breakfast one morning, and not too long after Satan had finally returned to the table. The twins had never come down from their shared room. For Belphie, this wasn’t something to stop the presses for. Sleeping in and skipping the morning was his whole shtick. His brothers were usually more concerned when Sloth did show up for breakfast. For Beel, however, to miss any sort of meal? Something had to be wrong.

Putting your fork down, you offered to go check on them. After all, morning breakfast was not the same without the two of them. Lucifer was somehow already out of his chair, gently pushing you back to your seat with a single hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me. If they are sick it’s hard telling how they’ll react. They could just as easily be oversleeping.”

You had wanted to protest, but Lucifer was nothing if not the voice of reason. He was right. You had seen Beel’s hunger-driven rampages before. Demonic destruction wasn’t something to sneeze at- no pun intended. Plus, Lucifer was their brother first-and-foremost whilst you were still just some human that had the luxury of living in their home. That fact and the kinder eyes and soft touch Lucifer had given you had won you over to his words. You could trust him to handle this one… He ambled away from the table, and with a few long steps, exited the room.

Asmo was squirming uncomfortably, audibly whining, clearly disturbed. “I was stupid to think this sickness thing was over! With Beel eating everything down to all your leftovers, it’s no wonder he caught your ugly germs! Then he gave it to Belphie, and next you’ll all give it to me!” He pushed his plate away from him, only having a single bite taken out of his meal.

“You don’t know that they’re sick yet,” Mammon rebutted. “And what do you mean my germs are ugly? Everyone’s are!”

“The likelihood that both of them are ill is high.” Satan sighed, putting down his book he had brought with him. After doing his best to tune them out, it just wasn’t working. He still was weaker than he’d like to be, not to mention drained, but a doctor had confirmed that he was no longer contagious and could continue attending his classes at RAD. “The fridge has been abnormally full and I heard plenty of coughing from Belphie the other day.”

An alarming banging sound came from above their heads, little specks of dust from the ceiling floated down, only just visible in the direct light. As if this proved his theory, Satan gestured towards the noise with a raised hand. He held it up for a moment before his arm dropped into his lap. Another loud crash sounded from above, Satan’s eyelid twitching as Lucifer’s booming voice could be heard throughout the house.

This was enough for Asmo to get up from his spot, shaking his head profusely. “I swear if I catch this thing, all of you are absolutely going to have it, you hear me?!” He choked back a sob and went to leave the room, pulling his sleeve down over his hand as he touched the doorknob.

“Oi, where are you going?” Mammon called after him.

“To take a nice hot sanitizing shower!” The demon of lust slammed the door to the dining hall as you watched more dust sprites dance down from the air. They twirled and pirouetted right over Levi. His nose twitched and he raised his elbow to cover his face as he let out a sneeze.

Levi, the only one who had been quiet this far, finally let out a long groan. He glanced down at his hands fearfully, as if they had been covered with blood. “No… No! No, no, no, I’m sick, I knew it! Of course it would be me! I’m gross and miserable and… do you know how long it takes to fully clean a keyboard?!”

Satan rested his head back in his chair, closing his eyes in annoyance. The ruckus upstairs had gotten worse. It was difficult to tell just from audio alone who Lucifer was wrangling. Maybe both Beel and Belphie at once?… Normally, Satan would work on figuring the little mystery out, but it seemed as if he’d met his limit already. People were fist-fighting, two people were having meltdowns, and it was only breakfast. The intellectual usually had no problem going to classes, enjoyed them more than others actually, and yet the look on his face screamed truancy. “Levi, I doubt you’re sick, you never leave your room,” Satan reasoned.

“I told you all, I think he snuck into my room a little while back! One of my figures was moved! I bet Mammon got his sticky fingers over everything! He gave me the cold!”

Add accusations onto the daily list. They all might end up going though their daily atrocities before lunch today. Now the only three brothers left at the table were verbally sparring, one tense word away from physically— You frowned as your food ended up on the far side of the room along with the table. You thought too soon. Unfortunately, this sort of scenario happened often. So, you excused yourself, knowing none of them were listening, expertly dodging a plate as it whirled past. The dish struck against the wall a few inches from you, luckily not shattering. It clattered to the floor as a waffle slowly slid downwards. While you were still unharmed and food-free, you left the dining room. After wandering the halls trying to find a safe and silent place, you sat yourself on the stone steps of the entryway. You’d just wait for the multiple battles to die down. There was screaming downstairs, crashing upstairs, the whole house in chaos once again.

“Demons…” you sighed. --

Lucifer confirmed it. Beel and Belphie…both of them had caught the cold, and the eldest had spent the past hour or so attempting to force them into taking some medicine. He had succeeded naturally, and you shuddered a bit to think about the sort of tactics he employed, but when all was said and done, he had taken the time to seek you out. It was clear to you that even with all his power and prowess…he was exhausted. With Beel’s physical power and Belphie’s cunning, it seems even Pride had broken a bit of a sweat. There was still plenty of Student Council catchup to be done too… and now he had the twin’s work to start on. He needed a helping hand, and while he didn’t express it bluntly, he did ask for your assistance.

Apparently they were calm now, the medicine lulling and sedating them, so you could see them freely without worry of them tearing you or the house apart. Lucifer still addressed you with a bit of concern. “You’ve been on the brunt of all of this.” On one hand, he appreciated the work you had done. On the other… “I’m concerned for your health. Diavolo was fairly confident you couldn’t get infected, but we still don’t know for certain…” His voice drifted, slightly disappointed in himself, feeling like there was more he should be doing. “Regardless, the last thing we need is for you to fall ill as well.” You persuaded him that if you hadn’t gotten sick yet, you were sure you were immune. You’d been in direct contact with nearly all of them and hadn’t so much as sneezed. Lucifer wasn’t entirely convinced, obviously mentally preparing for the worst of outcomes, but he let you do what you needed to do. And that was taking care of the two youngest.

Homemade soup; the medicine for the soul or so people said. Something comforting and filling yet easy for the stomach. With Satan’s assistance, you concocted the most soothing meal you had ever made. Two steaming bowls were settled on an elegant silver tray and brought it up to the twins room. The door to their bedroom had a golden emblem ingrained in the wood. A moon encircling a sun, resembling the same individual symbols above both their beds. You carefully balanced the tray on your hip for just a moment as you softly tapped your knuckles against the smooth wood. Unlike the other brothers you had cared for so far, someone actually opened the door for you for a change.

Beel looked down at you, eyes heavy and slightly reddened. He was wearing a faded orange t-shirt and some black shorts. Heat radiated off of him in nauseating droves. If you had thought the other brothers had burnt up, nothing compared to Beel’s temperature. Even just standing beside him made you dizzy. As if hellfire was roaring through his veins. His shirt stuck to the skin around his torso, sweat beading down his forehead. His abs and muscles were clearly shown through the fabric, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, not even focusing on the soup bowls. “MC, what’re you doing here?”

You lifted up the tray with both hands and presented the meal you made with him. The creamy broth with hearty vegetables and noodles would surely make him feel better. “Soup!” You exclaimed quietly, feeling a mite proud of what you’d created. “You never came down for breakfast so…” You must be hungry, you kept the last part to yourself.

He frowned deeply, being rather dismissive. “I’m not hungry, and Belphie’s asleep.” A simple glance past Beel’s body confirmed that there was indeed a lump in Belphie’s bed. Many lumps in fact. There must’ve been plenty new additions to his pillow collection. “I’m sorry you went through the trouble,” Beel sighed, his arm raised to shut the door. Your attention snapped away from Belphie, back to the demon at hand. Was he shutting you out? Really? He had never done that, ever. All of his other brothers, sure, but him? He always had his door and his arms wide open for you at all times. Your leg served as a quick wedge, feeling your knee temporarily painfully pressed between door and frame. As soon as he realized he was hurting you, the door was thrown back open.

“Beel wait, please, you haven’t eaten all day! How are you going to give your body enough strength to heal if you don’t give it any fuel?” You looked up at him expectantly, trying to convey the care and worry you held for him through your eyes. Beel always advocated for taking care of your body. Those words you shared were the ones he had used on you once before. He was somehow always aware of what you had eaten and when. Same for his brothers. Sure, his sin might take over and he might accidentally eat your food, but he still determined to make sure everyone he cared for was well fed. It was about time you returned the favor.

“But the medicine…” He pressed one hand to his gut, his nose wrinkling up at the mention of food. His normally sturdy legs wobbled as he stumbled a bit, gripping the end of the door-frame for balance. The usual glow in his countenance had gone dull. It broke your heart. Beel seemed to always be strong, always be positive, always have a smile on his face when it came to food and family. Now, he just seemed out of it, eager to head back to bed with both you and proper sustenance on the other side of the door. Curse this tray for occupying both of your hands. You wanted to go wrap him up in your arms and make him feel protected and cared for… even if he was much bigger than you were.

“The medicine might be why you feel sick to your stomach in the first place. You didn’t happen to eat anything before Lucifer gave it to you, did you?” Your words brought his eyes up from staring at the floor and back to you. Orange strands of his hair were freed from the skin on his forehead as he shook his head to your question. An answer wasn’t quite necessary anyway, from the fighting you heard and Lucifer’s brief description, the older brother forced the medicine down both the twins throats before they had a chance to protest. You lifted the tray back up near Beel’s face. The contents of the bowls sloshed enough to almost drip over the edge. “You might feel better if you eat. Even just a little? I… made it for both of you.”

It wasn’t often you attempted to employ the puppy-eyed look. However, it seemed necessary in this instance. All these demons were weak to you, and you knew it. You could only hope it was enough this time… Beel was stuck having an intense internal debate. The door in his hand was creaking open and shut while he decided if he wanted to let you in or not. If he wanted to eat or not… Your heart sank as he seemed to come to the conclusion to prevent you from entering, the door almost clicking back into place to leave you in an empty hallway. If this was what he wanted, could you really change his mind? Just as you were about to leave, the door was pulled back wide open, his eyes a little watery as he made it up in his mind that he could never shut you out like that. Your chest swelled as he let you in, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The room was almost consumed in pitch darkness as soon as the entrance closed. The only light source seemed to be coming from Beel’s side of the room emanating from the screen of his D.D.D. on his nightstand. Crossing the room, you waited until the demon climbed back onto his mattress, sitting up while he pulled the covers over his legs. Not wanting to speak as to disturb Belphie, you extended one finger from the tray handle and pointed at his bed as a question. As he nodded, you settled by his hip, placing the tray on his lap. His blankets were soft, and with a stroke of your hand, you smoothed out some of the wrinkles.

The sight of the soup made Beel grimace at first. He was hesitant, but it was clear he was starving. His sin was tearing him up inside. He was only prolonging the pain. “Is my cooking really that bad?” You frowned, embarrassed, unsure if his reaction was towards your talents in the kitchen or the state of his sickly body.

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Gluttony couldn’t quite find the words to describe what he was feeling. But you understood well enough. You’d been sick before in your life. You knew what it was like to feel the hunger pains alongside the nausea. Eating made you feel worse. Not eating made you feel like hell. He must be miserable. This was probably a rare feeling for him.

“Take it slow,” you whispered, your hand coming up to rub his shoulder.

After taking a minute to mentally prepare, he took your advice to heart, starting with a simple spoonful. He blew away the steam and took the smallest bite- or slurp- you’d ever seen him have. He chewed on some of the softened vegetables before swallowing. There was no need to ask how it was. His head raised back up, small tears making their way down his cheeks. He leaned in towards you, his chin almost resting on your shoulder. “It’s…so delicious. May I…eat it?”

You chuckled, grinning with relief as a little bit of color came back to his face, his expression not looking so pained. Sounded like he was already breathing easier too. “Yes, Beel, I made it for you.”

He sat up away from you, the happy glow returned to his eyes as he went to work not only downing the bowl for him, but the bowl for Belphie as well. You made a mental note to come take care of the other twin later. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up sleeping for days on end like he’d been known to do a few times before… With one of the twins looking already worlds better with some warm food in his stomach, you went to go stand up to leave, but two big arms wrapped around your body to hold you in place. The hot skin on Beel’s cheek pressed against your forehead as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

You rested your head against his chest as he held you even tighter. “You’re welcome, Beel. I’ll be your personal chef till you feel better.”

With a contented sigh, Beel buried his nose in your hair, his hands gripping your shirt. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing you along with him as you almost laid on top of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. He closed his eyes and with one hand he flipped his D.D.D over so there was nothing but blackness in the room. Relaxed lungs brought in deep even breaths. He was still ridiculously hot, but not unbearably so anymore. His words devolved into sleepy mumbles. “You’re so much better than any food in the world…”

The twins were sick, Lucifer was working himself ragged, and the rest of the brothers were avoiding their siblings like…well…like the plague. You never initially intended to become a nurse, but how could you sit by and do nothing while the demons around you that you had come to care for suffered? And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were thankful that there was something you could do to help around for once. It wasn’t often at all where you were put in a situation where you could be the protector, the helper, the one they relied on. However, as much as you liked that feeling, you hoped this spreading sickness would end with Beel and Belphie. The constant care you were dishing out was starting to leave you more exhausted than normal.

Telling anyone about your state though would most likely end in immediate termination of your new career in demon caretaking. So you kept it to yourself. These brothers were now leaning on you harder than ever, including the ones who had already been sick. Just the thought of all their faces, pale and sick in bed, lighting up at the sight of you entering the room as you pet their heads sent tingles down your spine. You wanted to take care of them…all of them, forever.

You violently shook your own head as you gripped the handle to your bedroom. What am I thinking? Is the Florence Nightingale trope really true? The door gently creaked open as you stepped inside.

Eternal moonlight had it perks, but being able to tell time was never one of them. What hour was it now? Your day had been occupied fulfilling several requests from the many members of the household. The typically hungry demon would now only eat food you made for him, and while you did promise to be his personal chef, it was beginning to overwhelm you. Not only chef, but you’d been hired in several other new ‘departments’. You’d become the new mailman, bringing packages from the front door to the otaku with severe hypochondriac tendencies. The librarian and storyteller for the bookworm who was milking his symptoms for as long as he could, partially because he truly enjoyed your company, but also because he enjoyed his brother’s complaints as he kept you to himself. The beauty product tester and fashion assistant for Asmo who refused to let any of his brothers touch him with a ten foot pole. The lawyer for Mammon who was apparently determined to get himself into trouble more so than not lately. And also Lucifer’s new temp secretary. You had so many reminders set on your phone for things he needed to get done. But the eldest was determined not to let things fall apart just because a few of his brothers were ill.

