#I really don’t want to see Blades MC go through that

[yourqueenb]

I hate to say it, but I’m not enjoying Blades as much as I would like to be. And it’s def partially because I don’t have Aerin in my game 😢 But it’s also because overall there really seems to have been a quality drop imo. The chapters have less substance. The skills aren’t as cool as the ones from the first book (apart from realmwalker). The dynamics between the characters are still so off.

And I understand that the last one is due in part to the characters going their separate ways and MC being gone for a year. It makes sense to see the effects of that. But the fact that they all seem to be so uncaring about what happened to MC just doesn’t sit right with me. I alluded to this in the tags of another post, but my biggest fear is that they’ll turn this MC into the MC from The Freshman series. We’ll be constantly checking in on our friends and helping them through their issues, but they won’t do the same for us. Our MC’s trauma and feelings will be diminished and overlooked until we have to blow up to have them addressed if they even get addressed at all.

Idk maybe I’m being impatient and need to give things more time to play out the way they’re intended. But PB has severely mishandled great series before. So I’m having a hard time remaining optimistic rn

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[messysketchyobeyme]

I wish you would write a fic where asmo is just sobbing and throwing up clinging to the mc and how much he loves them and just him being obsessed w them and not wanting to physically separate from them

Selfishness

Asmodeus/Gn!Reader

Word Count: 594 words

A/N: Asmo's a freak *makes out with him*

---

Asmodeus’ nails were quite alluring: long sharp, and always sporting a dazzling array of colors. It was interesting to see what design he’d show off next, and which trends he would start.

You liked his nails a little less when they were digging into your shoulder blades.

“Ah, Asmo!” you hissed, “You're hurting me.”

Asmodeus clung to you harder, closing what little gap that was between you two. He trembled, as he buried his face into your chest, his body wracked with sobs. You leaned against your bed frame, and Asmodeus followed suit, laying down on top of you.

“You can’t–you can’t–” It was difficult to parse what he was saying through his crying. “You can’t do this to me!”

You patted him on his back, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of your moist shirt. “Do what, exactly?” You didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

He didn't clarify, only screaming out, “You can’t!” over and over again until his voice was starting to sound raw.

“Asmo, come on. Look at me,” you said. You held the side of his wet face, brushing your thumb against his cheek. You intended to wipe away his tears, but your thumb became soaked, instead.

Asmodeus seized your wrist and gripped it in a manner that was harsher than necessary. You winced, sucking in a sharp inhale through your teeth. “No,” he hiccupped, “I don't want to see my face.”

You tried to shake your hand out of his hold, but he wouldn’t budge. “Then, can you at least tell me what’s wrong?” You tried to readjust yourself, but Asmodeus' grip tightened, refusing to let you move an inch.

He whimpered, seemingly mulling over what to tell you and how much. Then, he spoke, “I love you…I love you so much…” His voice sounded stilted, like he was trying not to break down into tears, again. “I never felt like this before…to love someone without wanting them just for sex or treating them like a plaything to discard once I got bored.” Asmodeus let go of your hand to allow himself to hug you so tightly that it took your breath away. “I care about you more than I care about myself, so that’s why you can’t…you can’t…” 

“I can’t?”

Asmodeus wailed, “You can’t leave me for anyone else! I wouldn't be able to take it!” He screamed, his breath becoming more and more ragged with each choked sob. “Don’t you get it? I'm obsessed with you! I think about you all the time. I need to spend all of my time with you! You can't love anybody more than me! You can’t do that or else I'll! I'll!” 

His words became incoherent babbles, as they became lost in his sobs. He was shaking.

You kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Asmo. You're the most important person in my life. I would never leave you for someone else.”

It took a while for Asmodeus’ tears to die down, but they did eventually. He rested his hands against the small of your back. You were grateful that he was no longer harming you, at least.

He sniffed. “Really?” 

“Really.”

