#if you don’t like the way I draw mammon fine

[jabesa0]

Do u make ur mammon gay or something…

Cause our canon mammon ain’t like that

???

Firstly, I dislike the tone you’re using when calling him gay as if that’s a bad thing? Every obey me character is queer, so jot that down.

Secondly, mammon looks good in both feminine clothing as well as more masculine clothes, so if you don’t like that he’ll look a lil feminine sometimes then look inwards and ask yourself why that bothers u cause idk what to tell you

​“our canon mammon ain’t like that” you’re talking about the canon mammon that dresses up all pretty for TWO dame events? And canonically rocked that shit so hard he won an award for it??

I don’t play abt mammon don’t start this w/ me :|

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland x Obey Me Crossover

Part Two ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ Part One Part Three

A few reminders: - Yuki is the default name in Obey Me! - NO pairing yet, It will be implied, but not explicitly displayed. - this will be divided into chapters, It will be considered a one-shot/non-series since I'm not doing different Points of view like how I do series. - Updates will be a bit slow - Credits: The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers and Official Obey Me and Twisted Wonderland art. - Just enjoy! Would love to hear your responses on this fic cause I'm having fun writing it ^^ Masterlist

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You were looking worriedly at Yuki, unsure what to do, but you decided that the others would find out eventually, so you couldn’t keep this to yourself forever.

"Sure, why not?"

What?

You didn’t expect this. Crowley seemed to have taken a liking to Lucifer, who seemed uncomfortable under the headmaster's gaze. "They’re demons, right? It’s rare for them to come out of hiding like this! It’s an opportunity to get to know you, Lucifer," he chirped, almost happy to see the man.

You deflated on the couch. Before all of this happened when you tried to call Crowley, who suspiciously answered your call immediately. He then went to visit to see the seven brothers and Yuki. You were expecting retaliation on his part, but the moment he saw Lucifer, he sighed in relief, muttering about good demons visiting instead of the bad ones. Seriously?

"While I'd love to guide everyone around," he says, striking his usual pose that means he's up to something. "I still have a job to do, so Prefect, you don't mind skipping a few lectures, right?" He smiles mischievously.

"What?!" you gasp, glaring at him. "You're not even going to tell the professors about this!"

"Well, if you think it's necessary, I can always tell them,” He says, looking at you with those infuriating puppy eyes. "Come on, you can't leave them alone, can you?"

"If this would bother the Prefect's studies, I'm fine with roaming around alone," Satan interjects, drawing your attention. "I promise I won't cause any trouble," he continues, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Not sure about them, though."

"Way to throw us under the bus, Satan," Leviathan grumbles, busy trying to pet Grim. "I don't want to go out. I'll just stay here."

"We went to all this effort to bring everyone here, and you won't even try to have fun? Come on, Levi!" Asmodeus whines. "This is a whole new world! I doubt there are video games here that you'll like." As if that would convince Levi, especially when they still had network access from the Devildom.

“No, I didn’t even want to come out of my room! Mammon barged in and dragged me out!” Leviathan pointed at Mammon accusingly, who gasped in offense.

“Excuse you! You were the one who kept ranting to Yuki that you needed more grass to touch!”

“IT’S BECAUSE I LOST A GAME!” Leviathan screeched. At that moment, a pair of black wings smacked both Mammon and Leviathan into silence.

“You are both embarrassing Diavolo’s name,” Lucifer growled, clearly pissed at them.

“It’s okay, it’s quite amusing to see that even demons have quarrels” Crowley mused. This somehow pops a vein in Lucifer’s head, “We are still similar to humans” he corrects, this man seems to think they’re more inhumane than other beings.

“I apologize,” he said crossing his arms. “Since you can keep your brothers on a leash, then I think it’s fine for you to roam around, right?” he asks, as Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “It would be nice if we have a guide for it,” he says, looking at you and Yuki. “The only reason we went here was to find Yuki’s friend, now that we found them, we can rest easy and go out”

"The Prefect is too busy to be a guide," Lucifer adds, "We can take care of ourselves"

Yuki cheers, high-fiving Satan who always wanted to learn more about this peculiar world. “Why don’t we split it?” Crowley suggests, and for some reason, it sounded like split custody between the demon brothers.

“You, Lucifer can go around as they please since I trust you for it" Crowley says which immediately gets interrupted by Lucifer “Why do you trust me so casually?” he asks, bewildered by this man.

“No reason, I just think you won’t cause any trouble, unlike your brothers!” he says bluntly, smiling. “Aren’t I gracious?”

Lucifer huffed but didn’t seem to question it further. “Fine. So you’re saying I bring half of my brothers while the other half keeps an eye on them?” he clarified.

“Oh no, not me!” Crowley interjected, his eyes zeroing in on you. The sudden attention made you jolt. “The Prefect has their daily school activities as I mentioned; it would be great if they could introduce your brothers to the students and establish a connection.”

“Excuse m—!” you began, but Crowley cut you off. What the hell, so he was going to put you back to work? This cruel man!

“A connection?” Lucifer was growing more wary. “What for? We won’t be staying here for long,” he said.

“Which is precisely why connecting with other people is a must!” he says. “Since you’re going to stay here temporarily until Yuki’s homesickness subsides, wouldn’t you want to make the most of it?” he adds, prompting Lucifer to think deeply. Barbatos had mentioned that the portal to another world would likely only open once. He had already informed Yuki that they couldn’t force you to come back with them, especially since Yuki is an exchange student and you are not. Your presence in Devildom might cause disruptions without proper discretion.

His eyebrows knitted as he felt the impending onslaught of a migraine. The process of turning you into an exchange student, the protection you’d need, what would happen if one of his brothers or any demon developed feelings for you? Unlike Yuki, you had no magical prowess to protect you from demons who might desire your human soul.

If he allowed this little trip, you wouldn’t need to come back with them, right? While the thought might be cruel, considering you were the only one who could help Yuki feel better again, the burden of keeping you safe was too great to bear.

“So?” Crowley’s voice snapped him out of his trance. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mammon, Leviathan, and Beelzebub will stay with me,” he said, relenting. “Yuki and the Prefect can take Asmodeus, Satan, and Belphegor with them.”

“Wait, I didn’t consent to this!” you protest, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of managing the demon brothers while studying. Yuki, who seems thrilled to be on the same team as you, pulls you into a hug. “Oh, come on! I’m here! If they cause any trouble, I’ll use my pact on them!” they say confidently, making you sigh in reluctant acceptance.

“I apologize for the random team assignments,” Lucifer says, frown deeply etched in his expression. “I doubt I can keep my cool babysitting my brothers for the next few weeks,” he adds. “But if they cause chaos, I’m sure Yuki can properly discipline them,” he continues, hoping to reassure you.

The other brothers grumble, especially those under Lucifer’s watchful eye, but they fall silent under his glare. Some, however, seem pleased. Asmodeus chatters happily about how he’ll grace the students and you with his beauty, while Satan looks satisfied simply because he isn’t paired with Lucifer.

“Excellent! While you’re here, you can use Ramshackle as your sleeping quarters!” Crowley says, clapping his hands together. “I must be off, but you have fun with your friends, Prefect!” With that, he vanishes in a flurry of black feathers, much like Lucifer’s own. You can’t help but feel like they’re somehow related.

The walk to your class was as awkward as you have guessed, other students kept glancing behind you where the three brothers were, while also staring at Yuki.

What exactly is going on? Crewel looks dumbfounded, staring at three new faces. “I was not informed that there are extra pups coming in” He sighs, tapping the board up front. “Care to explain?” he glances at Prefect who just lets out a huge sigh.

In short, you tried to explain it to the best of your abilities, leaving the fact that they’re literal demons. Crewel, who glanced at Asmodeus, who winked at him, causing him to grip on his black whip. “Fine, this will only be temporary, yes?”

“Yes sir” you droop, glancing behind and already seeing Belphegor and Satan sitting while Asmodeus was chatting with some of the students. Out of every brother, that guy seemed to be the one who’s fitting in with the number of students here. You had begged Crowley to have something tailored for them, but Lucifer stopped you and used his magic to replicate the school uniform that Ace and Deuce were wearing, changing the color of the whole attire to Ramshackle's colors.

"So, they're unofficial students who want to see the school for themselves before enrolling?" Crewel's eyes widened. This was new—they usually never did tours for incoming students. He was suspicious. He looked at the faces of each brother before leaning down to your level and whispering, "They don't look like students. More like teachers."

“Hey! I heard that! I’m a student you know! A pretty one” Asmodeus says, flaunting his pearly white smile while Satan on the other hand thinks that’s a compliment “Thank you” he’d say, ignoring Asmodeus. What a peculiar bunch, Crewel did like the aesthetic of Asmodeus, but maybe he’ll have a chat with these new students later, after class. “Alright listen up.”

You noticed that Satan and Asmodeus seemed unusually attentive during class discussion. While it was no surprise to see Satan's curiosity on display, Asmodeus' focused demeanor was out of character. Then you caught a glimpse of what he was doing: sketching Professor Crewel's face in chibi form, adorned with hearts. Hadn't he just met the guy?

Leaning close to Yuki, who seemed engrossed in the as well, you whispered, “Is Asmodeus always like this during class?”

Yuki snapped out of their concentration, glancing discreetly at Asmodeus. The demon caught the look and flashed a flirtatious smile. “Already falling for me, I see? Can't blame you, lovelies.”

“Well,” Yuki stammered, staring dumbfoundedly. “I guess he really finds Professor Crewel good-looking—”

“Pups at the back, what are you whispering about? It better be about the ingredients I’ve been instructing you to use for the lab experiment later,” Professor Crewel barked, slapping his whip against his hand for emphasis.

You felt a wave of embarrassment as Grim sighed loudly. “Talk later… you’re making the professor noisy,” he grumbled, nudging you to focus back on the lesson. Reluctantly, you and Yuki stopped your hushed conversation, turning your attention back to the front of the classroom. Meanwhile, Lucifer was letting his brothers go around the massive campus, while he knows RAD is big on its own, there was a certain charm that this campus had, the mirrors seemed to have sucked them into some kind of place where the aesthetics were vastly different from one another.

At first, he accidentally got them all stuck in some kind of measly display of… hearts? While he found it pleasing, the color red was standing out too much.

“I’m hungry,” Beelzebub frowned, noticing that, for some reason, the students were dying the roses red.

“Oh! Hey!” Ace called out, waving a dried-up red paintbrush as he walked towards them, searching for the Prefect. “Where’s Prefect?”

“After you left, we decided to split up,” Lucifer stated, looking around. “Can you tell me more about this place?” he asked, intrigued by its design. Ace smiled, placing his hands on his hips as he casually explained that they were in Heartslabyul.

“There are way too many normies here,” Leviathan whined. Meanwhile, Mammon seemed quite pleased; this place reeked of GOLD, and there had to be something he could take.

Ignoring Leviathan's complaining, Lucifer listened to Ace's introduction to this dormitory called "Heartslabyul" “I see… so you will be holding an unbirthday party here?” Lucifer inquired. Ace nodded, but before he could explain further, a sudden shrill scream echoed inside the intricate building.

“Hey, stop! Don’t eat that!” a voice rang out as Beelzebub seemed to have attacked the kitchen.

“I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” Leviathan said, bolting inside as Lucifer had already run in. “Beel!” he growled, grabbing the man with sheer strength. Mammon and Leviathan joined in, blocking Beelzebub’s vision of the food.

Only minutes after their arrival Beelzebub already managed to sneak into the kitchen. “I’m hungry let me go!” he says, trying to squirm off the grip, but three demons could subdue him, and long enough, Trey goes to shove a premade cake in Beelzebub’s mouth enough for him to calm down as Beel started munching on it.

The whole kitchen was a mess, as Trey stares at the mess, “Oh dear” he groans out, feeling a headache coming, Lucifer frowns as he glares at Beelzebub. “I apologize for my brother” he adds, bowing to Trey and the other Heartlabyul students helping him. “It’s fine but, I’m not sure how I can fix all of this, almost more than half of the food was devoured, how could you even do such a thing?” Trey's tone held a hint of annoyance, though he glanced sympathetically at the unfamiliar faces and distinctive uniforms of the visitors. "My brothers can assist with cleaning and cooking," Lucifer offered, attempting to defuse the tension. The two brothers exchanged shocked glances, but Mammon quickly crossed his arms in protest. "No way! It's Beel's fault, not mine!" Leviathan chimed in, shaking his head adamantly. "Yeah, count me out. I didn't do anything!"

"You will help," Lucifer said with a smile that sent a shiver down their spines. "It seems you forgot I'm not the only one babysitting you three. You're old enough to be responsible," he added, causing the others to clamp their mouths shut in uneasy agreement.

“Wah, so scary” a voice came from outside as he walked in, “I didn’t even expect that big guy to sneak in so fast, sorry about that Trey” Cater apologized, while looking at the four brothers. “Who are you peeps?” he asks, crossing his arms while Deuce and Ace go inside as well, eyes widening at the horror the kitchen became. “Lucifer,” he says shortly, “These are my brothers, Beel, Mammon, and Leviathan” “Sup” Mammon notices Cater’s phone before going closer to him “Oh wow that’s a pretty cool design! Can I see?” he asked so suddenly that Cater didn’t have time to react before Mammon grabbed his phone “Cool! I never seen these type of design before, you got a sweet case dude” he chirps, Cater was going to be upset at the sudden lost of his phone but the way Mammon seemed genuine with his compliment he lets it go. “Well it’s great, I bought it from a store online”

And that’s where the two started hitting off, Mammon showing Cater the D.D.D. he has, and Cater being fascinated by the technology itself. “Whoa is this a unique type of phone? Never seen this before” he asks. But once again their conversation got interrupted when Leviathan glared at Mammon. “Hey! Clean up too! I’m not doing this solo!” Mammon rolls his eyes “You can carry that stuff by yourself!”

"‘Mammon!’ Leviathan’s glare intensified. ‘Ugh, fine!’ Mammon grumbled, conceding to his sibling’s persistence. Meanwhile, Cater, observing from the sidelines, couldn’t help but chuckle at their petty squabble.  I’ll go back to painting, don’t want riddle to go cray cray now” he said sounding solemn, but before Mammon could leave Cater grabbed his arm. “Oh! But let’s be moots!”   he suggested eagerly, pulling out his phone.

Mammon, who had earlier dismissed the idea due to their different phone brands, frowned thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure if his D.D.D could sync with the smartphones here, but perhaps it was worth a try. "Sure, just give me your numbs," he asked casually. As he typed Cater’s phone number, his eyes widened in pleasant surprise—it worked! "Oh, yay! We’re moots now, Mams!" he exclaimed, patting Mammon’s shoulder. "I’ll start sending you memes; you’ll love those."

"Yeah, sure," Mammon replied, scratching his cheek. He was surprised at how easy it was to befriend Cater. "See ya later, Cater," he waved goodbye as he headed back to the kitchen to retrieve the newly arrived boxes of extra confectionery and creams.

Beelzebub stared longingly at Trey as he deftly baked most of the cupcakes, while Lucifer kept a watchful eye to prevent him from pouncing on the treats.

"You bake so well; can I have some?" Beelzebub's hand twitched towards the delectable sweets, but Lucifer promptly smacked it away, resembling a swat at a persistent fly. Trey simply smiled, "It's fine, he can have some. I made extra since he seemed to enjoy them."

"Are you sure?" Lucifer frowned. "You're our guest. Just keep it in moderation," he advised, continuing to beat eggs in a bowl.

"Thank you," Lucifer acknowledged, observing as Beelzebub maintained a moderate pace in eating, quite fascinated.

"You're welcome. Though I haven't seen that color before," Trey remarked, noting the grayish hue of Beelzebub's uniform. "Is that from Ramshackle's? Since when were they admitted here?"

"Oh, this is from Ramshackle's uniforms... I believe the color signifies the dormitory," Lucifer explained, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, you know your stuff," Trey complimented, impressed by Lucifer's knowledge and demeanor, which reminded him of someone of Riddle's caliber. Bonus: "Where do you think they went?" Solomon mused aloud, his gaze fixed on the still-open portal.

"Should we go after them? I don't want Yuki to get harmed," Luke added, a note of concern evident in his voice as he stared at the swirling portal. He could sense the ominous magic emanating from it, despite the demon brothers' casual entry.

"Why don't we all go visit?" Diavolo's voice broke through their thoughts, causing Solomon and Luke to jolt in surprise. They hadn't expected the prince to arrive so abruptly.

"Well, I doubt that you'll get harmed going in," Solomon replied with a wry smile, crossing his arms with piqued curiosity. "If you go in, Prince Diavolo, and emerge unscathed, we'll follow you."

"That is certainly not going to happen," Barbatos interjected, appearing suddenly with a scowl as he glared at Solomon. "Why are you using Lord Diavolo as a scapegoat?"

"It's fine, Barbatos! I'm curious too! Lucifer went inside, right?" Diavolo said, dismissing Barbatos's concern with a wave. Without a second thought for his safety, he jumped into the portal. "It's your portal anyway! I trust you!"

"Lord Diavolo, wait—" Barbatos's protest was cut short as Diavolo disappeared into the swirling vortex.

[2d-reality]

In The Dead of Night

characters: Leviathan, GN!MC content/warnings: Levi drops by in the middle of the night. Fluff. word count: 838 notes: Minimal editing as always lol. Enjoy!

Waking to one of the brothers crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night wasn’t unusual. If you were honest, the rarer occurrence was for you to spend an entire night alone.

The shifting of your blankets woke you. Your mattress dipped as someone settled beside you, and you waited for their next move to tell who it was. 

The longer you lie, pretending to still be asleep, the shorter your list of options becomes. Mammon and Belphie latch onto you before the blankets even settle. Satan prefers to turn you towards him so he can tuck your head under his chin. Asmo almost always wakes you with his goodnight kiss when he drops in, but he’s also pretty good about scheduling sleepovers-- one’s beauty sleep is far less effective when randomly interrupted. Lucifer wouldn’t dare risk one of his brothers catching him in a compromising position (read: Mammon sneaking photos to turn a profit), and typically simply demanded you come to his room, where he could lock and ward the door and have you all to himself. Your bed always creaked under Beel’s weight, even after being reinforced, which you didn’t hear just now. That leaves...

You tire of waiting and shift, stretching languidly to feign having just awoken. The only remaining option amongst your demonic housemates stiffens beside you, and a strangled whine pulls from his throat. 

“Levi?” you say, just above your breath, voice gravelly from your recently disturbed slumber. In the darkness, you can’t see his face clearly, but Levi starts to lift the covers from where they’ve settled over his lap and scramble out of your bed, sputtering quietly as he does so. 

“H-how did you know it was me? Do I-- do I smell? I know I-I spent the weekend binging the new season of My Mental Choices Are Completely Interfering With My School Romantic Comedy, but-- but I showered this morning, I- I promise, I'm sorry to bother you--” his voice rises as he continues, and the sheets get tangled around his calves in his nervous shuffling. You take advantage of his being momentarily trapped and reach out for the closest part of him you could reach. Your fingers curl around his bare elbow, and he sucks in a harsh breath, freezing in place. 

“You smell fine,” you assure, first, and search for the right way to ask why he’s here without triggering further panicked insecurity. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I’mfine,” he rushes, and pulls minutely on his arm. “It’snothingreally,I--” 

“Leviathan,” you murmur. “Breathe.” 

He obliges, drawing in a shaky breath, and as you release his arm, the exhale is a little smoother. 

“I don’t mind you being here, Levi. You just don’t usually come over this late. Just want to know you’re okay.”

One of Levi’s hands clutches the t-shirt over his chest. He sounds like he’s trying to say something, but it won’t come out. You reach out to him, coaxing the fist on Ruri-chan’s face to relax. He blinks owlishly for a moment, but releases, and allows you to slide your palm over his, lacing your fingers together. You can feel his palm heating up, and imagine his face is doing the same. 

“Come here,” you beckon softly, not pushing him for an answer. Whatever his reason is for being here, you’ve learned he opens up to you in his own time, once he can get all his thoughts in acceptable order. You hear another shaky breath, and slowly, Levi settles back in. You use your other hand to fix the blankets over his torso, and scooch closer, pulling your joined hands into your chest. For a beat, Levi lies beside you, stiffly. You roll your eyes and reach for his other arm, pulling it over your waist and sliding a knee between his. 

“M-moe,” he whispers. You hum, and feel his fingers tighten around yours as his other hand smooths a wrinkle over your back. 

Sleepily, you snuggle closer to his warmth, and faintly, you can almost feel more than hear his heart racing near your face. “We can talk about it in the morning if you want,” you murmur. “You know I’ll never judge you.” 

Levi’s throat closes partially over his next breath, making it sound more like a wheeze. You press a kiss to his knuckles before resting your chin over your hands and heaving a long, deep breath. Without instruction, he mirrors your action, and his body sinks further into the mattress beside you as he relaxes on the exhale. 

After a long moment, he whispers, “I’m okay now.” 

Sleep is swiftly ushering you back into its embrace with your favorite nerd tucked in so closely, and you hum softly in response. 

“I love you, Leviathan,” you manage to just barely say over your breath. As you fall under the gentle lull of his breath on the crown of your head and the waves of sleep rippling over you in time, you hear him respond. 

“I love you, MC.”

[inuiiwonderland]

His eyes twinkle in adoration as he watches you from afar. He couldn’t believe that a mere human could have him head over heels for them.

His heart skips a beat when you finally catch him staring at you. He blushes and quickly looks away as you make your ways towards him.

“Hey mams” You say in a soft voice. His heart can’t help but race against his chest when you take a seat besides him.

“Hey” Shit you can tell he was nervous. You look up at him with furrowed brows.

“You okay mams?”

“Yeah I’m fine”

“You sure?”

“Mhm” You just look down before silently taking out your sketch book from your bag. He takes a quick sneak peak and notices that you were busy drawing. He took that as a chance to continue admiring you.

The way you looked so concentrated with the sketch made mammon smile. You looked so cute. He was so deep in his administration that he didn’t notice that he said something out loud.

“You look so beautiful” You froze. Mammon eyes immediately widen as he process what he just said out loud. He quickly begins to babble out stuff as his face starts to turn slightly red. But you don’t say anything.

Which makes mammon panic even more.

That was until a small smile appeared on your face.

“No boy has ever told me that before” He stops his babbling and stares at you in shock.

What?! You mean to tell him that no boy has ever thought that you were beautiful?! The most ethereal being on this whole damn earth?! Universe even!

“What?!” You look up at him with the same pretty eyes that he loves to admire.

“Your the first boy to ever call me that” His heart is beating against his chest. Stupid human boys. How could anyone not call you beautiful?

“Well those dumb human boys don’t even know anything about true beauty!” You giggle.

God he feels like he’s back in the celestial realm when he’s around you.

“Thank you mammon”

He’s so in love with you, you don’t even know it.

-

Uhhh hello I’m back! Enjoy this small fic/Drabble that I wrote today because I have zero motivation to write anything long😔

[fcxyviixen]

void

summary: mammon finds a young girl in the human world after being summoned once again. after hiding her for a little while, lucifer finds her and a fight starts. mammon leaves with the girl, however during that time a dark voice starts to pull at him. a deep feeling like tar by drawing strength on his wrath. he was gone for 14 years, the curse growing stronger.

pairing: n/a (mammon and brother centric)

rating: 14+

chapter wc: 1199

warnings: n/a

welcome "home"

Mammon knew he had been out for a while, especially knowing Belphegor’s power. The demon opened his eyes slowly, closing them a bit at the sudden bright light that had hit him when opening his eyes. He felt he was on a familiar mattress. Mammon turned his head to the right, opening his eyes once more.

He was back in his old room, from what he could see. It had been 14 years, and his room still looked the same. Mammon pushed himself up off the bed, he felt a cold piece of metal on his arm, he looked to see his wrist had a chain attached to it, which was attached to the concrete wall.

Mammon tried to break it, but found out quickly it was a mana draining chain, so fighting against it was useless even with brute strength. Mammon noticed it was the only restraint, and it was quite loose either way. He looked around his room again, noticing spells on the garage door and windows, and even one of the bedroom door itself.

He was trapped inside his room.

Mammon clicked his tongue then his mind filled with worry, where was Riko? Where was his daughter? Mammon pulled against the chain, making a loud ‘clang’ sound. Shortly he heard the door open, but the seal was still active.

He looked up to see Diavolo of all demons come into the room. Mammon glared at him remembering what his servant said. The demon prince didn’t look mad; he actually smiled towards Mammon.

“Welcome back Mammon!” He said, cheerfully like this was a friendly reunion and he wasn’t just kidnapped back from the human world.

“Where’s my kid?” Mammon sneered at the demon prince.

Diavolo’s smile faltered, but he put it back on quickly. “You mean the human girl? She’s currently downstairs in the guest room. She’s made quite a problem in the human world while trying to bring her here.”.

Mammon frowned, “I want to see her.”.

“That won’t be possible for the moment.” Diavolo said he grabbed a chair from somewhere in Mammon’s room, bringing it to sit in front of the bed. Sitting down formally. “First, I’d like to talk to you.” the demon prince said.

Mammon frowned, he knew something was up. “If we talk, you’ll bring my girl ta me?” he asked.

“Depends on your answers, if she clears then yes. I’ll send Lucifer to get her.” Diavolo said.

Mammon grumbled a bit, but nodded his head. His blue eyes still glaring daggers at the demon prince in front of him.

“I have the basic idea of what happened before you left 14 years ago. You brought the girl-” “daughter.” “-daughter to the Devildom. Lucifer found out and had the girl, you two got into a large dispute and you left.” Diavolo explained, correcting his words, that Mammon corrected him.

“I saved that little girl 14 years ago, and I was going to hand her over to a witch friend of mine to take care of her. Lucifer found her in my room and rough handled her. I got pissed and I attacked him. I left with my daughter afterwards. We were doing fine before ya came after me.” Mammon said.

Diavolo sighed, listening to Mammon’s part of the story. “Alright..” Diavolo looked like he was thinking about something. Mammon watched his every move.

“What have you been doing in the human world then?” Diavolo asked.

“Stuff.” Mammon answered. “Just some odd jobs for a witch.”.

“Who is this witch?” Diavolo asked.

Don’t say anything.

The voice said quickly, but for some reason the words faded, like a blocked signal. Suddenly a sharp pain flooded through Mammon, causing him to grip his skull in his free hand.

Diavolo stood quickly to Mammon’s side. Magic on his fingertips. “So Barbatos was correct.” Diavolo stated.

“‘Bout what?” Mammon sneered, trying to swat the demon prince away from him.

“You’ve possibly been cursed.” Diavolo said, not moving away from the swats. Mammon frowned at his answer, then remembered what he said before.

“Don’t you dare think my kid did this ta me!” Mammon yelled at the demon prince, causing the man’s eyes to widen. “My kid wouldn’t hurt me. Never!”.

Mammon’s demon form began manifesting again, Diavolo quickly put it down. “We just suspected Mammon, calm yourself.” Diavolo ordered. Mammon continued to glare at the man with hatred.

“Let me see my daughter.” Mammon ordered right back. Diavolo sighed, he wished to question him more, but see he hit a nerve. Diavolo nodded before opening the door, saying something to a person outside, seeing the slight figure, he could guess it was Lucifer.

Diavolo didn’t leave the room, Mammon glared and watched him like a hawk the entire time. He could see how much that human meant to Mammon, seeing his reaction. “She’ll be here soon,” he said, sitting back down onto the chair.

Mammon frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Guess I’m a prisoner here now?” He asked. 

“We don’t wish for it to be that way. But it’ll stay that way for a while. Until we know you won’t attack anyone, or harm yourself.” Diavolo said. “You’re not in any trouble, well you haven’t broken any rules, but you might be in trouble with Lucifer though.”

Diavolo tried to make it sound lighthearted. Mammon almost responded before the door opened and a flash of black flew into Mammon. Mammon quickly put his arms around her, “Dad!” she hid herself in him.

Diavolo seemed a bit surprised at the interaction between the demon and human, seeing that this human truly looked up to Mammon like a father. Lucifer stayed in the room, closing the door behind him.

“So I guess she wasn’t the cause?” Lucifer asked, looking at Diavolo. Diavolo shook his head, “She didn’t do it, but a witch did.” Diavolo answered the elder demon.

Lucifer looked at Mammon, who held Riko close to him, glaring at Lucifer. “Welcome home Mammon.” Lucifer said.

Mammon didn’t respond. The tension in the room was thick. Lucifer sighed heavily. “Diavolo, could I try to talk to him alone?” he asked.

Diavolo nodded and left the second-eldest’s room. Lucifer took the seat Diavolo was sitting in. “What happened-”

“I didn’t say I wanted to talk to you.” Mammon grumbled, his tone irritated and his body showed it also.

Lucifer frowned, this wasn’t the same Mammon he always knew. Not his cute little troublemaker brother he always knew and loved, this was someone completely different.

Could this be from how far Lucifer and his brothers pushed him? Could this be from the curse he was inflicted with? Or could this curse bring out Mammon’s true emotions towards his brothers he hid for so long?

Lucifer did not know the answers to the questions, or even which question was the right one to ask. Lucifer took a deep breath, pride be damned, this was his brother.

“I’m sorry.” Lucifer said, bowing his head towards his brother. “Mammon… I am so sorry.”. Lucifer didn’t look up, he didn’t know what expression that was on his brother’s face, or if his expression had ever changed.

“Why should I forgive you?”

tag list: @yuumaofc , @simpinginthecorner

[bloodofthepen]

Lachesis Pt IV-1 (Obey Me!)

Rating: T

Ship: Barbatos/MC

POV: Second Person

Chapters: 3.5/4 (Part I here)

[Read on AO3; Chapter 4 not currently posted]

Since it has been two years now since I’ve updated, I decided to post the first half of chapter IV here on Tumblr until I’ve finished the whole thing. I’m in the final stretch, but there’s no telling how long it’ll be before I’ve finished (I have actually been working pretty consistently on this for two years) but I really wanted to get something posted; I’ll be waiting to update on AO3 until the whole thing is complete. My word count for the entirety of Part IV is 41k words so far, so you can see why it could potentially be split into two.

Warning in this chapter for: blood, graphic description of injury

Part IV (1/2): You

You’re snuggled beneath familiar blankets. Take one, deep breath, then another, letting the air stretch your lungs comfortably, languidly—it feels like decadence. You become slowly aware of the vine-tangled ceiling of your room, and then, of Lucifer, sitting beside the bed. His eyes are dark with lack of sleep, but he offers a smile. Down by your feet, you can feel a weight, a soft, radiating warmth… ah, it's Mammon curled up and snoring atop your coverlet. 

“He refused to leave after I sent the rest of them to bed,” Lucifer rumbles, eyes  crinkled in a fondness he’d never let his brother see were he awake. 