Should you be getting paid for this?…

Tired feet were dragged across the floor of your bedroom as you made your way towards your bed. It called to you; a sleepy siren’s song. The blankets reminiscent of a sweet melody, the pillows the alluring notes. With the last of your energy, you swiftly kicked off your shoes, letting them roll and settle crookedly on the hardwood floor. You let yourself fall face first onto your bed, the springs bouncing you up and down gently from the sudden impact. A moan escaped your lips, one you never had the intention for, but your body betrayed you. Laying down felt nice… Rain and wind outside started to kick up, the sound brushing and pouring against your window. It was like the night was comforting you, the weather speaking to you softly. It’s okay to get some rest.

Without bothering to change into pajamas, you crawled under your covers, pulling the blanket tightly near your face. Muscles and joints in your body started to ache, and you furrowed your brows as you shut your eyes. Had you really worked all that much? What exactly did you do that forced your body to feel this sore? You let out a sigh and brushed your cheek against your pillow. Already, the back of your mind was buzzing with sleep, and even if you tried to come up with some specific answer explaining why your body hurt in places you didn’t even know existed, you wouldn’t be able to. This would probably been the fastest you fell asleep in a long time, conking out without a second thought. —-

Fire haunted your dreams that night, the heat making you lightheaded. Your subconscious body struggled to navigate the obstacles of this place. The House of Lamentation was on fire, by reasons unknown, as dreams often do. You were frantically looking for the brothers, your mind thoroughly convinced they all still resided inside. Lips moved as you could’ve sworn you were screaming their names, but the roaring sounds of the flames muffled your voice. No matter how hard you squeezed your lungs, no sound came out. You felt yourself collapse to the ground, unable to move. You were hot. Too hot. You-

A low scraping noise shocked your body awake. It took you a moment to reel in reality, to settle yourself back into your senses, the dream drifting far behind you now. A squeak sounded. A harsh squealing grind of two hard surfaces rubbing against each other. It left a strange feeling in your teeth and pumped your mind with adrenaline. You sat up in bed immediately, the alarm for danger blaring on high alert.

It was hard to see through all the darkness. Clouds had covered the moonlight, leaving little to no light to guide your way. The only thing you could see with your adjusting vision was a shadow creeping around your room. It staggered. Drifting around as if searching for something, a deep inhuman growl rumbling through it’s disfigured body. Your fingers trembled as the sound echoed in your mind. How had it gotten in the house? There were no distinct features you could make out, the creature didn’t have any limbs. It was one giant blob, dragging itself across the floor, moving and knocking over the chairs in your room as it did so. That must’ve been the cause of the sound that woke you up. Was it hunting for something?…

A few options for survival bubbled up in your mind. Screaming for help wasn’t a smart decision. One loud noise, and the creature would more than likely beeline it straight for you. Besides, with the demon brother’s sporadic schedules, you weren’t sure anyone would hear you anyway. Your room was all the way down near the kitchen…your roommates blissfully asleep upstairs. You had half a mind to text someone to save you, but if you got caught in the light from your screen, that might also cause an instant game over. However, that did remind you to lean over to put your device on silent. You would not be that stupid survivor in the horror trope that got killed due to a notification. Oh, if only you had given in to Lucifer’s odd request to install some sort of security system. You had denied it. Said it sounded more like a baby monitor than anything else. Now look where it got you.

The intruder seemed distracted and confused, just as blinded as you were in the darkness. Maybe you could make a run for it… it seemed rather sluggish. But assuming things could get you killed. But what other options did you have?… Right now, the thing was finally drifting away from the table and towards the middle of the room, inching ever closer to your bed. The luxury of time was not something you had. It was settled. You’d book it out of here and run to someone else’s room… Just look for an opportunity… The wailing mass was getting closer. Just a few more seconds. Your heart was rattling harder than the wind against your windows. Just a little bit farther! Heat was waving off the creature and onto you, reminding you of your dream. It moaned unnaturally, shuffling slowly, wandering without a purpose. You quietly swung your legs over the end of the bed so you could finally make your dash to freedom. The blood pumping through your head was deafening.

A thud reverberated throughout the room, making you jump, freezing your body in place. The creature had collapsed on your floor. It slowly squirmed, writhing, it’s shape melting away before a humanoid hand poked out of it’s frame.

“O…w…”

The familiar voice washed over you in a refreshing shower of familiarity. You pressed a hand to your chest as you took in a deep relaxing breath. Although you didn’t waste too much time before rushing to the floor, kneeling beside the shape. The shell it had shed felt soft. You grabbed the surface with both of your hands, peeling it back to reveal a confused disoriented demon.

“Belphie…” You nearly went off on him, ready to spend the rest of the night giving him a Lucifer-style lecture. But, too tired to do something like that, you simply wrapped your arms around the seventh brother. Eyes rolled in your head, embarrassed and annoyed by your own paranoia and stupidity. Although that sort of paranoia had let you live in the Devildom thus far. That and a ridiculous amount of luck… Though if the other brothers found out you mistook Belphie and a puffy duvet for some sort of lumbering undead slug-monster, they would never let you live it down. Speaking of which…you suddenly remembered that he’d taken quite a tumble. “Are you okay?” He never answered, but you quickly found the source of his fall. The shoes you had left haphazardly on the floor. You bit your lip in a bit of shame. Before they could claim another victim, you snagged your shoes and tucked them away in a not so trippable place. Then you returned your focus near the lump. “Belphie? What’re you doing here?” You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, although as you did, you nearly reeled back. Sloth was burning up.

“…anna…o…ome…” He mumbled, not focused on you at all, his eyes were even still closed. Chipped nails clawed at your rugs, pushing himself on his arms just to collapse again. Your chest squeezed as you grabbed his arms. Convinced he was still asleep, you tried shaking him, feeling the palms of your hands tingle against his unhealthy and infernal temperature.

“Belphie!”

None of your attempts to wake him up were working, so you turned your attention to the only thing you could do. Bringing his heat down. The blanket you had tried tugging off of him was somehow twisted around his limbs. After turning him on his back, you worked on unraveling him, feeling his hands paw at your body. He was deep in some fever dream, one bad scene away from thrashing… Frantically, you plucked a pillow from off your own bed and tucked it under his head. You brushed sticky strands of hair off his forehead, watching him mumble some more.

“..illith…Beel…”

Might as well have heard your own heart crack right then, but you couldn’t let it get to you. Feeling against the walls, you moved around your room till you found the light switch. Once you could see, you went right to work. Thankfully, due to your efforts before, you now kept extra medicine and supplies in your room. It was actually Satan who suggested it, and while you thought it had been a silly idea, now you were grateful.

When you returned to Belphie’s side with all your items, you almost regretted turning the light on. Panting, his mouth open to try and breathe, lips so dry they were nearly bloody. His skin was covered in splotches of color, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he couldn’t stop shivering. You placed a bowl of water, rags, medicine, bottles of water, and a glass of only ice beside you on the floor. As soon as you returned to his vicinity, his limbs moved to get up again. You settled a rag in the water then gently pushed him back to the floor with a single hand. He contorted and attempted to roll as you quickly wrung out the rag, pressing it against his forehead, keeping him against the ground using your own body. In only a few seconds, the cloth was completely warm. You dipped it back in, feeling a bit of panic rise in your lungs as Belphie continued to pant.

“Breathe…Belphie, breathe.” You rubbed his chest as you held him down, cooling off his face and neck with the damp cloth. You didn’t know how long you kept up this motion. Comfort, dip, cool. Soothe, wipe, cool. Over and over as the fire in him refused to leave. He needed to wake up to take the medicine, you weren’t sure you could get it down his throat in this condition. You let your hand drift from his chest for just a second to check your D.D.D. It was now four in the morning. A full hour of this, by your estimations. Should you text someone? Were you doing the right thing? Were you just making things worse? You fought with yourself and your emotions for a few more minutes, but then felt your worry assuage. It seemed as if he broke though the worst all in a second. Belphie’s breathing wasn’t as ragged as he no longer gasped for breath. He was still moving a bit though, wearily and weakly.

“Ahh…haah…” He wheezed, and for what felt like the hundredth time, you rubbed his cheeks with the wet fabric, brushing your hand back and forth across his chest. He raised his arms and grabbed your shirt and sleeve, trying to pull you close in his sleep.

“Shh, it’s alright.” His hands were trembling against you, but finally, he seemed to hear your words. The smallest slit of his eyes was visible as he did his best to open them.

“M…C…”

Overjoyed tears stung your eyes. The rag in your hand dropped to the floor as you caressed his face with your hands. He still wasn’t quite awake or aware, but he was attentive enough to try to pull himself up, still clutching tightly onto your clothes. The first thing on your mind was medicine. You filled up the measured cap and brought it to him, tilting his head back with the brace of one of your hands. Thankfully--or perhaps worriedly--he took it without questioning it. He grimaced a little, but the bitter and awful taste of the medicine brought him more into reality.

“Where?” He released your sleeve as he rubbed his eyes.

“That’s not important right now, can you stand? We should get you to bed.” You stroked his head, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just nodded, and with your assistance, he almost managed to fully stand. To keep from falling over, he leaned his body against you. It was all you could do to keep from collapsing yourself. Fortunately, your bed was right here, and you let him plop into your space. A sigh left his shallow lungs.

With what little energy he had left, he practically clawed himself towards the far side of the bed turning in several agonizing increments to face you. He held out his hands and squeaked out your name. “MC…”

Your emotions hitched in your chest as you watched him beg for you. There was still a mess on the floor… but you left it where it was as long as the universe was done sending demons tumbling through your room. You rushed over to the light switch and turned the brightness off. You slid into the extra space Belphie left for you, taking him into your arms and feeling him immediately get comfortable. At least he was no longer boiling. He was a little too warm, but nothing life threatening.

He curled up by your side, as you pulled up the covers over both of you. With a few sleepy nudges, he had his head tucked under your chin. You could hear air rattle around in his chest, so you reached around his body and rubbed his back, and in return, he squeezed you like one of his many pillows. All at once, the adrenaline and panic left your body, leaving you winded and exhausted. You were unsure if it was Belphie’s Sin or simply your body at it’s breaking point, but you couldn’t keep yourself awake any longer. Before you could make sure he fell asleep first, your eyelids crashed closed as you passed out next to him.

Normalcy slowly began to trickle back into the House of Lamentation. The twins were feeling better, most everyone was returning to classes, routines were falling back into place. Everyone was finally convinced this was all over. Even Lucifer, who liked to account for the worst, was acting rather optimistic lately. Although you yourself, who had loved soaking up every sickly cuddle and embarrassing (and rather blackmailable) favors, was secretly a bit disappointed. It was great that they were all doing better! But…perhaps part of you liked feeling needed.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan, were all well past this illness, and with Levi and Asmo doing everything they could to avoid their siblings, it was assumed that this misadventure had burnt itself out with the twins. Although, one person in the household was determined not to let this go. Levi was doing his best to convince everyone that he was extremely ill.

“I searched my symptoms on SpiderWeb MD! If I’m not sick I’ve been cursed and I only have a few days left to live!” he would complain. His siblings were all convinced that Envy had caught nothing but a terrible case of hypochondria. At one point, he’d even sent his last will through the group chat should he perish an untimely demise. A lot of his stuff went to you, which was deeply touching considering he had a hard enough time letting you look at his stuff much less touch it. Music records would go to Lucifer, manga to Satan, cosplay outfits to Asmo, his special snacks to Beel, and his body pillows to Belphie. Nothing was left for Mammon, which caused a small riot in itself.

It had been several days since anyone had seen or heard any trace of Levi. Everything he needed could be ordered on Akuzon, and he’d been taking classes exclusively online. It got to the point where everyone had been certain he’d never leave his room again. Of course, the eldest had checked on his little brother regardless, but he’d been written off with a clean bill of health. After that, Lucifer had been convinced he was just craving attention. Levi would hole himself away over the vaguest sign of symptoms and not come out till he was ready. No one believed him. For a while, they had you convinced as well, assuring you that he hadn’t been sick for centuries. There was nothing to be worried about. However, you still carried that worry with you, that infuriating kind of angelic trust that drove the brothers crazy. But ‘what if’, you wondered, what if he’s sitting in his room right now with no one to help him?

The only semblance of interaction you’d had with Levi in the past week was dropping off his Akuzon packages to the front of his door. You’d knock, be forced to ramble off an impossibly confusing password, and then leave for him to drag his packages inside. The first time you’d done it, you’d waited, only to watch him pop his head meekly out the door. Upon seeing you, he squeaked and promptly slammed the door shut. Now he would wait for you to fully depart before grabbing his loot. But today, you were determined to see him. Sure he was a demon, sure everyone had promised he was fine, but something left you uneasy. You needed to see with your own eyes that he was okay.

Making your way down the hall, continuously shifting your arms to keep things balanced, you approached Levi’s room with several packages in hand. The number of items he purchased was getting larger and more concerning with each delivery. Seeing as your hands were occupied, you gently kicked his door three times with the tip of your shoe. You crouched down low near the floor, placing his items neatly in a pile. Stiffly, you uttered the strange password Levi encouraged you to memorize to confirm the drop-off and assure him there was no one else in sight.

“The water dragon, caretaker of the mystic lakes, looks up to the heavens…” You paused, waiting for his response. A few seconds. Then a minute. You couldn’t help but raise a brow as a little jolt went through your chest with worry. Typically by now, Levi would be in the middle of his segment of the password. This all was routine. Taking a few steps forward, you pressed your ears to the cold wood of his door. All was silent. From the top? You walked a few steps away just to round the door again, making your footsteps heavier, louder. Then you attempted the entire process again. Using your fist this time, you knocked loudly against the entrance to his fortress of solitude. Uttering the incantation once more, you found yourself almost shouting the code phrase. There was still no response.

Throwing caution to the wind, you gave yourself access into his room. You winced once the light from inside hit your face, expecting some sort of curse or hex to flood your body. Air soothed your lungs when you discovered you were relatively unharmed. It didn’t require any amount of searching to locate the demon. Curled up, in demon form…at the bottom of his fish tank. Of course, you knew these people were not quite people, but that didn’t stop your stomach from flipping and your human brain to somersault over itself in panic. That wasn’t normal! You stammered over your words, dashing forward to press your palms against the glass.

“Levi! What the-” You cut yourself off as you looked around for anything that could assist you with this…emergency. Underwater! He was underwater!