Asmodeus hummed, not saying anything else. He tilted his head to the side, and you got a good look at his tear-stained face. His mascara streaked down his cheeks in large clumps, his eyes were red and puffy, and his lips were pulled into a pinched expression that you couldn't quite place.

He looked awful.

You leaned down and kissed him. He kissed you back.

[neonravengames]

Sword of Spring Short - Morgan: Torrid Affairs

In honor of hitting 350 followers I wanted to share another snippet. As is tradition, MC is default named Cade and uses they/them pronouns. This one is a potential version for the Morgan breakup following MCs commitment to Taryn.

The air between them felt heavy, a weight neither could shake. Morgan leaned against the edge of the balcony, the city’s twinkling lights below doing little to soften the sharpness in her gaze. She twirled a dagger between her fingers, the blade catching the moonlight with every rotation.  

Cade hesitated in the doorway, unsure how to break the silence. “Morgan, I—”  

“Don’t,” she said, her voice light but edged with steel. “Don’t try to explain. I get it.” She looked at them finally, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach her orange eyes. “Taryn, huh? Good for you. Royalty’s a step up, I suppose.”  

“That’s not fair,” Cade said, stepping closer. “This isn’t about—”  

Morgan held up a hand, silencing them. “No, Cade. It is fair. I don’t do attachments, and you knew that. But the others? They’re not like me. Sunshine isn’t like me.” She turned back to the city, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the railing. “You think they’ll be okay with you having me on the side? With you coming to me when they’re too busy being regal or whatever?”  

Cade flinched, the words cutting deeper than they wanted to admit. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”  

Morgan let out a bitter laugh, tossing the dagger onto the stone ledge. “No one ever does. Funny how that works.”  

“Morgan, please,” Cade said, their voice softer now. “This isn’t about choosing sides. You mean—”  

“Don’t,” she interrupted again, turning to face them fully. The smirk was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “Don’t you dare tell me I mean something to you. Not when you’ve already handed your heart to someone else.”  

Cade stared at her, the weight of her words pressing on their chest. Morgan was always the one who teased, who kept things light and meaningless. To see her like this, vulnerable and hurting—it was almost unbearable.  

“I didn’t want this to hurt you,” Cade said quietly.  

“I’m not hurt,” Morgan shot back, but her voice cracked, betraying her. She quickly looked away, brushing a hand through her hair. “I don’t get hurt, Cade. That’s not how I work. But I’m not an idiot either. You and Sunshine? That’s real. Or it’s going to be. And I’m not about to be the side piece that ruins it for you.”  

“I never thought of you as a side piece,” Cade said firmly, taking another step closer.  

“Doesn’t matter,” she replied, her voice softening. She met their eyes, her walls finally crumbling entirely. “This was never going to end any other way. You and me? We were fun. Messy. Complicated. But it wasn’t forever, Cade. You know that.”  

Cade swallowed hard, their throat tight. “And if I wanted it to be?”  

Morgan smiled, but it was a sad, hollow thing. “You don’t. Not really. And even if you did, I’d ruin it. That’s what I do.”  

She stepped past them, pausing at the doorway. “Go to Taryn. They’re good for you. Better than I could ever be.”  

“Morgan—”  

She turned, her hand on the frame, her eyes glassy but still fierce. “You’re cute when you’re trying to fix things, you know that? But not everything can be fixed.”  

With that, she was gone, leaving Cade alone on the balcony, the twinkling lights below feeling colder than ever. 

[dumbkiri]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌

This is a small preview to a future series. This will be an AOT story in a "modern-era" with supernatural creatures. Mainly vampires! This will be a Male!Reader x AOT characters, but mainly with Mikasa/Annie. Haven't really chose who will be the one, but those two will be the main ones.

MC will be a Yan!MC, not so much abuse will be involved!! Not that many dark themes will be added regarding that. He's just crazy bc he lost his first mate so.....yee.

It’s said that the night is terrifying in every possible way. That it would only take a person to imagine what was lying in the dark. 

“Levi, come here.”