You smile. “He’s a good boy.”  Gingerly, you try sitting up, moving slowly to your forearms, and then up, sliding back against the rugged headboard. There appears to be no pain at all, which is… strange.

“Simeon healed you completely,” supplies Lucifer. “But such extended exposure to magic and that much trauma left you exhausted.” 

You flex your fingers; the silvery bands of Mammon’s pact catch the low light.  “I feel completely fine…” Take another deep breath, and search Lucifer’s face. “But what about Barbatos?”

“He was also exhausted by that evening’s efforts; right now he is resting in his own room at the castle.” 

“May I speak with him?”

Lucifer’s brows pinch. “Barbatos is not conscious.” 

“Is he all right?” Push the blankets down, struggling to untangle yourself from the sheets without jostling Mammon, heart racing against your ribs. “Please—”

“Stop.” Firm hands tug the blankets back up, arresting your wrists. “You may be healed, but you can’t go running off.” He frowns, glowering, but you meet his gaze with a sharp glare of your own. He huffs. “Yes, Barbatos will be fine. He used a tremendous amount of energy and overexerted himself, but it would take a great deal more than a bit of exhaustion to kill that demon.” 

“Then…” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “He’ll be awake soon?”

Lucifer sighs, releasing your hands. “I don’t know.” 

“May I see him?” 

“We’ll discuss it with Diavolo in the morning.” 

“What time is it?” 

“Nearly three.” 

Ah… you draw your legs up, blankets wrinkling. Perhaps it would be silly to try running off to the castle at this hour, no matter how much your being calls for it. You bury your forehead against your knees. 

A gentle hand touches your shoulder, and, begrudgingly, you turn your face to look at Lucifer. “My brothers have become very fond of you. And—” His gaze shifts slightly away. “—so have I, of course. They have been worried, and I need to ask…”

Your brow furrows. “Yes?”

“How were you able to call Beelzebub? You shouldn’t have been able to communicate through the pact that way, no matter how close you may be. You didn’t summon him. You’ve never shown any magical ability that advanced; it should not have been possible.” 

 Oh. Yes, that’s… “You’re right—I never would have been able to do it without help.” You take a slow, deep breath. “Lilith—” The startled, reflexive pain in his eyes prompts you to rest your hand on his arm. “I had a vision. She’s been here, worrying for you since her mortal life ended.”

Hope, desperation. “Where? Is she—?”

“I… don’t know. I don’t know if even she does. She told me she can’t remember how to reach the Celestial Realm, and—I’m sorry.” You squeeze his wrist gently. “She lent me her power, called me her successor, though I don’t know what that means, exactly. I...” you wet your lips, chest tightening. “I don’t know if she’ll speak to me again.”   

Lucifer presses a hand to his chest, squeezes his eyes shut. “Excuse me.” He remains that way for a moment, and when he opens his eyes again, they are clear and calm. “I should have—” He shakes his head. “It makes sense now; her power was always based in communication, in emotion. Given a choice, of course she would pick you; you’d be naturally receptive. Do you suppose…?" He hesitates, brow creasing. "I wonder if it wasn’t an accident.” 

“If what wasn’t?”

He takes a deep breath. “When I chose you for the exchange program… I was so sick of reading applications that, after a breeze scattered my paperwork over the floor, I just picked up the application that landed by my feet and decided that whomever it was would be the second student… and it was you.” He looks at your hand on his sleeve. “I wonder now if it wasn’t chance at all. If Lilith...” Her name catches in his throat. “If that’s so…” He smiles. “She made a good choice.”

There’s a pang in your chest. You had always thought Lord Diavolo had made the decision, but after that night in the restaurant, you had thought it had been Lucifer’s. And now... Now, you find—all this time… have they considered you an accident? Not just Lucifer, but Diavolo and Barbatos? Your presence, mere chance? But now, in this moment… is it Fate? Or Lilith’s will? Does Lilith’s involvement make it different than if Lucifer had chosen you himself, on some kind of merit? 

“Now, then—” he sits back, folds his arms across his chest. “I imagine you want to know what happened that night.” 

Fingers curl tight into the blankets. It doesn’t matter how you came to be in the Devildom, really, not right now. What matters is this. “Yes.”

“After you left with Barbatos, my brothers were… encouraged to go into the garden to wait, while Diavolo and I spoke. Once that was concluded, we joined them, but it was only a few moments later that Beel—” He frowns, looks away. “He almost collapsed, started shouting, called for you, and—briefly, I believe the others were hit with some sensation or pain before everything stopped. Diavolo must have summoned Barbatos immediately, instantly, because I was only briefly aware of Barbatos’ power before it was over. The next thing I knew, Diavolo was catching his breath on one of the benches as Time resumed, and his first order was for me to accompany him to the House of Lamentation.”

“Barbatos told me Diavolo was lending him energy.”

Lucifer’s brows arch. “You were awake, then?”

“Only briefly. He and Simeon were there, and… Barbatos didn’t seem well.”

A chuckle settles in his chest, a gloved hand pinching his brows. “Barbatos didn’t seem well. You were dying.” His fingers ruffle his bangs, sharp and frustrated. “And all because—” 

Silence.

“I cannot repay you.”

There’s a pang in your heart. “Lucifer, there’s no need to—”

“You didn’t have to do it.” He drops his hand, letting it clench into a fist in his lap. “There was nothing personal to be gained, yet you risked your relationships, your life, without thinking. Why? It makes no sense. You owe us nothing. In fact, your safety has been threatened numerous times as a result of my brothers’ actions; I have personally lost my temper with you on no less than three occasions. You should have abandoned Belphegor, should have left me to my punishment; why didn’t you?” 

“Hmngh?” 

Lucifer freezes. Mammon snuffles, rolls, his shirt riding over his ribs, but remains asleep. You release your breath, and slowly, lean back against the pillows. 

“I might be a bit more selfish than you believe.” Close your eyes. “I’ve come to care very much for your family, and to think that they consider me any part of it is… far more than I would have thought to hope for. But when all of this started—” How to say it? “I thought… when I discovered Belphegor…” You wet your lips. “I thought I could sort it out. On my own, of course.” Stupid. “I’ve never been able to fix my own... familial issues, but for some reason I thought I had an opportunity with yours, that it was… that it was a chance for me to—to use what I had learned from my own mistakes. Maybe to pay for them. Maybe to heal them.” Bury your face in your knees again, feel your mouth turn in a wry grin. “It’s terrible being this self-aware. Makes confessing more embarrassing because you know where you went wrong… there’s no ‘I don’t know’.” Fingers curl, tight, into palms. “I know why I did it. I felt like I had learned enough, knew enough. But I still misjudged.” Take a deep breath, meet his stunned gaze. “And… I apologize. For the worry I’ve caused. For not speaking with you sooner.” 

“You—” He bites his tongue, wrinkles his brows, looks at the floor. 

And then you’re buried in dark silk, inhaling the sharp scent of ash and honey and warm, bitter myrrh. 

“Don’t you have any sense at all?” 

You chuckle, but it gets stuck behind the tears constricting your throat. “Didn’t I ask you that today?”

“Three days ago,” he rumbles. “I believe you also called me an idiot.” 

“Is that next?” You sniffle, smiling against his vest.

“Yes.” You feel an amused huff against the top of your head. “You’re an idiot. This time, I’ll waive the punishment, but if you do something like that again, you’ll find yourself strung up in the stairwell with Mammon.” 

“H—hmmn—h-hey! WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA, HUH?” 

You can feel Lucifer’s sigh perfectly timed with your own, which peters off into a wet chuckle as Mammon paws at both your and his brother’s shoulders. 

“Mammon—” But Lucifer releases you just in time for you to be crushed against Mammon’s chest. 

“I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YA, DON’T YOU DARE DO THAT TO ME AGAIN, YA HEAR?” He hides his face in your shoulder, and you gain enough balance to wrap your arms around his back. 

“I’m sorry, Mammon.”

“You’d better be!” but his voice is muffled. “Why didn’t you call us sooner, huh? Why didn’t you call me?” His fingers dig into your shoulder blades. “We—we could feel it, you know? When you…” Under your hands, he heaves a shuddering breath. “It wasn’t okay.”  

Hold him tighter. “I’m sorry, Mammon… it really wasn’t.” You run a soothing hand up and down his spine. “If it makes you feel better, now that I know how, I should be able to call you immediately if something happens.” 

“You’d better.” He makes a sound suspiciously like a sniffle, and you let a couple more tears roll down your cheeks, just for good measure, before you have to compose yourself. 

“Enough, Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice is terse, but Mammon just clings tighter. “I said enough. Are you really going to make them take care of you after everything that happened?” 

He pops his head off your shoulder. “Wh—no! No, I’m takin’ care of them, ya see? You’re the one that made me their guardian, now let me do some guardin’!” 

“They need rest. I’ve allowed you to stay until they woke. Now return to your room for the night; you’ll see Ambrose in the morning.”  

“But—”

“Now, Mammon.” 

You sit back just a little, and ruffle Mammon’s hair. “I’ll be all right for the night. I feel better—no pain at all, I promise.” He pouts, ready with another retort, but you embrace him again. “And I’ll call you right away if I need anything, okay?” 

When you look him in the face again, his cheeks are flushed, and he won’t meet your eyes. “Okay. But I’m comin’ first thing in the morning.” 

“Thank you, Mammon.” You give his hand a brief squeeze.

He stops before climbing out of the bed. “And you’ll call me first?”

“First, I promise.” 

He beams. “Okay. And—”

“And I’m going to make sure Lucifer goes to sleep, too.” 

“O—oh. I mean—good! Yeah! Okay. You should!”  

“Good night, Mammon.” Lucifer crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile. “Good night Mammon.” 

“G’night, Ambrose! ...Lucifer.” And the door closes behind him. 

You sigh, straightening out your blankets. “You know I really didn’t mind. He needs comfort, too… that was a bad night for everyone.” 

“It was, he does, and I let him have it.” Lucifer leans back in his chair, folds one leg over the other. “But you shouldn’t be taking care of anyone this evening.”

“But—”

“I do believe it is my job.” He tilts his head with a mischievous half-smile. “I am the eldest here.” 

Fondness and irritation are at war on your face, with neither quite winning out, so you huff and lean back against the pillows. “Then you should sort out your brothers—I’m sure Mammon needs a little more reassurance.”

“After I’m finished here; you are part of our number as well.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that you’re stunned into silence even as your heart does a very impressive acrobatic routine, activating the tears still ready and waiting behind your eyes. You rub your face with your sleeves. “Lucifer—”

“I will be staying until you go back to sleep. Then, I will tend to the rest… so if you’d like me to get on with them, I suggest you lie down.” 

You try for a disgruntled, defeated sigh as you snuggle into the blankets, but it comes out as a pitifully tearful wheeze. “Well-played.” 

“Did you really expect anything less?” He brushes a gloved hand across your forehead. “Rest. I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunity to level the playing field tomorrow.”

You close your eyes, and find the bed is much more comfortable than usual. 

“And Ambrose…”

“Hm?”

“Wait for Mammon to fetch you for breakfast in the morning.”

“Mm.”

----

You wake to the sound of clattering from the kitchen. Someone calls out, laughs brightly, and you find the hint of a smile on your lips before your eyes are even open. Another clatter, a shout. Loud, normal. The air smells of woodsmoke and eggs and bacon, and you’re up and on your feet in moments, pawing through the wardrobe before bothering to wonder what day it is, but—

Oh. You’re... probably exempt from classes no matter what day of the week this might be. Still, your DDD is lying on the table, and a quick look says it’s Tuesday. Tuesday, and no notifications. A lump rises in your throat.

You need to see Barbatos. Push your uniforms aside in favor of something appropriate for the palace, though not especially showy. Short, high waisted slacks, boots, and the loose-sleeved, purple garment that Asmo gifted you a few weeks ago are both comfortable and serviceable. 

As you peel off your nightshirt, a series of dark, even marks catch your eye, scattered across the skin of your forearm. It’s a band of runes, a spiral beginning just below your elbow, stopping halfway to your wrist; they’re black, with a deep, green sheen that catches the light when you move… wrath is there, and fire, and—”mutual,” you think? And is that… protection? You recognize power, and… “united against the Enemy?” You’ll have to get your notes out for the rest, and maybe talk to Satan about the cohesive meaning of the piece. No one else’s has looked quite like this, not even in their most basic form… the pact seals that each of the others’ started from were simply the rune of their particular sin within a pentagram surrounded by a basic iteration of their promise.  

You face the mirror to look at the other pacts, and it seems they’ve all morphed further after the… events. Beelzebub’s mark on your stomach is now a full sunburst, glittering in red and orange and yellow alongside the bold, black stripes that make up the geometric rays, its pattern grown more complex, doubling back on itself in detailed artistry. The seal on your hip has blossomed into a delicate, black and pink rosebud with drops of dew gathered upon the petals. Leviathan’s is more difficult to see, but twisting around and craning your neck reveals that the serpentine rune has transformed into a proper serpent with navy and orange scales, its tail winding in upon itself as it follows your spine. And Mammon…

You’re not sure why you didn’t notice last night, but one of the rings upon your hand has turned to gold. With a soft smile, you return to your task, and finish getting dressed. 

For a moment, you hesitate in front of the mirror. There are a few flamboyant ruffles over one shoulder, and the material of your shirt is very fine (gargantuan spider-silk, you think Asmo said? Best not think too hard about the implications of that), with a good gradient of translucence and texture, fitted just enough at the bottom to tuck into the trousers. But… no cravat. Of course, any necktie would clash with the ruffling. In fact—perhaps—this might be too flamboyant. After all, you won’t be at the palace to take tea. You could change into—

“BEEL! Don’t you want there to be enough bacon for Ambrose?” 

A mumbled response. 

One nice thing about sharing a wall with the kitchen is always knowing what’s for breakfast—

Wait. Not hell-swine bacon, Erymanthian bacon, or gloson bacon? Just—bacon?

In your stomach, a roiling hunger makes itself known, perhaps one to rival Beelzebub’s, and the question of formality disappears completely from your mind. You snatch your DDD from the table, pocket it, and start toward the dining room. It does smell sweet and mild here in the hall, like human food—it must be! 

You’re one step away from a full jog when you push the dining room doors open to find the table piled high with food, but only one face—

Dark hair streaked with white. Indigo eyes heavy with sleep, mouth twisted wryly.

Your feet refuse to move as surely as the blood freezes in your veins. “What are you doing here?”

He blinks, stirs drowsily, squints across the room from his seat at the table. The seat that was always empty before. “Me? They told me I had time to eat. Weren’t you supposed to wait for Mammon?”

Wait for…?

Oh.

You do dimly recall Lucifer’s instructions before—and that means...

Lucifer was well aware this would happen.

A slow, bright burn creeps along your forearm, lighting the band of runes there. And Belphegor just. Sits. Leaning his elbow on the table like this is a perfectly ordinary morning, like absolutely nothing happened, like—

“I will ask again.” Nails dig into palms, your spine arrow-straight. “What are you—”

“Ambrose!” Satan darts out of the kitchen, a plate of eggs in one hand, Beelzebub hot on his heels. “Where’s Mamm—”

“You knew about this?” Your heart sinks, and the runes just glow brighter, hotter. “What is he doing here?”

“I live here.” 

Blood on the blankets, a single tear gliding down your neck. We could feel it. Trembling breaths. It wasn’t okay. Lips, too pale; skin, too hot. I would do it a thousand more times. 

White-hot rage settles in your chest, burning your stomach, your fingertips, humming along your skin.

You come face-to-chest with Beelzebub. Take a long, slow, breath. “Beel. Step aside.”

“Ambrose, maybe you should wait—”

“I just want to talk.” Your fingers flex at your sides. Curling, uncurling. It’s been a few months since your last bout, and you’ve never fought out of anger, and never with a sharpened blade, but you’re wishing, wishing for a familiar weight in your hand. The runes whisper on your skin like flames. 

Beel’s brows wrinkle. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. You’re really angry right—”

“Oh, really?”  Your shoulders pull tight, square, perfectly straight. “And what else am I supposed to be? Don’t you know what he did?” 

He folds a hand over his wrist, shakes his head. “I know, and I’m… I know, but he’s—”

“He’s your brother, and that’s the only reason I’m willing to speak with that liar, now move.” Nails cut into palms. “Please.” 

“I… no.” His shoulders hunch. “I can’t.” 

Mouth curls, baring your teeth. “I don’t want to make you.” 

Beelzebub shakes his head, eyes soft. “I won’t.” You can feel a ripple of sadness, of hesitation, a knot of conflict. 

Tighten your jaw, release a slow breath. “Beelzebub, step aside, and don’t move.” 

He obeys without resisting, eyes squeezed shut, head hanging low. 

You approach the table. 

“Ambrose—”

“Satan, stop.” From the corner of your eye, you can see his face twisted with anger, but he does not move, and you continue your steady pace.

Belphegor meets your gaze with alert interest, but hasn’t picked up his head from the palm of his hand, shoulders slumped unevenly, like he doesn’t consider you a threat at all. 

The runes on your skin burn brighter. How dare he. Perhaps you hold little enough power on your own, but you could have commanded that his own brothers combat Belphegor for you.

Not that you would ever consider it. That would be cruel beyond compare, not simply to him, but to Beelzebub and Satan, and you care too much, always too much, even with wrath swimming through your veins. 

But you could. And he should respect that.

“GUYS, WHERE’S—oh, Ambrose, hey! ...what’s goin’ on?”

“Don’t move, Mammon.”

“Wait, why—”

“Shhh.”

You stop before the table, staring across at the youngest of the demons. He says nothing, but his mouth curls up in a condescending smile. Slowly, you place your palms upon the polished wood, and lean forward, so that you’re nearly nose-to-nose, only the span of the table separating you from the Demon of Sloth. “Why are you here?”

“I suppose I should be thanking you for that,” he says, eyes glimmering. 

There are several implements within reach, but none are quite what you want. “Explain.” 

“You went back in time to free me. Not just from the attic, but from Diavolo, too.” He chuckles, brightly, and a shiver dances down your spine, but you hold your breath, bite your cheek, keep steady, even as your lungs feel the phantom pang of lacerations, as your very bones begin to ache. “Awfully nice of you. It would’ve been perfect if the prince’s pet hadn’t interfered, but I understand he’s pretty bad-off himself.” 

Your fingers twitch.

But Belphegor just smiles. “Maybe there is something to what you said. About being friends.” He yawns, makes a show of covering his mouth. “And if Barbatos doesn’t wake up for the next sixty years, it serves him right for defending a human.”

A black-gloved hand snatches the platter from the air before it can collide with Belphegor’s face. Your fists slam on the table, rattling silverware. “Lucifer—!” 

 “You have no power over me, so don’t waste your energy.” He narrows his eyes at his brother, ruby irises flashing. “And you—you ought to be begging this human’s forgiveness, not antagonizing them.” 

Belphegor shrugs asymmetrically. “It’s not my fault they’re so stupid—aaaow!” 

Distantly, Lucifer examines the crack down the platter’s middle. “Ruined,” he tuts. 

The youngest rubs his head, jaw tight. “What the f—”

This time, the hefty porcelain shatters. 

“Lucifer, what is he doing here?”

A slow, weary sigh, as he meets your eyes. “He’s here because of the deal you made; you released him—as you saved me from serving my own sentence—through your actions. You fulfilled your end of the bargain made with Lord Dialvolo, and in return, Diavolo had to keep his.” He folds his arms tightly across his chest, looks down at the table. “No matter what Belphegor had done.”   

Oh, this would be funny if it weren’t so very painful. 

Squeeze your eyes shut. Draw a trembling breath. For the next sixty years. He could be winding you up. He’s probably winding you up, but—

You can still see the feverish shine of Barbatos’ eyes, the wan, sickly cast of his skin. The tremble of fingers uncomfortably hot against yours. The soft, gentle nuzzle along your jaw. Nykin, he called you nykin, and if you never find out what that means, you—

Swallow the lump in your throat. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you open your eyes to find Asmodeus offering a handkerchief. You bury your face in its blush folds; it smells of lilac and roses and clove. Cheeks dry, you fix your attention on the arched windows, on the hazy, green day outside. The high, iron fence, crawling with ivy. “Beelzebub, Satan, Mammon… I release you from my previous commands.” 

Another slow, shaking breath, swallowing back the thick remnants of tears. You cast a sidelong glance at Lucifer, but don’t linger too long. It’s time. Well past time. “I have a phone call to make. You needn’t wait on me for breakfast.”

Turn on your heel, head back the way you had come.

“H—hey, wait!” But you don’t hesitate, not even for Mammon. 

The eldest steps into your path. “You must eat. I will have food brought to your room if—”

“No, thank you; I won’t have time.” You do not slow, simply stepping around the demon. 

“Ambrose—”

“I said no.” Your blood quickens.

You can’t recall the last time you said that.

----

A demon you’ve never seen before opens the castle doors. She bows low when she sees you, low enough to give you a view of the crown of her head, wrapped tightly with a braid of silver hair from which tiny, graceful little mushrooms of various shapes and colors sprout. “Ser.” 

“I—” Your ears are hot. “I’m sorry. You really don’t have to call me—”

She straightens. “You have my master’s respect.” 

“Er… I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” You fuss with your sleeves, but the loose fit means there are no cuffs to adjust. “I don’t think I’ve ever met you before.” 

The medal on her uniform, the crest marking her a member of Diavolo’s household, tinkles as she bows again. “You’ve never had a reason to; I am Arbianock, Barbatos’ second, and butler in his absence.”  

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“It isn’t.” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, and the lamplight catches her lilac eyes, the plain expression on her face unchanging. “You have only met me because Barbatos is unable to perform his duties; you do not need to pretend the occasion is pleasurable.”  

“Well, I—” There’s an ache in your chest. 

“Ambrose!”

Arbianock bows deeply in greeting, and steps aside. “Lord Diavolo.”

You work up a smile for the prince, who approaches with open arms, beaming. He seizes your shoulders. “It’s wonderful to see you! And to see you so well…!” His brow creases. “We were very worried about you. In fact, I was almost afraid Barbatos wouldn’t make it in time, but—well, he would’ve done whatever was necessary. There was no real need to fret, and this was certainly a dramatic resolution, wasn’t it! May I embrace you? I’d like to embrace you.” You’ve barely nodded before you’re swept up in a crushing grip. “Oh! You are a lucky, lucky human, Ambrose! Our Barbatos would never have attempted something so complex for anyone else. And you…! You performed admirably!” Diavolo drops you back on your feet, and Arbianock catches your arm before you stagger. “I’m of a mind to name you Ambassador. But—!” He must see the dazed look of trepidation on your face, because he waves both hands in a dismissive manner. “That can wait. I know you want to see him. Come!” He offers his arm, and you take it, your brain too overtaxed at the moment to do anything else. “And, Arbia, please fetch us some tea and bring it to Barbatos’ quarters.” 

She bows. “Yes, my lord.” 

“I’ll take you the proper way, so that you can find your way back if you’d like,” says Diavolo, leading you swiftly through the entrance hall and into a familiar corridor. “I imagine you’ll be visiting with some frequency.”

You can feel your cheeks getting warm again. Maybe you could convince him to lay off just a little bit; you haven’t even discussed such matters with Barbatos… all the world standing absolutely still, and yet there hadn’t been time. 

“Lord Diavlolo—”

“Just ‘Diavolo’ while you’re here, please.” 

Heave a deep sigh. “Diavolo. How is he?”

A long, musing hum as he sobers. “Barbatos is recovering; he hasn’t been responsive since he returned from the House of Lamentation three days ago. It’s really nothing to worry about, considering a demon’s regenerative capabilities—particularly Barbatos’—but… well, I haven’t seen him like this in a very long time, and… hmm... I understand that humans don’t really do this unless they’re near death.”

Your mouth is dry. “That’s correct.” 

“Well, don’t worry!” The smile is back on his face as he leads you up a side-stairwell that curves into yet another lamp-lit hallway, the walls covered in plaster, dotted with paintings in gilded frames of all shapes and sizes. “It’s perfectly natural for demons, and Barbatos is nowhere near expiration.”

It’s very easy to think of the demons as indestructible, and Barbatos, especially, as absolutely untouchable. Distant, apart from all things, ever observing, above the petty squabbles, offering a solution, an act of service for every whim. Ever-present upon the stage while the eye is trained to pass him over and find him invisible.

And yet—

A gentle touch upon your hand. Quilted jackets folded together in the crook of an elbow. The taste of tea upon your tongue, malty-sweet, warm like the pastries as fresh and light as an early-morning rain. Lips upon your skin.

Your heart is heavy, and it burns so, so much hotter than any sin.

A heavy hand pats your arm, bright and warm through your silk sleeve. “I think I’m not very good at this,” Diavolo confesses.

“Pardon me… at what?”

The prince hums, and rubs the back of his neck, glancing away. “The… comforting thing. Am I doing it wrong? Demons aren’t really known for being reassuring. Persuasive is easy, but… this really isn’t the same.”

Another stairwell, this one a spiral, its marble steps carpeted in wine velvet, lit with cool, blue-white orbs of light hovering at intervals along the plaster walls, divided every seven steps with a thin, doric column. The wisps of light seem to sing, lowly, a melody that hums along your skin in the now-familiar pattern of magic, sustained, perhaps, by their own, soft resonance. 

“You’ve made me feel a little bit better, but being unable to allay my fears entirely isn’t a failure on your part.” Gently, you nudge Diavolo’s side with the elbow tucked into his. “I’m too worried for anything anyone says to keep me from it. And… there’s so much more.”

He nods. “Yes—there’s always more, isn’t there?” The door at the top of the stairs swings open at your approach, with no signal at all from the prince. “But it does make me—well, saying ‘happy’ might be inappropriate, but!—it makes me happy to know that there’s someone aside from me that worries for Barbatos. Hell knows he doesn’t do it himself.”

You manage a chuckle alongside him; that bright laugh is truly infectious, sunshine in the darkness. It’s a wonder sometimes that Diavolo is a demon at all. 

“And here we are.”

The hall goes on for several more feet, but there are no doors beyond this one, only a latticed window at the end of the corridor looking into the morning’s grey-green sky. The door that Diavolo indicates is a heavy, black slab of wood divided into six rectangular segments surrounded by a pattern of vines that, upon closer inspection, don’t seem to be plants at all, but… you squint, focus a little harder. Abstractions? Of clouds, perhaps, wind, almost… and stars? The tail of a great beast, winding—

The door swings open into a sitting room, nearly Georgian in appearance, wooden panels of the walls painted with alien landscapes, a high-backed chair, a corner desk, one loveseat patterned with purple and cream and green in scrolling patterns of foliage, and, above the empty fireplace, the portrait of three shrouded figures, each holding a tool of their trade: the golden spindle, the silver hourglass, and the bronze knife.

“I’ve been here before.” 

Diavolo’s brows arch. “Oh?”

“We just didn’t come the normal way, I suppose. It was after the trial—Barbatos brought me here for tea.”

He’s grinning now, like he’s caught on to something and wants to share, practically nudging you with his eyes, but you’re certain you’ve missed the memo for whatever it is. “I didn’t think anyone knew what this room looked like.”

“No one…?”

“Nobody.” A devilish smile pulls at his lips, and you certainly can’t mistake him for anything else now. “This is Barbatos’ private drawing room.” 

You have no idea what to do with this information beyond feel uncomfortably warm. “Oh.” 

“And it’s the only entrance to his bedroom.” He leads you to the door opposite the fireplace, and pushes it open. 

The rooms are perfectly matched; here, the dark panels are lit by the glow of the false sun streaming through a wall of high, paned windows that overlook the garden, curtained with purple damask and velvet. Opposite, is the bed, draped in maroon and turquoise, nestled in an alcove between large, ionic columns set into the wall, four-poster, with thick, wine curtains tied at each corner. Strangely, it begins somewhat narrowly at the head and tapers outward to the foot, almost like a paper fan. It becomes clear quickly why, as Barbatos himself rests in the center, lying on his side, pillows tucked carefully around his form, one in particular supporting his tail, which curls outward and down, taking up almost more space than the rest of him. 

He is dressed in simple, light clothing, loose around his arms and legs, cool and comfortable and—you avert your eyes automatically. He seems so… vulnerable. Underdressed. Inert. 

“I do hate seeing him like this,” Diavolo murmurs, and you’re grateful for the excuse to look at him instead. His mouth is pulled in a solemn line, no trace of any earlier joviality, a heavy weight upon his shoulders. “He is well. I even had my own physicians in to make sure there weren’t any complications. But Barbatos is… he’s been with me for a very long time. Since I was a fledgling demon. And that was—well... I don’t think a human can imagine how long ago that was. He’s always there, always unflappable, reliable Barbatos. To have him removed…” Diavolo sighs. “I always notice. When I was young, that constant presence used to chafe, but—”

Three brisk knocks on the door. 

“Enter.”

Arbianock does so with all the swift efficiency you’ve come to expect of the prince’s butler, pushing a low tea cart set with china you haven’t seen before. These dishes are glossy, the sheen faintly holographic over a black wash; swimming through the darkness are grey mists and flecks that look like stars, and each teacup sits tall and thin on wide feet. At a small table near the windows, already set with two chairs, Arbianock begins swiftly ordering the teapot, cups, saucers, and two plates piled high with dainty sandwiches and small, flaky pastries. Your stomach makes a most unsavory sound.

Diavolo chuckles, lightly. “You’ve been spending too much time with Beelzebub… or, maybe, you ran out of the house without eating, despite the breakfast waiting for you.”

Of course he’d heard. “Is that how Lucifer put it?”

He shrugs in the wake of your irritable frown and moves to the table, where Arbianock waits silently. “Something like that.”

“So you both made sure there was food here for me.” You sigh, and take your place and his behest. “I—thank you. I’d… forgotten I was hungry.” The way your stomach is gnawing and roiling with a vengeance, you suspect you ate nothing of substance during your bout of unconsciousness. 

“Think nothing of it! Barbatos would never forgive me if I let you go hungry. Ah—thank you, Arbia.”

The demoness bows her head and moves to fill your cup next, pouring the tea with grace; it whispers in the porcelain. “I have prepared a morning blend with nighttyme and citrus that should compliment both the cured meat in the sandwiches and the light sweetness of the puff pastries, which have been made with human-word apples.” 

Your heart feels like it’s held tight in a fist. You recognize the scent of the tea; it is the same Barbatos had first prepared for you in the RAD courtyard, months ago. And the comfort of human-world fruit… “Thank you.” If you move your eyes from the table, you won’t be able to maintain control. 

She finishes pouring, serves you and Diavolo each a triangular sandwich and a flaky, cubed pastry. The plating is almost identical to what you’ve come to expect, but the aesthetics differ slightly; this palette is very muted, with an emphasis on shape, where Barbatos’ plates are accented by space and subtle flashes of color. 