How many times have you been scolded for acting before thinking? Too many to count, especially down here where the wrong misstep could kill you easily. Did you still end up jumping into the fish tank? Yes. Yes, you did. Using Levi’s desk and shelves, you climbed up, throwing your body into the water. It wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be based on how chilly Levi kept his room. It was a bit nippy, but nothing terrible. You sunk down, grabbing the horns sticking from Levi’s head. God, how were you going to pull him out of here? This tank was the size of his wall! As soon as you began to tug on the horns, Levi’s eyes snapped open. His tail wrapped around your waist once he recognized your face. You ended up getting flung out of the tank, dangling in the air a few inches above the ground as the chill of the oxygen on your wet skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Levi gripped the edge of the glass.

“What?! I-I- that was totally- MC! I can’t believe-” He settled you to the ground as he climbed his way out of the water, almost slipping and falling from the tank. A large pool formed on the floor beneath your feet. As he tried to find his words, gasping in shock at finding you in Henry 2.0’s tank, he started coughing. He bowled over, his arm covering his mouth as his lungs squeaked and wheezed as he seemed to cough uncontrollably. Levi’s chest began convulsing so painfully, tears started speckling from his eyes, only to get swept up into the moisture already streaming down his face. His tail, still around your body, clutched to you tighter, like an involuntary form of comfort for him.

“Levi…” You approached the demon of Envy, both of you dripping wet, and you pressed your forehead to his. Despite having soaked in water for however long he had been in there, he was burning. His little gasp at your form of contact drove him further into his coughing fit. You apologetically rubbed his back, helping him catch his breath while you scrambled around to get dry clothes, nearly losing your footing on the wet tile.

“Don’t!” He pleaded with you as you pulled open his drawers.

“You need dry clothes, you’ll get even sicker if you’re soaking!” His face started to flush as some color came to his cheeks. He had yet to relinquish his tail from around your person, wrapping around you tightly like the firm squeeze of a hug, following you around like a drenched puppy. “Why in the world were you in the fish tank anyway?!” A proper scolding was in order. After all, how ridiculous had that been? “I was worried you’d drowned…” You muttered that last part to yourself as you plucked out a t-shirt with the decal on the front from some anime you couldn’t recall. A random pair of shorts was added to the mix, throwing the dry outfit to him alongside a much needed towel. Clutching the articles of clothing to his chest, he blushed even harder. The muscles of his tail forced you to turn with your face to the wall as you felt the soft scales finally slink away. You could hear him stumble around as he struggled to get himself dressed. He wasn’t acting like normal.

At that moment, all the guilt that had been building up these past few days washed over you. He really had been sick after all. How long had he been here alone, taking care of himself because no one would believe him enough to take care of him? But Lucifer had said he’d been checked… Did he get sick after that? Or was there something someone missed? Although, the when didn’t quite matter now. No chance fretting too much over something you couldn’t change. You had the chance to help him now.

“I was hot…” Levi answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then next time hop in the bath! Don’t go scuba diving in a fish tank! A fish tank, Levi!”

It was as if you could feel him wincing at your firm words. It wasn’t often you raised your voice at them. Envy wasn’t taking the tone too well, shuddering as he inhaled broken quivering breaths. He didn’t have an answer for you on why he made the decision he did. Rationalization probably went out of his mind once the fever set in. Had he really been that hell-bent on not leaving his room? “You can…look now.” Turning away from the wall, you found yourself tutting. Levi had put the clothes over his wet form, the towel simply lying on top of his head, the horns holding it comically up away from his body.

“…I should’ve been here to help you.” You placed your hands over the dry cloth, getting it away from his branching horns, gently rubbing into his skin. Too weak to shoo you away or say anything about it, he simply covered his face with his hands as you used the towel to dry him off. “But I’m here now…and you don’t have to worry as long as I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” You started with his hair, working your way down to his arms. Your gentle motions, your soft tone, your overall comfort, it was enough to weaken his walls of anxiety. A few steps and he was right next to you. He slumped, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck. Your skin was still cool from the water, and he sighed as his forehead came into contact with it. His tail ended up curling around you once more, clutching your torso tightly as he gripped onto your clothes. “Come on,” you urged him, leading him over to his bedding. It was better than the fish tank only by a small margin, containing a ton of pillows and several plush blankets to act as a cushion inside. At least it was dry…

“Sorry…” Levi gasped, as he lifted himself into his nest. The tickle of his word turned into more harsh coughs. You leaned over the porcelain walls of the tub to pet his head. He nearly melted into your hands. He curled up, nestling further into the cushions as you pulled a blanket partially over him.

“Don’t be sorry. I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you, I should’ve been by your side by square one. That’s what people who care about you do…” You gave him a sweet smile as he teared up a little, pulling a body pillow close to his chest as he covered his face. He simply gave you a hum in response. “I’ll go get some medicine and bring in those packages for you, and then I’ll be right back.” Taking a step back, you felt the tail wrapped around your body gripping you tighter. “Levi,” you cooed, petting the smooth scales with your hand. “I’ll be right back, let me go.” He reluctantly complied, silently pulling his tail into the tub with him, curling around his own body for support. Running your fingers through your still wet hair, you went back out to the hall, dragging Levi’s packages into his room before setting off to grab some medicine. A quick sneeze shuttered your body, leaving you lightheaded as you leaned against the wall to keep yourself upright. A chill ran through your spine. Shaking your head, you picked up the pace to your bedroom to change into warm and dry clothes.

As soon as you were no longer dripping, you grabbed the medicine bottle from off the table in your room. Collectively, the household had almost gone through the entire container, leaving only a few servings left. You bit your lip and then briskly headed back to Levi. In the short amount of time you’d been gone, it seemed as if he already drifted off to sleep. You shut the door behind you as softly as you could manage, then came over to the sleeping otaku. All these demons, you recalled, claimed to be so scary and intimidating, yet all of them managed to look something like this. Levi was clutching his tail, his forehead pressed against the coolness of the side of the tub. It felt like a crime to wake him, but you brushed your hand against his cheek anyway.

“Levi… Levi?” You called, watching his eyelids flitter as they slowly opened. “Here, take this, it’ll help you feel better.” You held a capful of the remedy to his lips. A flicker of stubbornness and defiance flashed in his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you, especially with how nicely you were treating him. He’d take it with a smile if you had asked him too. Placing the medicine aside, you turned down the lights in his room, watching the reflection of the water dance across the ceiling. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Levi?”

You heard him squeak before he spoke. “You cuddled with each of my brothers…”

Stifling a chuckle, you merely blinked at him. “You want me to cuddle with you?”

He used his arm to cover his eyes. “Y-you said it, not me!”

“Move over then,” you grinned, lifting your leg over the lid of the tub to make your way in. It was a bit awkward, being a bathtub and all. There wasn’t as much space as you expected. The sloped sides guided you into Levi’s body, where you could feel every muscle inside him tense. “Alright, here we go, sleep will make you feel better.” You rested your head right next to his, noses almost touching. His lip twitched in embarrassment, but once more he pressed his forehead against your neck, exhaling deeply as he allowed his body to relax. “There you go…” You rubbed his back as he got in close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Time as Levi’s nurse passed fairly quickly. Apparently regular doses of constant attention was the best kind of medicine for a touch-starved demon. He was still weaker than anyone would enjoy, but he was back in front of his screens in no time. Although, every so often he’d give you a side glance and rattle his body with a loud cough. Sometimes he would do this and cause the other previous afflicted to do the same. You’d even caught Lucifer clearing his throat in your vicinity once. They were all milking this to the last drop. Aside from the pseudo-symptoms, at last, it was all over. Surely, tonight you’d finally let your sore exhausted body get some rest with the relief in knowing that whatever demon illness had been plaguing the brothers was finally gone… Even cases in the Devildom were dropping. The whispers at RAD were returning to normal discussions. The worst was over.

That was… until everyone in the House of Lamentation was awoken one night to a blood-curdling scream. You awoke in a sweat, hair on your arms standing up on end. Before you could comprehend anything, you dashed out to the hallway, apparently the last to join the stunned members of the household. Mammon was still attempting to find balance on his feet, cursing about one of his legs being asleep. Levi rubbed his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was supposed to be regaining his strength. Satan looked more intrigued than anything. Beel was ready for action, but, surprisingly enough, Belphie looked more awake than anyone before you. These were his hours, you supposed. Lucifer was a strange combination of furious due to having his rest be interrupted--he barely gets enough as it is--and concerned.

“MC…” The eldest instinctively took a step towards you. “Oh, thank Diavolo,” he sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, quelling the stress headache, thankful you weren’t the cause of the haunting wail. “We’ve got…” He began the head check, ushering his brothers closer to him much like a teacher making sure the whole class was there for the field trip. The realization hit you at the same moment it hit him. “Asmo.” No one hesitated in dashing to his room, the adrenaline pumping in you more as the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood reached your ears. Worry clamped your throat shut, forgetting how to properly breathe as the group sprinted down the halls.

Mammon was the first to reach the door, throwing all caution to the wind as he immediately kicked the wood in. The entrance hit the floor with a loud bang, coming clean off it’s hinges, and you attempted to peer in. A firm hand grabbed you by the back of the collar and yanked you back. Lucifer pulled you behind his body. Just in time too, for just at that moment, an entire dresser launched itself from the bedroom, smacking against Mammon, pinning him against the back wall of the hallway. Every square inch of you was desperate to scream, to run to Greed, but the demon of pride had you held tightly against his body. Mammon got up off the floor, shaking his head. There were no visible injuries, in fact, he was barely even bothered, just frustrated.

“For the love of... Asmo!” The second brother growled, and another shriek echoed through the halls, shaking the windows. You brought your hands up to cover your ears, and Lucifer quickly handed you off to Levi.

“What’s happening?” The strength of your legs began to waver, and, for a split second, the eldest’s eyes grew wide at your distress. Of course you wouldn’t know, how could you? Sometimes he forgets you’re only a human.

Placing a gentle hand on your head, he let out another sleep-deprived groan, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst his siblings dashed into the chaos. “It’s what we all feared. Asmo has fallen ill. It happens once every few centuries, and every time it happens, it gets—“ Something else broke to pieces, shrapnel embedding itself in the door-frame. A mess. “Stay with Levi. We’ll work on calming him down.” With that, he turned and swiftly joined the fray. A swirl of blue magic surrounded the door, lifting it from it’s position, settling back against the frame to shield you out while shouts and bangs rattled the ground. All you could do was blink in frightful awe and flinch at every awful sound.

“C-come on, it’s best if we go…N-now. Like, right now,” Levi breathed, his voice shaking with terror. You raised an eyebrow, trying to piece together why he sounded as if he was in danger.

You didn’t have the time to question why. The wall separating the room from the hallway nearly crumbled, bricks and rubble coating the floor. Peachy eyes glowed harshly against the dark of night. “Levi…” The figure growled maliciously as the dust settled. “You did this to me…you all did this to me!” Ah, right. Of course the blame would lie with the most recently infected. And now you were standing right next to the target.

“Oi!”

In a swirl of motion, demons rushed to tackle him down, but not before the person behind the destruction began to lunge in yours and Levi’s direction. The third-born twisted his body, beginning to pull you behind him to shield you, but your body moved almost on its own. Tugging yourself out of Levi’s grip, you moved forward with an outstretched arm. “Asmo!” The palm of your hand came into contact with his chest. You felt the frantic beating of his heart. Everything seemed to stop all at once. The rampage put itself at pause as Asmo looked at you with wide eyes, his hands still raised, razor sharp claws atoms away from brushing against your skin. With your hand on his chest, you could tell that he’d stopped breathing. You took this moment to observe his face. Nose red, eyes puffy from angry tears, overall looking drained, missing vibrancy. The glimmer you so often associated with Asmo was gone.

The demon of lust took one last moment to recollect his thoughts, gathering back his composure before giving a loud horrified gasp of a breath before his knees gave out, his body collapsing to the floor.

“Absolutely, positively, one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made!” You’d beg to differ, there was a list of misadventures you could bring to the table, but now was definitely not the time for that. “Did you even think?!” You tried to open your mouth but were cut short. “Don’t answer that.” Good call. Lucifer looked beyond frazzled, and as you watched him pace back and forth in front of you, you wondered if those were new grey strands in the fringes of his hair or if it was simply your imagination. He’d been stepping back and forth for so long, you’d almost gotten dizzy from the motion. Perfectly on beat. A living pendulum.

But Lucifer wasn’t the only one here to…critique your…survival response--or questionable lack thereof. “What do you do when you see an angry demon? Hm?” Real rich coming from Wrath. Satan’s eyebrow was twitching, but he was doing his utmost best to stay calm unlike his older brothers.

You lowered your head. “You run.”

“What do we not do?”

“…Confront them.” The blonde nodded, leaving it at that for the time being. With a quick scan around the room, he tilted his head and sat in a chair, biting back one of his usual retorts. Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to be snippy, especially considering his sibling’s current behaviors, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not right now when he was focusing hard on suppressing the bubbling rage of what he’d just observed. Levi was a dazed mess, sulking at his failed job as a bodyguard, slung over Beel’s shoulder, muttering endlessly. The demon of gluttony himself had yet to peel his sight from you since you’d been dragged back to your room. Had he even blinked? It was as if he was wary that, should he look away, even for a moment, you’d do something reckless again. To be fair, logically, what you’d done had been a rather idiotic move. In your defense, it was also dipping well past the early hours of the morning. It all still felt like a dream. They couldn’t hold it against you for not being at your peak… But, they were right. Had Asmo not been able to stop himself, who knows what the outcome would’ve been. You still weren’t quite sure of everything that had happened, but something had moved you, convinced you that if you just…reached out to him…

Turning your head to the side, you brushed your hand over the bump in the blankets where his arm was. As soon as he’d collapsed, both you and Asmo were briskly brought to your room. You’d been able to assist in tucking him under your covers for only a moment before being scolded six different ways. Belphie placed a fresh cold rag over Asmo’s forehead, meeting your eyes for just a second before snapping his head to look away from you with the slightest hint of a disappointed pout in his lips. Even the bratty youngest sibling was chastising you. And Mammon…Mammon was…dead silent, still as a stone, back turned to you as he pressed his face against the wall. If anything, that upset you the most.

Speaking loudly as to regain their attention, you apologized. “I’m sorry! I know it was dumb of me, but…” Asmo’s eyebrows scrunched, a painful moan rumbling in his throat. You adjusted your seated spot on the bed, sitting closer to his body, settled by his thigh. Placing your hand over the comforter covering his chest, you stroked up and down in a slow soothing rhythm. His head moved to find a cooler, more comfortable spot on the pillow, and with the comforting motion against his body, he went still with rest again. “He sounded heartbroken.”