A black haired male, well into his early 30s, looked away from the moon shining through the ceiling glass window. His silver blue eyes dragged downward and onto a male sitting on a black chair illuminated by the blue moonlight. The voice belonged to him and Levi walked over to the man sitting at the desk, seeing the hungry red eyes of his superior. 

“Bring me anyone from Nostalgia,” The man with red eyes ordered, his fangs peeking out every syllable he spoke. The man’s hand was placed under his chin holding up his terribly weakening body. His superior had been suffering for the past weeks because of the lack of sufficient blood he needed. 

In response, Levi sighed with a roll of his eyes and said, “Their blood is tainted and you want to drink from them? I think it’s a shitty idea for you to do that, so just drink from me.” Levi offered his arm out and in his other hand appeared a dagger with a black hilt and gold trimming. He saw the dangerous flash of the bright red eyes of his superior and he brought the blade to his wrist. He pointed the tip in and before he could draw a line, he was stopped with an order. 

“Freeze,” The commanding voice said and Levi stopped in his tracks. The order was so strong even when his superior was lacking the blood to keep him powerful. “Levi, you cannot be the one I bond with. You are my greatest friend and I cannot drag you to Hell with me. I will only drink from those beneath me.”

Levi gritted his teeth and released himself from the commandment with a groan. He took a deep breath in and huffed out, “You’re going to die if you don’t drink from a hybrid or a pureblood. If Freida didn’t stray away-”

“Freida was naive!” The man shouted in anger, standing up from his chair and slamming his fist onto the desk. It broke in half under his strength and his papers went flying. “She was my mate! And she was killed because she didn’t listen to me! That stupid brat she spent time with, her foolish father got Frieda killed!” 

Levi looked down at the floor, ignoring the heated gaze from his superior. Bringing up Frieda was poor taste, but it was needed. 

“[Name] as your greatest friend,” Levi started his sentence, clenching the dagger in his hand tightly, “I cannot watch you like this. I will find you another mate, one that will listen to you. You need better blood, one that will give you strength. If you succumb to thirst, they will come for you next.” 

[Name] looked down at his broken desk and relaxed his hand, a large splinter had made its way into his palm. His blood slowly oozed from the wound he created. Then his red eyes looked up to see Levi turned away with his hand covering his nose. [Name] walked over to his cupboard and took a small glass out. He set it down on the counter and pulled the splinter out with ease, not even wincing from the pain. 

“It’ll be a waste, Levi,” [Name] said softly, flicking the splinter off to the side. His wounded hand hovered over the glass and he formed a fist making the blood flow faster down into the cup. Then he focused on healing his wound, watching as it closed up not a trace of a scar. 

[Name] raised the half full cup and swirled the bright red blood of his around. He watched the slight glitter it gave off and smiled. His blood was still pure despite him drinking from humans. “You have served me well, so let me serve you just this once,” [Name] spoke as he walked to Levi who gave him a glare of resentment.

“No,” Levi scowled and kept his nose covered, “I will not drink your blood.”

“Are you afraid, Levi?” [Name] asked with concern, the glass still held out to the black haired male. He was standing before Levi, the hybrid ignoring his gaze and [Name] smacked his lips. His anger getting the best of him, “Fine then, I'll force that human I have held in the dungeons to drink my blood. Maybe he’ll be more intrigued by my offer than you. Or I’ll ask that crazy scientist to have a taste. Both those humans are prisoners to the truth, they would want to see what happens, don’t you think?” 

Levi hardened his gaze and [Name] could hear the beating heart of the shorter male. A dangerous glint flittered in his eyes and [Name] knew Levi was not going to watch another human die from drinking royalty’s blood. So Levi held his hand out and [Name] smirked with deviousness, “And he succumbs to the Devil.” 