You hadn’t realized you knew that. 

“Eat,” urges Diavolo, “and we can discuss something pleasant.”

One bite of the sandwich you’ve been served only makes you hungrier and you finish it before you’re able to even consider that the gesture is less than polite—certainly not fit for the prince’s table—but another finds its way onto your plate before you can even ask for another. Arbianock’s facial expression does not change when you thank her quietly, nor does she seem to mind that the second sandwich disappears as quickly as the first, despite your best efforts. 

“I’m… hungrier than I thought.” You can’t raise your eyes from the plate as another sandwich takes its place. “Please excuse me.”

“Nonsense, eat as much as you like!” Diavolo laughs heartily. “There’s more than enough here for both of us.”

You might feel better if you could at least properly compliment the food, but even after the third sandwich, you realize that you have no idea what they even taste like beyond good and that you require more. Cured meat, she had said, and you trust that, but anything else? Not even a guess. 

The conversation witters on as you eat your fill; what Diavolo talked about, much like the flavor and content of the sandwiches, you really could not say. What you spoke, when required, you cannot recall. But the warm, sharp flavor of the tea, with slightest lingering spice on your tongue to compliment the first crisp, sweet bite of an apple square—

“...but, of course, Arbia has been around at least that long, and—you’ve met Mephistopheles before, haven’t you?”

It tastes of sunshine and home and it brings you back to your mind, to your stomach, which has ceased its complaints, to the warning edge of a burn in the lines of Beelzebub’s pact upon your skin. 

“Yes… Satan had taken me to the newspaper club meeting on a few occasions before Mephistopheles was removed as Chief Editor.”  

“Ah, yes—a shame, that, but I couldn’t dissuade Lucifer. Don’t worry, though; he’ll have another opportunity next year.” Diavolo leans back slightly in his chair and pops a pastry thoughtfully into his mouth. “Do you suppose I could get Asmodeus to do another design? Those stickers were darling!” 

Fondness stirs in your chest, but doesn’t quite make its way to your face. “I’m sure Asmo could be persuaded. We would have a whole collection of tiny demon lords.”

His eyes glitter. “Yes, exactly! Why we could—”

The hollow sound of a great bell reverberates through the air, hums through your bones.

A deep sigh, and Diavolo seizes his teacup. “Unfortunately, that means I am needed.” He tips it back in one go, and rises, but as you move to do the same, he raises a hand. “No, please; you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’m certain Barbatos could use a bit of company.”

There’s a lump in your throat again. “Thank you, Diavolo.” 

He casts a glance back at his friend, and gives you a gentle smile. “I’ve left a comfortable chair near the bed; you’re more than welcome to make use of it. I don’t know how long my business will take, but if you wish, you can see yourself out at any time, and should you need anything…” The prince reaches into his jacket and draws out a small, silver bell that gleams in the low light. He sets it on the table amongst the tea setting. “Ringing this will summon help; if Arbianock is busy assisting me, someone else will answer your call. The staff have instructions to obey you as they would Lucifer, so please, don’t hesitate to ask for anything you desire.”  

It sounds like entirely too much, but you nod as graciously as you can manage. “Thank you. I doubt I’ll need anything, but I’m grateful.”

“I’ll return when I’m finished to see how you’re doing, and you’ll be quite welcome to join me for dinner if you wish to stay. Now, don’t hesitate if you need more tea—or water! I think I recall humans need quite a lot of it.”

Arbianock stands stiffly at his side. “My lord…”

“Yes, of course! We can’t linger.” The bright, brilliant grin finds its way again to the prince’s face. “Good morning, Ambrose.”

It doesn’t feel right to remain seated, but you offer a small, half-bow from your chair. “Good morning, Diavolo.”

He and Arbianock file neatly through the door, and it clicks softly shut, leaving you in silence. Upon the bed, Barbatos has not shifted in the slightest, but, as Diavolo had said, there is an armchair within reach. It matches the rest of the room: dark, carved wood upholstered in teal and seafoam green, giving a bright spot of color to the alcove. You… you would like to sit with him.

Your hands are shaking. 

Take a deep breath, and raise your teacup to your lips, tip back the full contents in an effort to steady your nerves. With another long, slow breath, you stand. Why are you nervous? There’s no one around to ask questions, and Barbatos—

Slowly, you approach the bed. He lies atop the comforter, but a blanket folded in an aesthetically haphazard triangle has been draped across his legs at the knee. It brings to mind the feverish heat of his skin when last you met; perhaps they’ve left the comforter off in an effort to lower his temperature. His forked tail curls around his form, over the folded throw, dull against the black and maroon and lavender, missing its usual, luminescent luster.

You settle into the waiting chair, perched on its edge so that your knees press close against the mattress. The expression Barbatos wears is gentle, peaceful repose; surely, a blessing. Could you stand it if it seemed he was in pain? That he should be in any discomfort seems unbearable, especially if he must lie here for another—

Fingers curl against your thighs.

You can’t think about that. Watch instead the slow breath that moves his chest, lifts, subtly, the arm draped across over his side; consider the way his hair falls across his brow and upon the pillow, a gentle wave of emerald that fades to turquoise. The slight, spindly shadows that cross his forehead, beneath the winglike horns perched there. The absence of a knowing glance—though even in sleep, it seems, his mouth remains turned up at the edge, ever keeping a secret. Just beneath his chin, his other hand lies upon the comforter, open and bare. Your own is halfway to it before you realize what you’re doing. 

You hover there, hand outstretched, fingertips almost, almost finding his. They tremble. The breath aches in your chest. 

“You are free to touch me, if you so wish.”

“Barbatos!” 

His eyes glitter and you—

Your fingers wrap around his, thread them together, palms kissing. 

“How—” Too much, too much, not enough. Tug his hand a little closer, press your forehead to the back of his fingers. His skin is warm, but not feverish. “How long have you been awake?” 

“Since you entered the room.” Mischief in his voice, but you can’t find it in your heart to be irritated. 

Your grip tightens. It doesn’t matter why he didn’t speak earlier, you just—”How are you?” Press your cheek fast to the back of his hand, open your eyes to find him watching, watching so tenderly that a lump forms in your throat. 

“Seeing you well, I find my condition inconsequential.” Your cheeks heat, but before you can admonish his lack of proper answer, Barbatos’ thumb caresses the edge of your palm. He smiles. “I am tired. I feel like I could sleep for a decade, but I am simply too busy for such a diversion.” 

Huff a soft laugh. Relief washes through your chest, and you nuzzle his skin. Soft—his hands are so soft…

“I trust Lucifer and the others have taken good care of you?” 

Belphegor sitting at the table, lazily malicious, springs to your mind and knots your stomach, but you can’t… not now. “Yes. When I woke up, it was like nothing at all had happened; I’m perfectly healthy.” 

Barbatos hums, closing his eyes. “I shall have to thank Simeon.” His thumb begins a slow pattern again, up and down, brushing your cheek along the way.

Press closer to his touch. “And I need to thank you.” 

"I am at your service; that you are here is thanks enough." His gaze is bright, a gentle viridian, ivy graced by the morning dew. "But... if you would stay for a while, until I sleep again, I would consider it a reciprocal gesture.” There is a strange weight in those words, a precision of diction and careful hesitation, like an offering, quiet and so hopeful—

“Of course I’ll stay.”

You wish to do nothing else. 

He smiles, the soft crease of his eyes, the smallest flash of glassen teeth, and you can’t breathe for the flood of emotion behind your breast. Gently, Barbatos untangles his fingers from yours, cups your cheek, lets his fingertips run across your jaw and chin, carefully searching your face. “All of time, every possibility, and I never would have thought this…” The smile that graces his lips is wistful, coloring his voice. “I’m glad now that I never looked; it’s much better as a surprise.” 

Your cheeks burn almost as bright as your heart. There’s nothing in your mind, nothing you know how to say, so you turn into his palm, and press a lingering kiss to his skin, earning the pleasure of a short, sharp gasp. You smile as his cheeks flush darker than you’ve seen before, painted a dusky rose, and, emboldened, kiss him softly again upon the heel of his hand. 

Barbatos chuckles, brightly, and steals your hand to press his own kiss to your fingers, lips lingering, warm and soft. His breath huffs lightly over your skin as a giggle morphs into full laughter, and your heart stutters; you’ve never heard anything quite like it from him before. It’s contagious, light and rich and warm as steam curling from the teapot, drawing a chuckle from your chest, but all too soon he covers his mouth, stifling the sound to something more controlled. 

“What is it?” you ask.

“Six of the most powerful demon lords vying for your attention. I know that was not your intention, but after what you’ve done, you could have had your choice.” His eyes scrunch in a dark sort of delight. “Six demon lords, and you’re lavishing your affection on the royal butler.” He’s giggling again, this time in that bubbling, caramel tone you’ve enjoyed before. “The Brothers are going to be exceptionally envious.” 

You’d like to feel guilty, or at least sympathetic, if what Barbatos says is true. But after this morning… “I suppose they’ll just have to come to terms with that.” Gently, you squeeze the hand that still holds yours. Affection. Something light and sweet blossoms behind your ribs. 

He returns the gesture, eyes drifting closed, though a devious smile still curls his mouth. “If that is what you wish.” 

The fluttering of your heart goes straight to your head in a soft, gentle hum, and you smooth your thumb over the back of Barbatos’ hand. Slowly, contentedly, he returns the gesture.

You watch for a moment, the steady rise and fall of his every breath. “Do you need to sleep again?”

Barbatos sighs, tugging your hand close to his chest. “Soon. I will likely rest…” He considers, glancing off into space as though trying to recall some minute detail. “...four more days.” 

Four days? “Then—why are you awake now?” Surely he should be sleeping, shouldn’t have woken at all...

“I wanted to see you,” he says, as though it were the simplest thing in the world, and you think the flush that has spread to the tips of your ears might just become permanent. “And I waited to do so until Diavolo departed as his… exuberance would have exhausted me faster.” 

Yes, you can easily imagine Diavolo’s boisterous, high energy wearing you thin if he had been the one to greet you last night. A smile tugs at your lips. “Should I not mention that I’ve spoken with you?”

“There is no need to keep it secret; I suspect he understands the situation.” Ah, and there is the all-knowing, little smile. 

“Diavolo did make some… insinuations,” you recall.

“Does that trouble you?”

“Well… not exactly. It did bother me that I hadn’t spoken with you yet, while he seemed to think—” Oh. Oh. You’d been distracted, but when the prince gave you that look after you admitted that you had been to Barbatos’ drawing room before... 

“Yes?”

“I…” Clear your throat, which suddenly seems a little inadequate for the oxygen and words you’re looking for. “I think he’s under the impression that we’ve… been seeing each other.”

His brow creases for half a moment before softening with amusement. “Ah.” He closes his eyes again. “My lord would think that was the natural progression of things; this has developed rather quickly, and out of order, from our perspective.” He draws a deep, slow breath, like the kind that appears halfway to sleep. “A demon’s perspective.” 

You have at least four questions now, but you don’t want to keep him awake, so you squeeze his hand lightly. “You should rest.”

Barbatos makes a soft sound of affirmation. “You may join me, if you wish.” He looks at you just in time to witness what must be an impressive mess of shapes without sound as your mouth opens and closes, unable to find any words. Gently, he tugs at your wrist. “You must require more rest.” 

He isn’t wrong; you find you’re more drained than normal, and you’ve only been up a few hours, but—is this not a bit fast? Then again… how many times have you fallen asleep in a pile of demons already? And, really, Barbatos is wearing more clothes than Mammon sometimes wears to sleep. Yet—you feel as though he’s entirely naked. 

You’re interrupted by a light, polite laugh. “You needn’t if you do not wish to.” 

“I’m overthinking,” you confess. After all, you share a bed with your friends regularly. This isn’t different just because you feel so tenderly for him. 

He relinquishes your hand with a soft smile, and closes his eyes again. “Take your time, nykin.” 

Five questions. But you slip out of your boots, and take a deep breath, then, carefully, climb onto the bed, knees sinking almost immediately into the mattress, much softer than you’re accustomed. You think you see Barbatos’ mouth curve upward just a little more, but he doesn’t move otherwise, doesn’t peek, as you retrieve one of the unused pillows and settle on your side—but not too close. 

There’s a small shift in weight on the bed, and it’s not until you feel fabric creeping over your legs that you realize it is his tail moving sluggishly to tug the blanket up and over your hips. But it doesn’t move back down the foot of the bed once that task is complete; instead, his tail settles heavily, gently across your thighs, rolls lightly up your spine, nestled against your back.

“Is that all right?” He’s watching your reaction intently. 

You nod against the pillow, and reach for his hand again, which he relinquishes easily, folding into yours. “Sleep well, darling.” 

The words are long gone before you realize what you’ve said, but Barbatos’ eyes are closed, and a smile lingers on his lips.

----

It’s the scent, first, of ashes and ink, of early morning mist and winter’s clean edge. You don’t recognize it immediately, beyond demon, but when you open your eyes, well, it certainly couldn’t have been anyone else. The weight of Barbatos’ embrace still presses into the small of your back, his fingers still soft against yours; you hadn’t moved at all in your sleep, probably worried about disturbing him. There is still enough light from the windows to soften the edges of his face, to highlight the curve of his mouth, to smooth away the lines around his eyes. He looks… happier, now, than when you arrived, and you’re inclined to believe you’re not imagining it. Absently, you let your fingers run across the skin of his palm, down to the wrist, and linger there a while under a silken sleeve. 

Your stomach rudely reminds you that it’s time to eat again, but you’re not ready to move just yet, so you turn only a little, and take in the rest of the room properly. While the drawing room was fairly small, and sparsely furnished, this one hardly resembles the room of a servant—these are the quarters of a duke brought into the prince’s palace. Beyond the foot of the bed, amongst the paned, Georgian windows is a massive bay window with a soft perch nestled below for lounging, complete with pillows of myriad shapes and a small duvet. 

On the far wall, beyond where Barbatos lies, there is a large armoire, countless shelves, and several chests. While it is apparent that everything has a place, there are strange devices and artifacts of all kinds scattered about—many appear to be some variety of time-keeping instrument. An interesting thought, that, since—

“I knew he would recognize you!” The voice does its best to be hushed, but there’s too much damned told-you-so sunshiny glee crammed into it to make such attempts effective. 

You freeze, trying not to roll over abruptly, though you’re sure you couldn’t wake Barbatos now if you tried. You open your mouth to say something, but what? Please excuse me for getting into bed with your butler, I swear I can explain? “Lord Diavolo—”

“Sorry! Sorry…” He’s whisper-yelling now. “I was just hoping you’d join me for dinner.” 

That had been the plan. “Yes, I’ll just…” You absolutely cannot look at him. “Give me a moment, please.”

“Of course, of course! I’ll wait in the drawing room; we have much to discuss.” 

You don’t move until you hear the door shut, and even then, you do so slowly, gradually, giving first a light squeeze to Barbatos’ fingers before letting them go, inching your hands gently back to your sides, leveraging yourself up and out from under his tail. Your ears burn when you realize you’ll have to use your hands to help move the weight off your legs, as you’ve run out of mattress, and you try your best to be… clinical and prudent about it. But you can’t help noticing how smooth the skin of his tail is, like soft, supple leather; there is a light texture to it, not unlike that of silk, no scales to speak of, just…

You adjust the blanket carefully, try to make sure he’s still comfortable, and don’t consider it any further. But it makes no difference as you join Lord Diavolo in the sitting room, for your face is burning to the tips of your ears anyway. 

The prince is half-lounging on the loveseat so he can see you over its back, smirking in a manner that is one raised brow from lascivious. “So, how is he?” 

Perhaps one day you’ll learn a spell that will allow you to melt yourself into the floor. “Still tired. He only spoke to me for a few minutes and went back to sleep.” 

He nods, and pushes himself off the seat with a stretch. “That’s to be expected. Did he mention how long he would need?”

“Four days.”

“Oh—that’s not long at all! Nothing to worry about, then.” He gestures toward the door, and you exit through it into a hall on the ground floor. “I’m glad you got the chance to talk with him. For dinner, I’m afraid we have more… unpleasant matters to discuss. If you wish to refresh yourself, please feel free to do so; I’ll be in the dining hall—we still have about fifteen minutes before dinner service.”

----

You’re seated almost directly at Lord Diavolo’s right hand; there is one empty chair occupying that space, but you are next, and, while the table is set fully and formally, no one comes to take the seat, nor to take Lucifer’s on his left. Upon the banquet table lays a feast fit to feed ten, and, dimly, you wonder what will happen to the food that shall surely go uneaten. There’s roast wyvern and a grilled fish you don’t recognize that’s almost as big as you are, and Arbianock flits about the room like the shadow of a moth, refilling your glass, serving whatever you want before you even ask for it. Even if you can’t name every side dish, you’re sure you’ve tasted them all before, and accept portions gratefully… but you can’t seem to taste much of what’s on your plate over the measured, grave pace of the prince’s voice: 

“I avoided mentioning it this morning—” He fixes you beneath a golden gaze, cutting his food without even glancing at it. “—but I know you’re already aware that Belphegor has been released, as agreed, to his normal life in the House of Lamentation. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that these were the agreed terms for your successful mission.” 

“You do not.”

“And it wasn’t all for nothing; this did clear up a great many questions for me, beyond who opened the door. Suspicions about your lineage are confirmed, and—”

“My lineage?”

“Hm? Yes, it seems Lilith not only shared her power with you, but you are a distant descendant of her human incarnation.” 

Suspected lineage. The fork’s handle digs into your forefinger. “Did you know? Excuse me; I apologize for interrupting, but did you know when I was selected for the program that I was… somehow linked to Lilith?” 

Diavolo shakes his head. “No. Your lineage wasn’t even a thought until you borrowed Solomon’s magic, and he commented on your ability to invoke more power than you’d shown aptitude for previously—and I had no suspicions about you being Lilith’s descendant until Belphegor reappeared.”

Descended. Is that really all you are? An accident of Fate? Lilith never used that word, never said… 

“It was quite the surprise, but… these things do have a habit of coming back around.” 

You had both been served a glass of water and a glass of demonus; it is the demonus he sips from now, as his words settle over the table like fog. 

“What do you mean?”

“All things are made up of patterns.” He hums. “The universe exists in a state of raw discord—call that chaos, if you will—and Existence is the movement of this energy, this matter, into comprehensible patterns. For instance, a simple thing: fire. All its parts exist, latent, in the atmosphere, but when circumstances push them together in a set, predictable pattern—” He snaps, and a small flame dances between his fingers. “—it springs into being. People, animals, plants, thoughts, every element you can conceive, whole worlds… just like this.” Scarlet and saffron, it licks across his skin. “Patterns. We call it magic, angels call it order; humans, I think, are calling it ‘science’ nowadays.” With a careless wave, the flame winks out. “So, when I transformed Lilith’s Being into a human shape… of course the action would come back here, where it started. Like the tide, everything craves balance; a push, a pull, the elements fall back into disarray but find another pattern. Without it, there is nothing.” Thoughtfully, he examines the space where the flame once was. “And yet… we have the power to create patterns of our own. In a whirling existence of order and discord, we can decide what it all means. Call that… Destiny.” 

You’re my successor, Ambrose, because you chose to try. You think you can almost touch the edge of what’s known like this. A strange turn in the pit of your stomach, like you’ve contemplated what nonexistence would feel like for a little too long. 

“Ah, but I don’t mean to lecture you! How dreadfully dull.” Diavolo chuckles. “Listen to me; I’m starting to sound like Barbatos—please don’t tell him! Now, I started all this because… aha! Yes.” He sobers. “I cannot remove Belphegor from the House of Lamentation because of the deal you and I made. And frankly, I don’t want to. It would benefit him not at all to misbehave now, so I doubt he’ll try anything further; from his perspective, there’s no sense in jeopardizing his extraordinarily good fortune. However, if it would make you more comfortable, I can have you moved to Purgatory Hall either temporarily, or for the remainder of the year.” Here, the prince straightens, and leans slightly toward you over the table. “But I hope you don’t doubt that Lucifer and his brothers care for you.”

Your heart aches, protesting in your chest. “I don’t.” You know they care, but you know they’re loyal to their brother, too. That, maybe, their loyalty should be to him first. And that you…

You…

You used the pacts against them without even thinking. 

“Good! After all, half the Devildom would like to be you right now, if only for the benefits. And yet, you seem to be completely unaware of or care not at all for that kind of thing. Power? You ask for nothing. Riches, sex, unlimited knowledge? Not a single bargain, not one favor. Your complete lack of ambition is truly a marvel!” His smile is radiant. Your head is spinning. You’re not sure whether you’ve been insulted or praised or a bit of both, and just can’t bring yourself to bother untangling it. 

You used the pacts to strip your friends of their will. 

“Still... all the same, would you like me to have your quarters moved for a while?”

“N—” Tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. “No. Thank you. I… have to go back.”

Diavolo hums, the sound resonating in his chest. “I respect your decision, though you needn’t return to the House until you’re ready. After all, you are, of course, welcome to stay here for as long as you like during Barbatos’ recovery. You are free to come and go as you please.” 

The temptation is very real. You need to—you want… you wish to confide in someone, to ask about what you’ve done, seek advice on the course of action, but Barbatos isn’t available. Reach for your water goblet, stomach heavy with knots. 

“I can have someone fetch anything you need for this evening,” the prince suggests, slowly, and you realize with no small embarrassment that you haven’t responded to him at all. 

“I’m sorry.” Concentrate on a long, warm sip of water, feel the way it restores your dry throat. “I am very grateful for the invitation, Lord Diavolo, but I… I’ll need to at least fetch my own things. I have to at least apologize.”

His brow arches. “Apologize? What for? The way I heard it, Belphegor antagonized you.” 

Fingers curl tight around the goblet’s stem. “I won’t be apologizing to Belphegor.” There’s a whisper of sensation curling around your forearm.

“Ah, of course; I heard that your rage was quite something.”

It disappears without a trace, and you find your hand shaking, so you set the glass upon the table, and let your arm rest there, gaze fixed on the silk of your sleeve, contrasting sharply against the black tablecloth. “It shouldn’t have happened.” 

“You’re… going to apologize for... being angry?” 

Well, it looks like you’re confessing to the prince himself, and it’s too late to stop now. “I used the pacts to keep them all from interfering.” You avoid covering your face, though only just, by shoving your hands into your lap. Like a naughty child. But isn’t that what you are for letting your anger control you? “I was so angry, I… I just took away their ability to act. Made what I wanted more important.”

“Everyone?”

Struggle to think back. “All… except Asmodeus and Leviathan, because they weren’t there, or—I didn’t notice they were there. And Lucifer, of course, but…” Your heart seizes. “Only because I couldn’t.” 

Diavolo is silent for a moment. “And you think that was... wrong?” 

"Of course it was wrong!" 

But Diavolo looks dumbfounded. "Then was it wrong to use your pact with Beelzebub to keep him from fighting me back in Purgatory Hall?" 

"That's nowhere near the same thing. I was stopping a fight, not starting one." 

"So the issue is that you wanted to fight, and decided to prevent anyone from stopping you?" He tilts his head. "Well, you didn't intend to try to kill Belphegor this morning, did you? If so, I would like to suggest that a porcelain serving platter is perhaps not the best method you could have chosen." He has the audacity to giggle. "I would like to have seen it, though."

"Of course I wouldn't try to kill him, and—" Your stomach rolls dangerously. "—certainly not while they watched. He's their brother."

"And yet, you would have been well within your rights to try. He tried to kill you, and is now beyond formal punishment from the crown for that action. Taking it into your own hands is not inappropriate." 

"Diavolo, I prevented them from being able to stop me even if they wanted to more than anything. Is that not cruel? I enforced my will over theirs. Their bodies wouldn’t obey them, they couldn’t—couldn’t even speak—"

"Now stop that."

Your cheeks light with shame even as you balk at the command. 

"They gave you that power in order to put you on more equal footing with them, and with other demons. Do you think they did it without expecting that you could use it as a tool of wrath or envy or greed? Tell me, how is utilizing your power different from any one of them restraining you physically to prevent your will from being enacted?"

When laid out that way—

Even so… "I shouldn't have done it out of anger." 

"Ambrose, for a demon, your intentions matter. In Purgatory Hall, you invoked the pact to protect Beelzebub from himself. This morning, you used the pacts to protect your completely justified desire to confront Belphegor. I don’t believe you would ever intend to harm the brothers, and you certainly didn't today, if this guilt is any indication." 

"No, I didn't." It eases some of the pain in your chest, until you recall the wrath that swam through your blood. "Well... except Belphegor.” Fingers curl into palms. “But now I'm just… tired. And I'm sorry I didn't even let them have the opportunity to stand up for him." 

Diavolo leans back in his chair. "Then apologize. Humans seem so… tangled up in what they ‘should’ and ‘shouldn't’ be allowed to feel that they stop thinking about why they’re feeling. Nearly every one of the brothers has threatened your well-being in a moment of passion, and yet, you act like keeping them rooted to the floor for a moment is some grave injustice because you did it while you were angry." He folds his arms across his chest. "Sometimes, I wonder if you just believe you don't have the right to your own Destiny." 

Your nails are cutting into your palms. Lamplight glints, blood-red and bright through an untouched glass of demonus. “Do you… consider Destiny and Fate different things, Diavolo?”

“Yes. I believe Destiny is precisely what I told you: creation and change through will. It is your choice, your power over the shape of your life. Fate, on the other hand, is how you start. It’s the circumstances you’re given and the world you live in, and it is where you will be at the end of all things. But Destiny is how you arrive there, how you’ll shape what that final Fate may be; nobody has a say in how they begin, but they do have a hand in how it ends.”

“That must be very easy for you to say.”

“It wasn’t always.” 

When you look up, the half-smile on his lips has the character of a grimace, distant and self-deprecating, disarming in its sincerity. But then it’s gone, blown away on the faint breeze stirred by the opening of a door. 

“Would you like to take dessert and tea in the parlor, my lord?” 

You hadn’t even noticed Arbianock was gone.

Diavolo glances sidelong at you, but you find you have no opinion on the matter. With a sigh, the prince shakes his head. “No, I think we’ll both be tending to our own business this evening, but I’ll take some in my office. Ambrose… if you change your mind about moving your quarters or requesting assistance, please, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

----

When you left the House of Lamentation this morning, you hadn’t even had time to consider that you were walking the streets unescorted for the first time since your arrival in the Devildom. Now, as the scant evening light begins to fade into night, you’re painfully aware of every shadow, each unfamiliar face that lingers on every street-corner. And…

They’re studiously avoiding eye-contact. That seems rather backward, but you’re certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, nor slow your steps, as much as you dread arriving at the estate. 

The house’s slouching gables seem more grievous than unusual beneath the silver moon, the spire painfully lonesome. Would anyone notice, do you suppose, if you just turned around and retraced your steps into town? There’s not a single insect chirping tonight, no mournful breeze. The house sits, uncharacteristically silent. Perhaps no one is even home. 

Your stomach turns. Is it because you fear you won’t have the opportunity to see them, or because you might? 

The air has taken on a chill edge, and you’re not dressed for it; you can’t stand on the street forever. So, with a miserably unfortifying breath, you try the door, and find it unlocked. 

The entrance hall is dark, and silent, but the halls beyond are lit… someone must be home. You make your steps as light as possible. Should you stop by your room first? If you do, what next? What if no one wants to speak with you? What if—

“Good evening, Ambrose.” Lucifer’s hands rest on the balcony rail, at the top of the stairs. 

There’s no hiding the way you flinched. “Good evening.” 

He makes no move toward the stairs. “How was your visit?” 

“Good.” Anything else sticks in your throat.

“Mm.”

Silence.

Your heart sinks; you had rather thought you two were beyond this. Perhaps you returned too soon… or, too late. 

“Are you… here to retrieve your things?” He’s not looking at you, not quite.

Take a deep breath, curl your fingers into your palms. “I wanted to talk to you. Everyone. But—I’m—well... I’m sorry.” You look at your feet. “For this morning.” 

Lucifer sighs wearily. “Let’s not stand in the hall.” He descends the stairs briskly, gloved fingers lingering lightly on the rail. “Come along.” 

You follow close on his heels to the common room, where he lights a fire with a careless flick of his wrist. As you pass him to find a seat on the sofa, his brow quirks, nose wrinkled, but says only: “I trust you weren’t harassed in the streets on the way back?”

“No.” You sit on the edge of the leather cushion, not quite willing to be comfortable. “Actually, I noticed… they seemed to want to avoid me.”

“Yes; I didn’t worry this morning, as the wrath rolling off of you was plenty potent enough to make any lesser demon think twice, to make no mention of your pacts.” He paces in front of the fire, blocking the heat for a moment, casting long, wavering shadows across carpet and wood. “I also suspect that the story of what happened—some version of it, anyway—has made its rounds. If anyone does touch you now that you can reach the power of your pacts, knowing what you’re willing to risk… what we are willing to risk… I’ll be shocked.”

“What I’m willing to risk?” 

Lucifer nods. “It would be like plucking wings to get most demons to outright admit it, but humans are widely regarded as dangerous. Yes, you had no magic of your own when you came here, and required protection because you would have been eaten, and you know now—” He turns away, light from the flames flickering across his face until you see only his back. “You know how easily we can kill. But a human willing to risk their life for something is formidable, even without magic—such willingness is remarkable, a novelty to demons. A human willing to die for their cause is unpredictable, able to do things even a demon or an angel cannot, under normal circumstances, achieve.”

That just… doesn’t seem possible. “Surely a demon or an angel has to be even more dangerous than a human when they’re risking their lives for something they believe is right.” 

He looks back at you, a small smirk drawing his lips. “Yes.” Then his brow furrows; he shakes his head. “But you don’t understand. We don’t risk our well-being lightly, and our lives… perhaps a single instance across the realms, once an eon, and rarely for another being.” 

That doesn’t seem right at all. Didn’t every one of the brothers risk their lives for Lilith? Didn’t Barbatos sacrifice, not his life, but his health, to keep you alive? 

“I know what you’re thinking, but my family shares an unusually strong bond; what we did, even as angels, was unprecedented. For a demon, even risking one’s well-being is tantamount to love. Risking one’s life, to a demon or angel, is… it’s an expression of utmost devotion, the purest gesture of love we know.” Finally, he settles in a high-backed chair. “And yet… humans, with their short lives, their little blink of existence… so many of them do it all the time.” Lucifer folds his arms, shakes his head. “You did it for a few demons you’ve known for even fewer months; that, I suspect, I will never understand. But it doesn’t mean that I am not… grateful.” 

The fire crackles. He sighs deeply. 

“I did intend to tell you about Belphegor this morning.” 