The room fell silent, Lucifer stopped his pacing. Everyone’s shoulders slumped, and then finally Mammon spoke up. “Heartbroken?! That scream meant nothin’! He’s just being dramatic over his dumb face! Losing control like that…almost hurting you because he doesn’t look photo-ready… Nothing’s worth getting yourself killed over! Nothing!” Mammon’s words… sunk in the deepest. Or his tone did at least. He was truly upset with you. Lucifer raised his arm a bit towards Mammon, signaling to settle down. Mammon scoffed and turned again, letting it go.

“Okay… I get it… but enough worrying about me, you should be worried for your brother.” The fire of conflict was quickly snuffed out by your shining eyes and Asmo’s little whimpers.

Lucifer rolled his head around his shoulders and then rubbed away the little pang behind his temples. “I’ll go let Diavolo know of the situation. I’m sure after the last few weeks he won’t be surprised…” He grumbled something under his breath one last time before he left the room, D.D.D. in hand.

“I suppose I can do my best to help clean Asmo’s room. He might recover quicker in a familiar environment.” Satan got to his feet, stretching, cracking an eye open to look at Mammon before grabbing him by the back of his shirt. “And you’re going to help me.”

“O-oi! Why me?! Hold on! I haven’t said everything I needed to yet!” But his cries were ignored as the demon of wrath dragged him down the hallway.

Now you were left with the afflicted, the twins, and a still sorrowful Levi. They might not listen to you at the moment, but you had to try. “Beel, can you please take Levi to his room? And Belphie can you please make sure he goes to sleep?” The fiery-haired sibling nodded, shifting his older brother to his other shoulder. Belphie still had his head turned away from you. Your heart fell a bit. “Pretty please?”

He made the mistake of getting a quick peek of your pleading face. “You have to come with us.”

“But, we can’t just leave him.” You brushed the back of your hand against Asmo’s cheek, reeling back as the heat from him almost burnt you. Demonic bodies could reach some serious temperatures.

This only convinced Belphie to squint harder. “He’s dangerous.”

“You’re all dangerous and yet apparently it doesn’t seem to phase me anymore.” At times like these, you found standing your ground and just being stubborn was enough to win you plenty of debates with these eternal beings. Although you didn’t want to push your luck too much. They could physically remove you from the room if they so desired. Luckily, Belphie was much too tired to continue bickering.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

You beamed, coaxing a touch of pink in his cheeks. “Thank you!” He slinked away, his twin following after him with Levi in tow.

A frown stretched over your face. With the added noise gone, Asmo’s shallow wheezing breaths were all too apparent. You got to your feet, flipping the rag draped across his head to the other side, then padded over to the cupboard settled against the far side of the room. It opened with a slight squeak, causing you to wince as you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure your patient was still sleeping. Luckily, he didn’t stir, although for this to work, he might have to. You gripped the medicine bottle in your hand, giving it a slight shake. There was enough for perhaps one or two more administrations. Before you dealt with that issue, you quickly went to turn off the overhead light in your room, simply turning on a side lamp, a soft glow illuminating what you needed it to. Your eyes thanked you for the lessened strain. As you turned on the pads of your feet, you noticed Asmo was now on his side, facing away from you. With a few quiet steps, you were back at the bedside. “Asmo?”

Your fingers outstretched, reaching for his shoulder, but he would not let you near him. “Don’t look at me!” The voice was strong enough to push you back, falling back onto the floor. A high pitched noise caught your attention. The glass in your hand as well as your mirror on the other side of the room had a new thin crack in it.

The heart in your chest was pounding, but you tried to shake out of it. “Asmo, fighting me is taking up your strength.” Cradling the medicine bottle against your chest, you got back to your feet.

Asmo pulled the covers up over his head. “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me!” You’d shifted your stance beforehand to keep your balance, the wave of magic wobbling you, but not knocking you over. The lights flickered, and with it, you caught an idea.

“What if I turn the lights off? I won’t look at you, okay? I just want to help you feel better.” Keeping your sight on him, you walked backwards. As your hip met the furniture, you swiveled to turn the lamp off. It just so happened to be cloudy tonight, the dark clouds coating the moon, again, much like the night Belphie had sleepwalked into your room, only now you were the one stumbling towards the figure in the bed. You walked forward slowly until your knees came into contact with the mattress. Even here you could feel the rolling waves of heat come off of him. “I can’t see a single thing, I swear. Not even my own hand in front of my face,” you whispered to him, your arm waving in the air till you found his body. He was letting you touch him, that was a good sign. It took a moment before you found his shoulder, gently guiding him to lay on his back. You trailed your touch up to his neck before coming up to lightly touch his face. Hot moisture coated your fingertips. For a second, you thought it was sweat, but then you heard the demon take a shaky inhale as his body hitched. Panic struck your body all the sudden, your thumb brushing just under his eyes. “Are you crying? Asmo, no… No, no, no, it’s okay.”

He whimpered, leaning into your touch. “I- I- I- I’m sick and- and unsightly--”

“Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Take a deep breath.” He followed your advice, his chest shuddering. “I’m sorry you’re sick…but we can’t change that now. We just have to focus on getting you well again.” Reaching around to support the back of his head, you helped him up into a slouched position. Although, you struggled to find his hand. When you did, his fingers instinctively went to curl around yours. You hated to disappoint him by replacing your grasp with the medicine bottle. “This should help. I’d, uh, take about half of it.” He took it away from you, and you assumed that he’d brought it to his lips. It was a few seconds before the smooth glass touched your skin again. Taking it back in your possession, you discovered it was a lot lighter than you expected. Moving it around in your hand, you felt no liquid slosh inside. “I said half, Asmo!”

“There was hardly anything in there and I need what I can to go back to my beautiful self!”

“That’s not how--” You sighed, letting the empty bottle settle on the floor. “No one is pretty when they’re sick, but that’s okay. It’s alright to be unsightly sometimes.” The mattress bobbed as Asmo laid back down, getting as close as he could against your body. “But even so, you’re pretty all the same.”

His hand smacked against your knee as he tried to find you, his touch searching for yours. “I can’t be both…am I beautiful or ugly?” He really couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. Maybe one day you’d be able to convey your thoughts properly.

As soon as you touched his wrist, he slid his fingers up to weave through yours. “You’re always beautiful, Asmo. Always. A little sickness won't stop you. But for now, your beautiful body needs some beauty sleep.” You squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right by your side.” The medicine seemed to already be working. Double the dose meant double the drowsiness, and you pinned it in the back of your mind to tell Lucifer about his mishap later. He curled into a tighter ball, snuggling up against your legs.

“It’s not…fair,” he whined, voice almost slurring with sleep. “I don’t…deserve this…I wish I was…as beautiful…as you.” Your chest tightened, but you kept your mouth closed. His grip had already slackened, and you could hear the deeper slower breaths as you came to the conclusion that he had fallen back asleep.

Feel better, Asmo. I’ll be here till you do.

“I tried warning them fallen angels or not, they were still in the demographic to get sick.” Solomon sighed wistfully, but the whole time he never lost his smile. As you recounted your encounters over the last few weeks, the sorcerer giggled. “What I wouldn’t give to see some of those scenes.”

The angel across the little table from you had to agree, although he looked a lot more sympathetic to the brother’s plight than the human did. “I’m really glad they’re all feeling better though. I bet you’re enjoying your newfound freedom, aren’t you, MC?”

You settled down the mug against the tabletop, sitting back in your chair, basking in the ambiance of Purgatory Hall. The House of Lamentation really had been come to feel like your home, but a change of pace was so refreshing at times. The angel’s dorm was so much brighter, quieter. No shouting, no nagging, no chaos. You could sip on a warm beverage in peace. “It’s nice knowing they all feel better,” you stated, having to admit to yourself that your termination of demon-nurse was doing you some good. Retirement life was nice. “No more worries.”

Both men agreed, Simeon pleasantly humming to himself. “Still, you could’ve asked us to help out. I bet it was difficult looking after all of them.”

“Can’t be much different than usual, can it?” Solomon interjected, laughing to himself.

They both were right. But, it’s not like you had hated it. You all felt…closer now. They had allowed you to see a part of themselves no one else got to see. That made you feel special. But being able to kick your feet up and get some much needed sleep was what your doctor ordered. You picked your mug back up and finished the last of your drink. The warmth of it spread throughout your body, seeping down to your toes and fingertips.

When Simeon noticed your cup was empty, he stood, holding his hand out. “Here I can take that for you.” You didn’t really want to impose, but you were the guest, and it did feel nice being taken care of today. They’d pampered you nicely. Taking your jacket at the door, leading you to the living room where you were given sweets and treats handmade by Luke and Simeon. You got more comfortable on the couch and gave the angel a thankful nod. Simeon turned away from you and Solomon, his steps halted as a high-pitched squeak filled the room. “Oh, sorry.”

Your head tilted a bit. “Sorry for what?” Had he stepped on a loose floorboard?

Solomon held himself back a bit before clapping in a bit of glee. He seemed endlessly entertained. “Doesn’t Simeon have the most petite sneeze? Bless you.”

Simeon looked back over his shoulder, actually looking a bit embarrassed over it. “It’s quite a normal sneeze thank you…” He shot his roommate a little look before leaving the room. You watched him go, a sensation of familiarity bubbling up to your mind. This felt… no, it couldn’t be. You were over-thinking things. There was absolutely no way it was happening again. Nope. You would refuse fate itself. Simeon took good care of himself. You couldn’t assume every sneeze was a sign of illness.

There was no one left to get sick. The story was over! The series had come to an end! All wrapped up in a pretty bow and everything!

No one else needed a taste of medicine.

Or did they?…

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #sickfic

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temis-de-leon · 12 days

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Day 21 - Comforting while crying kiss

Characters: Solomon x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: college anxiety, memories about bad friends, worried Solomon, established relationship

A/N: not the most relatable because I made it as a continuation for this, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

Studying in the human real again wasn’t something she ever thought would become a reality, especially when she didn’t want to do it at all, but she should’ve learnt long ago that no thing in life was impossible.

Her best friends, if not her only friends, were demons and angels; she was dating King Solomon the Wise. Going back to college should not feel that weird.

And yet.

There she was, sitting on her ankles in a hidden corner under the staircase of the main entrance. The heat of June burned her hair and made her cupid’s bow sweat, but it was the stress of finals what made her feel feverish. Her backpack laid pathetically near her, the zipper opened enough to let her see some crumpled papers full of scribbles and a couple of pens with no caps.

It was draining. Sitting alone at the table, remembering the presence of those who left her behind laughing at her jokes and helping her study, acting like true friends when God knows what they were saying behind her back. The tiles of the floor and the graffiti on the benches remained the same, but the walls were different and the buildings had gone through some serious renovations. What hurt her the most, surprisingly, was the sight of the brand new cafeteria, which now looked like a hospital ward.

MC’s lips trembled at the thought of change and evolution, of coming so far just to return to the same place that made her feel so lonely.

First periods on Mondays, back when she was eighteen, were hectic. The hallways were cold and the elevator was always occupied because a blind guy with his guide dog had to go to the last floor and whoever decided to be stubborn and wait for the elevator to be free was always late to class. One of the coffee machines forever remained out of service and the other one only had one flavour worth paying: hazelnut. MC didn’t even like coffee and still bought a couple of those every now and then.

The blind guy already graduated, she supposed. Both coffee machines worked and they even had other vending machines filling the empty spaces of the hallways. Warm hallways, that is. The Styrofoam cups didn’t smell like hazelnut anymore, but rather something more generic and impersonal.

MC couldn’t recognize the scent and it made her mad. It made her cry. And the foolishness of the situation made her cry even harder.

Her weeping filled the corner she was hiding in and she felt incredibly grateful that the evening classes had already started, but not much time would pass until anyone inside would open the windows in search of any possible breeze.

Determined to not let the damn building see her cry more than necessary, MC grabbed her things and pitifully walked down the street, looking at the flowers with deep yearning like she too wished she was buried underground and left alone to absorb light and look pretty.

Fortunately for her mood, her phone vibrated in her pocket and showed a very familiar name. She tried to swallow tears and clear her voice before answering.

“Is everything okay, MC?”

She’d never fool him.

Solomon sounded extremely worried. The sheer surprise at his reaction made her stop in her tracks to wonder just how much he knew her. Before she could ponder about it too much, however, someone near her called her name.

There he was, sitting on the hood of a car that MC knew wasn’t his. He called her once more to urge her and, thankfully, by the time she reached him the crying had already stopped. Her skin felt sticky with sweat and fallen tears and she felt an incipient headache threatening to break her mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah”

She forced herself to swallow, hating the blockage in her nose, and Solomon looked at her in pity, clearly wanting to console without going too far.

“You know you can trust me, right?”

His eyes turned sad and MC felt the familiar sting in the back of her throat. Although her first impulse was to continue denying her pain and leave the whole thing behind, she knew that if she didn’t ask her boyfriend, of all people, to take care of her, then the turmoil would become much worse.

“I do” she assured him, holding his hand in slow movements. He immediately held her back and her eyes watered again “I’m just really tired, you know?”

There, under the sun, where no one was there to see the scene, Solomon opened his arms and sighed when she rushed towards him. MC tried to ignore the tears staining his white coat, hugging him instead to hide from the rest of the world. There was a gentle pressure on top of her head, a soft kiss that made her shoulders relax and lean into him further.

“Do you want to go back home? Take a nap?”

MC didn’t know what home he was talking about, but she didn’t care. Without letting him go, she nodded against his chest and made herself comfortable. Home was wherever as long as he was there with her.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation @owlisbuffering @chizukimp4 @ravenredwine @darkflowerav @craftysclown @mehkers

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me angst #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me writing #25 kisses challenge

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pan-problemed · 1 month

Text

A body on the step and lies all about - i

cooper howard x angel!gn!reader

tags; slow burn, character study, cowboys, angels, religion, gender neutral reader warnings; none

masterlist | cross posted on ao3 inspired by the fallen by @geeks-universe! please check it out summary ; You are an angel, trying to help humanity build what their leaders destroyed. He is a man cursed to painful immortality, trying to survive in the world his leaders destroyed.

He thought he had squashed out all that remained of his humanity, but here you were, all gentle hands and knowing looks, throwing a wrench into the character he had so carefully constructed.

Some of the others questioned why you remained on Earth, even after Father’s creations had burnt it in fire and gamma. They had all given up hope that good may remain and therefore given up on all of them.

You knew not all of them were at fault - a single secretary could do nothing in the face of her government’s greed and hubris. She could not be blamed, could not be declared evil for someone else’s crime.