[ghoulfriendfangs]

Febuwhump 23 - “Come Crawling Back”

Day Four: Knife to the Throat with Lucio

{WC: ~1,100} {Arcana spoilers, implied past relationship between Lucio and mc, mc is very mean to Lucio, violence}

@febuwhump

  “Now look,” Lucio began gently. He was pinned against the wall, squeezing to get away from the cold blade, “I know I’ve done a lot of no-nos, and I guess if I were to imagine myself in your shoes I would probably want to slit my throat too.”

  “…”

  You aren’t even sure where to begin with him, to be honest. Since he was exiled, you had fantasized about what you’d do if you ever saw him again. Punch his nose, break his ribs, maybe even find an untamed and ferocious beast and offer him as an appetizer.

  But something is stopping you from doing anything- besides keeping him pinned while you work through your feelings.

  “But there’s a lot of things you aren’t considering! For example, the fact that I really, really, really really really don’t want to die. Like, super badly.”

  …He’s lost weight since you’ve last seen him. He’s more gaunt, and fragile. His hair is disheveled, and graying, and the scraps of his royal attire are stained and torn by tree branches- or maybe claws. Is he still wearing them because he wants to cling to his memories of luxury and decadence? You decide that’s the case, because the alternative is him wandering the wilderness unable to even procure fresh clothes- and despite what he’s done to you you’d rather not visualize that.

  “…you shouldn’t have come back to Vesuvia. Do you not know what exile means?”

  “It means… get lost?”

  “It means, count, you have no sanctuary here- and that means that anybody can kill you and face no legal consequences. In fact, your grace, they’d be seen as doing this country a service.”

  “You’re being dramatic, it’s not like there’s a bounty on my head- o-or wanted posters… I didn’t, I didn’t see any on the way to your shop, at least.”

  You dig a bit harder- the knife is just a dull, kitchen knife, but it shocks you by drawing beads of blood- you didn’t intend to do that. You didn’t mean it. But didn’t you want to? Aren’t you angry with him? You died because of him. Your memory loss, everything your friends went through, it’s his fault. Don’t you want to hurt him more?

  His eyes are tiny, looking down at the blade in terror. His hand reaches to feel the little droplets of warm blood, and you do nothing to stop him.

  When he looks at you, you don’t see a murderer and a tyrant anymore. You see a scared vagabond with nothing to his name.

  “…are you going to kill me?”

  You back away so fast, he stumbles to the floor, onto his hands and knees. The knife clatters as it hits the floor. He doesn’t get up, just flinches at the terrible clatter it makes.

  The wind howls, shaking the walls of the shop.  The snow is piling now- you watch as the marks made by his heels are swallowed up by white nothingness. Anyone foolish enough to be out in this storm would be swallowed, too. Especially if they had no shelter to go to.

  Lucio looks up as you stomp over to him. He looks hopeful as you bend down, resting on one knee. Your eyes are just as cold and angry as when you saw him standing in your house, but there’s empathy in them.

  No, not empathy. Pity.

  “Asra is with his parents on a trip to Prakra, and Julian and Nadia are visiting Portia. Nobody is going to be here for a few days, and you should be kneeling and thanking the gods for it because it’s the only reason I’m not kicking you out in the storm.”

  Lucio will take pity over reprehension.

  “You’re here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He gets to his knees- and you stand up, keeping your head above his.

  “Well, you’re here. Beats being alone- and I can be good company, too.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Lucio.”

  “Please- give me a chance!” He huffs. “I haven’t had a good conversation in…” he starts counting on his claw.

  You turn around, and start to clean for the evening. Extinguishing candles, wrapping herbs, you try to make it clear that you aren’t going to have chit chat with him. “You are staying downstairs, staying quiet, and leaving the moment the storm ends.”

  “H-hey, look at me! C-come on, I’ll even do your chores-“ he starts to haphazardly bundle herbs with no regard for variety or dosage.

  “This isn’t a Gods-damned sleepover. I’m not smuggling you out of the city, either- you’re on your own and if you get killed you get killed. You aren’t my problem anymore.”

  “Didn’t you once say I wasn’t a bad problem to have?”

  You stop cleaning, and instead your hands ball into fists.