That shatters your daze. You fold your hands tightly in your lap, study a scuff along side-table from what you suspect was a pair of Asmodeus’ heels. “Why didn’t you?”

“You were meant to wait for Mammon, who would escort you to breakfast once Belphegor had gotten his plate. I would have warned you once the rest of us sat down and had something to eat.”

“I didn’t follow the plan.” 

“You rarely do. I should have sent Mammon earlier. Or gone myself. Or made Belphegor wait for his breakfast until the rest of us had eaten.” He crosses his legs at the ankle. “Yes—you didn’t follow instructions, but by now I should be prepared for that.” 

Wring your fingers together, cracking the joints. “I was hungry, and I completely forgot you said it... I think I was nearly asleep when you told me to wait for Mammon. I didn’t intend to ignore you.” 

“I won’t hold it against you.”

That's… unexpected. You look up to meet his eyes, but he can’t hold your gaze for more than a moment before tilting his head, glancing away. 

“I… understand if you don’t wish to return, but we’ll have to break the news to my brothers carefully.” A heaviness in the air, like poorly masked despair. 

All this time, he thought…? “Lucifer, I’m not leaving. Well—I am, tonight, but I’m not moving out. I’m only staying at the castle a couple days, until Barbatos is well.”

“Oh.” His brows arch. “I see. That’s good. I mean to say, I am glad that you won’t be leaving; it saves me the trouble of consoling my brothers.” But he’s smiling; you both know what he really means. 

Your heart is lighter, but—“I still need to apologize to them.”

A nod. “Before I summon them… how was Barbatos when you saw him?”

“He was sleeping, but he woke briefly to talk with me; he said he would need to sleep for four more days.”

“And you’ll be staying at the castle during that time?”

“Yes.”

“With him?” 

His eyes are scarlet, blood-red, black, and your throat sticks. “More or less.” 

Lucifer holds your gaze for a moment. Two. Three. He rises from his seat by the fire. “You know this is… highly unusual.”

“Yes.” 

He stops, rests his hand on the back of the chaise, halfway to the door, brows pinched thoughtfully. “Did Barbatos say anything else?” 

You are free to touch me.  If you would stay for a while, until I sleep again, I would consider it a reciprocal gesture. I’m glad now that I never looked; it’s much better as a surprise. The brothers are going to be exceptionally envious. You may join me, if you wish. Ineffectively adjust your cuff-less sleeves. “A few things… why?”

“Did he say why he did it?” 

There’s only one thing Lucifer could be talking about. “No, but I thanked him.”

He nods, drums his fingers on the polished wood, and turns away. 

“But—” There is something that has been nagging at your mind. Lucifer returns his attention to you. “—Lord Diavolo did suggest… even though Barbatos was certainly acting in the Exchange Program’s interests… that he didn’t have to do things the way he did. What does that mean?”

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. “That is a question for Barbatos himself.” And he closes the distance to the door. 

----

“Hey.” Beelzebub hovers awkwardly in your doorway, so you pause after tucking another set of socks into the duffel bag Leviathan had graciously loaned you (TSL-themed, with the pattern from Henry’s armor on it; he’d stuttered that he had another in pristine condition anyway, so there was no reason for you not to borrow it).   

“You can come in, Beel.” 

There’s a nervous churn in your stomach that most definitely isn’t yours; you need to learn how to filter these things out when you don’t need them sooner rather than later. Some of the others appear to be able to shield their feelings, but Beelzebub…

He keeps looking at the table and the books you've placed there, at the bed where your clothes are laid out. After a moment, he settles on staring at the floor. "I wish you wouldn't go." 

Your heart softens. "Beel… it's only for a few days."

"I know." He tucks his hands against his chest, fingers hugging one wrist. When you gently nudge his elbow, he meets your eyes. "I'm sorry."

But… he didn't do anything wrong. "For what?"

"Belphie." He looks at the floor again. "I should've known. I wish… I wish I'd pressed Lucifer harder about getting to talk to him or—I should've known. He's my brother. And now you're leaving because—" He swallows. "...I'm sorry." 

“I’m not leaving forever.” There's a lump in your throat. "Beel… it's not your fault. It's not your fault you didn't know where Belphegor was, that you trusted Lucifer, and certainly not… not what Belphegor did." 

“I’m trying to talk to him.” He draws a deep breath through his nose. “I wish I could say I didn’t get it. Why he did it.”

A sharp pain in your chest. “Beel, you’d never—”

But he shakes his head, slowly. “Belphie doesn’t know you. He doesn’t care. It’s just like when you first came here… I didn’t care, either. Nobody did. You’re just—just a thing that reminds him of…” A deep crease settles between his brows, around the corners of his mouth. “Of what we lost. Of when Lilith died. And he hates it. And—I’m sorry.” 

You look at the floor, and pull a chair out from the table, sit heavily in it, stomach in knots that don’t belong to you. “Please don't keep apologizing.” Your head is starting to hurt. “I—” Sigh. Fold your hands together tightly. “I can’t pretend I know what it feels like. But… there is a difference between you and your brother: you gave me a chance. Belphegor had the opportunity to get to know me a little; I visited him. But I suppose… it just wasn’t enough. He doesn’t want to care, Beel, but you gave me a chance.” There’s a slight tremble in your fingers, so you twine them further together. “And… yes; Belphegor and I will have to talk eventually if I’m going to be here—and I do want to be here. But… not today.”

Slowly, he nods. “Okay. ...okay.” He reaches for the other chair, hesitates—but you nod, and he folds himself into it. 

You try giving him a small smile, but judging by the half-grimace he returns, it wasn’t a particularly successful effort. In the silence that follows, you take turns staring at the dark wood of the table, at the neatly stacked textbooks. Devildom History on the bottom. Introduction to Infernal next, with the supplemental workbook, Runes, Sigils, and Script. On top, a thin volume of Hex and Mutability: the Theoretical Groundwork.   

“It hurt so much.” 

There’s such a pain in your chest that it takes your breath away, and your hand finds his arm, grips it tightly over the table. 

Beelzebub doesn’t look up, hair shadowing his face. “I haven’t told Belphie yet. He’s not ready. But it—it hurt so much when you called me. He hurt you. You were going to die.” His large hand covers yours, squeezing over his arm, a pressure you can latch onto. “I know why you were angry at him today, but I still couldn’t let you…” Finally, he meets your eyes, gaze burning, shining with unshed tears. “I don’t want anyone else to hurt.” 

Damn it. You rest your other hand on top of Beel’s. Swallow the dampness in your throat, threatening your eyes. “I don’t, either. But—” A single tear that isn’t yours, lingering on your skin. “I can’t stay right now.” 

He nods, slowly. “You’re worried about Barbatos.”

Oh. 

“I… am, yes.” 

Beelzebub squeezes your hand one more time, and lets it return to your lap. 

“How do you know that?” Your unspoken communication isn’t going both directions when you don’t mean to, is it?

“You’re not going to Purgatory Hall.” He shrugs. “And before everything, he was giving you lots of sweets. I know, because you shared, and you’d go all pink when I asked how you got them, just like you are now.” He smiles—but then his stomach makes a terrible gurgle. “Oh, no… now I’m hungry.” 

He’s right, but you’re smiling now, too. “Go get something to eat, and if you want… you can help me pack up. I might even have a sweet stashed away, though it’ll be a little old, I suppo—”

“You do. I can smell it.” 

The giggle that draws is stuttering, but genuine. “Go get your snack, Beel.”

----

Arbianock absolutely insisted upon carrying the duffel bag to your temporary quarters, but you managed to hold on to your backpack. The room—can it be simply called a room, with arching windows and gossamer curtains?—to which she leads you is easily twice the size of your bedroom at the House of Lamentation, with your own bathroom and… is that door open to a sitting room?

“This is extremely generous,” you manage, as the butler sets your borrowed bag on a chest at the foot of a king-sized, sleigh bed done in soft, dove grey and jewel tones of green and blue.

But she doesn’t crack even the slightest smile, her face resting in pleasant neutrality. “Lord Diavolo respects you a great deal, and he has no other guests.” Immediately, she sets about sorting your clothes into an elaborate chestnut dresser with scrolling embellishments along its edges, not hearing a single word of your protest. “And though you refused to stay with Master Barbatos, we would not consider giving you anything less than quarters of equal status.” 

There goes the thought of possibly insisting that you don’t need such an extravagant set of rooms for three days. But the ceiling is frescoed. Frescoed! Your head is hurting again. You’re quite sure you weren’t even this stressed the first time someone tried to kill you. 

The first time. 

Oh, dear. 

“I’ve also taken the liberty of drawing you a bath; I’m sure you’re ready to retire.” 

Arbianock definitely hasn’t left your side since you arrived... “How did you know when I would arrive and that I’d be staying in this room rather than with Barbatos as Lord Diavolo expected?”

“I had prepared two baths, just to be sure, perhaps an hour ago.” 

“And they don’t get cold?” You really shouldn’t be surprised by magic bathtubs in the castle, but...

This time, she does let her mouth relax into the slightest smirk, lavender eyes glinting. “They wouldn’t dare.” 

The tea won’t get cold if it knows what’s good for it. Clearly, Barbatos taught her everything she knows. You nod, slowly, and set your backpack beside the chest at the foot of the bed, and close your eyes. “Thank you.” 

“Would you like me to assist you?”

“In the bath?”

“Yes.” 

“No, thank you—that’s…” You fold your hands together and meet her eyes. “You’ve helped me a great deal; thank you. I’ll just bathe and get some sleep.” 

She bows, giving you a full view of the ring of braids woven amongst the mushrooms at the crown of her head, orange and brown and purple and red-speckled. “There is a selection of soaps and salts at the edge of the tub, and should you require assistance, there is a bell within reach; if you require anything in the night, even if it’s simply a cup of tea, do ring. You are quite safe, but wandering about the castle at night, alone, is not advisable.” 

“Thank you, Arbianock, for everything. I’ll call if I need something.” You won’t. But not because her offer doesn’t seem genuine. 

“Good night, Ser.” 

“You really don’t need to—” 

But she’s gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her. 

You sigh. The carpet beneath your feet is cream and turquoise and you really feel like you shouldn’t be standing on it with shoes. A fire already flickering merrily in a hearth that opens into the sitting room means it isn’t too cold to strip and make your way to the bath without further thought, though you do tuck your boots and dirty clothes into the empty duffel bag that Arbianock stored in the large chest. 

The bathroom is… just as extravagant as the bedroom. The bathtub—plenty large enough to seat twelve—is set into the floor below another fireplace, this one shielded with fanciful wire mesh that allows light to play through a delicate depiction of climbing roses. The tub itself is marble, with several perches below the water’s surface, and, as promised, various soaps, salts, and other products sit lined on a marble shelf within easy reach. Dark tiles cross the floor, perhaps basalt, and the walls are the same cream-colored plaster as the bedroom, accented with subtle reliefs in the shape of arches, painted with bronze. 

You try to ignore the opulence as you slip into the water, bypassing the salts and soaps… deciding what to add to the bath would be entirely too much effort. Water envelops your body, almost too hot to be comfortable; carefully, you settle on a perch that leaves you submerged to your neck, and close your eyes. 

The air smells faintly spicy—of the fire above which casts dancing shadows behind your eyelids—and sweet—of subtle, floral notes probably drifting from the shelf of soap and salt. There’s… lilac in it, and roses, like Asmodeus’ perfumed handkerchief. 

All of them forgave you, quickly, as Diavolo had predicted, but your cheeks still burn with shame: it should never have happened. You must hold yourself to a higher standard; you always have, always must. You can’t afford to lose your temper. The damage you do is greater than whatever petty relief you might feel from lashing out. 

Take a slow, deep breath, and release it amid the heavy steam. 

Look, nobody’s mad at ya for bein’ angry, you know? 

We’re all angry.

And we told ya, you’re family now. That didn’t change. 

An ache in your chest. They were so kind, more forgiving than most humans. And you left. And all because...

Plunge beneath the surface. The gentle, muffled sound of space folds over your ears, the slow hum of water drowning the phantom sensation of nerves alight with pain, of limbs that won’t move, of slicing breaths. Stay, enveloped in the warmth until your lungs begin to burn instead, and push yourself upright, where the air strikes your skin, pleasantly cool. 

It’s not fair. The burn along the base of your spine blends with the bath. 

You’re envious of… of what, all the things that could have been? 

Everything had been going so well! Belphegor would have been free, the bond of the seven brothers strengthened after learning the truth about Lilith, the House of Lamentation pieced back together... and you’d return to Barbatos, waiting for you on the other side of the door, relieved, perfectly well, not too exhausted to lift his head, nor—

It’s not fair. You were happy. You were so, so happy before Belphegor left the attic, before you admitted what you’d done, just attending classes and waking up to breakfast with your friends, going into town with Mammon and Asmo, trading books with Satan, settling in for a TSL marathon with Levi, making midnight kitchen runs with Beel, playing chess with Lucifer and Diavolo. Looking forward to stealing a glance in the hallway from Barbatos before tea, where you could savor his smile, to continue sitting slowly closer and closer together each week—

Is it such a sin—is it such a sin to just be happy? To be simple and happy for just a little while? Must it go awry? Must it be complicated? Must you be punished? Must you die for it?

It’s not fair. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.

Your eyes are hot, wet, spilling tears in that easy, warm way that they do while you’re bathing, blending with the damp already on your cheeks until they’re so diluted you can’t tell your tears from the bathwater. And then you’re coughing, then choking out racking sobs that echo sharp, too sharp, off the stone and marble and plaster. Clap your hands over your mouth, but it doesn’t stop the shake of your shoulders, the uncontrolled rock of your body in the water.

----

“...Ambrose?”

“Hm?” You glance up from the bone-china cup clasped between your fingers.

“You seem distracted.” Simeon’s brow creases. “And you look very tired; is everything all right?” 

“Yes! I’m sorry.” Take another sip; it tastes like mint and something floral, with the bright flavor that accompanies most teas from the Celestial Realm which would, ordinarily, feel energizing. “I just… didn’t sleep very well last night. I apologize.” Actually, you’re not sure you slept at all in your plush, borrowed bed, visions of that day flickering through your mind, tangled up amongst yesterday’s guilt and turmoil. 

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I can make a more restorative tea, if it’ll help, but it’s no replacement for real sleep.” 

Smile. “No, thank you, that’s all right; I’m enjoying this one… I’ll just try to go to bed earlier tonight.” It seems you’re nothing but a disaster lately. “You’ve done quite enough to help me recently—I’m supposed to be here thanking you.” 

“And I already told you that you don’t need to thank me.” The lamps in his room imitate the sun, and when he shakes his head, they light on his dark hair, glowing radiantly. “Do you really think I wouldn’t help you, knowing that I have the ability to do it?” 

Your cheeks heat. “No.” 

“Then don’t fret.” He chuckles lightly, musically. “I only did what you’d do if the roles were reversed. It was the right thing.” 

“I—I’m glad you think so highly of me.” Take another drink of your tea, already growing cold. “Are you sure you’re all right? Lucifer mentioned that you were exhausted afterward, too.” 

“Of course; I’m perfectly fine now. You were… well—there was quite a lot of damage. The Belphegor I knew...” He purses his lips, a shadow falling over his face. “The Belphegor I knew would never have done such a thing, and certainly not to a human.” He drinks from his own cup, frowns into it. “But even so, I didn’t have to do quite as much work as Barbatos did, and the healing process took more out of you than it did of me.”  

“When you say ‘not to a human’, you mean because he loved them so much?” 

“Yes... I suppose his brothers already told you about that.”

“They did but it’s… somewhat difficult to imagine now. I can only assume he placed the blame on humanity because it was the only target he could reach, after…” Your fingers tighten in your lap. “Even so—doesn’t he hate the angels that sided against his brothers?” His inner iris seems to contract, blues and greens swirling tempestuously. “I—I’m sorry; I wouldn’t wish it on you. I know you cared very much about Lucifer before, and it couldn’t have been—”

Simeon smiles, waving his hand, but the lines around his eyes are terse, tense. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. It is rather strange to think he doesn’t, but I suspect he hasn’t completely forgiven us, even if he does seem to hate humanity more than heaven.”

“Even so, it wasn’t very considerate of me.”

“Things have been very hard for you,” he says firmly, a definite argument against your apology. “None of this is your fault, and it’s not fair that you were drawn into our ancient business.” The room is suddenly a little brighter, you think, a little warmer, like you caught a bit of sunlight on your skin. “Give yourself more credit,” he murmurs, warmly, and oh, no, you’re going to cry again. 

“Ambrose!” 

You don’t get the chance as a solid weight comes careening into the back of your chair, noisily sloshing the tea in your cup.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over!” 

Swallow over the remaining lump in your throat. “Sorry, Luke. I didn’t know you wouldn’t be here, and when Simeon said you’d be home soon, I thought it would be a good surprise.”

The angel slides around your chair and throws his arms about your neck, smooshing your head against his chest, where the brooch that holds his necktie in place sticks painfully into your cheek, but… the comfort radiating from the rest of his little being is well worth that small ache. “I’m so happy you’re okay!” 

Simeon, thankfully, takes your tea so that you can return the embrace. “And I’m happy to see you.” Hugs from Luke feel just like seeing a rainbow as it stretches through the sky on a summer afternoon, the breeze cool, and the air, gold. 

“I wanted to see you right away, but they said you still needed rest and then you wanted to see Barbatos, and is Barbatos okay? They wouldn’t let me see him, either! They told me he’s just resting, but is he really okay?” 

You’re not going to tease him just now about worrying after the well-being of a demon but you do smile into his jacket when he refuses to release you, cheek pressed against the top of your head. “He’s really okay, Luke; I talked to him for a few minutes yesterday and he said he just needed to sleep for a few more days. Three days, after this one.” 

“But are you sure he wasn’t pretending to be okay? He’s really good at not letting people know how he feels. And Simeon said he had to be in his angelic form to heal you! Celestial magic is bad for demons. Divine Radiance like he has—”

Luke must feel you stiffen, because his hands move to your shoulders, pushing you back to look at your face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

But you look at Simeon, whose gloved hand rubs the top of his shoulder. “What is he talking about, Simeon? I remember that you said you had to change forms that night, but… it was physically painful for Barbatos?” 

Damn it; you should have put it together. He had flinched back from the golden light, just before—

“I’m sorry, I… didn’t realize you wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t necessary, but in order to utilize my full power, I had to shift to my angelic form, which… I’ve never used here, not at any of the parties when everyone else is in their demonic form, because our aura can be painful to look at. When using magic the way I was that night, I… we… have this Radiance that can pain or injure creatures from this realm. It’s defensive and involuntary. Even humans find it difficult to look upon an angel; they find themselves slow or unable to move, discover their wicked thoughts are confused and muddled, and… some go mad.”

You’re an idiot.

“He couldn’t even lift his head,” you mumble. It’s probably a miracle he could move at all yesterday, let alone… “Does Diavolo know about this?” 

“Yes, of course; I disclosed everything.” 

Which means Diavolo lied.

“And he’s fine, right?” Luke demands.

You’re so sick of being lied to. 

“If Barbatos said he’ll be up and about in three days, then yes. There’s no reason not to take his word.” Simeon’s brows draw in a troubled curve. “But, Ambrose…” His eye is drawn to the troubled tremor of your knee, bouncing up and down; for how long, you don’t know. “Maybe you should rest.” 

Force yourself to sit still. You thought you’d gotten over that habit. “Simeon, I’ve already slept for three—”

Your stomach drops. 

“Ambrose…” Simeon’s voice lilts, slow.

Luke squeezes your hand. “Hey, it’s okay. Simeon is right; maybe—”

“I was asleep for three days.” Try to wet your lips, but your mouth is dry. “Barbatos said four more, which means he’ll have been out for a week.”

“Yes…”

“A week! One of the most powerful beings in the Realms.” There’s an ache starting up behind your eyes, but this is important. “I was mostly dead but I—”

Three soft taps on the open door. “Excuse me.” You turn to see Solomon hovering there, smiling in the most obtusely friendly fashion possible, shrugging out of his RAD jacket. “Is everything all right? It’s nice to see you up and about, Ambrose.” 

You’ve never liked the feel of his words, insubstantial as smoke, and you find it grates on your already fraying nerves, despite the warmth Luke emits, half perched on the arm of your chair. “Thank you… it’s nice to be up.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you seem pretty upset.” 

“I—”

“About Barbatos, I presume?” His coat hangs in the crook of his arm, but he still curls a hand under his chin. 

Luke’s brow wrinkles. “How did you know that?”

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know,” says Simeon mildly. 

But Solomon chuckles, a soft little hiccup of laughter. “I didn’t have to… if someone raises their voice, I don’t think that really counts. Did I hear it right? Barbatos won’t be rejoining us for a week?” 

You’d like to lie. “He said he’ll be up in three days.”

“Ahh, which makes a week, total.” He hums. “And you feel… guilty, I imagine?” 

You feel cold. Don’t even open your mouth to reply.

“Well, you shouldn’t!” Solomon smiles brightly. “Barbatos resolved the situation in the way he saw fit. It’s not the play I would have made, but it wasn’t my decision. Now, I still haven’t actually heard it from him; did he happen to tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” 

“Oh.” With a frown, he shakes out his jacket, resituates it over his elbow before folding his arms. “Well, I was hoping he explained what he was thinking. It was an unnecessarily risky maneuver, you know?”

“No, Solomon, I don’t know.” You can feel the tension creeping into your voice. You know it came off as more than a little irritable but, quite frankly, things are perplexing enough at the moment without a blasted sorcerer being cryptic on purpose.

He blinks. “Oh. Well, let’s start with… what do you know about Barbatos’ powers?”

Teachable moment, your mind supplies, and you huff a shallow sigh. “He can see both the past and future—as well as what might be and what could have been. Apparently, he can also stop the flow of Time temporarily, and manipulate how individuals experience Time to some degree. He can also create doors to other times and places.”

“Very good. That’s all?”

As though that isn’t enough power?

“That’s all I know.”

“Hm. I suppose I ought to let Barbatos handle telling you the rest.” His brow creases, mouth curving in a smile that feels… genuinely apologetic. “But you should know that he doesn’t do things on a whim. I don’t know why, but Barbatos gave you a gift, so don’t disrespect it with guilt or regret.”

A gift. 

“What kind of gift?” Luke’s nose is wrinkled. “Life? Or is this like… a metaphor?”

He was giving you lots of sweets. 

Solomon tilts his head. “Not a metaphor, no, but ‘life’ is certainly one way to put it.” 

You risked your life for a few demons, Lucifer is saying in the back of your mind, as he had in the living room, in front of the fireplace. To a demon, even risking your well-being is tantamount to—

The room is suddenly too bright, the world tilting on its axis. 

“You know, Simeon, I think… maybe I do need to get some rest.”

----

Barbatos’ room is just as it was yesterday, with the addition of a covered plate, a note in neat script from Arbianock, identifying the platter as lunch whenever you’re ready to eat it, and that same, silver bell weighing down the paper’s closing remark to “call for anything you require.” But you aren’t hungry, so you bypass the table for the armchair beside his bed, where Barbatos rests in precisely the same position he had before, moved not an inch. 

This has developed rather quickly, and out of order, from a demon’s perspective.

Yes, now that you understand, you’d say it rather has. 

“I suppose you must have thought I knew what it meant,” you say softly, into the quiet of the room. Green-orange afternoon daylight filters through the many-paned windows, casting his fair skin in a gentle, bronze-silver glow. “Or were you being subtle and cryptic on purpose?” His hand remains outstretched on the maroon comforter, where you’d so carefully let him go yesterday. You hesitate only half a moment before twining your fingers together again. After all... you do, you suppose, still have permission. “I know you enjoy a playful tête-à-tête, but something more straightforward wouldn’t have gone amiss. Now I have to wait three days to ask you a whole stream of questions.” 

Trace your thumb over his knuckles, marvel at the cool, silk-softness of his skin.

“What made you decide? That’s what they all want to know. Diavolo, Solomon… even Lucifer. He didn’t say it, but I think he knew. Solomon is actually the reason I put it together, as much as I find him… untrustworthy. I won’t say unpleasant; he’s polite enough, even fun sometimes, especially with Asmodeus, but—as you said, he’s one to watch for. And yet, he spoke directly enough for me to solve this… because he’s curious? Or is it because he respects you? You’re both so silent about your pact, and I understand it’s no one’s business, but—” You pillow your other arm, and rest your head, fingers lazily laced with his. “It’s silly, and rude, I know, but it... makes me jealous. That pact. The secrecy. Neither of you owe me that knowledge, yet, all the same…” Huff a shallow sigh. “I was refusing to think about it, but now I know why.” Let your eyes drift closed a moment. Just for a moment. “I should be telling you all this when you’re awake. Well, maybe not the last bit. You don’t owe me that.”

The feel of his skin on yours is a marvel, warmed by your touch. 

“But I want to tell you—I want to say… even though I still have to return home—“ The words stick in your throat, and you squeeze his fingers lightly. “I’d like you to know, even if you already do.”

----

“You know, lying in the bed is generally more comfortable.” 

Sharp inhale. “Wasn’ ‘nvited.” 

“I don’t know… you seemed quite comfortable yesterday.” There’s a teasing smile in Diavolo’s voice.

You’re not even properly awake and you can feel your cheeks burning as you struggle to an upright position, hissing as several of your vertebrae pop, zipping up your spine like a xylophone. “Wasn’t invited today.”

That seems to give him pause as you carefully slide your hand out of Barbatos’. 

“You don’t have a… standing invitation?” 

Scrub at your face with your sleeve, blinking blearily. “Lord Diavolo—”

“Diavolo, please.”

“Diavolo, yesterday was the first time I’ve ever shared the same bed with him.” 

“Oh.” He glances away, brow furrowed. “Then… you mean you haven’t—”

You meet his eyes, mildly perturbed, an ache settling in your shoulders. “Certainly not.” 

“Oh.” He frowns, tilts his head, golden gaze cast somewhere in the distance. Folds his arms across his chest, nods a bit, side to side. “I see.” 

You’re not sure that he does, and you wait, expectantly. 

“Well—I do understand Barbatos doesn’t have much interest, but I would have thought a partner—a human partner, especially—would bring their own appetites to the table.”

You feel like you know where this is going, and you don’t like it. “...why a human partner?”

“Humans are very driven to reproduce. Or… have I understood that wrong? Demons are very emotional, and humans are similar, but they’re driven by corporeal need as well as passion.” You can see the moment he hears what he just said, golden eyes widening. “Of course, you are a very controlled individual! I don’t mean to imply that humans are driven only by need, but, well, maybe I’ve just been listening too much to Asmodeus’ escapades. Please excuse me. I don’t mean to offend.” 

You honestly had never thought about it, with Barbatos. Your pact with the Avatar of Lust has yet to ever bother you with even the smallest twinge of warning; Asmodeus has complained many times that it’s absolutely boring. The closest you’ve ever come is idly thinking, every once in a while, what it might be like to kiss the faithful steward, and your pacts have decided to mark that train of thought, when it gets out of hand, as Greed. 

And Diavolo said Barbatos hasn’t much interest, either. It’s a pleasant thought. 

“I’m not offended… many, maybe even most humans are compelled by what, erm, Asmodeus might call carnal passions but they’re certainly not entirely driven by them, and some just don’t feel them at all, or very rarely.” You fold your arms over your chest, and try to get the rest out before the surrealism of this conversation can get the best of you. “I don’t have all that much interest in it myself. Not that I couldn’t… I just don’t feel the need.” 

“Oh.” He settles back into deep thought for a moment, then brightens. “So, you’re like Barbatos, then!” 

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation with the prince in the unconscious presence of your—your something with whom you haven’t even had this discussion yet!  

“We haven’t talked about it.” 

Diavolo’s face scrunches, and he ruffles the hair on the back of his head with a hum. “This is… very strange.”

“I quite agree.” 

“I hope I haven’t overstepped any boundaries, Ambrose, it’s just—” His eyes settle on Barbatos, still at rest. “You make him so happy. Ever since you started spending time here, he’s happier than I’ve seen him in… well, I can’t remember when. It’s not that he’s been unhappy these last millenia—no, he’s usually quite content, but… that isn’t the same thing.” His golden gaze shifts to you. ”Do you know what I mean?” 

Your heart stutters. I’m so happy here, you’d told Barbatos one night. It isn’t that you were never happy at home, that you don’t have happy moments, but before coming here, when was the last time you woke up each morning, cheerful, ready and wanting to see what the day will bring? The last time you sat down and felt the bright, gentle glow of happiness—not contentment, not peaceful acceptance, not calm as you rise to carry out your responsibilities, but genuine happiness? 

And to think… to think you may have been able to give Barbatos this brilliant, selfsame simple feeling…?

“Yes… yes, I know exactly what you mean.”

----

After midnight, the fresco on the ceiling begins to make sense. 

You've stared at it off and on for hours, last night and again tonight when it became clear that your mind wasn't going to shut itself off long enough to rest. The scene, for a while, seemed incomprehensible, as though you lacked the correct context to interpret the dark figures. If it had depicted a story similar to those in the human world, you could draw on knowledge of mythology or archetypal characters to find a narrative about kings and gods, or perhaps a legend about soldiers and lovers. But the painted shapes refused to yield any familiar symbolism. 

But now, one overlooked wreath of greenery gives you something. The longer you stare, the more certain you become that the white, trifold blossoms topping a tangle of spidery tendrils are a plant you've seen depicted before—one carved into a cabinet door in the castle’s tea room. And now that you're looking for it… the strange flower appears in every segment of the ceiling, its vine-like roots or leaves weaving an interconnected web. Perhaps… it shows the order in which the images should be read? 

Roll over, and fetch your DDD from where it sits, charging in the silvery moonlight. With a steady hand, you zoom in on the plant above your head—the one that seems to crown a vaguely humanoid figure, its face veiled—and snap a picture. You send it to Satan, with the accompanying message: “What flower is this?” 

The response is almost immediate: 

Satan: Shouldn’t you be asleep? 

You: I’m an adult who took a nap this afternoon.

Satan: You’re a human who had a harrowing experience and, according to every book I’ve consulted on the subject, needs rest in order to remain functional. 

You huff. He isn’t wrong, per se, but you’re plenty old enough to know when your sleep schedule has gotten out of hand. Besides, you’ll be back to a normal routine in… two more days.

You: Should I ask someone else my question?

Satan: No.

Satan: It’s a Bloodtide Laris. Culturally significant for demons, as I’m sure you guessed. 

You: Does it have any special symbolism, particularly in storytelling or historical record?

Satan: What exactly are you looking at?

You: There’s a fresco on the ceiling in this guest room. Can you tell me what it means?

Satan: Show me. 

You turn on the lamp with a touch of your hand this time, so you can get a proper series of pictures, starting above your bed and moving to each corner of the room, bare feet padding on plush carpet. You send them one at a time, and settle back into bed. The air has gotten a little chilly since you let the fire go out a couple hours ago.