Still, grief was something you had become intricately familiar with. Looking at the ashen remains of all Father and humanity had created, you felt nothing but grief in its rawest, most volatile form.

But you remained. You held onto that hope, because what else were you without it?

Few of your siblings remained on Earth, equally dedicated to protecting and nudging humanity in the right direction. You remained in contact, despite millennia-long arguments on right and wrong.

If you asked yourself back in the 20th century whether you’d find yourself allies and almost friends with Lucifer himself, you wouldn’t have believed it.

But here you were. Constantly tasting the acidic flavour of radiation in the air, watching as humans tore each other apart again and again and tried to undo what they had done each time.

---

Purdue had grown into a careful little town in recent years. Before, they had called it West Lafayette, and before then it was Chauncey. But now it was Purdue, named after the title stamped into cracked signs and burnt textbooks.

They still used the old street signs - someone had taken time to repaint the little forest green rectangles and white letters.

Fondy was a bar built in the bottom floor of an apartment building, half of the letters had fallen off with age, the original name lost to time. Some of the apartments now were used as an inn, though not many travellers ended up in Purdue when Lucas Oil and Big State were only a day’s walk south.

And here you were, sitting at the counter as Buddy Holly’s voice buzzed from the little restored radio on the counter. Lukas Striker had recently set up in Big State, and you had provided a generous donation of songs to the bright-eyed boy. What a King was doing starting a radio show in the remnants of Indiana was beyond you, but you were happy to indulge.

You had always liked music, after all.

You were nursing your first drink of the night - whisky, caravanned out of Kentucky. The bitter taste was familiar on your tongue. Nothing compared to the expensive drinks Lucifer would encourage you to indulge in back in the day, alongside corny movies and drunken exchanges of stories.

He had been on a Western kick in 2076 and some of ‘77, particularly fond of one pretty little actor named Cooper Howard. His dark hair carefully slicked back reminded you of a gang you met back in the day, though it took quite a few more drinks to pull that story out of you.

You reckoned, if they ever made a movie about them, put some facial hair and cigarettes on Howard and he was practically the spitting image.

The ice clinked against the stained glass as you thought back to those late nights, drinking and laughing at the humans’ entertainment.

Before the resources grew too few, and the humans’ greed too powerful.

The ramshackle wood doors creaked open, announcing a new customer, but you didn’t look up from the spot you were studying on the counter. It had been built out of old signs and car parts, you could see a Toyota logo.

He sat three stools from you and ordered in a low voice, heavy with a southern accent. Speaking of Westerns, you thought to yourself.

You cast him a brief glance. He had rough skin, most of it covered with a ragged duster and clothes stained brown. His hat was angled to shield his eyes, despite being inside, and you could see the way his hazel eyes studied the room curiously.

You recognised his kind - mortals cursed to immortality. Skin ragged and burnt. Some had their brains melt away with the cartilage and hair, but others held onto their sanity despite.

His gaze met yours - intelligent, calculating, suspicious - and you held it for a moment, sizing each other up.

There was something familiar about him that tugged at your tongue, but you couldn’t puzzle it out just yet. You would keep an eye on him, then - he had a dangerous look about him.

The radio buzzed as the music rolled over to Billie Holiday. You didn’t look away, even as his drink was passed to him.

Finally, he downed the thing in one gulp and slammed the glass on the counter, leaning forward. “Reckon I’ve seen you before.” He mused.

“I thought the same.” You replied evenly, taking a careful sip from your drink.

The two of you fell silent again. You wondered what he was thinking, why he wasn’t ignoring you as you had planned to do to him.

He gestured for another drink, and the bartender hesitated for a moment. The man sighed and retrieved a few coppers, which seemed to appease the bartender for now.

“What brings you to Purdue?” You decided to ask, growing uncomfortable with the tense silence in the nearly empty bar.

He hummed, leaning back in his seat and draping one arm on the counter, tilting his head to look at you.

It clicked, then, who you were looking at. Speak of the devil (haha), the hollowed out ghost of Cooper Howard sat in that torn duster, staring you down with curiosity and bitterness in those chesnut eyes.

“Work.” He replied simply. “You?”

You shrugged. “I travel.”

He paused, tilting his head a little further, and you couldn’t help but compare him to a little labrador puppy studying something new for the first time.

The conversation largely ended there, though both of you did ocassionally hum along to the music playing from the radio. He was much more quiet than you, but the tapping of his fingers and the soft rumble of his voice didn’t escape your attention.

You gave him a friendly smile as you left, though he ignored it.

And you wondered.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #fallout #fallout tv #fallout tv series #fallout series #x reader #fallout x reader #gender neutral reader

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pcrfumebcttles · 2 months

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Allison absolutely fucking HATES slut shaming. It is one of the biggest way to push her buttons. If it's towards her, you might be able to walk away with just a broken nose. If it's towards her friends/family/partner, then you might not be walking away at all... or breathing.

#fallen angel: character study/about #outofperfume #[quickest way to piss her off]

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monstersandgirls-webtoons · 3 months

Note

This is an interesting comic, though I know nothing about the religious source material (I always thought Satan and Lucifer were names for the same creature xD), but I am confused about something:

Your character backstory for Pumpkin says that she lost an eye to an angel? But you say that demons regenerate. Are eyes not included in their regenerative abilities?

I know you said you had no plans to bring her back, so I figured it was safe to ask.

First of all, to be fair, you're not wrong on Lucifer and Satan. the general belief is that Lucifer/Satan/Dark King Evil Guy is all one person. Specifically the embodiment of evil itself or a fallen angel. The deadly sins, succubi/inbuci, etc are all different beliefs depending on who you ask. that's the joy of studying religion.

Second of all, they are! however, a demon can permanently lose a limb if they're hit with holy energy (angels) or cursed energy (demons). Pumpkin just really pissed off that Power angel.

#ask

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fanficriter · 11 months

Note

can u do kaidou shun dating hcs!?!?!?

UM YES I LOVE HIM????

——————————————————————————-

Dating Kaidou Shun

Warnings - None

Characters - Kaidou Shun

Gender neutral reader

Notes - Sorry this is a bit short, I’m a bit sick atm

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- If you dress in Emo/Gothic clothes, expect him to fall for you like 10 times faster

- When he finally asked you out, he slide you one of those notes with the little yes or no checkboxes down the bottom

- He is definitely scared if the dark, he won’t admit it

- “The Jet Black Wings is scared of nothing! C-could you turn the light back on though?”

- He loves it when you play along with his little fantasies, it makes him feel loved

- LOVES physical affection!! But he does get very shy, especially when it’s in public

- Very shy when it comes to kisses. He will give you a peck on the lips and run away blushing

- If you surprise him with a kiss, he kinda just stands there for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened

- He is a clingy little shit tbh

- Loves cuddling with you sm

- He also love quality time, he’s inviting you everywhere everyday at all times

- Study sessions together always 🙏🙏

- If his mum likes you, expect home cooked meals every time you come over

- Literally is a shaking, nervous ball when meeting your parents

- “I promise to take care of them! I-indubitably!!”

- Your parents love him

- I feel like he really good with kids, so if you have younger siblings, they absolutely adore him

- Every time he comes over they will run up and hug him

- You feel like they love him more than you atp

- Has a huge hero complex, so he will protect you from all the bullies! But your usually the one whose protecting him…

- When his classmates make fun of him for talking about Dark Reunion, your always there to comfort him

- He doesn’t know how to swim, so you teach him. He tries to act tough though the whole thing

- “If I released my full power in the water… i’d course a tsunam- Y/N HELP IM DROWNING”

- For your birthday he always has a homemade present and a 10 page essay for a card

- He was definitely a night core kid

- Angel with a shotgun is HIS JAM (me to)

- He uses emoticon while texting

- “Hey angel! ^_^ Do u want to go get ramen with me tmrw? o(｀ω´ )o”

- Can also speak irl with them??? He just does it and no one says anything about it

- Your name is his phone is definitely something like ‘My Fallen angel’ or ‘My Queen/King of Darkness’

- Is oddly good at singing?

- Every time he’s in the shower you hear him having his own little concerts

- He’s insanely talented at eyeliner

- Will sit in your lap and do yours if you let him

- MATCHING HALLOWEEN COSTUMES ARE A MUST!!!

- This could very from being bacon and eggs, to being undead lovers, he doesn’t care! As long as he gets to look cute with you, he’s up for anything!

- He’s always talking about you to his friends

- “Me and Y/n went to the movie theatre yesterday!!”

- “Check you this cool ring Y/n got for me!

- “Did you see Y/n’s outfit today?”

- Your his first real partner, and he loves you a lot. You guys are always looking after each other!

- Also he’s a twilight fanboy so you have a twilight wedding 🙏🙏

——————————————————————————

I love Kaidou Shun goodnight tumblr (´-ω-`)

#the disastrous life of saiki k.#fanfic writing #tumblr #ao3 #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #the disasterous life of saiki k #shun kaidou #kaidou shun x reader #kaidou shun #kaidou x reader #k #saiki k #kusuo saiki #fandom #fanfic #writers on tumblr #tumblr fanfic

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kingdumkum · 2 years

Text

WHAT ARE YOU THE GOD OF, AGAIN?

feat: Satan (1754) ∻ Asmodeus (1297) ∻ Beelzebub (1402) ∻ Belphegor (1533) synopsis: turns out, fallen angels can have more than one sin. cw: afab!reader | dom!Satan shouldn’t be allowed to play with toys but here we are; vouyerism (on behalf of the brothers but namely Asmo); exhibitionism (on behalf of Satan); brat tamer!Satan x brat!reader; humiliation; cnc in that reader doesn’t actually give explicit consent in this situation but it’s been given for situations like this before; Satan is a closet FREAK and i will be taking questions | kinda public sex (they’re in a closet); fwb; really rough sex; possessive!Asmo knows how to leave a mark; slight mentions of blood; feral!Asmo is something ELSE but I’m here for it | panty-stealing; panty-sniffing; perv!Beel; breeder ball Beel ain’t an agenda, it’s the truth; he’s kinda pathetic and lovesick in this but i fail to see how that’s out-of-character | facesitting (on Belphie); oral (f!receiving); overstimulation (f!receiving); soft!Belphie because writing him mean is really hard for me; it’s really just great to be Belphie’s tbh a/n: i... am shocked speechless at how many people enjoyed part one. this was so self-indulgent, but y'all have been so nice, so have a cookie ya filthy animals. the prince of demons and his angel and his human are next.

∻ Satan ↠ w r a t h ⤲ e n v y

While SATAN does his best to remain calm, to try and not just put up with his anger but control it, his sin is contagious, and more often than not, he inadvertently starts things. Sometimes without even realizing; most of the time with the sole intent to. It helps, he justifies, that he doesn’t have to be the only one angry all the time. It gives him a break, lets him be calm.

Let him regain control.

And control he has, as he plays with the settings of the vibrator nestled neatly in your cunt. A punishment from earlier, when you showed up to your private study session with Asmodeus in tow. Yes, Satan knows you didn’t invite him on purpose, and yes, he knows Asmodeus pulled the but I would fail without your help! card, as if he wasn’t around whispering inspiration into Oscar Wilde’s ear in the first place, but that didn’t help his barely-controlled rage when Asmo decided the best place for you to tutor him would be in his lap.

And you agreed.

Satan knew why, of course; it was your way of trying to get back at him for accidentally standing you up the other night. That wasn’t his fault though; he’d gotten so caught up in his latest work that he’d completely lost track of time, but he’d rushed over to Hell’s Kitchen as soon as he realized. Three hours late.

To where you were sitting with Asmodeus. Drinking, with Asmodeus–laughing, with Asmodeus.

Asmodeus, who promptly left with a brief kiss on your cheek and playful scolding of Satan for losing sight of something so precious, had the sense to not be seen again, and Satan managed to remain calm until your salads arrived, at which point you made note of how Asmodeus helped you picked the menu.

He did pay for the damages done to the bathroom (discreetly, of course; he didn’t need to be scolded by Lucifer for losing control again), and he thought the two of you had come to an understanding. One in which he’d stop making foolish mistakes like losing track of time, and you’d stop keeping foolish company.

Satan had underestimated how addicted you were to making him lose control, though. Almost as much as he was addicted to controlling you.

His face is as stoic as always, even as he watches your reflection in his goblet while nonchalantly flicking his fingers erratically over his phone’s screen. To his more oblivious brothers, who aimlessly talk about Beel’s upcoming game or Mammon’s latest photo shoot, Satan merely looks bored and yearns to return to the library from which he was so ungraciously dragged for dinner; to Lucifer, whose gaze flicks between you and Satan’s apparently apathetic facade, something sinister lies in his creation’s blank stare; and to Asmodeus, who cradles his chin between his palms as he leans across the table towards his older brother, suddenly realizes Satan’s far less interesting than you–you, whose face is flushed, whose jaw is clenched, whose eyes are shut so tight, Asmo knows you must be seeing stars.

And that’s before the smell of your arousal hits him.

With a deepening grin, Asmodeus takes a deep inhale–deep enough to catch Satan’s attention.

The toy stops moving.

With a whimper of protest, your lower lip starts to quiver. Your eyes slowly open, blinking back into reality; and reality being, Satan was about to make you cum for the second time that dinner, with all six of his brothers gathered around the table. You were close–you were so close, and you knew that, and Satan knew that, and–his teal eyes are narrowed in Asmodeus’s direction. His face barely changes; a tightening of his lips, thinning of his eyes, the pause of his hand. But when you whisper his name, hand stretching beneath the tablecloth to grip his knee tightly, he falls apart.

His stoic facade slips, and for a moment, Asmodeus’s smile slips, too–for there, in Satan’s eye, is something Asmodeus had thought to be too intimate for his brother to ever feel; something too tender for an Avatar of Wrath to possess. But it’s there, lurking in the shallow waters of his brother’s eyes as Satan’s stretch for the jug of wine sitting just beyond your reach brings his lips to your ear.

“Apologies, darling,” he murmurs in a tone so light, it wouldn’t be fair to call it air. “Let me make it up to you.”

You cross your arms over your chest and lean into the table, prepared to quip something back about how he better before a gasp slips out instead as Satan, quicker than you thought possible, pulls out the vibrator.

“Satan–” you hiss, but he silences you with a tense glare. One he makes up for by placing a heavy hand back on your thigh, fingers lazily trailing along the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, and despite the uncertainty biting at your spine, you nod. He’s never given you reason not to… ever. “Good. I think this could be fun.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you know better than to ask; the last time you tried questioning what the reserved demon wanted to try, you ended up tied to his bed, vibrator strapped to your aching cunt, for eight hours. Not that you minded that particular outcome, except for the fact you were running out of plausible excuses to justify your frequent absences… or hickies.