  “Mmm- is your memory any better? Can you remember all the fun times we had before-… uhm, well, never mind how it ended- but remember the nights at the palace? The parties? …you were always my favorite guest of hono-“

  You smack him away as he tries to take your hand.

  “That was before I got to know you,” you hiss, and it cuts him deeper than he expected. Surely, of all people, you knew him best. He put on a mask around others, lived a life of excess and wealth… but hadn’t he shown you who he was under all that?

  “Do you know why I’m not going to hurt you, huh?” You ask. You blink back bitter tears of anger- and you hate that they’re even rising for someone you gave up on a long time ago. “Why are there no wanted posters for you? No bounty? Why we didn’t kill you back when we were fighting the devil because of you?”

  “…because deep down inside you still sense some good in me?”

  “Because you’re not even worth it!”

  …

  He looks down at the floor. He realizes that he’s tracked mud into your house.

  You keep waiting for another move from him, more begging and pleading to kiss his ass and hold his hand despite everything he’s done, but now Lucio won't even meet your gaze. You don’t feel satisfied, though. You don’t know if you feel sorry- maybe you wish he picked anyone else to come crawling back to than you.

  “Hey, uh…” you cough. “There’s food in the kitchen and… you can pick out new clothes- I’m spring cleaning anyway, so I don’t… I was just gonna give those away anyway- pick out whatever.”

  “…thanks.”

  “…well, goodnight. O-oh, that’s right, you can… the couch. Or the spare bedroom- whatever works really. I don’t care. I don’t mind.”

  “…I’m… I’m really sorry. For everything. You won’t ever believe it, but I really do mean it.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “…I’m sorry too.”

[blues824]

Just saw the uzui mc headcanon, if you don't mind how about if with the obey me brothers seeing how mc can have more partners?

I got this request on August 8, and I finally finished it… I am so sorry to the person who requested this.

Lucifer

Yet another power couple. You are natural-born leaders, so it makes sense that when you get together, nothing can stop either of you. Whenever you or Lucifer post something on Devilgram, it goes viral almost instantaneously.

When you tell him about your ‘family tradition’ of polyamorous relationships, he turns into the unimpressed emoji. You merely laugh it off, telling him it was a joke… but he remains unamused. He wants you all to himself, Y/N.

He’s glad that you found something to do in your spare time. Exercising and working out can be good for both body and mind. When you are working out, he makes sure you stay hydrated as well as making sure you don’t take it too far.

As for your physique, you are built. You take your job as Lucifer’s bodyguard very seriously. Not even Mammon could be paid or persuaded to mess with you or even call you ‘human’. Built like a tank, you are.

He won’t admit it, but he loves seeing your soft side. The fact that it’s only reserved for him and him alone fills his heart with an overwhelming sense of pride. In return, he will be more lenient towards you. His hard gaze would be softened when looking at you.

You both have really big egos, so he won’t be calling you “flamboyant god/goddess of festivals” anytime soon. He would call you “darling”, “dear”, etc. to annoy you and make you mad since he’s not calling you your desired title.

As for your jewelry and makeup, he’s kind of indifferent towards it. He sees strange and unusual styles whenever he walks to the bustling town. Whenever he goes out and sees a headband that reminds him of you, he will buy it and give it to you when he gets back.

Lucifer is impressed by the abilities and skills you have as a demon slayer. You can easily kill any demon that is foolish enough to mess with you. The blade you carry around is specially made to do that task, so he is glad that you aren’t completely defenseless.

Mammon

Another power couple situation. Y’all will strut through the hallways because you know everyone would kill to be either of you. I imagine you both pick up modeling gigs with each other. Your Devilgram follower count isn’t something to laugh at either.

I think he could be convinced to add another person to the relationship. However, he’s the Avatar of Greed, so if the other person is taking up too much of your attention and time then it’s time for them to go.