Your DDD pings.

Satan: It isn’t a pleasant story.

You: That doesn’t change my request.

Indeed, it only increases your curiosity, sparks a need to know, fluttering like butterflies.

Satan: You’ll get into a lot of trouble one day.

You: Already done.

Satan: ...yes. Sorry.

Satan: But I see it didn’t make you any more cautious. 

You’re ready to ask again when the ellipsis appears to let you know he’s typing. So, you try to wait patiently, eyes roving over the ceiling again, the veiled figures, the painstakingly detailed trees and mountain-sides. 

Satan: It’s a story about a powerful artefact forged in a shaky alliance between human and demon. The first section, there, with two Bloodtide Laris shows its creation—the Demon King from that time is present, crowned with the flower and veiled in the presence of the human, who made a pact for knowledge and the power to enchant the blade. The dagger is between them, but it probably doesn’t look like one to you. It’s represented by the second Laris with a star nestled in its roots. 

You: That’s a strange way to depict a knife.

Satan: The important thing about the knife isn’t the blade—it’s the enchantment. The Bloodtide Laris grasps a star—a popular symbol for the soul—in its carnivorous root system.

You select an appropriately alarmed demoji.

You: Maybe you could tell me more about the flower before we continue?

Satan: Right. 

Satan: It was given the name “Bloodtide” because it first grew on the banks of the Styx, which were always awash with the blood of the damned. 

You: I don’t remember reading that in the Inferno.

Satan: Dante was never physically here.

You: I’ll ask about that at a later time, I suppose.

Satan: The flowers drank the blood and purified the river. They keep it clean to this day, drinking the blood of humans and demons alike, not discriminating. An early king ordered the collection of some of the flowers for study and found that they will break down any flesh given to them. They say he even stole the spilled blood of an angel from battle and the flower drank it up just the same.

You: That’s… eerie, but the flowers don’t go searching for blood. They just eat what’s available, like other plants? Absorbing nutrients from the soil.

Satan: Indeed, though some reports have been made that people who settle among the flowers or go wading in the Styx never return. 

You: And they started being associated with the royal line because of their bloody inclinations?

Satan: Initially, yes. But Diavolo started a campaign some time ago to change people’s perception of the flower. He wants to be associated with its purifying properties. As you said, the flowers aren’t weapons or murderers; they’re a necessary part of our ecosystem. They’re white, not blood-red. He’s had limited success changing the minds of the old nobility, but younger demons are more receptive. Either way, the Bloodtide Laris is used less and less in heraldry. 

Satan: So, to understand why the blade is depicted with a carnivorous flower, you have to know that the blade was designed to be so sharp that its edge would rend a soul. It drinks the essence and power of whomever it kills. Legend says that it can destroy any being—human, demon, or even angel.

You’re almost afraid to ask.

You: Is it real?

Satan: Yes, and it is the single most dangerous weapon known to the three realms. And yet, why a human and demon would collaborate to create such a thing has been lost.

Satan: Fortunately, the dagger never saw battle on a celestial scale. The Demon King was deposed due to infighting in the Devildom, and in the fourth picture, you can see a sorcerer trick the dagger out of the first human’s possession… but not before they use it to slaughter countless of their own kind. 

The roots of the flower, indeed, spread far across the scene, its web holding a veritable constellation of souls. 

Satan: Time passes and the sorcerer, with nowhere to turn, his enemies seeking the dagger’s power, summons a demon—the effort almost killing him. The demon agrees to a pact and the dagger is returned to the Devildom, where, in the last scene, it rests, hidden, under the demon’s guard. A pact between demon and human created the blade, but another sealed it away. 

You: Is the demon anyone we know?

Satan: Quite probably. There are few demons powerful enough to secret away such an artefact and keep it hidden. But the affiliated symbols of this demon aren’t known to me. 

You: Thank you, Satan.

Satan: You’re quite welcome. But now you should get some rest.

You: You, too. I kept you up past the midnight reading hour.

Satan: Anyone else and I’d have their head.

You: I know. Thank you… I’ll owe you a coffee. 

Satan: A double espresso seems fair. 

A winking demoji arrives.

Satan: Good night, Ambrose. 

But you don’t go to sleep. Instead, you spend some indefinable amount of time staring at the ceiling as the moonlight creeps further and further down your comforter. Just below the first painted scene is the last, joining up the story like a great cycle, beginning to end to beginning. The dagger, represented as before with a Bloodtide Laris, a star ensnared in its roots, is shrouded by dark mist in some forgotten place of stone and water. The artist took great pains to represent minute, green refractions of light and shadow amongst the blue waters flowing up toward what you assume is the ceiling of the cavern, each brushstroke a meditation on a thousand impeccable textures of stone and liquid. 

Off to the side, almost removed from his own scene, ready to fade into the background, stands the demon, gesturing with clawed fingers to seal the dagger away. His four-fold gossamer wings are spread wide, and unlike the Demon King, his features are hidden only because he does not face the viewer. Indeed—nowhere does he appear that his wings are not in view, and nowhere is his face revealed. And, while he appears before the sorcerer robed in bronze and black, girded with an emerald sash, he seems to wear nothing at all in the final scene. 

Yet… the demon never registered as naked in your mind, perhaps because he doesn’t appear naked in the fashion that a human would represent himself. There is, instead, a sense of formlessness to the body through some method of painting that, you believe, must be achieved by magic. The longer you stare, the less the blended shapes and fine brushstrokes seem inclined to sort themselves into a recognizable picture. The demon is aquatic, you think, and yet, human-shaped—but somehow as insectoid as his wings, which are the only features that stay stable, glimmering in the moonlight. But, perhaps… perhaps you see something death-like, too, bones stripped bare of flesh, obsidian and white. Then the feeling is gone again, and the figure is simply an inconstant wisp of paint, no more substantial than smoke. 

There’s something familiar about it that pulls at your gut.

And then, by morning, it has retreated to the back of your mind, where all lost things go, with only the faded imprint of realization, like a dream forgotten upon waking.

----

When you touch Barbatos’ hand, it is pleasantly cool. His hair falls on the pillow in a gentle wave, and his chest rises and falls slowly. The mid-morning’s golden-green light is good to him, highlighting the planes of his face, the soft slope of his nose, the curve of pale lips, slightly parted. He looks gentle, harmless.

But soft cheeks and a tepid smile hide teeth like a nightmare from the ocean’s crushing depths... and that’s why you must decide what to do with Belphegor. Now. Before Barbatos wakes and realizes you’ve chosen to continue living in the House with your would-be murderer. Based on what he would have done to Namurta…

You can’t be sure he’ll listen to you again, and you’re not sure it would be fair to dissuade him from vengeance without a plan of your own.

“Tea?”

You flinch, and Arbianock catches the silver bell, folds it in a long-fingered hand as it leaps from the side-table. “Please excuse me. I knocked, but you did not answer.”

“I’m sorry; I was just… startled. Lost in thought.”

She hums, a creaking sound like branches disturbed by the wind, and replaces the bell. “Shall I serve tea here or in the drawing room?”

You don’t want to leave. “Here, please; thank you.” 

Arbianock bows slightly and moves back to the table beneath the window, and with a brisk and efficient pace, begins setting one place for you from the cart near the door. The teaset is another you haven’t seen before, with a geometric motif, triangles painted in thick, broad strokes and delicate, spidery lines. The mouth of the teacup and the spout of the pot have a sort of crimped effect that plays into the angular pattern painted across the porcelain. 

“My lord has sent you some Human Realm tea this afternoon,” she says, sparing only the barest glance, pupils flashing just slightly as the light from the window falls through the lens, bright white and orange, not unlike a wild cat or bear. “He requested a blend to keep your energy up for the day, and fruit paired with the sandwiches and pastries—as he has been reading that humans require a carefully balanced diet to function well.” 

You think you can feel the beginnings of a tension headache starting at the base of your skull. “Why?”

“He is concerned that you aren’t sleeping.” Her tone is flat and frank, a startling enough change from the formal and measured pace you’ve become accustomed to that you blink dumbly for a moment. 

A bowl of diced fruit is set, all from the Devildom, and the demoness removes the cover from an artfully arranged triple tier of sandwiches and small, fluffy cakes. Your stomach needles you, like it’s been ignored for too long.

“I slept last night.” 

“Which implies you didn’t sleep every night during your stay.” 

Arbianock stands back from the table expectantly as you sit with your mouth slightly agape, which isn’t helping your case at all. She holds your stare levelly until you figure out that you’re meant to get up and take your seat at the table so she can serve.

That tension headache is full-blown now. 

“It’ll work itself out,” you mumble as you sit, and the demoness sets briskly to work. “But I’ll have to thank him; I appreciate the thought.” 

Tea whispers in your cup and the hearty, warm scent of it ought to have your shoulders relaxing but your mind is overfull. 

“Arbianock… may I ask you a question?” 

She sets the teapot aside, serves a small sandwich from the tiered dish onto your plate. “You will be given whatever you ask.” With a silver spoon, she adds a small serving of fruit alongside the triangular sandwich. 

You’re not sure how to react to that. “Well… if you’re not comfortable with my questions, you don’t have to answer them.” 

Her amethyst eyes shift to glance at you sidelong, but she says nothing, only replaces the spoon and stands at attention, folding her hands over her soft waist. She doesn’t wear a cumberbund as Barbatos does for his uniform, but a strange, suede apron a little darker in tone than her skin. Her thumb brushes over one of its pockets. 

You stop staring and busy yourself with a three-tined fork and select a piece of lavafruit, juicy and refreshing despite the name. It’s a variety you ask for every time Lucifer places an order from the market, and you wonder if they know. 

Take a slow, steadying breath. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you known Barbatos?”

“I have been serving Master Barbatos almost my entire life.” 

“Oh—” You wish you’d made an effort to sound less surprised but—“You serve Barbatos, not just Lord Diavolo?”

Her expression remains passionless, attentive but aloof. She must have learned that from him, but her mask is not a smiling one; it is cold, distantly polite. “Barbatos is my master but Lord Diavolo is our Prince, and master of my master. I serve Lord Diavolo because he does.” 

“And… you’re that much younger than Barbatos? I hope I don’t sound rude. I have trouble telling demons' age, and you live so much longer than humans that the exact number seems almost… insignificant. Lucifer and his brothers can’t even give me a number. Not that I need it, I just…” You trail off, but when she doesn’t take her level gaze off you, does not prepare to speak, you struggle to finish the thought. “I just... wonder.” 

Her eyes linger for another moment, then Arbianock moves at last, fingers lacing together. “Barbatos is older than everyone. And younger.” She bows slightly, almost levelling your gaze, head tilted, silver brows lowered. “He walks halls that haven’t been tread in millenia and he knows all the secret spaces that haven’t yet been carved. He was born ages before our time, and never at all. He saw your heavens when they were black and he shall see them fall again into the darkness behind the stars, and what do you think we are, human and ephemeral Ambrose? What do you think he is?” 

You can’t move. You can’t move an inch, though every fiber in your body is screaming to run, screaming danger, like being alone in the dark, like a spider on your skin, like the sound you don’t know and cannot see. The demon hasn’t transformed, hasn’t touched her magic at all, but it’s like you suddenly know: a sharp, sick-sweet scent reaching your nose that you hadn’t noticed before, clinging to her skin. 

“We aren’t creatures of love, human; we are the stuff that spawned your nightmares. You cannot wholly perceive us without losing everything you are.” The shadows seem deeper, taller, the cloying stench stronger, but she never moves, never blinks, the mushrooms that crown her head gleaming like blackened stars. “Even angels are your foil, so terrible your mind would snap if you glimpsed one as it truly is. We are not gentle. We are not forgiving.” 

The seconds slip by, silent, unwavering.

Arbianock straightens, slowly, tucks her hands behind her back. The scant afternoon light again glints on silver, and the scent fades away, making room for the comforting warmth of the tea. “And so, you have a choice to make.” 

What kind of choice? Is the obvious question, but don’t you already know? You came here with one decision in mind and stayed because there’s another that you know, in your heart, you’ve already made. 

You take the teacup into your hand, and you draw a long, slow sip. It clears your mind, warms your throat, thaws the icy fear that had settled in your chest. 

“Yes.” The porcelain handle cuts into the edge of your fingers, into the tip of your thumb. “I have a decision to make, but you’re wrong about yourselves. Everything that I’ve seen the Seven do, everything of consequence since I’ve come here, they’ve done because they love. They still love Lilith—they never stopped, and it’s the pain that drives them to foolish things. And they love one another, so much that they let it blind them.” Something bright races with your blood, feeds your words, brings them to your lips. “Simeon loves those he used to call his brothers even now, even when they do their best to avoid him. Even Lord Diavolo, wanting what he does for the Realms, doesn’t hold hope and confidence and drive without a love for his people. And Barbatos didn’t save my life because he was ordered to do it.” Your stomach is in knots, but your hand is steady as it sets the cup back into the saucer. “What do you believe you are, Arbianock, reeking of decay? Does knowing, intimately, that I will die, put your people in stark relief when you stand next to me? Are we so different that I couldn’t possibly understand their loyalties, their despair?” Fingers curl into palms, and you draw yourself up straight in the chair. “I will reconcile with Belphegor. I will reconcile with his brothers. I will do what I set out to do before; I may have freed Belphegor, but I’m not finished yet.”

The corner of Arbianock’s mouth sneaks up in an uneven smile, one eye creased, the other open and glittering. “Lord Diavolo was quite right about you.” She bows. “Please, eat. Now that you have decided, you will need the energy.” 

“I—” Whatever bolstered you moments ago suddenly fizzles out, lacking a proper target. You sit, blinking at the teaset. “Excuse me.” Usually there’s much more to facing down a demon’s challenge… at least, in your previous experience. They don’t normally act so blasé about the whole thing—there’s some humiliation or biting back or a concession. Something. But the demoness goes about her business like nothing at all happened, refilling your cup, straightening a tea towel on the cart. 

No, this wasn’t a fight. What happened here is quite simple: you've been had. 

"Did Diavolo send you here to antagonize me into making a decision?" 

She tilts her head but continues with her business, exuding an air of amusement that has your fingers curling into your palms. “It has been noted that you work well under pressure. Your marks tend to go up during exams. The only times you’ve spoken strongly or acted in support of what you want are when there are things greater than yourself at stake, and time is of the essence.” She reaches, graceful and practiced, across the table to resituate your plate, as though to remind you of your untouched food, but you have no interest, and refuse to give it a second glance. “We are not the only ones to notice; word gets around quickly. Every citizen of the Devildom is interested in the exchange students and how they will fare; many are constantly listening for any sign of weakness, any opportunity to snap you up and claim victory against Lord Diavolo’s efforts, to get the credit and the reward that is a shining, human soul. But others find it in their best interest to make sure they know instead the circumstances that can bring you, bring this program, success.”  

Your stomach turns, a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. “Like you?”

“I, personally, have no interest.” Arbianock smiles, distantly. “I am only looking after my master.”

----

A background radiation of wrath and frustration stirs your steps, shames you as your thoughts become muddled. You know the decision you made early this afternoon was not rash, though spurred by a backlash of emotions you’re not ready to sort out, not to mention Arbianock’s dubious motives and methods. If you never have to think about politics again, it’ll be too soon.

You pass the twins’ room for the sixth time.

You’ve already thought about what you’re going to say, analyzed it from every angle, but each time you think you’ll knock on the door, your mind goes completely blank. 

And so you pace the hallway again. 

You have to do it. Once you do it, it’ll be done. But your stomach turns, and your jaw trembles, and your limbs feel like they’re going to seize up and drift away. Adrenaline is not doing you any favors today. 

Satan’s room across the hall. Asmo’s room. The shared bathroom. The door to the twins’ room that you’d always thought of as Beel’s. 

“Oh.” You hadn’t even raised your hand to knock before the door swung open, leaving you blinking just as wide-eyed at Beelzebub as he is at you right now. “...are you looking for me?” 

“Yes. Well, no.” Tuck your hands into your pockets and fist them there, trying to stop your jaw from jittering. “I’m actually looking for Belphegor, but I thought you would know where he is.” It doesn’t help. The moment you stop talking, the muscles continue to twitch.

“Oh…” A crease appears between Beelzebub’s eyes. “He’s here. Do you want to talk to him?”

No. “Yes. I think I should.” 

He nods, slowly, but his worry doesn’t smooth. “I was going to get some food… Do you want me to stay? I’ll be right back and we can go in together.” 

Tempting. Very tempting. “Thank you, Beel, but… I think I should try to talk to him alone first. If I need you, I’ll call you, okay?” 

Beelzebub steps completely into the hall, and pulls the door shut behind him, leveling you with a careful stare. “I want you to call me before you need me. I don’t think Belphie will hurt you, but…” He glances away, down the hall, and then at the floor. “I don’t want you there alone if he gets angry.” 

You tug your hand from your pocket and reach out to squeeze his arm, and, thankfully, your fingers don’t shake. “I promise I’ll call. I don’t want a fight, either; I’m trying to do this… peacefully.” 

Strong arms tug you into a warm chest, squeezing without hesitation. “Thank you. He hasn’t been himself since… everything.” 

That’s what you’re counting on. You’re counting on the truth of the little brother all alone in the attic, trying not to cry even as he rails against everything Lucifer stands for. The child who still loves his family. “I know.” 

When Beelzebub releases you at last, he pokes his head back into the room. “Ambrose is here to see you.”

A muffled reply.

“Yeah. Please, Belphie, be nice.” 

He leaves the door cracked, and squeezing your shoulder, softly says, “I know you can do it.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you in front of the door, an ache in your chest, and a small swell of pride. You hope he’s right.

“Well, come in if you’re going to come in!” grumbles Belphegor’s voice, and you’re suddenly reminded of every time you’ve spoken through a door before. A time when you thought you might like him. A time you came armed with confidence.

Not today.

You push through. Belphegor is lounging on his bed in a mess of pillows, hair sticking up every which-way, looking bored. The resemblance to Namurta’s lackadaisical demeanor is startling. Guilt settles in your stomach. 

“Good afternoon.” Your hands are trembling again, so you fold them behind your back.

“Cut to the chase.”

A deep breath. “I’m here to talk to you; I don’t want us to have any problems while I’m living here.” 

“So it’s true. You really decided to stay? Guess you’re stronger than I gave you credit for.” Slowly, he sits up, one shoulder leading the other like his body is on the axis of a thread, the lazy slump of a rag doll pulled taut. “So. What should I do now? What’s gonna make you change your mind? Maybe I killed you too nicely last time by letting you sleep. Should’ve just finished the job, but…” He yawns, jaw stretching wide enough to show off his broad teeth, each overlarge molar topped with jagged points. “It seemed like more trouble than you were worth. Humans are fragile—you were already bleeding inside. You remember that, don’t you?” 

Long, slow breaths, even as your stomach turns and a phantom burn flickers in your lungs. Not now. You can’t think about it now. He’s trying to upset you. You can do this. Turn your mind to another memory: the taste of devilmint, cooled by cream and a sprinkle of sugar. The moon was silver and Barbatos smiled like the distant glimmer of a star. “I don’t regret letting you out of the attic.” 

“What?” His expression melts into confusion, almost comical, if not for your heart still hammering in your chest, starkly aware of the delicacy of this conversation. 

“I stand by what I said before. You shouldn’t have been locked in there; it was a mistake.” Belphegor’s eyes are wide and bright, mouth halfway to an expression like fascinated disgust. “I may have changed the way I went about it, but I would do it again. I’d free you again.”

“Why.”

“Because it wasn’t fair. You were suffering, and your brothers were suffering without you—especially Beel. And I know that nothing would ever get better if you’d been left up there; it would all remain the same.” 

He opens his mouth, closes it again. Furrows his brow. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Set your jaw. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” 

“Ugh.” The demon throws himself back on the bed. “Why don’t you go hang out with the angels? Nobody wants that here. Self-righteous prick.” 

“No, you don’t understand.” Your hands untwine and one rakes itself through your hair. Yes, of course that wouldn’t work, though true... you have something else. “It’s not the right thing to do in an abstract, moral sense. It’s because you’re owed an explanation.” 

“...you owe me an explanation? That’s a good one. Has anybody told you that you’re really fucking weird?” 

You can feel an involuntary half-smile tug at your lips, melancholy. “You haven’t stopped saying it since I offered to help you.” And then, a realization: “It’s almost like you wanted me to know that helping you was dangerous.”

He scoffs. “I was just surprised how stupid you were. Dumber than most humans. I think you’re potentially the most gullible I’ve ever met.”

“Gullible, maybe,” you muse. “Guileless, almost certainly, if only because I always hope people are telling me the truth. That they always want to be the best of themselves.” A bitter taste reaches your tongue. “But that’s not what I’m here to tell you. I came to tell you that I’m alive because of Lilith—”

“Don’t you dare say her name—”

“—and I’m here because she still believes in you.” 

Belphegor snarls, teeth bared.

Your pulse quickens, a phantom pain in your chest. Fingers curl into palms, slow your breaths. You must continue. “Believe it or not, I know what it’s like to believe in your brother when he’s lost all faith in himself.” 

A deep, violet energy crawls along his skin.

“If you do anything to threaten me, I’ll call Beel.” 

“I can kill you before you can say a word, human.”

“That’s the thing, Belphegor; I don’t have to say anything. Can you kill me more quickly than I can feel fear? Because that’s what it’ll take.” All the same, your fingers move to your pocket. Inside that pocket is a silver bell. 

“Nobody can summon a demon without an incantation, and you can’t even do that. I already know they found a human too useless to do real magic. You can’t bluff; I’ve been listening.” 

“Not closely enough.” 

“Even if you’re still borrowing Solomon’s power, you can’t call anybody before I snap your pathetic neck. Even with all of us in the same house, you still won’t be able to shout a name fast enough.” 

Irritation crawls along your skin, an itch, and you set your jaw. “What, exactly, do you think happened that night? How did they know where to find me?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out! They sent you back in time to the attic, and you didn’t come back. It doesn’t take a detective. Barbatos wouldn’t even have to use his powers for that one.” 

You set your shoulders. This is it. “They would have found me too late; they were still waiting for me to return when I called. And before I did, Belphegor, while I was unconscious, I had a vision—and in that vision, your sister spoke to me.”

“Shut up!” He makes a lunge, eyes glittering, flaring black and venomous indigo, and you stumble back, knocking yourself off-balance—

Solidly, into a broad chest and arms tight around your shoulders. “Belphie, no!” 

The mark over your stomach prickles like pins and needles. One flicker of thought toward Beelzebub had been enough. 

Belphegor snarls, overlarge teeth glinting. “They started it!” But he must not like what he sees on his brother’s face and shifts seamlessly to wide, doe-eyes, genuinely hurt, perhaps, but the growl doesn’t leave his voice. “You’re really going to side with a human, Beel, a human over me?” 

“Not over you, Belphie,” he replies, softly. Never over you.” 

“Then give them to me.”

A deep hum thrums against your back. “No. You need to listen. Please. Ambrose has to tell you—”

“No, you listen—humans lie. You’re protecting nothing but a miserable sack of lies. They tell you exactly what you want to hear, and then—”

“Belphegor, that’s enough.” 

“No, not you—not you, it’s none of your business,” he hisses, as every eye turns toward the bedroom door.

Lucifer looks from Belphegor to you, still firmly clasped to Beelzebub’s chest. 

“Belphie—” his twin tries again. 

“It’s not my fault!” he insists, with the edge of a whine that sets your teeth grinding. “They keep telling me they’ve seen Lilith. It’s impossible.” He wheels on you now, that dangerous light, black and sugilite, the edge of a nightmare, dancing in his eyes. “She can’t speak to you—she’s gone!” 

You draw yourself up, pressing gently against Beelzebub’s hold until he slowly lets you stand on your own. “Have you spoken with your brothers since you left the attic? With Lucifer? With Beel?” Belphegor bares his teeth, looks away. “What did they tell you?” 

He says nothing.

“They told you she lived a happy, human life with her lover, didn’t they?” 

“That doesn’t change anything!” 

“Nothing at all? Doesn’t it matter that her life was saved?”

“She still died. She died a mortal, and she died without us. So no. It didn’t change anything, and it definitely means she didn’t visit you.” 

A deep sigh drags its way out of your chest. You had hoped—well, it doesn’t matter now. “Belphegor, do you remember a time in the Celestial Realm when you played hide and seek, and you weren’t able to find Lilith? For whatever reason, that day, it distressed you. You searched and searched—and when you did finally find Lilith, hiding in her room, you were so sad... but she didn’t know why; you wouldn’t say. But it didn’t matter why; to cheer you up, she invited you to sneak over to the observatory—you, Beel, and Lilith, all together.”  

As a human might turn white as a sheet, Belphegor’s skin fades to grey. “H—how did you—”

“I had a vision about that, too, just before she visited me in the attic. She asked me to help all of you, in any way I could.” You approach, carefully, and settle on the edge of Beelzebub’s bed. “She called you out by name, Belphegor, even though you’d... done what you did already. You almost toppled everything, and she still believed you’re worth the effort, with forgiving, or at least worth trying.” Something catches in your throat, something familiar. Who would you be, to tell someone else that their brother isn’t worth forgiving? “So here I am, and I’m willing to at least try. Are you?” 

Belphegor’s face is blank, but his eyes are shining. “Go away.” 

“I—”

“I said go away I won’t hurt you again now GO AWAY!” 

The other bed creaks under his weight as he buries himself in the comforter, bent in an awful, unnatural curve, fingers curled in his hair. “Go away go away go away go away go away—” The words are muffled, but clear enough to feel their intent. Beel goes to the side of his twin’s bed and sits on the floor, doesn’t take his eyes off him, and as for you—

You glance at Lucifer, who nods, face carefully impassive save for the furrow of his brow. Quietly as you can, you climb off the bed to make your exit, and you can hear Belphegor continue: 

“It’s my fault.” 

The invisible shudder of pain from his brothers is enough to put a tremor in the air, piercing your chest, but this isn’t your place now. It is best to give them some privacy.

---

“In the bed.” 

You know the words but they don’t… make sense... 

“Ambrose.” 

Tired.

“Then get into the bed.”

Bed? Right, somebody said…

There’s a warm, firm pressure on your shoulder, and your body jerks to one side, head popping off the… pillow? No, not a pillow, that’s a comforter, and…

A deep, sharp inhale. Yawn. “Hm?”

The rumbling chuckle could only belong to Diavolo, and, yes, this is Barbatos’ bedroom, where you’d fallen asleep in the armchair again. “You didn’t come to dinner.” 

Your brain is full of cottonseed and humidity. “I apologize.” Is that the right thing to say? 

Diavolo pats your shoulder. “Think nothing of it! Are you hungry?”

“No.” You rub your hand across your forehead and cheeks. “No, thank you.” That bit is important. The polite bit.

“Just tired, then.” He’s smiling, but things are a little blurry. 

Your eyes don’t want to focus, so you’ll just rest them a moment, clear them up… “Yeah.” 

“Arbianock delivered your nightclothes, right here.” Indeed, they’re on the end of the bed—a set of cotton drawers and long-sleeved shirt, ideal for whatever the Devildom’s weather. Very considerate. But…

“This isn’t my room.” Things are swimming into focus. Your body is still sleep-heavy, but another deep breath keeps your gaze steady on the demon prince. “I can go to my quarters.” 

“You can if you’re feeling up to it, of course.” Diavolo folds his arms, mouth curled halfway to a smile. 

You are just awake enough to feel a prickle of suspicion. He says it too lightly, too casually. “You’re not going to argue with me.” 

He feigns a look of hurt. “Why should I? You’re obviously very tired, and you can sleep wherever you want.” 

“Including here,” you observe, dryly.

“Including here.” He smiles, devilishly. 

Rub your face with the heel of your hand, and draw a deep, slow breath that stretches your ribs. 

“You’ve been so busy getting things sorted… it really is admirable, you know. But you need a proper sleep, and I don’t think you’re going to get it slumped over in a chair or in that grand, empty room in the other wing, do you?” 

You’d like to bury your face in the comforter and stop thinking, let the sand-weight of your extremities pull you back under. There’s a sort of nebulous headache in the cotton-fog of your skull, but even so—“You’re being very transparent.” 

Diavolo gives a hearty chuckle. “Only because you don’t seem inclined to consider it on your own. Is it nightmares?” Your expression must change because he shakes his head. “Even I have nightmares sometimes, you know? If you can’t sleep, and you don’t want company, at least call for help; you don’t have to solve all your problems alone. Arbia can prepare a draught that will keep you in bed all night.” 

“I’ll… think about it.” 

“Good.” He rests a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry I missed tea this afternoon; I had planned to talk to you over dinner, but once you have some rest, we can discuss things over breakfast. Lucifer told me what you did. It’s really remarkable… you could have done anything and you chose to try to work with Belphegor—and he’s agreed. Only a human could be so devoted to a better way. A new way. I’ve never seen a people so willing to practice forgiveness! You’re a credit to your species, Ambrose... I couldn’t ask for a better candidate.”

Distantly, your mind is spinning, buzzing uncomfortably, but there’s a warm rush in your chest. “I… thank you.” 

He smiles brightly, pats your shoulder lightly. “Now, have a good night, and get some sleep! Sleep promotes healing!” 

You’re quite sure he’s parroting that phrase directly from a text about human health, but you don’t get the chance to call him on it, as Diavolo dismisses himself swiftly while your mind is still working to catch up. Candidate for what? The exchange program? You suppose that doesn’t matter right now. 

Belphegor agreed. He must have said something else after you had gone, after he spoke with Lucifer and Beel. He had only said he would not harm you—and you’d thought that was enough, inclined to believe him, supposing he probably wouldn’t even want to look at you for the rest of the semester, knowing you know what you do. You were willing to settle for just that. But now? Now, you’ll just have to wait until morning to understand what happened.

A weary sigh escapes your lips. How did you get here?

Your eyes fall on him at last.

Barbatos, still more peaceful than you’ve ever seen him, supported by dark pillows, nestled among silken blankets in loose, layered clothing, and you envy that undisturbed sleep. A sleep that you need. A sleep you won’t get unless you—

There’s heat rising in your cheeks, with no one to witness it. You can’t pretend it would be like sharing the bed with Mammon or Beel. If you stay tonight, it’s like asserting that you belong. 

And… you want to. Hells, you want to. You want it so desperately that your heart constricts your throat, as though it could crawl right up and out of your chest and settle down with him. 

Your gaze falls upon the clothes on the end of the bed. You can still scoop them up and make your way down the hall. Down the hall to that huge, empty room that certainly isn’t your own. Would you stare at the ceiling again, with its masterful brushstrokes and foreign storytelling while your heart yearns? Would you lie awake as your mind refuses to settle down, reliving one sensation after another, would you feel the blankets heavy on your skin, a thousand textures so, so loud in the night? 