Satan’s lips twitch up as he fills your goblet, then goes to top his off. You see the glint of something heavy in his palm, then the splash of something making contact with the liquid in his goblet, then the realization of what he’s doing turns your blood cold as he offers his cup to Asmo.

“Want some?” he asks with perfect ease. “It’s particularly… sweet this evening.”

Satan’s smile could be considered cruel, and in his heart, he knows it is, especially with your shocked-still look of terror beside him, but… this was as close to a blessing as he could ever grant. He might never be willing to share you fully, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to let the others know what they’re missing; particularly Asmo. Particularly the only other demon who seems to be better at eliciting wrath than he.

Asmodeus takes the goblet with a coy grin, already knowing what devilish game his brother is up to. He lifts it to his nose, swirling what little liquid is left as he takes a deep whiff. His sultry gaze turns to you briefly before back to Satan, taking a deep sip. “Made it yourself?”

Satan leans back in his chair, fingers circling around your thigh and dipping beneath your skirt. You bite your lip and fist the hem of the thin material, already knowing that when Satan smirks, it’s not because you’re already flustered from his featherlight touch, but rather because you’ve soaked the cushion beneath you already.

“We did together, actually,” Satan corrects. Without warning, he dips a single digit into your fluttering hole, desperate to be filled after being so cruelly teased all dinner, making sure to gather as much slick as he can. “She’s quite the excellent chef. Everything she makes is… sublime.”

As if to prove his point, Satan withdraws his finger and slowly brings it to his lips. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, not just at the lewdness with which Satan wraps his pale lips around his finger, but at the deep laugh Asmodeus echoes as he dips a finger beyond the goblet’s gilded edge, as carefully as if he were stroking a lover. “Oh, truly,” he agrees, popping his finger into his mouth and sucking gratuitously, “I’ll have to have both of you cook for me some time. I wonder what wonderful things you might be able to make for me, hm?”

Satan starts to frown, and your heart starts to race. With thin lips, he replaces his hand beneath your skirt, but gone is the reverence he was stroking you with before; now, he dives in like a drowning man. Plunging two fingers into your depths, not caring at the way your whole body tenses as you fail to keep your breathing steady, all while maintaining eye contact with his younger brother.

“That’s up to her, I suppose,” Satan muses, angling his palm so it grinds against your puffy clit with every deep thrust, “she doesn’t like cooking for just anyone. She needs the right ingredients, you see. High class stuff. Not sure someone like you would understand, little brother, considering the usual… chefs you employ.”

In other circumstances, you would be fuming at the casual way the brothers discuss you as if you aren’t even there. You’d also probably be in a right enough mind to scold Satan for slipping Asmo your vibrator without actually asking, or at the very least tell Asmo off for being such a brazen flirt–but your mind isn’t thinking that far ahead. It’s all you can do to keep up with the pleasurable way Satan is moving inside you, filling you more fully than any toy ever could, pressing against your core as if this were something he was made to do. Your brain is hazy with pleasure, body even more so, to the point where you don’t even notice Asmodeus passing the goblet to Mammon, teasing the back of the white-haired demon’s head as he’s promised this’ll be his new favorite drink.

Your nails dig into Satan’s arm as he brings you past the edge. He lets you bury your head in his shoulder, softly settling an arm around your shoulders as he murmurs, “good girl.” He tells Asmo that you’re just overcome with emotion about the way your book ended, and he tells Lucifer it’s none of his business when the elder demands to know the name of such an offending book, and he tells Mammon he may absolutely not have the recipe, because that’s a secret between just the two of you.

He does this all while still steadily pumping his fingers in and out of you, bringing you to yet another silent orgasm that leaves tear-stains on your cheeks. By the time Satan’s decided he’s had his fill, his fingers are pruning, his lips are coated from his near-constant finger sucking, and his goblet returns empty.

“Come on, darling,” he says after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath, “we’re out of wine. Shall we go make some more?”

∻ Asmodeus ↠ l u s t ⤲ w r a t h

The sound of skin-slapping-skin is the only thing to be heard in the cramped janitor’s closet ASMODEUS pulled you into just five minutes ago. Your hands curl against the wire shelves as you pitifully try to keep your whimpers in. Not that Asmo helps with that, though; not with the aggressive way he’s slamming into you, thumb constantly rubbing your clit in a way he knows drives you insane, sending you jolting forwards into the various cleaning solvents and potion ingredients you did not find romantic whatsoever. His grip on your hips is bruising, but every time you try to straighten, he’s instantly able to shove your shoulders forward and grab your hip once more before you’ve even processed what he’s doing.

“Perfect fucking pussy, sucking me in so goddamn tight,” Asmo growls, letting his free hand trail down your spine to grab your hair. With a sudden jerk, he yanks you backwards, his breath hot against your ear as you fail to suppress a pitiful moan. “Stop pretending like this is too much, angel. This–is–your–fault.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about, he can tell; and it makes him even angrier. It’s not exactly a secret that Asmo has a… soft (or rather, hard) spot for the human exchange students, but there were a few demons that didn’t care. A few pathetic, weak, disgusting demons who thought they could try and steal you away–

He has no right. He’s not stupid, he knows he has no official claim to you. He’d known that since the day you met, and he remembered it when you snuck into his room and shly asked if he had any advice for how to be safe when it came to demons, and he forced himself to tell you, over and over, that he was the Avatar of Lust, and a mere human could never be enough to fully saite his appetite.

So why is he the one who can’t seem to move on?

He was the one who wasn’t searching for something serious, just like he was the one who promised, if you’d let him take care of you, nothing would change. That you’d be friends first and foremost, benefits on the side, no strings attached. No expectations, other than cumming so much you lose count; and no feelings. Except unadulterated pleasure, of course.

It’s a pattern Asmo’s been able to do since the dawn of time, and as the Avatar of Lust, it’s worked out just fine. And then… you, with your soft smiles and softer touch and the way you look at him and see him. Not his beauty, or his charm, or his cock, but–him. Asmodeus, your Asmodeus, only yours–

“Bet this drives you fucking wild, doesn’t it?” Asmo whispers. His tone matches his pace; rough, deep, and full of the things he can’t actually say. “Knowing you’ve got–the Avatar of Lust–pussywhipped–”

Your walls flutter around him, but it’s the low moan of, “Asmo, please–” that causes him to pause. He’s fully sheathed inside you, pulling you back into him as far as he could as he presses his chest to your back. Roughly, he bites at the skin on your lower back, slapping your ass when you yelp and try jumping away.

“Stay. Put.”

Another bite, this time on your hip, earning yet another yelp–but you manage to suppress your jump with a tremble, keenly aware that whatever mood Asmo’s in is not one to be trifled with.

Another, on your other hip; another, moving up your spine; another, between your shoulder-blades–

Asmodeus keeps you impaled on his pulsing cock, the long member twitching inside with every pitiful yelp you release when his teeth make contact with your tender skin. His hands run up and down your sides before coming to cup your breasts, gently teasing your nipples until the pain of his bites blurs into the pleasure from his fingers.

“Asmo–Asmo, please, I–” you try begging him to move, begging him to pay attention to your clit again, begging him to let you cum–but he won’t have it.

“Oh, so now you remember my name?” Another bite, this time on top of your shoulder. You barely register his words. Asmo snatches your chin and forces your head back. His eyes, usually so full of kindness, are nearly black with rage. Your eyes flutter shut when he snaps his hips into yours, and your whines are pathetic when he stills once more.

“Look at me.”

You can’t. You won’t. You’re tearing up from frustration, and if you open your eyes he’ll see you cry, and if you start crying he might stop fucking, and you don’t want that. Not when he gets like this–when he treats you like you’re his.

This bite breaks skin.

Middle of your throat, right above the pulsepoint he so easily could’ve sliced with just the barest twitch from either of you. Warm liquid slowly trails down to the hollow of your throat, but you don’t know if it’s blood or spit from the messy way Asmo makes out with your neck.

He watches you while he does, pulling back to lick from the nasty bruise that’s already starting to ache all the way up to the corner of your mouth.

“All I had to do was remind you, hunh angel? You don’t need anyone else, yeah? Just me, baby. Just me, just need me-” his voice is soft with desperation, pressing needy kisses to every inch of your face he can reach. His grip on your breast and jaw turns bruising, but you don’t care. You love being marked by him; the pretty patchwork of blues and greens serving as a reminder that your time with Asmo is real.

“Just--just you, Asmo. Just need–you.”

He doesn’t know if you mean it, but he can’t find it in him to care. Not when you start rocking back on his cock, freely crying as you continue to beg him to make you feel good.

For a moment, Asmodeus has the sadistic urge to leave. To step back, walk out like nothing happened, and leave you in such a state of want you’ll never think to forget him again.

But then your hand finds his on your chest, and you interlock your fingers while you press a gentle kiss to the palm still clutching your cheeks, and you mumble, “only ever want to be yours, Asmo. Make me yours.”

He can’t breathe, first because he was in shock and then because his lips find yours so quickly, he doesn’t get a chance to. His hips move slowly, minimally grinding into yours as your makeout turns sloppy, only turning into full thrusts when the pleasure gets to be too much and you have to break away from his kiss for air.

“All you had to do was ask, angel. You know I’d do anything for you. But since you seem to keep forgetting, guess I better figure out a way to make you remember, yeah?”

He starts sweet. Sweet as the kiss he presses to your forehead, sweet as the way he caresses your cheek as his hips start to gain traction–but quickly turns bitter when he doesn’t stop. When his hips pick up to the brutal pace he’d initially set when he first dragged you in, slamming against your already bruised thighs without mercy. When the hand on your cheek goes down to your throat, and the other snakes its way down to your clit and tweaks in all the areas but the one you need.“No one else can make you feel like this, you got that?” Asmodeus whispers–though it sounds more like a hiss, with how tight his jaw is. “No one can fuck you like me, so don’t–fucking–bother–it’s just me, angel. You’re–just–mine–”

∻ Beelzebub ↠ g l u t t o n y ⤲ l u s t

BEELZEBUB thought he knew better.

Well, not thought; he does know better, and not because Belphie told him so or he watched Mammon get punished for this before, but because this isn’t like him. This–insatiable need, this gnawing pain in the bottom of his stomach that won’t go away no matter how hard he tries. At least with his sin, the last few millennia had taught him how to manage it (a binge here, a binge there, eating constantly in-between, working out whenever else to try and keep his mind occupied), but… this? This?

He’s never felt like this before. So–empty. Hollow. Weak.

His urge to eat you raw might break him.

He knocks softly on your bedroom door, despite knowing that you’re currently in the mess with his brothers. You’re probably laughing at some corny joke Mammon made, offering to split your rice with Satan, letting Belphie rest his head on your shoulder–Beel’s next knock splinters the wood.

Crap. He’ll have to fix that, before he goes back. Thank Diavolo he’s built up a bit of a reputation for breaking things, though, so it quickly shuttles to the back of his mind as his gaze lands on what he’s here for.

What he should leave alone.

What he can’t.

A small pile of laundry, overflowing from your hamper, poking out from behind your closet doors.

He should not be here, but his body betrays him. Again. Like the way it did when you came down to breakfast in a shirt that was so obviously not yours, apologizing to Asmodeus over and over for letting your laundry get away from you and praising him for letting you borrow from him in the meantime.

Beel broke his spoon. Belphie gave him a new one. Beel promptly broke that one too, when you sat down across from him and asked if he had any laundry you could do, seeing as how that might be all you get to do this weekend.

He didn’t plan on letting his mind wander to what else might be dirty, just as he didn’t plan to nearly get run over on the way to school because he was so caught up in wondering if you even had any underwear left, and he certainly did not intend to run back to the House of Lamentation to rifle through your dirty laundry for just one infuriating pair of your panties.

Just one, he reasons as he cautiously glances into your hamper. He hopes it’ll be right on top, that he can take a pair and race to his room and get one good orgasm (or two or three or however many it takes to get you out of his brain), then return them before you’re ever the wiser.

So how did he end up in his bathroom with six pairs in his pockets?

Oh. Right. Because the pair on top were lacy and black and had him salivating, even before he pressed them to his nose for a deep whiff; and then he caught sight of a white pair, just beneath your school skirt, and he figured two is a safer bet than one, and then he thought he saw a red pair with polka dots and he’s always been partial to red, and then–

And then, and then, and then.

It’s the story of his sin; to never be satisfied, never be full. How he managed to stop at six when the image of number seven (an orange thong that he nearly ripped in half trying to unhook from a pair of tights) he’ll never know; how long he’s been on the bathroom floor, hastily jerking his hefty cock with low groans of your name also escape him; but he does know it’s worth it.

He takes a deep sniff of the lacy black pair he’d first pulled; the most recent. The ones that smell the most like you, and not just the fading clean scent of your detergent or the lingering waft of your soap, but you. He wonders if you masturbated in this pair, or if you naturally stain each panty you wear. He wonders how you masturbate, if you prefer to strip naked and take your time or if you’re desperate like him, if you can’t wait to fully bare yourself like him, if you’re a freak like him–

Beel groans and sticks his tongue out, trying to control himself but failing as soon as the tip of his tongue makes contact with the cool seat of your dirty intimates. His cock throbs in his palm, and no matter how many slow, heavy, hard drags he makes up the girthy length, he is left feeling needier than ever.

And then he gets an idea; a sick, twisted, perverted idea that makes him feel even grosser than before, an idea he can’t ignore as the heat in his stomach starts to convulse. He picks up another pair (he knew it’d be good to take multiple), the white ones he’d had to wrestle from your skirt, and he grips them tight in hand.

He hesitates for a moment. Holds his breath, staring at the pale fabric in his hand as if he doesn’t recognize it, as if he hadn’t just stolen it, as if he wasn’t imagining what they’d look like on you and nothing else–

He groans. Loud, without care, desperate as he stuffs the black lace so far into his face it nearly goes down his throat, while his other hand wraps your white pair around his cock. They’re… soft, and a little cold, but if he closes his eyes he can pretend it’s you rubbing them against him, and if he breathes deep enough he can pretend you’re doing this after sitting on his face the way he dreams you would.

He’s never been this hard. Never so receptive, even to his own touch. The way the cotton of your undies glides against the precum dripping down his cock is softer than the clouds in heaven, and he swears he could cum like this; sprawled out on his shower floor, still half-clothed from his desperation to be close to you, your panties wrapped around him. He imagines what you’d do, if you were here, with him–not with his brothers, but him. Because he’s the one who has this piece of you, only him.