He teased you once (called you ‘dumb human’) and you punched him in the stomach so hard. He couldn’t breathe correctly for about an hour. He never messes with you again. He knows you work out a lot, so you obviously have muscles for days.

A few weeks before a modeling gig, he would join you in the gym to get a bit toned for the shot. He would complain about how he was sore… even though he did one sit-up. Halfway through the workout routine, he passes out from exhaustion. You had to carry him to his room.

He absolutely loves your soft side where you’re more quiet and calm. He soaks up all the attention you give him and he will have a giddy smile on his face. He’s the Avatar of Greed, so he’s going to be greedy about your caring and loving side.

Mammon has both an inferiority complex and a superiority complex… but that’s not what I’m talking about today. He would call you “Flamboyant God/Goddess of Festivals” if he needs or wants something. Or if he’s in trouble and he needs you to protect him.

When he sees your jewelry and your makeup, he thinks you’re going to a costume party at first. Then seeing you wear it the same way everyday makes him realize that it’s just your style. He would definitely get you a bunch of headbands, but deny it because he’s a big tsundere.

He turns into the star-eyed emoji whenever he sees you demonstrate your skills as a Hashira. He realizes how much work you put in to get to where you are today. The amount of dedication and effort to set yourself up for success. He’s glad that you can fend for yourself and that he doesn’t need to defend you.

Leviathan

You remind him of the Sound Hashira from “Help! Rip-off Michael Jackson turned my sister into a demon and now I’m trying to find a cure for her!” You are definitely wearing the pants in your relationship, though. He’s too socially awkward.

He definitely doesn’t want to add anyone to your relationship. He’s the Avatar of Envy, he gets jealous when you say ‘hi’ to anyone else that isn’t him. When you bring up your ‘family tradition’ as a joke, he won’t take it as that. Instead, he will think that it’s your way of saying he isn’t enough for you.

You wouldn’t catch him dead working out. He never ventures outside of his room, save for meals and to restock his snack stash. He would be there to sit on your back as you do push-ups to add an extra challenge for you. However, he won’t be actively doing the push-ups.

Levi knows that you are built like a tank. He’s happy to have you as his bodyguard. Now he can go out in public without having to socialize with anyone because you handle the situation. Because of how intimidating you look, no one wants to mess around. You’re like Levi’s secret service.

He loves your soft side. He absolutely soaks up all the special attention you give him. It boosts his ego because all this attention is for him and him alone. He’s the only one who gets to experience the gentle and kind person behind the tough and flamboyant mask.

He probably would call you the “God/Goddess of Festivals” from time to time… especially when you’re sad. He doesn’t really know how to comfort people, but he knows that it’s a tiny surprise to help you through the tough times. Other than that, he’d call you by your name or “Henry”.

He likes your jewelry and makeup. He understands that it’s your style, but the first time he saw you like that he thought you were cosplaying your favorite character from your favorite anime or manga. He would definitely buy you a bunch of headbands whenever he sees them.

He would definitely record you training and post it. As you use your Sound Breathing, he would be so blown away. When you unsheathe your swords and cut through trees, he audibly gasps. You’ve even cut through a solid boulder! You move with such grace and elegance. It was truly breath-taking.

Satan

I think this is a good and healthy balance between loud and quiet. You aren’t exactly a power couple, but you do attract a lot of attention. Satan prefers things to be on the down-low, whereas you prefer to shout it out loud for the world to hear.

I don’t know if he’d add anyone to your relationship. Maybe… if you play your cards right. He will have a full list of terms and conditions for the other person. If they even go near breaking any rules, they’re out of here.

He might join you on a peaceful walk or even a jog. I don’t think he would do a full-fledged workout unless he needs an outlet for his anger. Like Leviathan, he will sit on your back while you do push-ups to give you that extra weight lift.

Everyone can see your muscles. For many, that’s the first thing they notice about you. It was probably the first thing Satan noticed about you as well. However, it’s not the thing he judged about you in your first interaction. 