Or will you stay, where you’ve been invited, where you’re wanted? Have you only been avoiding it because you’re afraid?

Afraid that you’ll grow accustomed to the sensation? 

 The nightclothes find your fingers, but you make no move to leave. Your body decides without you, limbs heavily slouching in and out of place in practiced motion, shirt, pants, boots, socks, pants and shirt again. Dressing is easy. The difficult thing will be getting into the bed, and too quickly that is what you must do. 

You stand for a moment, just staring, despite the protest of unsteady legs, feeling the fine, soft fibers of the carpet on bare feet. Warm, unnaturally so, unless the floor is somehow being heated... Your eyes rake the perimeter to find what looks almost like a wrought iron radiator system winding about the nook, only slender and a bit green like oxidized copper, passing behind the headboard against the dark wainscoting. Does he have trouble keeping warm, you wonder? You know his skin to be cool to the touch, but you had assumed that he wouldn’t have different needs from a human or even other demons. No one in the House of Lamentation has—

You’re letting your mind wander. You’re stalling, overthinking.

Take a deep breath.

Slowly, you inch toward the mattress. Slowly, you brace one knee on the bed, shifting your weight with careful control, hardly disturbing his side at all. The pillow that you’d used before is still in place, and the blanket is within reach to share. Snuggling hesitantly into the mattress, over the duvet, you reach for the blanket’s corner—a whole extra length folded there alongside his body like it’s been waiting for you—avoiding brushing Barbatos’ tail as you tug it up and over your middle. 

You’re facing him. Your cheeks still burn as you watch the rise and fall of his chest, the serene expression on his lips. Smooth skin, catching the silver glow of the moon through the window-panes in fine contours, uninterrupted by lines of age, supple and soft as something just-born, almost aglow himself. Even your hand, where it rests between you, ceases at the wrist in lateral lines. There’s a thin, white scar under your thumb where you nearly fell out of a tree, many years ago, and there, a small pockmark over the main artery where an IV had slipped beneath the skin, much later. The veins show blue-green and purple, curling up toward your knuckles, branching like a tree, and one day, this skin, already creased, already scarred, will be paper-thin and wrinkled and stained with age. 

How ephemeral you are, indeed, beside something ancient and so new. 

You close your eyes. Your heart still beats.

----

The complete lack of sun when you awake is no longer a surprise, but it remains disorienting as you blink your eyes into focus. Your mind doesn’t know what to expect anymore between your room at the House of Lamentation, the guest room with its frescoed ceiling, and… You inhale the scent of ash and ink and mist clinging to grass as the first rays of sun pierce the chill air of morning. Barbatos’ bedroom. A deep, slow, hot huff of breath sounds against the pillow as you roll your shoulders and snuggle further into the plush mattress. You’re not ready to get up, though you really should. This is the best sleep you’ve had in days.

Faced with the empty armchair and its teal velvet, you know you need to get up and get breakfast and figure out what you’re going to say. What you’re going to do. You can’t stay here, as much as it feels like this is exactly the place you’re meant to be right now, surrounded by Barbatos’ sharp scent, his slow, steady breaths at your back—

“Good afternoon.” Your body freezes all at once, violently, but melts as soon as you hear the soft, honey chuckle that accompanies the words. 

“Barbatos.” You roll quickly over, and, faced with the fathomless verdance of his eyes, the open softness in his smile, your heart can’t decide whether to stop entirely or break record speed. 

“You stayed,” he observes, his hand finding yours, fingers tangling together on the comforter. 

“I did,” is all that finds voice, everything else too heavy to leave your mouth.

“I am glad.” Gently, he presses your palms together. “But you must have been exhausted to sleep so late into the day… or did you return after breakfast?” 

You shake your head; you’ll figure out what you’re going to do about the fact that you missed breakfast with Lord Diavolo later. "I was more tired than usual."

“That won’t do,” Barbatos murmurs. “You must eat.” But his hand traces your arm, cool fingers skating across your elbow, down to your wrist. Beneath the blankets, something else slides smoothly over your thigh, unfurling along your spine just as it did four days ago. “Is this all right?” 

“Yes… thank you.” You lace his fingers tightly with yours, as you did four days ago. “How are you feeling?”

“Well.” He hums, and a faint flush dusts his cheeks. “Quite well. Certainly well enough to resume my duties, but I find myself unwilling to end this moment.” 

“I’m sure you shouldn’t go directly back to your duties today no matter how well you feel.” Your hand tightens around his. “I seem to recall you saying that you wanted to sleep for a decade.”

“I did. And you’re right; Lord Diavolo would almost certainly object if I returned to my duties before tomorrow.” Then, his mouth curls ever so slightly, his head tilting against the pillow. “But fetching breakfast would be no burden.” 

“I’d be happy to—” 

“Nonsense.” His thumb begins tracing a soft pattern from your wrist to fingertip, skin tingling at the attention. “I will fetch us refreshment; just first allow me to look at you.”

If your face wasn’t hot before, it certainly is now, flushing as though it could make you invisible. The way he looks at you—the gentle turn of his mouth, lips parted just so, as though he isn’t aware of what he’s doing, the lively crease of his eyes, the light that dances in them the way a candle cheers a room. You had thought it was the formality missing from his clothing that had made him seem naked, but you realize it’s really this: the role removed entirely from his countenance.

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen anything quite so beautiful. 

His thumb brushes the top of your hand, the air charged with something like mischief. “I have a request, if you’re amenable.” 

Oh, you’d agree to just about anything right now, his face framed by dark wisps of hair, hand clasping yours, held in a half-embrace by the weight of his tail, comfortable, safe— 

Happy.

Barbatos smiles, and it crinkles his eyes, flashes his glassen teeth in the afternoon light. “Please refrain from finding yourself in life-threatening situations from now on, cynamome.” 

The heat on your cheeks shifts from bashfulness to shame. “I—I really didn’t intend—”

“I know.” He pulls your hand closer, presses a kiss beneath your thumb at the hollow of the wrist. “Forgive me; I should not have implied otherwise.” When the sinking feeling in your chest doesn’t subside, he meets your gaze seriously, all traces of mirth gone. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Reflexively, in time with the stutter of your heart, you squeeze his fingers, but no words leave your mouth. You can’t hold his gaze, so you drop it to where your hands are intertwined, pillowed on the satiny blankets.

 You can feel the shift as he raises himself slightly off the mattress, and his tail traces its way up your back, a shiver dancing across your skin. One of its tips glides along your jaw, guides your chin up, leather-smooth and warm—warmed, you realize, by your own body heat—to meet his eyes again. The open softness is there in the curve of his mouth, the apple rounding of his cheeks. “You’ve done your best with the hand Fate has dealt you, Ambrose, and what you have done is admirable.” In his eyes… moonlight through water green with lilies and grasses that know no mark of hours, no seasons, only the heat of night reflected through rain, ceaseless, like the promise of the heart’s steady drum. 

“I only did what I thought anyone should,” leaves your lips in honesty before any thought can overtake it.  

Barbatos smiles; the moonlight dances. “And that is what makes it remarkable. You are remarkable, Ambrose; do not forget it. You have brought sunlight to this world, to your friends, to my master, and, indeed—” His cheeks flush a dusky rose. “—to me. I do not regret how this week has transpired… perhaps you’ll forgive me for that, too.” 

“What is there to forgive?” you ask, and his tail, still cradling your face, moves in time to each word.

“You were nearly lost, forever, to everyone. You were caused great pain, yet… I don’t find myself wishing that it never happened; I only find myself grateful that it brought you here.” 

There’s no remorse in his gaze, either, only that tangible gentleness as your jaw trembles, and you’re overwhelmed with the desire to sit up, face him properly, so you do, and he lets you, relinquishing your hand, mirroring your movements, letting his tail settle down upon your shoulder and across your lap, loathe, perhaps, to let go entirely. That is a feeling you can well appreciate.

Barbatos waits upon your judgment, patient, but there’s a flicker of apprehension, too, like a spark of electricity in the air. 

“Why should I forgive something that requires none?” You find his hand again and clasp it tightly. “I don’t regret what happened to me. I only wish…” The words die in your throat, knowing how foolish they sound. How real they are. How shameful. 

His thumb traces a circle across the top of your hand. “If it is within my power, I can grant it.” 

A hot coil of shame seizes your neck and chest. “You’ve done too much for me already, Barbatos. And… it isn’t something you can change. I just—wish I’d done better.” The words sound even worse than they had in your head. You know how childish they are, how silly it is to wish for something like that; what’s done is done and the outcome isn’t bad, not by far, not at all. You’ve accomplished almost everything you’d set out to do. It just… wasn’t to plan. It was a mess. It—

A hum, low in Barbatos’ chest, interrupts your thoughts. “Do you remember,” he asks, when he has your attention again, his thumb still tracing that comforting pattern on your skin, “during the first term, I invited you to tea—with apricot jam, muffins, diomese leaves—and I asked you a question. I asked if there was anything from your past that you would, given the chance, go back and change. Do you remember what you said?”

Of course you do. That day is as treasured a memory as those before and after. “That I wouldn’t change anything.”

“Because you feared a single change would have diverted your path from the destination, from being here, and now.” Barbatos lifts your hand, presses his lips to where he’d traced circles before, but does not avert his eyes from yours. “Why not this time?” he whispers against your skin. 

Your heart flutters, trembles. If he isn’t sorry for the choices he made, why should you be? “I don’t like to see you suffer for me.” Before he can open his mouth to voice the protest you can read in the crease of his brow, you continue: “You don’t regret it, but I…” A lump settles in your throat. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” 

He straightens up, slowly, mouth pulling into an expression you’ve seen only once before, something like shame, something like guilt, eyes soft, his frame struggling against some great, invisible weight. “What else could I have done?” he asks. “Selected another course of events, another reality, while you die in this one? It would have been easy, yes, certainly easier than manipulating individual timelines.” Barbatos must see the lack of comprehension on your face, because he continues: “Perhaps my greatest power is the ability to choose which sequence of events, which timeline, becomes the true reality. I could have let you die there in the attic, cut the timeline, and moved another into its place like a weaver drawing together two lengths of thread; you would die, and yet live, because you were drawn from a series of events where you remained unharmed.” His gaze, fathomless, wretched, searches your features. “And every day after, I would look into the eyes of a stranger wearing your face. Though they’d be granted your memories as the timelines synchronized... I would know. I would always know.” 

Heart aching, you pull him into an embrace, never mind that he doesn’t respond immediately, a soft murmur of astonishment in his throat. But then, Barbatos buries his face against your neck, arms tugging you close, tail unwinding so quickly from your lap and shoulder that it runs like silk, only to loop around the small of your back, secure. You hold him tighter. And then tighter still when you think you can feel his heartbeat in your chest. His breath, warm on your skin. A soft nuzzle against the hollow between neck and shoulder. 

Time stills in the gravity of relief and affection, quietly, unnoticed. 

“I love you.” It’s a confession, made nestled in the sharp scent of him, to the breath you feel leaving his chest when he hears it, for the heart racing against your ribs. “I don’t know if that’s the proper response, but it’s a human one.” 

There’s a hesitant smile on your lips as Barbatos draws back just enough to look you in the face, and there’s a smile on his, too, soft with solemn, tortured delight. “I would ask for nothing else. But please—don’t say it again. Once said, it cannot be undone.”

You open your mouth but he stops it with a hand on your cheek, thumb across your lips. “Please—consider that before deciding to say it again, in your own time. I will never ask, nor expect that sentiment from you; only… take the time to think on it before speaking it again.” There’s something in his eyes, a flicker akin to flame—not the tame dance of candlelight but the reckless abandon of wildfire. “When you do, you won’t be able to take it back.” 

Something sticks in your throat. “...I understand.” And you do, intuitively, that it means something more to a demon, that such a thing would not be easy for Barbatos, and, indeed, it cannot be so easy for you. The feelings are true, yes. The words are from your heart, words that have been present in each affection for some time now, and—perhaps they were always there? But still, you must return home. And still, Barbatos is beholden to his master. 

The rings around your fingers burn as you draw him close again.

He settles his chin atop your head, letting you bury your face against his throat in the wintry-crisp, ash-and-ink scent of him, and the sound of contentment he makes leaves you giddy in spite of the sullen mood that had gripped your heart. 

“Thank you, nykin.” His voice hums against your cheek, its thrum buzzing in your chest. 

You close your eyes. “Will you tell me what that means?” 

“The endearment?” Thoughtfully, he traces your arm over your long shirtsleeves, with, you think, his fingertips, until you realize his hands are still settled upon your back. “Has it already fallen out of fashion in your realm?” 

“For quite some time, I suspect.” 

“A pity,” Barbatos murmurs, tilting his head so that his cheek rests on the crown of your head. “I believe it’s the only one that appropriately conveys a concept that otherwise remains only in our language. Kin, the suffix: akin, ‘related,’ ‘close,’—and nigh: ’near,’ as in both space and time.” He nuzzles into your hair and, distinctly, you feel the lingering press of his lips. “You are with me, you are now, you are the space between this breath and the next. Near to me, my present, my impending moment. Nykin.”  

You’re not sure when the tears started. You just know by the time you feel them, hot on your cheeks, cool, gentle kisses follow in their wake, catching them where they fall. Barbatos does so silently, cradling your head, never shushing, never asking for your calm, and the tears come faster, and you’re laughing, and you’re not quite sure why, heart full to bursting. Your fingers tangle in his hair, at last, as they wanted to before, weaving through silken strands, and when you find his cheeks to kiss them, when you find his mouth, you’re not sure whose salt-sweet tears have settled upon your tongue.

----

@mysterypotatoink

[dotster001]

Hii! I’d like to take part in your 500 event! Could I please request a romantic matchup with a character from Obey me? <3

I’m Italian, my pronouns are she/her and I’m asexual biromantic. I’m an ESFJ and a Gemini. I have green eyes and short purple hair. I dress with fairy core/ fairy grunge clothes. I wear lots of rings and love to exchange them with others.

I’m the mom friend of the group, always there for everyone and my friends say that I’m really good at comforting people. I’m also calm and responsible, I usually am the one that takes care of other people. I’m very optimistic, I always try to see the good in everything and I often put other’s needs before my own, I would do everything for the people I care about and sometimes I’ve been told that I’m too kind for my own good. I have a sarcastic humor and I love making others laugh, people say that I should be more serious and that I shouldn’t joke around so much. I don’t like when people tell me what to do and I’m not afraid to stand up for myself or for someone else.

All my friends tell me I’m very smart, I get very good grades and I do well in school. I also try to help my friends with study and school as much as possible. I’m also very ambitious, I always try to achieve my goals.

My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation.

I absolutely love listening to music, it helps me relax and I really like reading. I also love watching horror movies even though it’s impossible to scare me. I also play Dungeons and Dragons with my friends anytime I can. also, I absolutely love musicals and I’m definitely a theatre kid.

I really hope I did this right, have a great day :)

(ACES UNITE! Okay, okay, look, I know all humans are multifaceted, but it was really hard to pick someone for you, cause you have so many diverse aspects to your personality. Honorable mentions to Levi, Asmo, Barbatos, and Mammon, but in the end....)

I match you with Simeon.

He is also the mom friend of the group, so you both become everyone's moms. Literally, Luke starts calling you mom at some point. Both you and Simeon will melt, I can guarantee it.

He doesn't want you to change, at least not if you don't want to. Obviously, if you personally decide to make a change of your own free will, he will support you full force. But he is never going to be an instigator. He likes you the way you are.

He starts buying rings so that he has some to exchange with you should the moment arise. The first time you give him one, he melts. He's died, and been sent back to heaven. He adored it.

Your love language being physical touch and words of affirmation... He's perfect. Based on his surprise guest lines, I hc that he's a cuddler, and that he tells you every day how much he loves you. He's a warm cuddler, the kind where you just feel so soft and safe. He also is a hand holder. You can't prove me wrong. He holds hands with you everywhere you go, and he doesn't even realize it.

He's a writer, so he is ready to play D and D at a moments notice, both as DM and as a character. He is also secretly writing a musical where you two get to fall in love on stage while the brothers and Solomon are background characters and the chorus.

You're watching a horror movie and laying your head in Simeon's lap, as he runs his hand through your purple hair. He's humming a little tune. The tune freezes and he stiffens as another jumpscare hits the screen.

"Ah, Simmy, did that one get you?" You grin, and he smiles down at you.

"Yes, but I'm safe with you here," he smiled softly. He used his free hand, and threaded your fingers together, drawing your joined hands to his lips to press a soft kiss to the back of it.

He then pulls your hand and holds it to his cheek, where he nuzzles against it with a satisfied hum.

"That's better," he says just as another jumpscare happens. He stiffens, and you smile softly.

"Simmy, we can turn on something else, it's okay," you say, but he shakes his head.

"It's fine, really, your love is protecting me," he leans down for a kiss, and you meet him halfway. Another jumpscare happens, and this time it doesn't get him.

"See? All better," he grins, and shimmies down a little so that you are both laying down and cuddling, his arms around you, not tight, but reassuring.

The rest of the movie, if he was spooked, you could only tell if his arms tightened around you, or if he whispered a soft "I love you" to you. Even though the movie hadn't frightened you, you realized the safety went both ways, and that in his arms, you were certain nothing could ever hurt you.

[dear-departed]

Brothers with touch starved MC

This kind of turned into "MC adores touch but also here's what they do to fluster MC sometimes" but eh, I hope you enjoy it regardless. Honestly love the way Asmo's portion came out. :)

Warnings: mention of lesson 16, but mostly just pure fluff

Word count: 2.5K

Lucifer ♥ 

At first, he didn’t think anything was askew. He’s not a super physical guy, not usually clinging to you at the hip. But he started to notice how his casual touches would make you shiver a little and lean into him. 

So, he started to experiment, those casual and delicate moments became more frequent. Him brushing his hand against your arm or your thigh, running his hands through your hair whenever he patted you atop your head. 

The way you would lean in closer made his heart feel warm, it made his chest feel... full? Was that the right word? 

Things began to progress further, those passive moments turned into hugs, pecks on the forehead, him holding your hand.  

“My dear, if you are craving my touch, you can always just ask. You’re aware of that, right?” He’ll whisper in your ear, his hand slowly traveling from your shoulder and down your spine before gently cupping your waist. 

Physical touch becomes a lot more frequent between you and him once he realizes how much you need it. And if he’s being honest, he’s quite flattered. To think that his hands, gloved or not, could make you react in such a way. 

If either of you are having a bad day and you don’t have anything to do, he’ll sit you down on the sofa in his room and have you lean on him while he carefully runs his hands through your hair, then down through your back, applying a little extra pressure to areas where he can feel tension. 

He does expect compensation. Please play with his hair, rub the base of his horns while he’s in his demon form or give him a nice, firm hug when he’s stressed. 

He feels himself unwind right there when you do either of those things, like the tension of the day is being released, like you’re the only one who can do it correctly. 

Mammon ♥ 

Bro same 

Obviously, he gets a lot more flustered than Lucifer does whenever he touches you, even if it’s in a regular place. 

One day you had a fever and he put his hand on your forehead to check your temperature, only to feel you subconsciously leaning into his palm. 

And he thought you looked pretty red from your fever; he should’ve seen his own face after you did that. 

That’s around the time he noticed how similar you guys really were, it was kind of a constant battle of “we both want to touch each other and cuddle but neither of us are ballsy enough to make a move”. 

One night, the House of Lamentation had a movie night, specifically, a horror movie night. And we all know how much the second eldest loves horror movies.  

He only noticed around halfway through the movie, but he had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, he’s kind of surprised that you weren’t gasping for air. 

“Sorry for squeezin’ ya so tight.” He’ll say as he loosens his grip, but doesn’t let go. Maybe it’s the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but this is the one moment when he wouldn’t hurriedly let go of you and act like it was all a mistake. 

It all goes uphill (?) from there 

He figures, if you didn’t say anything during the movie, then maybe you’re fine with it? Hopefully. 

He’ll hold your hand and look over to watch your expression, failing to realize how you lace your fingers with his, or how you lean in just a little closer, just close enough so that he can smell you, the familiar scent of the shampoo you always use. Close enough he can feel your warmth, and that’s enough to draw him in to the point of no return. 

MC, he’s your new cuddle buddy, you should be thankful, The Great Mammon is the best cuddle buddy you can have, y’know! 

Leviathan ♥ 

He honestly thinks you’re playing games with him when he first notices how you always lean in whenever he touches you, how your hugs linger a little longer than what’s ‘normal’. 

It all started when you both were waiting at the local game store for a new figurine that was supposed to drop today. Another demon started flirting with you, or maybe they weren’t, maybe they were just having a normal conversation, but it all felt the same to him. That familiar bubble of anger and envy. He should be the one talking to you like that, you should be smiling and conversing with him... what was the point of coming with him if you didn’t talk to him? 

Without thinking about his next move, he just hugged you from behind, one arm over your shoulder and connecting with his other arm, which was hooked around your waist. He didn’t say anything. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was about to, but the way you tilted your head back to look at him and just backed up further into his chest was so... enthralling. 

“I-I’m sorry MC! I know you probably don’t want a gross shut-in clinging onto you like that, I didn’t mean to be creepy I was really just jealous and I wanted your attention but-” 

He looks up from the ground to meet your gaze, his face red with shame as he covers his mouth with his sleeve. To his shock, he sees you just... standing there, a light smile gracing your features as you stare at him, figurine in hand. 

He watches in a trance as you set down the figurine and hug him, clinging tightly to his torso. 

“Error 404, words not found” 

He’s a stammering mess for a few seconds “why would you- What braincell is making you think it’s a good idea to hug me of all people?! What did I do to deserve this?! MC! W-wait, don’t pull away-” 

It’s very common now for you two to sit on the floor together while playing video games. Something about when he’s seated between your legs while you’re propped up against the bath tub is so nice, your gentle fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp.  

He likes doing the same to you as well, but he has a habit of asking “is this good?” “is this alright? Am I doing okay?” every three seconds. 

Satan ♥ 

He thinks he recalls Asmo saying something about touch starved people before, but other than that, he doesn’t have much experience with people who crave physical touch as much as you do. 

He first realized your odd habits and needs when he was reading in his room, you enjoying a cup of tea as you read a different book beside him, one of the dozens he’s recommended you read. 

He’s no stranger to intrusive thoughts, but usually his intrusive thoughts consist of “that person is chewing too loudly, punch them” or “what if you dumped this on Lucifer’s head?” But he finds himself staring at you intently, his book set to the side, his page number saved by a bookmark. 

He narrows his eyes... should he really do this? What if you hate it? Only one way to find out, he supposes. 

He’s not one to be impulsive, but something in his love-fogged brain makes him devoid of any second thoughts as he outstretches his arm out, slowly, as if he’d startle you if you noticed him before. 

He places his hand atop your head, making rather... intense eye contact with you as he scoots a little closer. “This is okay, right?” 

Upon seeing your enthusiastic nod, he’s more than pleased, he’ll play with your hair all day long if you let him. 

He enjoys seeing you shiver when he uses his hands to massage your scalp, or the goosebumps that appear on your skin when he gingerly traces his fingers from the backs of your knuckles and to your shoulders. 

He loves to hear your verbal reactions to his touch, any little relieved sighs that you make, he gobbles them right up with enough haste that he could give the Avatar of Greed a run for his money. 

That being said, he also likes your praise and confirmation when he asks you if he’s doing a good job. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside when he’s reminded that you feel like you can be comfortable and relaxed around him 

It’s quite common for him to prop himself up against the window by his bed, with you tucked safely between his arms as he reads over your shoulder. 

Asmodeus ♥ 

He just smelled the “touch starved” radiating off of you 

Honey, he knows. He knows just by looking at you, as soon as you tumbled into the Devildom, he knew you would be so much fun to have around! 

He acts like he isn’t aware at first, he only points it out one night when you both got wine/demonus drunk. He cupped your cheek ever-so-gently in his hand and just took his time admiring your features, the way your eyes reflected his own fact. 

You closed your eyes and pushed your cheek onto his hand a little more, sighing in content. 

He whispered soft words of appraisal to you as he allowed his hand to slide down to your cradle the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the apex of where your jaw and neck connected, feeling your pulse speed up beneath his touch. 

His other hand made its way down your body, delicately resting on your hip. 

Yeah, no. He’s not letting you out of his sight anymore. 

From here on out, you’re going to be dragged off to his room almost daily to help him with some obscure thing.  

“Can I do your eyeliner, MC?” “MC let me put this lotion on you!” “Hey, MC! We both need our beauty sleep, let’s sleep together tonight!”  

He’ll also invite you on so many spa trips. 

All of this isn’t even accounting for when he’s just in the same general area as you. 

It feels like there’s always his chin resting on your head, his arms always snaking around your waist and pulling you a little closer while you’re mid-conversation with somebody else. 

He absolutely can’t get enough of how you melt into his touch, it’s like you’re putty in his hands! Which, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t be like that? But you’re different! 

It’s your choice if you want to or not, but he also asks you to take a bath with him a lot. I mean, his bathtub is huge! MC, it would be a shame if you didn’t come with him! 

He also likes experimenting with your hair. Even if you two are just having a lazy day inside the house, he’ll still do your hair super nice. Not only does he want to bring out how gorgeous you are, but an excuse to brush your hair and touch you more? Yes please! 

Beelzebub ♥ 

It takes him a while to even notice how desperate for his touch you really are. 

And even after he notices the little things, he doesn’t really care, he doesn’t point it out, he just starts being more physical with you. 

He started noticing when you two were at an amusement park, trying to get through a large crowd. He isn’t an easy guy to misplace in a crowd, but a human in a crowd of demons certainly is easy to lose, so he grabbed your hand. 

He noticed the way you squeezed his hand a little tighter than normal, and how on the ferris wheel, when he wrapped his arm around you, you leaned in and scooted closer, doing the same to him and hugging him. 

There was just something about your hold on him that made you seem... desperate, never wanting to let go, just wanting to hold him tight forever. And boy oh boy, we he all for it. 

“MC. I like hugging you.” He states, gently stroking your back as the two of you looked out at the Devildom. 

From then on, it’s like he always has contact with you. If he’s not picking you up and carrying you like a flour sack, he’s following behind you like a big puppy, a puppy nobody wants to mess with.  

He’ll also start randomly offering you snacks. “MC, do you want a bite of this?” He’s not afraid to hand feed you, either. 

This also means more cuddles than before. Just be careful, because sometimes he forgets how strong he is so he’ll pull you into a hug and won’t let go until he realizes you’re literally wheezing. “Sorry, MC...”  

He likes it when you lay on his chest, where he has his arms lazily draped over your waist. He would really appreciate it if you played with his hair. 

He now has a habit of carrying you everywhere. Slung over his shoulder, clinging onto his back, under his arm, etc. He’s really not picky as long as he gets to be close to you. 

Belphegor ♥ 

Oh, he caught on really fast. 

After the incident of... lesson 16, he’s of course very cuddly, being the Avatar of Sloth and all that. 

He notices how at ease you feel when he’s bundled up underneath a pile of blankets and a mountain of pillows with you, his limbs entangled with your own as you both sleep peacefully. 

He is going to have so much fun with this. 

He loves teasing you about it, taking note on how much you actually crave his touch. 

Sometimes he’ll take his middle finger and gently run it down from where your neck meets your skull down to your tailbone. He watches as goosebumps appear on your skin, letting him know that he did exactly what he was hoping for. 

He’ll run his hands from your chin to your skull and cup your head before gently pulling you into his chest, he adores the way you melt right into him whenever he does stuff like that. It makes him feel... wanted, it makes him feel like he really has a place in your life, especially after what he did. 

His arms are always around your waist, either that or he’s leaning against you and resting his arms on your shoulders, sleepily muttering in your ear, some half-awake nonsense.  

If there’s somebody you want to be around while being touch starved, it’s probably Belphegor. If there was a such thing as “touch full” you might actually achieve that with him; whatever it even is.  

He’ll place his hands on your hips and whisper into your ear during breakfast. “I put salt in Lucifer’s coffee... just wait...” And then proceed to fall asleep on his plate right after he sits down. 

He's always down to hold your hand. 

Also, there’s no escaping him when he decides it’s time for a nap, not only is it impossible to escape the tangle of blankets, but he also has a tight grip. Not tight to the point you’re struggling to breathe, but just firm enough to feel like... a very heavy weighted blanket. Or like a compression sock, but for your whole body.  

[obeythedemons]

When his heart first skipped a beat [Obey Me! Headcanons]

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

Lucifer

"No," MC stood their ground in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and told them to move once more. "I'm not moving, you need your rest." They spread their arms out as if their body would be enough to stop him. "I'm going to take care of your brothers, you go to bed."

"Who do you think you are ordering me around? You don't have a pact with me," he lowered his voice in an attempt to intimidate them.

"Your friend," MC replied, not at all scared of him. Instead, they looked up at him with a look that made him want to take a step back.

He felt his heart squeeze and his eyes widened at the sensation. He shook his head. Perhaps the exhaustion was giving him heart palpitations.

"Fine," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But once I wake up, things had better be in order."

Mammon

"I don't want to make a pact with him like this, Levi," he heard MC talking in the kitchen. He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to eavesdrop.

"I want my money back, MC," Levi whined. "If you make a pact with him you can force him to give it back to me."

"But forcing someone to do something isn't right," MC protested.

"If he forms the pact with you, then that's his fault!"

"But holding Goldie hostage?" Mammon's eyes widened at the thought of his credit card being found. He peeked around the corner, seeing MC chipping away at the ice block surrounding his precious card.

"Just do it, MC," Levi said with a roll of his eyes.

"I don't want to use Mammon like that," MC murmured, sadness evident on their face. He felt his heart squeeze at the sight of someone not wanting to treat him like the scumbag he is. Taking a deep breath, he sauntered into the kitchen. Maybe he'd let them think they'd form a pact with him just for Goldie.

Leviathan

"Hey Levi!" he heard MC's voice from behind his door. He rolled his eyes and shared a look with Henry 2.0.

"Password?" Levi called back, going back to gaming.

"I-I don't know it," he heard MC mutter. "I-sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted to watch some anime from the human world with me?"

His fingers froze as they were keying out commands to his character. With a sigh, he paused the game and dragged himself to the door. He looked at them, expecting them to laugh at his face.

"Human world anime?" he questioned.

"Uhuh," MC grinned and held up a disc set. "It's my favorite one."

"W-wait!" Leviathan took a step back. "You like anime?"

MC tilted their head to the side. "Well, yeah?"

He gulped. His heart skipped a beat before pounding away heavily.

Satan

"Just put it on, MC," Asmo cooed. "I promise he'll love it."