But… what would you do, if you came home early and found him? Would you be as disgusted with him as he is with himself? Or would you offer him a fresh pair, stripping bare as you fall to your knees, offering to let him taste from the source–

Beel cums. Hard. White splatters along his RAD uniform, gathering heavily against the dark material and saturating the lower-half of his button up. Thick spurts fly through the air, some landing as high as the tile beside his head, before steadily pooling at the base of his abs. He pants, mouth still covered by the remnants of you, eyes still shut to the thought of you. His hand goes lax, letting the now-damp fabric of your white panties dab slowly at the copious amounts of cum now dripping down his hip.

His heart beats as fast as if he’s just completed a workout, and for a brief moment, he feels full. As if you–the mere thought of you, in fact–is enough to fill the missing pieces of him.

Until his DDD buzzes, and he sees a picture of you and a sleeping Belphie, and reads your message asking where your tied-for-first-favorite snuggle-buddy wandered off to, and his stomach growls. His lip curls in a sneer that morphs into a growl of frustration as his dick starts to swell, his eyes instantly drawn to where your breast presses against Belphie’s sleeping bicep.

It’s not fair, and it’s not right, and Beel knows better. He knows you’re happy to share, that there’s enough of you to share, that he should just fucking share–

But he doesn’t.

He keeps this for himself, this secret of raiding your hamper. Of keeping a piece of you close, always tucked away in his back pocket, and not just because it makes dealing with the random hardies easier. He might not be able to admit his feelings, but he can have this one piece of you for himself.

Why else would you be sure to leave his favorites right on top?

∻ Belphegor ↠ s l o t h ⤲ g l u t t o n y

Death should be an old friend to a creature like BELPHEGOR. Death should be something he’s able to greet with open arms, to plainly discuss the state of the world and how fleeting such things like eternity can be–but Death is not. Death is now as unfamiliar to Belphie as Love, and this is not a relationship he wishes to change anytime soon.

Although, with your legs wrapped around his head, tongue lapping at your folds as he glides your hips across his soaked lips, he knows he could greet Death with a smile. He might even be able to tear Death to shreds, for all the vitality your essence seems to bring.

He’s lost track of the time he’s spent between your legs. Enough so that even the sheets on either side of his head are saturated, and not just from sweat; but not so long as the painful ache in his stomach has yet to subside. He’s yearning, in a way he hasn’t done since the Fall, for something he hasn’t had since the Fall.

For Love.

For you.

He can think of no better way to show his love than this; bringing you to the apex of pleasure over and over and over again, until the cry of his name becomes synonymous with this feeling of fullness that engulfs you every time Belphie latches on to your clit.

His technique is the same; gentle kisses along the inside of your thigh before whispering against your cunt, tongue flicking out every-so-often to catch your sensitive bud. Sweet musings you often can’t hear, but aren’t addressed to you. Sweet sentiments you sometimes make out to be, “such a pretty girl f’me,” and “what a mess you’ve made today, pretty,” and the worst–“you’re my perfect pussy, aren’t you?”

You whimper as his open-mouth kisses get closer to your heat. Slowly, you try rotating your hips to force Belphie to land a kiss where you need him most. Instead, he bites your clit.

With a gasp, you shudder and instinctively try rolling your hips backwards, but his hands latch on to your waist–not even your hips, but your waist–with enough force to keep you pinned.

“M’not done,” he mumbles. Spit slides down the swell of his cheeks, matting in his inky locks. His tongue languidly flicks at your folds, and he snickers when you squeak.

“Belphie,” you plead, “either do something or let me go, please–’

“Do something?” he asks. He peers up at you, and the sight of his violet eyes just barely peeking out from between your legs, the entire lower half of his jaw hidden from sight by your sex, has whatever little strength was left in your legs give out entirely. A smug smile curls his pale lips, and he bites your clit again.

“Belphie!”

You try squirming away, but the vibrations from Belphie’s chuckles feel heavenly. He knows what he’s doing when he presses his lips, still thinned in a smile, against your overstimulated nub, gently rubbing back and forth to ease the sting from his teeth. “You should’ve learned by now, little human, to be more careful with what you wish for.”

He blows out a puff of air, warm and cold and euphoric and tortuous all at once. Tears start to pool in your eyes, and the hands that once rested against his velvet headboard come to cradle either side of his face.

“P-please,” you choke, “please, Belphie, I–I need–”

“You don’t know what you need,” he dismisses, and instead of explaining, not because you’re a dumb human, but because you haven’t spent enough time in this existence to know, you don’t have the curse of knowledge that I do, and this is the least I can do to make up for all that I’ve done, so let me teach you to not just know what you need but how to take it, he gives you what you’ve been asking for.

Slowly, deeply, he begins licking around your seeping hole, collecting as much of your nectar as he can. His hands wrap around your thighs to help spread your lower lips, grinding you against his mouth every time you try to breathe. His nose brushes against your overstimulated bundle of nerves, never quite catching the hood but putting enough pressure to keep you on the edge of oblivion.

“I know what you need,” Belphie mutters into your thigh. He sucks a light bruise into your skin before diving back into your folds, humming as happily as if you were the one sucking him off, instead. “I can give you what you need, pretty girl. Want me to? Want me to make you cum?”

“Yes–” you gasp. Your hand knots in his hair, trying to direct that running mouth of his to somewhere more useful–and he lets you. He lets you guide him to where you think you need him most, gently lapping at your folds, alternating between kissing your sensitive clit and guiding his tongue as far into you as he can reach. His fingers trail lightly along the pudge of your leg, nails irritating the skin enough to raise little welts but not enough to hurt, palms applying enough force to keep you exactly where he needs you.

Because he does. Need you, that is. Even if he can’t say as much out loud; even if he doesn’t know how. But this is his confession, can’t you tell? That he lets you use his face as your personal throne, ride him for your personal pleasure, control him for your personal gain. No one, not even Lucifer, has been able to tame the sleeping giant–so shouldn’t the fact that you could mean more than any words could muster?

Belphie doesn’t know what he wants to watch more; the way your oozing sex begs him for more, or the way your eyes are glazing over as you desperately try to keep eye contact with him. He starts to frown, but before he can pull away and ask why you’re staring at him like that–like you think you know what you need, like you don’t believe him, like you don’t need him–you’ve caught his wrists in your hands and pinned them by his head.

He could’ve stopped you, if he really wanted to, but his curiosity gets the better of him. Slowly, you slide down his body, face contorting at every catch of your slick clit against the rigid planes of his body, until you come to rest squarely atop his hips. His cock is erect behind you, thighs sticky with a release you hadn’t realized he’d even let go of, but it’s his lips that get your attention.

His pale, full, sticky lips, covered with your juices, parting slightly as he asks, “what are you doing?”

“You said I don’t know what I need,” you answer softly, placing more weight on your palms, keeping him pinned. You lean forward, letting your eyes drag along the sharp lines of his jaw, lips hovering above his. “I probably don’t. But… I know what I want, Belphie.”

He doesn’t trust himself to answer. His heart races in his chest, which he keeps remarkably steady, even as he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of your breasts pressing against his bare chest. Your fingers tighten around his wrists, and he finally meets your gaze.

Belphie’s throat goes dry. His lips part, and you take that as the perfect opportunity to kiss him. Softly, sweetly, the same way he’d been pressing kisses to your core. You take your time tasting him–tasting yourself, staining him–tongue swirling against his, breasts rubbing against his chest, his throbbing cock finding refuge in the slick staining your thighs.

He thinks he’s found it for real, this time; love. To have, to hold, to keep forevermore. He thinks this might be real, that you might be the best dream he’s ever conjured, that being awake might be worth more than just endless pain, so long as you stay with him–and then the memory of Death floods his thoughts. Death, who stole the last one he loved, who tried taking Beel from him, who’s no longer an old friend but an ancient foe with your name awaiting his collection.

Belphie tenses beneath you, then flips you over. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, thinking all the nightmares away in favor of focusing on the dream beneath him.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m saying I want you, Belphegor, now and tomorrow and all of tomorrow’s tomorrows,” you laugh, and Belphie’s heart absolutely shatters.

You can’t lie, not to him; and you can’t know what you’re saying, not about him. You can’t want him, not when Death wants you too, and Death will always win.

But… he can have you tonight, right? And–tomorrow, if you’re still here, and maybe even tomorrow’s tomorrow, if Death doesn’t steal you first. So shouldn’t he make the most of it?

So instead of answering, he presses a trail of soft kisses down your sternum, keeping his gaze fixed on the way your skin disappears beneath his lips. “M’not done with you,” he repeats, and he dives back in.

| Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan | Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon |

tag list: @weebaboobs | @anxiousmomfriend | @my-perfect-machine | @leechlips

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toxiicwcste · 1 year

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Tag dump: Romeo Moore

#But do you feel like a young god: Romeo Musings/Isms #I can't feel nothing at all: Romeo Character Study/About #How many lab coats do you own?: Romeo's Wardrobe #Toxic wasteland: Romeo Aesthetics #Doctor's bag: Romeo's inventory #Pushing the limits of the human body: Romeo's research #A fallen angel in the dark: Allison Conway #Icarus high on helios: Callob Conway #Every breath you take: Romeo & Allison #Your beauty terrifies me: Romeo & Callob

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bethanythebogwitch · 8 months

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Digimon & mythology: angel Digimon

The Digital World is a dangerous place, with plenty of demon lords, monsters, and villains just waiting to unleash their power. But there is light to counterbalance the darkness and the ranks of the angel Digimon will fight back against evil. The angels of Digimon are based on Christian angelology, the theological study of angels form a Christian viewpoint. Christian angelology is of course based on the older Jewish angelology, but Digimon pulls much more from the Christian version. Christian angelology traditionally has a hierarchy that appears to have been invented by the 5th century author, theologist, and philosopher Pseudo-Dionysus, who mixed existing beliefs about angels with neoplatonic philosophy to create his hierarchy. The name Pseudo-Dionysus is because he identifies himself as Dionysus to try to portray himself as a character of that name from the book of Acts, but modern scholars generally agree that even if the guy from Acts existed (debatable given the heavily fictionalized nature of Acts), the author wasn’t him. The hierarchy of angels is usually given in three spheres consisting of three ranks each. From lowest to highest they are angels, archangels, principalities, powers, virtues, dominions, thrones, cherubim, and seraphim. Most angel Digimon are associated with one of these ranks, though some fall outside of this system. I’ll give more context on each rank as they come up.

Like in the original mythology, angel Digimon answer to God. What God is in the Digital World is very vague and inconsistent across the different entries in the franchise. Most of what we get is that it’s a being of goodness that rules the angel Digimon and wants what’s best for the Digital World. In different parts of the franchise, God has been identified as a human programmer, Huanglongmon of the Holy Beasts, and as the computer system that the Digital World exists with. More modern takes on the franchise have an AI computer system named Yggdrasil as the ruler of the Digital World, which fills the role of God, but is usually not depicted as being a purely benevolent being. In fact, Yggdrasil tends to be a villain whenever it shows up. God also dwells in the kernel. The kernel is the core of the Digital World and location where all the data is computed, yet it may also exist in a higher dimension above the Digital World. All angel Digimon come from the kernel and live there when they aren’t sent out on missions. The kernel is very much supposed to be the heaven of the Digital World, though in an earlier sense of what heaven was supposed to be. In the oldest forms of Judaism, heaven was the dwelling place of God and the angels, but wasn’t an afterlife. Instead, all humans went to Sheol, a poorly described state or place, regardless of what they did in life. It wasn’t until the second temple period after the Persians conquered the Babylonians who had themselves conquered the Hebrews that the idea of a divided afterlife entered Judaism, one of many idea adopted from the Persian religion of Zoroastrianism. Heaven was converted into the good afterlife, expanding on its previous role as God’s home. The kernel doesn’t act as a Digimon afterlife because Digimon reincarnate in most settings.

I will discuss each angel Digimon, going from Child/Rookie to Ultimate/Mega levels. While God operates through more Digimon than just the angel Digimon, including Sakuyamon, Kuzuhamon, Kongoumon, and maybe Shakamon (if God = Yggdrasil), I will only be going over the angels because this post is going to be long enough already. Most demonic Digimon are either implicitly or explicitly fallen angel Digimon. If one of the angel Digimon has a specific fallen angel counterpart I’ll mention it, but I won’t be going into detail on them. It is worth noting that almost all the angel Digimon are based on the winged human depiction of angels. Angels in the texts of the Abrahamic religions are instead described as completely bizarre beings, usually with way too many eyes (though at least some of them can choose to appear human). The winged human depiction was popular by at least early Christianity, with the earliest known depiction being attributed to the 370s-390s BCE. Given that Digimon are born out of data generated by humans, it’s likely because the winged human depictions are so popular that angel Digimon also take that shape.

The lowest member of the angelic hierarchy is the only Child/Rookie level angel, Luxmon. Luxmon was only introduced earlier this year so it doesn’t have much lore, but it does act as a great starting point for any angel Digimon line. It is so pure and innocent that it doesn’t realize when it’s being lied to, which means demonic Digimon of its level like Impmon and PicoDevimon/DemiDevimon will bully it. Like other members of its level, Luxmon is not very powerful, but they can fight against strong foes by using teamwork. Angel Digimon are often depicted as being stronger than the average member of their level. Luxmon is clearly designed to look like a younger Angemon and it worked. I think it’s a good design that captures both the angel aspect while also making it look like a little kid.

In the Adult/Champion level, we have Angemon. I believe it is the first angel Digimon in the franchise and the one on which all others are ultimately based. It is a being of virtue that brings happiness, though it is also relentless in the battle against evil. Each angel Digimon has a certain role in the angelic hierarchy and Angemon’s job is to lead other angelic Digimon in the fight against evil. It wields a quarterstaff called the holy rod. An Angemon who falls becomes a Devimon, which retains its role as a leader, it just leads evil Digimon instead of good ones. Angemon’s design is a classic and a great example of a Digimon that just looks like a human in a costume, but still feels different. Angemon is likely the most powerful of the Adult/Champion level angels and is often depicted as being far more powerful than its level would indicate. This is especially true in Digimon Adventure, where it was easily capable of beating Digimon a whole level higher than it.