"I don't know," MC sounded reluctant.

With a sigh, Satan looked up from his book to Asmo's closet where the other two were. "What are you trying to make MC do, Asmo?"

"Oh hush!" Asmo stuck his head out of the closet. "You'll see in just a second!" Asmo winked at Satan before heading back in. "Just wear it, MC! Please!"

He heard MC let out an exasperated breath of air followed by Asmo's cheering. Asmo sauntered out of the closet with a wide grin on his face, but when he looked at Satan that grin turned mischievous.

Satan narrowed his eyes at him. "What did you do?" Before Asmo could answer, Satan's attention was diverted to the soft footsteps of MC leaving the closet. His eyes widened, his heart skipped several beats to where he was wondering if he was dying, he felt a rush of heat spread across his face.

"Do they look stupid?" MC questioned, adjusting the cat ears they were wearing.

"They look fine," Satan answered quickly, burying his face in his book, but unable to read with the image of MC stuck in his face.

Asmodeus

He smiled seductively at the camera before hitting a snack. After the photo was taken, he hummed with content as he looked it over. Perfect angle. Perfect lighting. Perfect model. It was a perfect photo, but for some reason, he had no desire to post it on Devilgram. Not, his desire was to share it with one person.

"And send," he spoke, sending his selfie to MC.

It only took a few seconds before they responded.

MC: !!!!!

MC: It's not fair how beautiful you are!

Asmo chuckled before typing away.

Asmo: Let me see how cute you are <3

It took a couple of seconds before a photo popped up. Asmo let a snort come out. He hid his face with his hands from the rather unattractive noise that just came out.

He peaked at the photo of MC making the most unattractive face possible. He burst out laughing, his heart dancing about happily.

Beelzebub

He had just gotten back from practice and starving was an understatement. He was sweating, his hands were shaking, he felt nauseated, he felt like he was going to die from his hypoglycemic episode. He stumbled into the kitchen, searching desperately for food.

"Beel! Perfect timing," he faintly heard MC's voice call, but he couldn't see them. His vision was getting blurry. "Beel?" Their voice sounded concerned. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus, but the hunger was becoming too much.

"Food," he managed to get out as he put most of his body weight on the kitchen counter. He was getting dizzy.

A couple of seconds later, he felt something press up against his lips. He opened his mouth and swallowed whatever it was. There was more. This time, he noticed it was sweet and he chewed it. It was crunchy.

His vision started to focus back. He looked down seeing MC frown up at him. They held a batch of cookies in their hands.

"Are you okay?" they asked quietly. Beel nodded his head, eyeing the other cookie. MC let out a breath of relief before they handed him another. He happily ate it, savoring the sweet taste. "Do they taste okay? I baked them just for you?"

Beel's heart thumped heavily. "Just for me?" he questioned with his mouth fool. He swallowed the cookies and smiled happily. "They taste amazing!"

Belphegor

"Belphie," he heard a distant voice call to him. Although, this voice didn't seem to be too distant, just in the realm of the waking. "Belphie, if you sleep here you'll catch get cold."

Belphie reached his arms out and tightly gripped the person shaking his shoulder. They yelped as he brought them close to him. His arms wrapped around them.

"Then keep me warm," he retorted. He buried his face in their chest. He froze when he inhaled. It wasn't the sent of his brothers, but someone else.

He peaked his eyes opened, seeing MC close to him. His heart thumped heavily at MC's bewildered expression. With a yawn, he sat up, acting like he wasn't affected by MC's scent. It was comforting, warm.

Diavolo

MC was sitting at his desk while he finished up some paperwork. He had expected to be finished with them by the time MC got there, but alas, here he was.

"Lord Diavolo?" MC questioned, drawing the demon prince of Hell from his work.

"Yes, MC?"

"Do you like being called Lord Diavolo?" He looked up at them, seeing them look off to the side, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"I suppose if I had friends, I wouldn't want them to call me Lord Diavolo."

MC pouted, their lips sticking out. "You don't consider us friends?"

Diavolo's eyes widened. A painful sensation burst from his heart, though he wouldn't call it unpleasant. In fact, he wanted to feel it again.

"I would very much like to consider us friends."

"Good, Dia," MC grinned widely at him, making his heart flutter once more.

Barbatos

He was looking everywhere for the human. Somehow, they had gotten separated at the market. Something had caught his eye and he wandered off, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the same thing also happened with MC.

"Help!" he heard the human screech. His eyes widened as he sprinted to where the scream came from. A demon was towering over their form, salivating at the sight of the human's soul.

With a flick of his wrist, the demon was sent flying through a wall. Barbatos grabbed MC's hand and dragged them away from the alleyway they were trapped in.

"Are you hurt?" Barbatos asked once they were a distance away. His eyes trailed over MC's form, looking for any scratches or bruises.

"No," MC mumbled, looking down shamefully.

Barbatos frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I..." MC sighed. "I ruined our trip to the market together, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Barbatos shook his head. "All that matters is that you're not injured."

MC gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, Barbatos." They paused for a moment. "Oh! That's right." They dug through their bag. "I bought this for you. It's not much, but I wanted to thank you for bringing me here today." Barbatos's eyes landed on a bouquet of lilacs. "They're flowers from the human realm! I was surprised to see them here."

Barbatos felt his cheeks heat up and his heart dance about. Lilacs, the flowers indicating the first sign of love.

Simeon

"And how have you been adjusting here?" Simeon questioned as he took a sip of his tea. He smiled kindly at MC. "I know it's been a couple of months now, but a lot has happened since then."

"It has," MC nodded. "To be honest, I was surprised to actually meet some demons and a couple of angels, I didn't know what to think. Humans have some pre-conceived notions on angels and demons, but seeing as I've never met one, I didn't want to let that cloud my judgment."

Simeon chuckled. "That's a very diplomatic way of seeing things."

MC shook their head. "I didn't do it to try and protect myself or get anything from any of you, I wanted to get to know all of you for who you are, not what you are. And after I got to know you, I wanted to be your friend!"

Simeon smiled brightly at MC, loving the feeling of his heart skipping a beat at their kindness.

Solomon

"Just hold still for a moment," Solomon warned as he glanced at his book. "Alright, let me just...." He trailed off into muttering the encantation. His eyes flickered off from the book to where MC was standing in the circle. "How are you feeling?"

MC blinked at him. Their eyes drooping shut. "Tired." Their knees buckled and they started to fall forward. Cursing, Solmon rushed forward and caught them in his arms before they could hit the wooden blanks below.

"Are you okay?" he questioned, manipulating their body so he could look at their face.

They gave him a lopsided grin. "Just need...some sleep. But the encantation should help with insomnia," MC yawned. Their eyes drifting shut. "But maybe not with relaxing, this is a bit...too much." MC turned and buried their face in his chest. "Protect me while I sleep?"

Solomon's face turned a bright red. He adjusted MC a bit so that he was able to hold them tightly against him. "Of course, I'll always protect you." He ignored the wild hammering in his chest, opting to look after his fellow human.

[leviathans-watching]

chaos causer | chapter 2

includes: mammon x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 2.5k | rated t | m.list | series m.list | ao3

a/n: hello! thank you for the interest shown in this thus far! i hope you continue to enjoy! to be added to the taglist, click here

taglist: @thebixchyravenclaw @paige-the-plant @furblrwurblr @blorbostation @beelzebubisbestboy @blipblopsworld @emsieeee @yourtypicalnpc @megacuntsandwichuniverse @evilsailorsenshi (i can’t tag bolded names)

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please reblog!!

Scrolling back through your messages with Mammon, you find the text where he had laid out what to wear. Though you had offered to come dressed entirely wrong, he had opted out of that, preferring a slightly subtler approach. Either way was fine with you, so you had agreed without question. 

Pulling on an outfit that fit the theme and looked good, you then moved onto your hair, unable to stop the anticipation coursing through your body. It only took a bit of magic before your hair was done, styled in your favorite style. You were about ready then, and all that you could do now was wait for Mammon to pick you up, which he would be doing in about half of an hour. 

When Mammon had approached you with his offer you had been surprised. Surprised that anyone had actually taken you up on it, and surprised by all of the issues his family had. As you had said in the meeting, they were pretty famous and always seem mostly put together, but you guess everyone has a side they didn’t show to the public. You feel bad for Mammon. No one deserves to be treated how he is, so you’re actually looking forward to causing some trouble. It’s not your place to tell him not to use your services, nor is it any of your business to ask questions, so you had not asked any, and you can’t find it in yourself to regret it. 

The look in Mammon’s eyes as he’d been describing why he reached out to you… well, it had tugged on your heartstrings. The vindictive anger didn’t do as good of a job covering his hurt as you thought he thought, and you never were one to let those who cause harm go unpunished. 

Checking your phone as it buzzes, you see a text from Mammon. I’m a bit early, it reads. Hope that’s okay.

Grabbing your wallet and other things you thought you might need for the evening, you quickly make your way to the front door where Mammon waits. “Hey,” you greet, looking him up and down. “You look nice!” 

His previously wild hair was somewhat tamed, and he had traded in his casual clothes for a more formal look, with dark pants and a gold button-down with the sleeves rolled up. A sturdy necklace - also gold, you notice - sits in the hollow of his throat, drawing your eyes to the tip of his chest where the buttons are open. You match well, you think, as you had gone with a darker outfit that makes it look like you’ve somewhat coordinated outfits with one another. “Pssh,” Mammon scoffs, not meeting your eyes. “You’re not so bad yourself. Ready to go?” 

You nod. “Is there anything else you can think of that I should know before we go down there? Any changes or updates?” 

Mammon thinks for a moment. “Nah, not that I remember. Lucifer’s been pretty stressed today, with all the prep and everything. He’s not pleased that I waited until the last day to tell him there’d be another guest.” 

While Lucifer may not be pleased, Mammon sure looks like he is, a self-satisfied expression sitting handsomely on his face. You don’t bother to hide your smile, and Mammon’s grows to reflect yours. Mammon makes quick work of opening a portal that’ll bring you to the front lawn of the House of Lamentation, and you step through without hesitation. 

“Alright?” Mammon asks, placing a hand on your elbow to steady you. You’ve long passed the time where a simple portal will make you feel off-kilter, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. You stare up at the imposing manor with awe, drinking in the old-fashioned architecture. 

“Yes, thank you. Shall we head in?” 

Mammon grabs your hand without preamble, sending you a roguish grin. Frissons of heat spark between you, and you tuck his hair behind his ear, having to stretch to reach. Mammon lets you adjust him indulgently. “We shall,” he says when you lean back, satisfied. “Ready to cause some trouble, babe ?” 

Mammon doesn’t knock, which makes sense because it is his house, but you still feel a little weird just strolling in. He leads you through the impressive maze of rooms, and you admire all of the decor as you walk. Eventually, you hear voices, and your hand tightens its hold on Mammon’s. He gives you a concerned look, but you’re excited, not nervous. 

“We’re here,” Mammon calls as you step through the doorway to what looks like a living room. Through the other doorways, you can see a kitchen and dining room, so you assume this is where they actually spend most of their time, as the rooms look decidedly more lived in than the other ones you had seen. Instantly, all of the conversations stop, and you find six pairs of colorful eyes on you. 

“Hello,” Lucifer, it must be Lucifer, says, stepping forward and extending a hand. You pull yours out of Mammon’s to shake it, noting the firm grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Lucifer, Avatar of Pride.” Yep, you had guessed right. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you enthuse. “Mammon has told me so much about you! I feel like we know each other already!” You’re hoping your overzealousness will rub him the wrong way, and it seems that it does, and Lucifer subtly leans away from you, eyes darkening a shade. “Thank you for having me here tonight!” 

“Ah, of course,” Lucifer acknowledges smoothly, though he’s looking at Mammon with an unreadable expression, not you. “I hope you enjoy your time with us.” 

You go through introductions with the rest of the brothers, making sure to act just a little off, enough so that they can pick up on it. 

“You’re so strong!” you exclaim to Beelzebub as he shakes your hand, stepping forward to feel his bicep. “You must work out a ton!” Beelzebub extracts himself from your grip, giving you a wary look. You only smile, this time looking up at him from under your lashes. From beside him, his twin, Belphegor, stiffens. 

“So you’re a human?” he asks, and you shift your attention to him. 

“I am, yep!” Mammon had warned you of Belphegor’s dislike and distrust for humans, and you plan to use it to your full advantage. “And it's so cool to finally meet some actual demons! Honestly, I’d go out with Mammon even if I didn’t like him just to say I was dating a demon, especially since he’s such a high-ranking one.” 

You’d never do that in real life, but Mammon had said insinuating you were somewhat of a clout chaser or gold digger would definitely make them dislike you, and it seems that he’s right, as disgust is splayed out on Belphegor’s face, with him making no effort to hide it. From across the room, Mammon pretends he didn’t hear, but you know he’s listening to your every word. 

“Be polite,” Beelzebub hisses into Belphegor’s ear. 

“So, MC,” Asmodeus trills, swooping to ease some of the tension. “How long have you and Mammon been dating? I was so surprised when he said he was bringing someone!”

Asshole. “Oh, we’ve been talking for the last few months, but we only made it official last month,” you explain, easily reciting the story you and Mammon had come up with. Asmodeus’ gaze sharpens. 

“Already meeting the family? Don’t you think you’re moving pretty fast?” 

You laugh. “Not at all! Mammon said I should come since this dinner was so important! What kind of partner would I have been if I had declined?” 

“What kind of partner indeed,” Asmodeus murmurs. “Anyway, how’d you get to know one another? Our Mammon isn’t the best at surrounding himself with people that’d be good dates, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” you reply breezily. “And Mammon and I met online, then decided to meet up in real life.” 

“Online where?” Leviathan asks, interest piqued. “Like a chatroom?” 

You wave your hand. “Not exactly. Have you head of online gambling?” 

“Oh,” Leviathan says, muted. “ That’s where you met?”

You nod as if you’re unaware of his disapproval. “I kept winning and Mammon felt like he just had to talk to me, isn’t that right babe?”

“That’s right,” Mammon confirms, making his way over to you and slotting himself behind you. You press a kiss into his cheek and several of his brothers watch the move with ill-hidden distaste. “It then turned out that my MC was cheatin’ and that’s how I kept losing! Crazy, right?” 

“Yes, crazy,” Lucifer echoes. “MC, aside from online gambling-” the words look like they pain him to say “-what else do you do? Though you’ve been hearing all about us, today was the first time we were made aware of your existence.” 

“This and that,” you reply. “I don’t really have a set job but I do pick up a lot of odd jobs.” 

“Such as?” Satan prompts, and you keep it vague. 

“This and that,” you repeat. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Your joke lands flat, as intended, and you feel Mammon hold back a laugh, body tremoring with the effort of it. Satan’s face twists and he turns away from you. This is going perfectly. 

The night continues on and soon enough it’s time for you all to head on over to the Demon Lord’s castle. This time it’s Lucifer who makes the portal, the swirling blue a lot more ominous than Mammon’s yellow had been. You follow Mammon into it, and again, he steadies you, but this time you lean into it, pretending to be slightly disoriented. If you had thought that the House of Lamentation was impressive, then this was magnificent. Large towers extend into the darkness, and intricate detail work links all of the door and window frames. The sheer size of the castle has you speechless for a moment, as you’ve never seen such a large residence. Usually, in the human world, buildings like this were historical sites and it was easy to forget people actually inhabited them once. 

Your little group makes its way up the immaculate front walk, but before Lucifer can knock, the heavy door swings open silently, revealing a demon in a butler’s uniform. 

“Barbatos,” Lucifer greets, “how have you been?” 

“Ah, Lucifer. Come one in, everybody,” Barbatos’ says, eyes flicking from face to face, until he sees you. Then he tilts his head slightly, even as he motions you in. “And I’ve been well. Please, follow me.” 

Mammon wraps his arm around your waist as you walk, and you lean into the touch. You hadn’t really discussed any sort of boundary about touching with him, and you hadn’t gone into the night thinking you would be this close to him, but you don’t mind. You’d back off if he expressed discomfort in any way, and you were sure he’d do the same. A part of you is taken aback by how easy it is to occupy the same space as him, but it also is kind of nice. 

The castle’s interior is just as exquisite as the exterior. Each room is themed, with different eras or color schemes being focused on, and beautiful art is everywhere. The brothers seem totally at ease, not looking around in awe like you are, so you figure they must be familiar with the castle. 

You enter a small ballroom, done up in reds and gold, and a man you recognize as Lord Diavolo steps forward, greeting you. 

“Hello, everyone!” he says warmly, and you like him already. Though it is clear that his status is above anyone else there he seems to treat all of the brothers as equals, like old friends, and it seems as if they do the same. Except for Belphegor, you notice as the youngest avatar coolly greets him, much more subdued than the rest. You wonder what the story is behind that, if they share some bad blood. “And hello,” he says specifically to you, walking closer to greet you personally. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” 

“We haven’t,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm and large, but you find yourself still preferring Mammon’s touch. “I’m MC. Thank you for having me for dinner.” 

“Oh, but of course!” Diavolo smiles broadly at you. “I’m interested in getting to know someone Mammon holds so dear! To have caught his attention is something special indeed!” 

Unlike with the brothers, his comment doesn’t seem mean-spirited or to be any sort of double entendre. You appreciate it; based on your first impression, the Devildom is in good hands. 

“Let me introduce yourself to the other guests.” Diavolo draws your attention to the other people in the room. To your horror, you recognize one of them. “This is Simeon,” he says, and you pull your eyes away from Solomon to give the dark-skinned man a smile. “And Luke. They’re angels.” 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” you say, “I’m MC, Mammon’s date.” 

“And then over here is Solomon,” Diavolo continues, and you unwillingly look back at the sorcerer. His familiar grey eyes bore into yours and you send him a pleading look, praying he doesn’t expose you. 

“Hello, MC,” Solomon says, the barest hint of a smirk on his face. You let out the smallest sigh of relief. It seems that his curious nature would be working in your favor for once. You know he’ll want to talk to you, though, so you’re not completely at ease. 

“Hello, Solomon,” you return, and Mammon’s arm tightens fractionally. He’s picked up on your change in behavior, but hopefully, the others haven’t. 

“And then this is Barbatos,” Diavolo finishes, gesturing to the butler who had opened the door. You and Barbatos greet one another, but you can’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. A quick glance shows it’s not only Solomon, but also Lucifer. 

Once the official introductions are finished, you half turn, leaning towards Mammon to whisper in his ear. You try keep your expression light and casual, though your words are anything but. 

“Why didn’t you tell me other people would be here?” you hiss, and Mammon’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. 

“Is that a problem?” 

“It is when I know one of them,” you say, resisting the urge to groan. “Solomon was my classmate back when I was getting my sorcerer’s license. 

“Maybe he hasn’t recognized you?” suggests Mammon, but you both know that he has, much to your dismay. 

“He doesn’t seem inclined to reveal that we know each other, though, so should we just proceed as planned?” 

Mammon sighs, shooting a look over at Solomon, who’s watching you both with a dangerously curious glint in his eyes. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Okay.” You follow Mammon forward to the appetizer table, hoping the only trouble that takes place will be caused by you.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[jabesa0]

Not trying to be rude or anything

But ur mammon don’t look like mammon at all?

Hello there, yeah I do recognize that my mammon drawings may not always look just like him in game! However, this is just the way I picture him! I say many times that my mammon drawings are very self indulgent and I draw him the way that i like him to look like!

And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I stray too far from canon mammon really. Sure I’m make him a bit buffer than usual, I add some beauty marks and gold teeth, but I don’t think those things really make him a completely different thing! (I also know I tend to make him darker than his looks in game sometimes, but if THATS your issue with my mammon…that’s an issue that you need to take up with yourself and ask why that would bother you :/)

However if your issue is with how I characterize mammon in my drawings, then I’ll say what I’ve said before!! I like drawing mammon in both feminine clothes as well as masculine ones!! And seeing as he explores such things in game too, I wouldn’t say that’s out of canon either!!

Finally!!! even if you still think my mammon isn’t very canon mammon, I think that’s fine too!! Many people have made their own interpretations of characters, and this one is mine!! If you don’t think mine is very mammon, well that’s your opinion and you can have that!!

[stanmammon]

Seeing you in your swimsuit for the first time [Demon Brothers + Solomon and Simeon]

(about to go on vacation for my birthday in a few days [me and Barbatos are both Leos honestly couldn’t pick a better demon to share a zodiac sign with] so i wanted to leave you all with this!)

Lucifer doesn’t compliment you right away but you do receive an approving smile and the sight of him openly checking you out, eyes slowly roaming up and down your body as he takes it in. When you’re out at the beach together he keeps an arm firmly around your shoulder, leaning over to whisper that he could tell all the naughty things others were thinking about you. He hinted that it was beginning to make him feel a certain type of way, like he wanted to lock you away and have you for himself, marking your body up in a way that would show you were happily taken.

Mammon’s head whipped away when you teasingly posed for him but you could tell he was glancing at you from the corner of his eye, telling you that you looked fine in an impatient way before he pulled you along. He gets easily irritated when people try to talk to you on the beach, shooing them away, kicking sand at them, truly acting like a petulant middle child. When you ask him what his problem is all he can do is say that you look too alluring, and that you’re distracting him from having a good time. He can tell you’re hurt by his harshness and he quietly apologized, saying he couldn’t help but feel defensive because all the others were looking at you like a piece of meat.

Levi let out a cute squeak at the anime themed swimsuit you had gone with, crying out that it was way too sexy for him to be able to handle. He covered his eyes and crouched on the ground, trying to calm his raging thoughts before facing you again. You’re amused with his reaction; it was one you had expected as Levi wasn’t exactly experienced with half-naked people let alone going to a destination outside with them where they’d surely attract all sorts of attention. He can hardly keep his eyes off you the entire day, pulling you into the water with him quickly as he said your swimsuit should be for his eyes only since he’s the only one who could really appreciate it.

Satan is immediately drawn in by the cute cat patterns on your swimsuit, not realizing how close he’d gotten to you to study it. He already thought you were overwhelmingly cute but to see you adorned in such a cute outfit… His heart is stuttering in his chest as his cheeks heated up, telling you that you were almost too cute for him to bear. He would normally like to stick his nose in a book and relax while on the beach but he found that to be impossible with you dressed the way you were, mouth hanging open when you told him your swimwear came with a light jacket that’s hood had cat ears on it. You’re lucky that Satan allowed you to stay for as long as he did, dragging you off to a secluded location so he could let out his inner desires and kiss you all over.

Asmo gushed over your cute swimsuit immediately, telling you it really suited you and accentuated your body in all the right ways. He’s a little pouty because he has a few opinions on what he would’ve liked to see you in but he decided that the others shouldn’t be allowed to see you like that, thinking it’d be a special treat for his eyes only if he bought you the type of swimwear he’d like to see you in. He’s a little mischievous as he bats at any ties on your swimsuit, whispering in your ear that he’d very much like to untie them, but you know he would never unless you gave him permission to do so (which is another thing that would not be happening in front of his brothers).

Beel’s first question was if it was comfortable for you, helping you sort yourself out and tying your swimsuit for you if you needed to. You trusted him to not be a pervert about it, knowing at his height he could easily peek down your shirt but knowing he would never even consider it. He tells you to be careful about dropping the ice cream you had gotten on yourself since so much skin is showing, saying he’d lick it up quickly just so you wouldn’t get too sticky. You genuinely don’t think he realized how his offer could be taken but he’s as sweet as the treat in your hand and you can’t help but lean your head against him, thanking the gluttonous demon for being so wonderful (while he’s confused about what he had done).

Belphegor’s first thought is about how uncomfortable your swimsuit looks to sleep in before his eyes slowly looked you up and down, a mischievous smile forming on his face as he asked if you got dressed up just for him. He wasn’t thrilled about being dragged to the beach but your cushy thighs were out and he had plans to claim them, stating it was far more comfortable to nap on them compared to just laying on the ground or a towel. He hid it well but Belphie had his hands on you the entire time, feeling rather possessive when he realized you were drawing more attention than normal with what you were wearing. He’s like a guard dog of sorts, glaring up from your lap at anyone who chooses to talk to you (he tried to rationalize that it was because his nap was being interrupted but you knew better).

Simeon felt himself getting hot under the collar immediately, the feeling in his gut peculiar yet all too familiar. It wasn’t quite normal for an angel to feel such things thus he tried to push down how truly divine you looked in your swimsuit, telling you with a playful smile that you looked quite stunning and he thought the material suited you. He’s happy to accompany you on your fun trip to the beach if not just to watch out for you, knowing there are others who would think like him but not have the willpower to control themselves around you. He still wants you to have a good time thus he protected you from these creeps, still feeling guilty that he could be considered one of them because of things outside his control.

Solomon’s heart jumped in his chest when he first saw you and despite all the art he’d seen in his lifetime, you were truly the only one he’d call a masterpiece. He’s smiling at you with a sparkle in his eye and when he brushed off your questions you knew he had some thoughts he wasn’t telling you, shaking it off before going on a tangent about how swimwear has developed in the human world. You noticed Solomon was a little touchier with your skin out, placing a hand on your back as you talked and as he guided you along the busy beach, something he normally didn’t seem bold enough to do in the company of others.

[with-love-from-hell]

OM! Brothers react to a shy MC

I wanted to write a soft and quiet MC because I am totally the individual who would show up in Devildom and just not talk to anyone because I am too anxious. Shy representation PLEASE!!!!

CW: swearing. GN!MC, Fluff

 Lucifer

At first he is totally fine with this. Obviously you know your place and are rightfully intimidated by Devildom.

Also, this means the pesky human wont get into any shenanigans, right?

WRONG.

You attract just as much trouble as his brothers do, but its usually because Mammon dragged you along into one of his schemes, or another demon at RAD is creating said problems that end of falling on you, being the odd one out in a sea of demons.

Over time though, Lucifer begins to worry when you seem to open up more to his brothers but not him. Yeah sure he tried to kill you (twice) but you forgave him…right?

 Or…maybe not?

·Was he really that scary? Or maybe you were traumatized? Either way, he felt so guilty. After everything that happened, he had such a strong desire to grow closer to you.

But you just stayed so quiet. Which, don’t get him wrong, he appreciates. Especially since you can keep good company while he does his work, or listen to music together peacefully without feeling awkward. After a while, he realizes you’re still intimidated because you are shy, but its not like you’re terrified of him.

Cue relieved Lucifer.

But after he grows closer and closer to you, he finds himself longing for your voice more and more. And it drives him NUTS.

What is wrong with him? Why is he so desperate for you to just say something…anything?

What a simp lol

After a while he begins to purposefully lock you in conversations about...well...anything.

 What your life was like outside of devildom, interests, hobbies, what your thoughts are on the nature of mortality, thoughts on Diavolo’s new idea for RAD…anything that required an extensive conversation and not just a shrug, or a one-word answer.

After a few weeks of this, you let down your walls and you talk to him about the fears of rejection and disappointing others that keep you from being your true self.

He relates tbh.

But also feels bad that you were so worried about disappointing him.

Cue SOFT boi Luci

He will be ever more gentle toward you as you continue to warm up to him and get more comfortable, doing his best to let his own walls built around himself down so you can see him more vulnerably without tanking his pride of course

 Lucifer lives for the moments with you when he can feel the air in the house grow lighter as your laughter echoes through the corridors….

when he watches you and Satan locked in a fierce debate over whether Ernest Hemmingway was gay or not…

when he passes by Asmo’s room, noticing you both singing so loudly and badly and jumping around to a new song you introduced him to…

And when he is sitting in his office alone with you tonight, he sends a series of pictures: Mammon drawing a face on Belphie while he was sleeping, followed by Mammon duct taped to the wall with Belphie giving a sly grin- in the group chat from earlier today…

A cackling laugh erupts from your throat. You throw your head back as tears spill from your eyes, unable to contain the hilarity you felt just glancing at the images. 

Lucifer’s eyes are glued to you, watching the joy radiate from your being. it’s almost as if something in his life was missing until now...

he finds his heart feeling full.

Mammon

Oi! Human! What, cat got your tongue? Why the heck are you so quiet??

Ah of course- obviously you were stunned into silence by the great Mammon!

Or…wait…do you not like him?? Its been like a month and you still wont talk to him?????

Cue distressed Mammon.

Man he wants so desperately for you to just talk to him. He will do anything in his power just to hear your voice, ESPECIALLY after making a pact with him.

He is your first after all. You should open up to him the most!

And, surprisingly, you do. Though it takes some time, soon enough you are chattering along with him, giggling at his stupid jokes, and groaning at his new money-grubbing schemes that are bound to not work at all!

See, you knew you couldn’t resist the great Mammon!!

But…wait. Now we face a bigger problem.

Youre growing closer to the others too. Which ya know, its not like Mammon cares about some human is doing right haha

Well….maybe he cares a little

Ok actually he cares a lot.

He starts getting really jealous whenever anyone else gets you laughing so hard you start snorting. You should only laugh like that around him!!

He starts trying to steal more your time, especially if you suddenly find yourself chatting away with Levi on your new favorite anime, or start a book club with Satan.

Nah, he was your first man! Spend time with him pls don’t make him beg

He may even worm his way into joining the book club or watching the anime you like just so he can be included on the conversations with you.

After a while, he calms down a bit, but not by much.

He loves hearing you talk about anything and everything, and will often lay with you late into the night listening to you talk the dream you had last night, hooked on every word leaving your tender lips...

but he wont tell you about his...

Because it was about you.

 Levi

I mean, he is a shut in anyway so its not like he cares much that you don’t talk to him.

He pretty much limits his interactions with you in the same way at first.

That is, until after the TSL quiz, and your pact, and…wait, have you always been this into video games and anime??

Why didn’t you tell him!

He has been looking for someone to share in his interests for AGES and now that he has you, good luck getting some free time.

He will go on and on and ON about games, anime, Ruri-chan, TSL, ….but you don’t seem to share in the conversation much.

Honestly, at this point you’re not too worried about disappointing him or him being turned off by the fact that you snort when you laugh.

You were much to enthralled in his detailed knowledge about all of these things that you just…didn’t really think to contribute?

That is, until one day it gets to him and he starts texting you, rapid fire: do you hate him? why you were so quiet? was he annoying you?? Surely he must be if you don’t talk to him, like, ever. All you ever do is nod and say “yeah” and “oh!” Are you just humoring him?

It takes a LONG time before this anxious baby can calm tf down.

He just wants to make you his Henry, okay?

After you explain, he gets a huge boost in his confidence.

No one has ever found his anime rants endearing before. Not ever!

Levi has now declared himself your best friend much to Mammon’s upset.

He begins reworking conversations so you have more to contribute, rather than talking at you. 

But once, you got on a rant about a video game you used to adore in the human world, and…wow.

Have you always looked this beautiful?? Maybe he just hasn’t noticed before...

cue blushing Levi

He can understand why you don’t mind his tangents now.

That spark in your eye that flickers when you talk about something your passionate about…

It just makes his heart flutter.

 Satan

Like Levi and Lucifer, he doesn’t mind too much that you’re quiet at first. 

At first he thinks you’re the broody, strong, silent type, like him.

But then he notices how you rarely make eye contact, you fidget a lot, and you tend to fluster easily- tripping over your words when you are caught off guard...

Ah, your just shy.

Satan still keeps his distance for awhile, mostly just observing you out of curiosity.

that is, until he switches bodies with Lucifer and you’re trapped in that stupid dating game.

Wait…Mammon, Lucifer, and Levi think they could beat him? At romancing a small anxious love interest?

Ha. Yeah right.

Satan has read enough romance novels with that exact scenario to know exactly what to do.

He begins by flustering you as much as possible, showering you with compliments, making any movement to just barely graze your hand as he stands next to you.

But after the game ends…nobody’s won, but you’re closer now…more than ever

And now…he’s the one getting flustered?

You find yourself giggling when he asks to make a pact with you, by how a red hue paints his face, you can tell he’s barely got himself together.

But you’re less ruthless than him.

You start spending more time together, often in the library or in his room, but you’re still pretty quiet, much to his dismay.

Sure he’s quiet too, but now you read with him and clearly share his love of cats…he would be...ya know...fine with sharing conversation with you.

Suddenly, and idea pops into his head.

A book club. Perfect.

You both begin reading the same book and the same pace (which is slower than Satan would like but he tolerates it for you) and discussing the chapters.

Soon the conversations he so desires come, and more.

Talks about human nature, philosophy, what characters in books you resemble and why, types of plants that would look best in his room (Satan is plant dad, fight me), anything.

His favorite thing is when you reach a part in a book that you find amusing and you let out a soft giggle.

You don’t notice, but he’s peaking over the top of his own book….

Eyes trailing you, taking in the sensual sound of your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle in delight as they dance across the pages of the book, the way your lips curve so slightly into an ever-present smile that made his heart rate increase…

Boy, was he smitten.

 Asmo

Oh darling, you don’t have to talk much with this one around.

He will dominate ALL conversation, don’t you worry.

He will talk about his beauty routine, gossip about which lower demons he would sleep with and which ones he has slept with, the latest styles at Majolish, which colors match his features, oh and you know he’s got to try out his new makeup he just bought, wouldn’t you know it he got the last eyeshadow pallet and…

Asmo talks a lot, and he is a flirt- that much is obvious. And your responses to his relentless flirting and attempts at a conversation by only flushing pink and looking away only fuel him more.

Clearly he just needs to flirt MORE. Surely that will break you down to talk back, hmm?

Well, lol jokes on him.

After awhile, he just figures you’re not super interested in him yet but he gives you some space while pursuing those who are

After your pact though, boy howdy.

Hands all over you, clinging to you like bark on a tree, constantly offering to do your makeup and hair, buying you presents, complements out the whazoo, flirting becomes twice as intense, all the while…

Your reactions are still the same…

Sweetie, why wont you talk to him?!

Does he creep you out? Is he too much? He begins feeling like maybe he’s overwhelming you, but he cant quiet seem to get enough.

Eventually he breaks down.

“MC, why wont you talk to me…or even really look at me! I like you so so much but it just seems like you loath me. Am I really that horrible?”

His over-exaggerated pouting finally gets a giggle and a smile from you. 

He smiles back.

You tell him you’ve just been fearful of him getting bored of your true self because he’s built you up to be this magnificent creature that is on his level of beauty, when you aren’t much to hem and haw about.

wrong thing to say.

This boy has you in a bear hug before you even finish

You better learn to love yourself MC. The king of self-care isn’t going to let you say you’re not on his level when CLEARLY you are.

After getting the validation that you really do enjoy his company, just find yourself a little anxious with all the attention, he does cool down a little bit, but expect him to always be showering you in affection.

and suddenly, he finds less and less of a need to talk about himself.

Now his long one sided conversations become actual conversations with you. 

About what colors you like, what styles you’re into, what scents are your favorite…

He cant get enough...

He wants to know everything about you.

 Beel

Tbh, he doesn’t mind that you’re quiet at first

It’s a little awkward sometimes when everyone is on about their day at dinner and you’re just silently staring at your plate, though. But he figures you’re just so focused on your food like he is!

Who wouldn’t be? Especially with how good everything tastes here! You must be gripped with the flavor!

Then after you have to move into his room, he notices you’re a little…too quiet.

His worry begins to fester and he wonders why you wont talk. maybe you just don’t like him, or...maybe you’re scared of him? I mean…he did break down the walls to your room and destroy the kitchen over a cup of custard.

It isn’t until after you meet Belphegor that you start striking conversations with him, curious to know about what Belphie is like.

But even then, you ask questions and just nod along while he talks, listening but not contributing.

Beel tries to ask things about you, but you give vague, one word answers.

He is so worried that he’s done something to make you hate him. But…you don’t? right? I mean, you even cuddled with him when he had a nightmare last night. That surely doesn’t sound like something you’d do if you hated him.

After talking to Satan about his concerns with your silence, he realizes that you’re just shy. What a relief.

After this, he tries to ask you more open-ended questions to get you comfortable with talking to him, and begins taking you out with him to restaurants to talk over dinner- having you tell him about various foods in the human world that he would probably like, what your family is like, how you’re faring in Devildom…

And he realizes how much he didn’t know about you before all this. Now, he is always eager to hear more. 

The sound of your voice is so soothing...he imagines it sometimes as he goes to sleep...

He asks you to read to him one night- something that Lucifer did for him and Belphie when they were little. Lucifer’s too busy, Satan has never agreed to do because of it’s association with Lucifer and all Levi wants to read him is Manga, which just isn’t the same.

You feel weird about it at first, but it quickly becomes a nightly routine.

Beel is crushed when you have to return to your own room, but often has you come back (or even calls you) just to hear you read him a story.

Belphie even joins the nightly story time you and Beel have once everything is settled and he joins the family again.

Beel is happy his twin is there, don’t get him wrong…

But sometimes, he wants to be the only one taking in your voice. And this was his thing with you, and only you.

Beel lets Belphie sit in on the stories most nights, but one night per week, he will creep quietly to your room, snuggle with you in your bed, and rest his head on your lap while you read to him…

You make him feel like he’s just eaten 12 delicious cupcakes from Madam Screams…

He never thought someone’s voice could sound so sweet.

 Belphie

Obviously he doesn’t give a single shit about you right in the beginning.

You’re just some lousy human. What does he care if you have something to say or not?

But whatever. You’re his meal ticket out of this attic. As long as you’ll believe his plight, he doesn’t care.

You never really open up to him until after the incident, and even then it takes awhile.

What if he traumatized you? Well, he knows he did…but he’s worried that you weren’t telling the truth when you said you forgave him for it.

If you forgave him, then why wouldn’t you talk to him??

Belphie tries shrugging it off, convincing himself he deserves the cold shoulder…But seeing you interacting just fine with his brothers….man, it makes his blood boil in jealousy and guilt.

It isn’t until he starts ignoring you that you start seeking him out for conversation. You’re still pretty quiet, but he sees you making the effort and he stops ignoring you. And after talking to Beel, he realizes that you’re just shy and this is how you were at first with Beel too

Its not like he set your relationship off on the right track, anyway. 

But he’s determined to make things right.

After you make a pact with him, he notices a world of a difference.

You invite him to story time with Beel, playing video games with Levi, and starting the anti-Lucifer league with Satan.

All the while, he doesn’t realize you do this partially to spend more time with him, but also to get more comfortable talking around him.

Soon enough, you two chatter away on your own in the moments he’s not napping, talking about the dreams you had, what your aspirations are, how life was like in Devildom before he came out of the attic, ways to get under lucifer’s skin…

And now, you even willingly sing him a lullaby to sooth him after he startles awake from a nightmare.

He never would have thought you two would have gotten so close in a million years based on that first impression

but here you two are. Belphie snuggling his head close to your chest while you stroke his hair and hum to him softly…

He sighs and presses his face further into you, soaking up your scent and letting your soft voice lull him back to sleep…

He wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

[iwannawritelots]

Mortality

Originally written May 2022

Ship(s): Mammon X MC

(genderless MC)

(not requested)

Trigger/content warnings: talking about death I guess?

Headcanons/notes from the author: no headcanons are directly used here.

Brief Blurb: Mammon wants to be with MC forever and is thinking about ways to accomplish it.

It was fairly cold in the human world, and Mammon was not at all affected as he walked you down the street. “Why do I have ta wear these warm clothes? It’s not even that cold out.” You sighed and facepalmed with your spare hand, very tired of this complaint. “I mean, look, I know some humans think it’s weird when people walk around in tank tops and shorts for cold weather, but I’m sweatin’ my ass off.” He huffed, then stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, which you quickly corrected by pulling him off to the side.

“Mammon, babe,” you told him, “firstly, don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk in the city. You should know that.”

“Oh…”

It was difficult to stay frustrated with him when he flustered and made his cute, embarrassed grin. “Secondly… it’s supposed to get really cold. I know you’re naturally a lot warmer since you’re a fallen angel, but odd looks are best avoided in the human world.”

“Ya say that like I haven’t ever been to it on my own…” he mumbled, fumbling with your hand.

Sighing, you watched him use your hand as a stim toy. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” You pulled him closer, then stood on your tip toes to kiss him. “I know you’ve been here millions of times without me. I just worry about you.”

Scoffing and biting back a smile, Mammon cupped your jaw. “Ya don’t have anything to worry about, darlin’. I’m a demon, remember?” You nodded, leaning into his touch slightly. “I… appreciate ya worryin’, though,” he admitted quietly, face flushing red.

“I just…” you sighed and closed your eyes. “I get really scared about drawing too much attention to ourselves.”

“Babe,” he chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair. “There ain’t a thing to worry about. I’m a big, scary demon. I don’t even have to go into demon form to frighten a human, y’know?”

Your face fell a little. “Yeah…”

“_____…? Why the long face?”

“Nothing,” you told him, averting your gaze a little. “Let’s get going, the store might close if we don’t hurry.”

“Shit, yeah.” Mammon pulled you back into the foot traffic, keeping you close to himself. Once you two managed to step into the store, you both pulled your face masks up. You then took his jacket off of his shoulders and draped it over an arm. “Thanks, babe…” he muttered shyly.

Despite taking the jacket off, you could tell he was still entirely too warm from the store’s heating. “I’m sorry, you’re probably miserable from the warmth.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry, _____.” He smiled, and despite only seeing it in his eyes, you felt relief wash over you. “Let’s get a cart.”

“No, we’ll buy too much if we get a cart.” You ignored his pout as you picked up a shopping basket. “This is my money, Mammon.”

“I-I know…” he mumbled, taking the basket from you before grasping your hand once more. “I’m sorry.”

“I never said you needed to be sorry,” you reassured him softly. “I’m not upset.”

You led him to the produce section, then reluctantly let go of his hand to inspect the various fruits and vegetables. “Why’re ya squeezin’ that thing?”

“To make sure it’s a good one.”

After processing what you said, he furrowed his eyebrows and stared intensely at some of the fruit in front of him. He seemed puzzled, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Do you not check if produce is good before you buy it, babe?”

“W-Well… Lucif—…” he stopped himself, glancing around with only his eyes before continuing. “Luci never really has me buy the groceries, and when I tag along I don’t really pay much attention to whoever is actually doing the shoppin’. I just kinda help carry stuff.”

“Didn’t you help Barbatos like, a week ago?” you chuckled, placing some of the good foods in the basket. “I know he inspects everything.”

Mammon pouted at you. “I told ya I ain’t payin’ attention when I help. I jus’ know if it looks weird then I shouldn’t eat it.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, I’m only teasing, Mammoney.” You very gently placed a hand on the small of his back, then led him to a different area of the store. “You’re just older than me, so I assume you know stuff like that.”

“Th-That’s fair…” He felt butterflies in his stomach from your touch. You were so gentle with him…

“Anyways,” you began, looking at the shelves, “do you still want popcorn for movies tonight?”

Mammon nodded. “Mmhm. Could we get those tiny rainbow chocolates to put in it?”

“You mean M&Ms?”

He bounced on his heels excitedly. “Yeah! Those!”

“Of course, baby.” You grabbed the popcorn and added M&Ms to the list on your phone. “Most of what we still need is in the next aisle.” He followed you close behind, not wanting to get lost or distracted by something. It was a little weird that he wasn’t talking very much. Usually, he couldn’t stop talking while you two were doing stuff alone.

By the time you two had finished shopping and paid, he hadn’t said very much. You were both carrying bags in both hands, and he was absolutely miserable with the jacket back on as well. When you got home, he instantly set the bags down and changed into something more comfortable. You didn’t mind, knowing he would come back and help put things away.

Well, that’s what he usually did. You had put away the cold stuff, and he still hadn’t returned to help. “Mammon?” you called out. When you received no response, you abandoned your task to search for him. Once you reached your bedroom door, he was talking on the other side.

“Lucifer, I ain’t comin’ home…” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Please stop callin’…” His voice was shaky and distressed. If it weren’t for your confusion keeping you in place, you would have come into the room to comfort him. “I want to stay. Jus’ let me talk to _____ about it, please…? I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me…”

You slowly opened the door, and he startled. “Mammon…?”

He hung up on Lucifer, then turned to face you. “S-Sorry…” he mumbled, wiping a stray tear from his face. “I wasn’t tryna make ya put everythin’ away by yourself.”

“Is something wrong…?” you asked, cautiously approaching him. “Do you need to go home?”

“N-No…” Mammon pulled you into his arms a bit more forcefully than he intended. “No… I just… I want to stay here wit’cha… forever…”

“Mammon…?”

“L-Lucifer found out I was talkin’ to Lord Diavolo about… stayin’ in the human world.” He sniffled, and you could feel his hands trembling against your back and shoulders. “I jus’ wanted to make sure it would be fine before I said anythin’ about it to you… but…”

You waited for him to speak, but he seemed to lose his train of thought. “But…?”

“L-Lucifer also found out I was… considerin’… becomin’ mortal…”

You attempted to move, but he squeezed you in order to prevent it. “Mammon—”

“I-I jus’ suggested it ‘cause Lord Diavolo wanted ideas of how I could stay with ya. I m-mean, I would give up anythin’ to be wit’cha…” A muffled sob escaped him, and he burrowed into your hair. “It seems like the best option to me, but Lord Diavolo and Lucifer would rather I faked mortality until you… y-you…”

Carefully, you squished him close to yourself and rubbed his back. “Mammon, giving up immortality is huge.”

“I-I jus’ couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it while we were shoppin’. I want to b-be with ya forever. I d-don’t want ya to go away…” he muttered between small, harsh cries. “I have been alive so long and no one has been so kind to me, or gentle with me…”

“Mammon—”

“I-I can’t take it… I can’t… have a life without ya…” he mumbled, nuzzling into you and kissing your head. “We’ve been together so long now, I jus’ keep gettin’ anxious about it…”

You managed to push yourself away enough to look him in the face. “Mammon, that is a very big decision to make just for me.”

“I’ve been alive forever, it ain’t gonna make a difference…” he said quietly, taking one of his hands away from you to rub one of his eyes. A weak, tiny wail left him as he curled into himself. “I-I’m not set on it anyways. Faking mortality would be easy…”

“It sounded like you are pretty set on it, Mammon,” you stated as calmly as you could. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“A-A couple months…” Mammon took a deep breath, trying to relax himself. “I just… humans… don’t always come back as an angel or demon… y-y’know? They don’t remember anythin’ when they do, either…” he sniveled and ran his fingers through his hair. “I-I mean, sure, ya could come back… but… b-but… we wouldn’t be together anymore…”

“Mammon…”

“I-I just get scared whenever I wanna talk to ya, because I know you’ll think I’m bein’ hasty…”

“Why wouldn’t you want me to become a demon before that can happen?”

Mammon made a half hearted chuckle. “I asked… it’s complicated…”

“Why do you want us to be here? I like the Devildom,” you told him gently.

“I-I want ya safe…”

You giggled a bit, petting his hair. “What makes you think I’m safe here? Humans are always in conflict somewhere. You would be in danger if you were mortal, especially because of…” you trailed off, sighing. “We’d probably be safer in the Devildom.”

Sniffling and shaking his head, Mammon insisted, “You’d be unhappy livin’ there. It’s always dark, ‘n’ you’d probably have to do R.A.D. forever, unless Lord Diavolo could get us permission for inter realm marriage…”

“Didn’t he do that for Solomon and Asmodeus?”

“Y-Yes, but… but Solomon is immortal, and a prominent figure in the human realm…”

You gently cupped his cheeks and brushed his tears away with your thumbs. “Mammoney…?”

He sniffled and choked on sobs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I-I just… I love ya so much, _____… I c-can’t imagine life without ya anymore…” He carefully grabbed your wrists, but didn’t move your hands. “I-I don’t want ya to die… I want you…”

You hushed him and rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs once more, keeping the gesture going after he seemed to relax from it. “Mammon, we have time to think about this. We can work it out.”

“I-I’m sorry… I-I’m sorry, treasure…” he muttered, sniffling and squishing your wrists ever so slightly in his hands. “I-I’m sorry… please… j-just pretend I never brought it up…”

“Why don’t we just… put a pin in it? Come back to it later, I mean.” He opened his eyes slightly to gaze at your face, still crying. “Would that be okay? We don’t have to talk about it right now. We have time.”

Nodding and leaning into your hands, Mammon muttered, “Please…”

reblog divider

[ded-space]

OM! Characters Having Kids HC

G/N [Warning! Implied biological children]

Reblogging Permission ✅

Lucifer

Wants kids but only once his brothers are matured

He wants a mini MC running around the house

He's going to love the hell out of them.

Wants a daughter, but would be happy in any case!

He would sit there and have tea parties with them (please someone draw this)

Satan

Kids are a bit of a hassle.. but if you put cat ears on them they're too cute to not want one.. or two.

teaching his kid(s) to read would be his favorite parenting moment

Can't wait to teach them about the world

Family vacations are a must

Wants a Son but Satan's daughter would be the cutest lil *cambion. Especially if she were exactly like him. He would support a non-binary kid too of course!

*Cambion: Half-Human & Half-Demon

Mammon

He didn't believe you when you first told him, but when he found out you were serious.. The puppy dog eyes and tail appeared, he was so excited.

He would love them to death

Constantly spoiling them

Buys those children's collector's Items "definitely not for himself"

Expect them to cause plenty of mischief together!

Levi

It's not exactly one of his life's goals to have kids, but he isn't against the idea of having some if it's with you.

Doesn't matter what gender the baby is.

You often come home to find them passed out together on the couch.

He has turned your child into an otaku, they are now an otaku by default.

Your child will be addressed with superiority (you're still a normie though)

Belphie

He had decided he sleeps too much to properly take care of a child.

You'd have to convince him if you want kids.

You convinced him and now the baby is his top priority

They are attached at the hip and it's adorable, the baby always looks so comfortable laying on Belphie's chest.

He bought matching PJ's for all of you.

Beel

He hadn't really given it much thought but he likes the idea!

This is a chubby baby (in the cutest way possible)

You constantly catch him snacking on the baby food

He's a very good dad, He loves playing with the baby.

He plays peek-a-boo with them, also your kid has inherited Beels facial expressions hehe

Asmo

Absolutely wants kids! It would be a shame not to pass on such good looks!

Would play dress up with the kid, no way in heaven he'd allow his child to have a poor fashion sense!

Your child is doomed to become a theater kid. I don't make the rules, I just work here :P

Sings lullabys every night.

Family cuddle time is important!

Barbie

If you want kids then he's happy to oblige!

Doesn't have a preference of gender

Would teach them how to bake

You're often welcomed home by the two of them covered in flour, it's too cute! (Please I'm begging someone to draw this)

Your child is now an adorable sarcastic little chef and you couldn't be more proud!

Diavolo

Definitely wants kids, especially with you!

Loves giving piggyback rides

Would geek out about power rangers and transformers with his kid, I know it's oddly specific but yes.

Doesn't care about gender he loves the kid unconditionally without preference.

Constantly setting up surprises for you together.

Solomon

Doesn't really want kids, but if you want kids that badly then he's willing to have them with you.

He regrets nothing. He had no idea he could love a creature this much..

He can't wait for when he can teach them their first spell!

He gets a little too sucked in when watching kids shows with them

Wears a baby carrier to hold them, the baby likes holding onto his pointer fingers hehe (It's adorable please draw this I need it.)

Simeon

Yes! He loves kids! (He would prefer to adopt)

Loves taking them on walks

They cook dinner for you together

You all go out every Sunday for Sundae's (it's tradition)

Simeon is ELITE at hide and seek, and you can't convince me otherwise!

Luke (Not as a Father just thoughts on kids in general)

Kids are annoying

Okay maybe some of them are cute

But they're immature!

They're lot's of fun though..

Fine! They're adorable!.. in small doses.

[sugrbugz]

𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙮 — 𝙢𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙛 !𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 💌

so basically i have mommy issues and will be projecting that onto mammon <3

cw: mommy dom dynamics, afab reader, power play, virgin!mammon, it’s pretty soft! just you taking care of him :3

you never exactly planned on it happening like this. more specifically, you didn’t expect mammon to come to you. you were honestly flattered. it was adorable just how shy he was around you and now here he was at your door begging to come in and talk to you.

“mammon. it’s late, this isn’t something that can wait till tomorrow?” you hummed. truth be told you weren’t even tired in the slightest. you just liked watching him whine and beg for things he wanted.

“no! fuck-please just…please..” it’s almost like he knew you got off to this. “hm. fine.” you made it seem like you didn’t care even though this interaction already had already created a tiny pool of slick between your thighs.

once he was in your room, door closed and locked behind you both his demeanour entirely changed. almost as if he knew his place when he was with you. “what’s the matter mammon?” you asked with a hint of sultry to your voice, almost like you were trying to see how hard you could bend him till he broke.

“that!” he whined, going to point to you but quickly decided against that upon seeing the look on your face. “you.” he rephrased. “you’re what’s..wrong?”

“me? whatever did i do? and why do you sound so confused?” maybe all your signals to him has actually worked. the way you’d send him sweet smiles, flirty little waves, babying him anytime he got hurt. “you have sucha’ different energy than anyone i’ve ever met! and i dunno why..but it’s eatin’ me up so bad inside.” you could actually see the cogs turning in his head, his brain obviously trying to wrap itself around its thoughts.

“and why is this a problem? am i bad?” you asked raising an eyebrow, giving him the look you always gave him when he was in trouble or acting stupid. “no!!” he yelled it so loud you were forced to gently press a finger to his lips, giving him the cue to quiet down.

“then what’s the matter mammon, use your big boy words.” you tease, watching him fight back a shiver. “what, do you like when i talk to you like that? like you’re just a little baby?” his face quickly flushed, him turning his whole body to avoid you. this made you chuckle softly.

“mammooon~” you taunted walking over to him, gently fingers gripping onto his cheeks while you turned his head to look at you. “is that anyway to treat mommy?” you hummed casually, watching as he internally panicked.

“oh? there it is. that’s the reaction i like.” you smirked, one hand sliding off his cheek and to his shoulder while you climbed into his lap. “you’ve finally noticed hm? how badly i wanted to be like this with you?” he felt like he couldn’t even speak. every time he opened his mouth you snatched the words right out.

“my poor baby boy, you can’t even talk. then maybe i should make you useful to me hm?” you smiled and finally his words were found. “i-i want to…so bad..” his voice was exponentially softer, more gentle and less cocky. “i can sense there’s more you need to tell me.” you questioned, “don’t hold your tongue with me. you can say anything here.” you reassured him, your hands finding his back now you pulled him close, using your nails to draw lazy shapes on his back.

“i..im a virgin.”

out of everything he could’ve said, that was the hottest. the soft nervousness in his throat, the way he couldn’t even look at you when he said it, and most importantly he was implying he wanted you to take it from him. you had to shift slightly as to not lose all composure.

“that’s so dumb isn’t it..” he mumbled playing with his hands and almost immediately were you brought back down to reality. “no! mammon baby” you slid forward, cupping his cheeks. “look at me, it’s not stupid. i’m just surprised with the antics you and asmo go through to party” you chuckled, watching his embarrassment slowly leave his body.

“as a matter of fact..” you start, a soft finger gently sliding down his chest, “i think that’s quite alright baby..i’d be happy to help you, okay?” you’d smile, finger gently stopping at his belt buckle. “what really made you come here tonight mammon. tell me exactly what you want.”

he paused for a second, clearly trying to think about his next words. “i came here because i knew you wouldn’t judge me..i want to be with you, i want you to be the person who takes my many firsts..just like this.” he slipped his shirt down a bit, showing off his beautiful pact mark from when you first made a contract with him.

it was that day forward you realized how much mammon actually cared about you, that’s why it wasn’t some big thing about making a pact with him. he liked you. once you recognized those feelings they began to resonate within you and now here you are, half in his lap begging you to take his virginity.

you didn’t reply initially, nimble fingers working at his belt. “for you mammon..i’ll do anything. anything you want, the world is yours my diamond.” you smiled watching his cheeks go red. you loved making him flustered, it was always so easy to do and now you knew why.

you wanted to give him a night to remember, something to separate you from anyone. you shifted back out of his lap, much to his dismay. his grumbling quickly stopped the second you worked on sliding your own top off, noticing his eyes were hyper focused on your chest.

“what’s the matter, want to touch them?” you smile quickly hopping back into his lap. “go ahead baby, they’re all yours” you smile watching as he fights his own nerves, hands quickly flying up to squish your breasts in his warm hands.

you choked back a moan while he just let his hands roam and explore your body. he was so unbelievably gentle with you, always looking up to watch your reaction before proceeding. “you like this don’t you?” he asked, his face turning up into a smirk while the wheels were turning that you were just as sensitive as he could be.

“watch it mammon..” you whined softly, that whine quickly forming into a gasp when you felt his soft lips around the edge of your nipple, “mammon..” you sigh out, grabbing a bit of his hair in your hand. he grunted a bit at that, liking the way it felt.

then you realized something. this was getting messy and sloppy by the second. you wanted to take your time with mammon, show him just how much you genuinely loved him and this wasn’t how you wanted it to go. “mammon, cmere baby” you hum, lifting his head up so you both had eye contact.

the way he looked right now..you wished you could photograph it. so you did. you held his cheeks in your hand while pulling out your phone, taking a quick picture. “hey-“ he started to whine which automatically, you shut down. “don’t worry baby, that’s for mommy’s eyes only”

you watch him fluster even more, gulping nervously. you loved how he reacted, it was rather adorable. “lay back” you hum getting up to strip yourself of the rest of your clothing, leaving you in just a pair of lace panties. you helped him get rid of his own clothes, laughing how he instinctively used his hands to cover his semi hard-on. another gesture that you found absolutely adorable.

“it’s okay honey..you don’t have to hide.” you grin pulling his hands away and crawling in between his legs, much smaller nimble fingers wrapping around his length it was nearly too much for him. you’d never seen this side of mammon before. his hips were already rolling trying to hurry the motion of your hand. “so eager..are you always in this much of a hurry to cum?”

the look on his face was priceless. he wanted to yell out no and that you were wrong but god who was he to lie to you. “y-yes..i like how it feels.” he admitted. this brought a smile to your face, knowing he couldn’t lie to you anymore. you slid down so your face was level with his cock, gently kissing the tip softly you could see how hard he was clenching the sheets.

“you poor thing..” you slid up, knowing he couldn’t handle all this foreplay. you positioned yourself right above his cock, the only thing separating you two was the very thin fabric of those lace panties mammon just wanted to yank off of you. “should i give you want you want hm?” you smiled, rolling your hips down to give him some friction.

he hissed from the sensation of the lace against his tip, whining in response that was all you needed to hear before slipping your panties to the side and rubbing his tip against the pool of wetness between your legs. “feel that? that’s what you do to me baby” you smile running a soft finger down his chest.

mammon looked at you almost like he had stars in his eyes, you were so beautiful to him. “ready?” you asked, softly taking one of his hands into your own. “y-yes..” he gulped making you freeze entirely, “yes what?”

“y..yes…mommy.” there it was. he had said it. your brain went into a frenzy and immediately began to slowly sink down on his twitching length. “you’re sucha good boy mammon..” you hum, head tilting back in pleasure. this caused him to let out a noise you’d never heard, a loud high pitched moan. you didn’t know praise would affect him this much.

“oh wow, you’re so precious aren’t you mammon” you smile, watching his face go flush, “be a good boy and fuck me okay?” you could barley finish before he was fucking up into you in sloppy messy strokes. you coaxed him softly, encouraging him to find his rhythm. you helped him by telling him to match your bounces, what you didn’t know is this was going to be a lot more pleasure than you thought.

when mammon finally got his rhythm right you could feel yourself clamping down on him. based on his reactions you knew he was feeling it to. “what a good boy mammon..you learn so fast” you giggle through a moan, hearing him mumble a few thank yous’. the boy looked like he was seeing stars, eyes glossy, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. it was a very hot look on him.

“slow down baby…you’re not ready to cum yet” you smile, a hand gently pressing his hips back down onto the bed. he let out a soft whine, “here baby..” you slowly slid off of his cock, coming to lay at his side you brought his head over to one of your nipples. “slower..or else you’re fucking my thighs instead okay?” you said it in such a tone that he felt so small. like you owned him, it made him submit in ways he never thought he could.

“yes mommy i’m sorry-“ he continued to apologize for going to fast. you didn’t feel he really needed to apologize so you cut him off by placing his face deep into your chest. “suck on them..match your thrusts to your tongue.” you explain, gently running your hands through his icy hair.

slowly but surely, he started to slowly grind his hips deep inside you while also doing the same with the nipple in his mouth. you shivered slightly and the cold metal on his tongue, making him let out a few breathy noises each time. “such a-mm-good boy” you mumble right in his ear, somehow gently tugging on his hair in a way that made his mind go to jelly.

“i-i think i’m close-“ he pulled away to tell you, soft eyes looking up at you like he needed instruction. “it’s okay..you’re doing great baby, i’m close to..” you whine out that last part, legs shaking slightly. “go cum for me okay? give mommy your virginity.” you hum, eyes squeezing shut as you felt your own high coming.

“hah! mmmmm-fuckk!” was all you heard before your lower tummy got a sense of warmth. “i-inside hm? naughty boy. trying to mark me huh?” you smile running your hand through his hair, your other hand quickly rubbing at your clit, quickly achieving your own high with a high pitched whine.

neither of you knew where this road was going to lead you. mammon had found his owner and you found your pet. a match made in devildom <3

ahhh i hope this was okay!! sorry it’s so long hehe ;)