Pidmon is a variant of Angemon that ranks lower in the hierarchy, but is of similar power. Its design is a recolor of Angemon with a different staff and only one pair of wings. Many of the angel Digimon’s lore states that the number of wings an angel Digimon has indicates its rank in the hierarchy so the two-winged Pidmon ranks lower than the six-winged Angemon. This is not a hard and fast rule, as multiple angel Digimon have fewer wings than their rank would indicate. Pidmon’s role in the hierarchy is to destroy evil, presumably making it a major member of the forces that Angemon leads. Its name comes from Cupid, the Roman god of desire, attraction, affection, and erotic love. While a roman god seems like an odd inspiration for the very Christian-inspired angel Digimon, there could be a roundabout reference here. The winged baby statues that are often called cherubs are actually called putti and depict Cupid. Somewhere along the line some wires got crossed and the name of a rank of angel got applied to the putti statue.

Darcmon is the last angel of this level and the fort one to appear feminine. Its four wings presumably place it between Pidmon and Angemon. It is heavily combat focused and takes the role of vanguard and advanced force in the angel army. Given their descriptions we can get an idea that in the angel army Pidmon make up the majority of soldiers, Darcmon are the advance fore that go straight to the front lines, and Angemon are the leaders. Darcmon is a reference to Jeanne D’Arc, better known to English speakers as Joan of Arc. She was a 15th century French military leader who claimed to receive visions from angels and saints. She was convicted of heresy and executed, but the Catholic church later revoked the conviction and declared her a saint. She referred to herself as la pucelle, the maiden, which became the name of one of Darcmon’s attacks. I think Darcmon is severely underutilized for how cool her design is as far as I know, she has two anime appearances, one of which wasn’t actually a Darcmon but a villain in disguise.

Luxmon, Pidmon, Darcmon, and Angemon are all classified as angel Digimon, which equates them to the lowest rung of the traditional hierarchy. Angel is used both to refer to the beings as a whole but also the lowest rank in the hierarchy. Their role it to act as announcers. They appear is scriptures to make various announcements, usually to humans.

The first angel Digimon of the Perfect/Ultimate level is HolyAngemon, renamed in English to MagnaAngemon. It has eight wings, placing it above Angemon. It has two forms: its regular form and HolyAngemon Priest Mode, which have different roles. Overall, HolyAngemon acts as the law enforcement of the angels, supervising and surveying the others to keep them within the bounds of their missions and try to catch any who fall. HolyAngemon Priest Mode is said to be the from it spends most of its time in. In this form, it spends its time acting as a spokesperson for God and goodness in general. When darkness arrives, it changes into its combat form to take up arms against evil. Ironically, despite Priest Mode being the form it’s supposed to spend most of its time in, this form is almost never seen in Digimon Media, being a long-time inmate of V-Tamer jail. HolyAngemon bears the sword Excalibur, an obvious reference to King Arthur.

HolyAngemon

HolyAngemon Priest Mode

Next is Angewomon, who also has eight wings. She is a being of utmost beauty with an extremely kind personality. Her role is to try to redeem evil Digimon. By showing kindness and grace, she can bring Digimon back from the path of evil. However is a Digimon cannot be redeemed, she will attack and show that she is an extremely powerful combatant. She is often depicted as being equal in power to HolyAngemon A fallen Angewomon becomes a LadyDevimon, who is as cruel and wicked as Angewomon is kind and benevolent. The two species despise each other. Angewomon is one of the most popular Digimon for a very good reason. Her design is a classic and stands out among all the other “sexymon” designs out there. Angewomon has an x-antibody form which is fine. It’s overdesigned and unnecessary, but if that’s all I can say about an x-antibody form, it’s one of the good ones.

Angewomon

Angewomon X

HolyAngemon and Angewomon are both classified as archangel Digimon. Archangels are the second lowest in the hierarchy and their job is to make declarations. The idea of archangels being the highest rank of angel seems to come from the epic poem Paradise Lost and confusion over the name. “arch-“ means “chief” or “first” so people mistakenly assumed that the chief angels were the highest rank. Despite this, Michael (who is explicitly an archangel and the only one ever called that in the bible) is often seen as God’s second in command even by clerical sources, furthering the confusion. A very common idea is that there are four or seven archangels with different names and roles. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael are almost always among their number, but the identities of the rest vary depending on tradition. Worth nothing is the Digimon Bagramon, a former archangel. He ruled over death in the Digital World before rebelling and falling. This would equate him to the angel of death, a figure who transports the souls of the dead to the afterlife and is usually named Azrael.

Also at the Perfect/Ultimate level is ArkhaiAngemon. It is of equal rank to HolyAngemon and Angewomon and does have eight wings. Unlike its fellows, ArkhaiAngemon is a more defensive and support fighter, allowing it to protect its subordinates and command them in battle using ingenious strategies. ArkhaiAngemon is driven by a concern for others, which leads it to interact with other Digimon more than its fellows. It frequently employs non-angel Digimon as familiars who fight on its behalf. It wields its own version of Angemon’s holy rod, which can release a flame that alternately harm and protect. While being of equal rank to HolyAngemon and Angewomon (and its name being a corruption of “archangel”), ArkhaiAngemon is identified as a principality, the rank above archangel. Their job is to guide and protect organizations, whether they be nations, groups of people, or other institutions. This fits with ArkhaiAngemon guiding and protecting its subordinates.

At the Ultimate/Mega level, we have SlashAngemon, a badass angel made of swords. It is the leader of the angel army and the ultimate military commander of the angel Digimon. It is stern and serious and cuts down evil without hesitation. It has 8 wings, but this is the level where the wings = rank thing starts breaking down.

Another militant angel of this level is LovelyAngemon. She is a cheerful and fashionable angel whose cuteness and charm belies the fact that she is the foremost close combat expert amongst the angel Digimon. It has the data of multiple styles of martial arts within its code, making it a martial artist is extremely powerful punches. Interestingly, LovelyAngemon has no wings.

SlashAngemon is identified as a power, the rank of angel above principalities and the first of the second sphere. They are granted the power over evil forces, restraining demons from hurting humans. They also oversee human authorities such as kings. The power over evil thing fits SlashAngemon. As the leader of the angel army, it is the one who commands the fight against evil. LovelyAngemon is not identified with any rank of angel, but given she is a combat specialist, I would guess she’s heavily involved in the fight against evil and is therefore likely a power.

ClavisAngemon bears a key called the key (very original) which can unlock any lock in the Digital World. Only ClavisAngemon can use the key and it appears that the angel is part of the key rather than a separate being holding it. ClavisAngemon’s duty is to guard the zenith gate, the gate that separates the Digital World from realms beyond. As the kernel is in a higher dimension than the Digital World, it would seem that ClavisAngemon guards the passage to the kernel and only lets angel Digimon through. It can bring the entire power of the Digital World down on an enemy that tries to break through the gate. ClavisAngemon has six wings and is identified as a virtue, the rank above powers. Virtues are supposed to govern over the elements, bring natural events like storms and wind. They are also associated with movement and assist in creating miracles. There isn’t much of a connection to ClavisAngemon, but it may be related to another story. In the Adam and Eve story, after the two are ejected from the garden an angel is assigned to guard the entrance and prevent them from getting back in. That sounds more like ClavisAngemon’s role than anything else. Clavis is Latin for “key” so the Digimon named key carries a key named the key.

Next up is Dominimon and Games Workshop is looking at those pauldrons with envy and fear. It falls outside of the angelic chain of command and is a rare being that only appears when the balance between light and darkness is severely disrupted. Its purpose is protect other angel Digimon and destroy evil at all costs. It has no sense of self-preservation and will throw itself into deadly situations or use a special move to empower other angel Digimon at the cost of its own life without hesitation. Because of how rarely one appears and their self-destructive tendencies, very few have ever actually seen a Dominimon and many think they are mere legends. It wields the sword Final Excalibur, a powered-up version of HolyAngemon’s Excalibur. Despite falling outside of the angelic chain of command, Dominimon is identified as a dominion, the rank of angel above virtues and the last of the second sphere. Their purpose is to govern the motions of stars, planets, and other celestial objects. Not a whole lot of connection to Dominimon there. Dominimon has ten wings.

Another angel Digimon that doesn’t follow the normal chain of command is Mastemon. It is an anomaly that is a fusion of an Angewomon and her fallen counterpart LadyDevimon, making her a living enemies-to-lovers lesbian relationship unprecedented merging of light and darkness that only appeared when the Digital World faced a threat so great it forces angel and fallen angel Digimon to work together to stop it. While firmly benevolent, Mastemon commands both holy and evil powers and can command both angel and fallen angel Digimon. It is a master strategist and only it uniting the forces of good and evil saved the Digital World from that unspecified threat. Mastemon does not correspond to any mythical rank of angel and has 12 wings, half white and half black. This is a clear reference to Lucemon, who was the greatest of the angel Digimon before falling and becoming the greatest of all demon lords. Lucemon also has 12 wings that are half white and half black. In his case, this symbolizes him being trapped between his original benevolent self and his new evil self. Lucemon and Mastemon are both angelic being between good and evil, but Lucemon is malevolent while Mastemon is benevolent. I don’t think there’s been any media comparing the two, but it’s a great story idea. The name comes from Mastema, a demon or fallen archangel in some Jewish texts identified as a bringer of disaster and evil. I suppose there’s some connection with Mastemon only existing due to a disaster, but it’s tenuous.

This too is yuri

Rasielmon is the first angel Digimon to not just be a winged human. She’s still mostly human, but with some cat-like features. It once held the same rank as the more powerful Ofanimon, but no longer does for unknown reasons. Rasielmon resides within the kernel and has the power to foresee anything in the Digital World as long as it remains there. This makes it one of the most knowledgeable Digimon. It commands the godai, the five elements of Japanese Buddhism: earth, fire, water, wind, and void. Rasielmon also has an attack called Sefer Raziel, named after the Kaballah text Sefer Raziel HaMalakh. This text claims to teach magic and cites Raziel, angel of secrets and a teacher of wisdom, as the most powerful angel. Rasielmon being based on an angel associated with secrets and knowledge certainy fith with it being able to see the entire Digital World. If Rasielmon falls, she becomes Raguelmon. Raguelmon was shunned for its knowledge and became a nihilist. It still seems to care for angel Digimon in a twisted way as it can sense when an angel Digimon is close to falling and will try to prevent it by killing them first. Raguelmon is named after Raguel, an angel of justice who keeps demons in check. Raguelmon’s actions can certainty be seen as a twisted version of justice and preventing of evil.

Rasielmon

Raguelmon

We have reached the top, the zenith of the angelic Digimon, the Three Archangels. These three are the most powerful of all angel Digimon, charged with enacting God’s will and guarding the kernel from all who would threaten it. The first of the three is Ofanimon (English: Ophanimon). She is the ultimate form of feminine angel Digimon and her duty is to impart God’s love on the Digital World. It nurtures and protects other Digimon and wishes to see them do good, but it can and will fight against evil. It has 10 wings. Ofanimon has an x-antibody form which is pretty good as far as x-antibody forms go, but still overdesigned. If Ofanimon becomes enraged at the seemingly-endless amount of evil in the Digital World, it will become Ofanimon Falldown Mode. It has closed its heart and become a dark avenger, nipping evil in the bud by attacking Digimon with the potential to become evil. It seeks to establish a world of absolute justice where evil is destroyed before it has the chance to take root. An Ofanimon who falls even further will become Lilithmon.

Ofanimon

Ofanimon Falldown Mode Mommy? Sorry, mommy? Sorry, mommy?

Ofanimon X

Rasielmon and Ofanimon are both classified as ophanim, the class of angel above dominions. Also called thrones, they serve either as the wheels of the throne of God, or the throne itself. They are also charged with chanting glorias and maintaining the harmony of universal laws. These guys are the classically weird biblically accurate angels. They are depicted as flaming wheels within wheels covered in eyes. The idea of gods having wheeled thrones was common in the ancient Middle East, with multiple cultures depicting their gods seated on such. Ofanimon bears no resemblance to a wheel, but her shoulder pads take the shape of wheels and Ofanimon X balances on a wheel.

Next is Cherubimon Virtue, which is the only fully non-human of the angel Digimon. It looks instead like a humanoid rabbit with no wings. It is the ultimate holy beast and its duty is to protect and impart God’s wisdom. Because Cherubimon Virtue stands at the zenith of divine virtue, it is easily stained by the inverse and can fall to become Cherubimon Vice, a thoroughly evil creature that embodies sin and wickedness just as its Virtue form embodies the opposite. Both forms can call down lightning as a form of divine judgement. Cehrubimon is based on the cherubim, the rank of angel above the ophanim. Their role is to accompany God when he travels. Cherubim are another bizarre-looking angel and while they don’t look like rabbits there is an association with animals that fits Cherubimon being a holy beast. Cherubim have four faces: a human, an ox (representing domesticated animals), a lion (representing wild animals), and an eagle (representing birds). They also have four wings, four arms, hooved legs, and are covered in eyes. Frankly, one of those would have been a lot cooler as a Digimon than a big rabbit. There is a reference to the faces of the cherubim, but it’s in Ofanimon not Cerubimon. Her helmet has the heads of the three animals on it. Both forms of Cherubimon have x-antibody variants which are classically x-antibody. That is not a compliment.

Cerubimon Virtue (left) and Vice (right)

Cherubimon Virtue X (left) and Vice X (right)

The final angel Digimon is Seraphimon. It returns to the winged human design, but is entirely covered in armor and has 10 golden wings. It is the most powerful of the angels and the closest of all Digimon to God. As the highet-ranking angel, it is the one ultimately in charge of all others. It is also the ultimate masculine angel and its duty is to enforce Gods laws. Legends say that when the final battle between good and evil comes, Seraphimon will descend to the Digital World and purify everything. Its ultimate ability is to sacrifice its life to restart the world. If a Seraphimon becomes overwhelmed with resentment it will become a BlackSeraphimon (English name: ShadowSeraphimon). It is still redeemable in this state, but if not redeemed in time, it will fall and become a Demon (as in the Digimon named Demon, not just some demon). Seraphimon is based on the cherubim, the highest rank of angel in Christian Angelology. Their role is to stand around the throne of God chanting “holy, holy, holy” and are also charged with anointing. The word “seraph” means “burning” and was often used to describe snakes (possibly referencing the burning sensation of snake venom). As a result, seraphim are often depicted either as snakes or as being on fore or made of fire. All depictions give them six wings, which are sometimes used to cover their body to protect humans from seeing their power. Seraphimon covering its entire body with armor could be a reference to this. Seraphimon being the ultimate masculine Digimon to Ofanimon's ultimate feminine Digimon could be a reference to systems like Kabbalah and some forms of Gnosticism assigning different magical powers or holy virtues to males and females.

Seraphimon

BlackSeraphimon

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