Satan soaks up all the attention you give him when you’re in a soft mood. He will lay his head in your lap as you gently run your scarred hands through his hair. It’s a routine that can calm him down after a frustrating day, and it makes him take a break to appreciate the good things.

He most definitely would NOT call you “God/Goddess of Festivals”. To him, it’s like admitting someone is better than him, and he doesn’t like that. The only time he would call you that is when you both are fighting with each other, which doesn’t happen a lot surprisingly.

He does notice that you do your makeup in a completely different way than most. He also notices the tons and tons of jewelry you like to wear. He’s indifferent towards it because he believes judgment should be based on actions and intentions rather than physical appearances.

He might come with you to watch you train, but he thinks it’s all in Beel’s level of experience. His exercising consists of long walks to and from different places. Although, he would totally go to support you. As you work, you both talk to each other about anything that comes to mind.

Asmodeus

Another power couple. You both are trending on Devilgram, anything either of you post almost immediately goes viral. I feel like you would both build off of each other's energy in social media influencer events. A lot of demons are jealous of either you or Asmo, or the both of you.

He would say that he’s absolutely down for another person in your relationship, but he is secretly jealous over the third person who catches your eye. Like, was he not beautiful for you to be happy? He would always be passive-aggressive towards the third partner until they get the hint and leave.

After a tough workout, Asmo would lead you into some calming and soothing yoga. He probably wouldn’t do any of the extreme exercises that you do, but he will make you some cute workout clothes. At most, he’d sit on your back as you do push-ups, as well as give you kisses for every time you sit up while doing sit-ups.

You are built like a brick wall, and Asmo knows this. He often traces your arms whenever you hang out. He’s always surprised whenever you lift something super heavy or whenever you pick him up and either throw him over your shoulder or carry him bridal-style.

Asmo becomes a literal sponge when you show your soft side to him. I’m talking cuddles, kisses, whispering sweet nothings to one another, the whole nine yards. Self-care is an absolute necessity. Days where you put on some relaxing music and you apply some cleansing masks, gossiping away are a must.

He would put your contact name as “ My God/Goddess of Festivals” and would start every call or conversation by addressing you as such. You’re more of a party animal than even he is, so in his mind you deserve such a grand title. He doesn’t mind either way, though.

He has seen how you do your makeup and he is thriving for it. There are days where he feels bored of his usual makeup routine and he plops himself on your bed for you to do his makeup. The amount of pictures he has of the both of you with identical makeup is astonishing.

As for when you’re training, he’s most definitely impressed by how well you wield your swords. He’s the kind to 1) keep you hydrated and 2) push you to take breaks. He doesn’t need you passing out from either dehydration or exhaustion. He most likely would post a picture of you flexing your muscles as well.

Beelzebub

Gym partners for life. While Beel is a bit more quiet than you are, you both are still pretty loud. You aren’t a power couple, but when you walk into the room, your presence is immediately noticed. I feel like you are in charge in the relationship as well.

He probably wouldn’t want to share you and your love with anyone else… besides maybe Belphie. If you and Beel are in a relationship, Belphie is naturally there as well. I’m talking cuddle piles on the bed, Beel carrying the both of you over his shoulders (he’s a demon, he’s much stronger than you).

Beel works out with you a lot, however your reasoning behind doing these excessive  workouts are completely different. Belphie offers his services as an extra weight to create a more difficult challenge for the both of you. You all talk about the days you had, Beel passes out snacks, Belphie passes out… fun times.

You both are carved from an entirely different block of marble. I’m not talking about the muscles, but the noble hearts within as well. Everyone sees you as something that’s stronger than them and therefore intimidating, but only a select few know the real you.

Beel loves all the attention you give him, especially after a Fangol game. You offer to give him a back massage as he tells you about how it felt to get the winning touchdown. There are date nights where it ends up in the both of you laying on his bed, just cuddling.

He would probably call you “God/Goddess of Festivals” just whenever. He knows that no one really calls you that, so it’s a pick-me-up for you whenever someone uses your preferred title. He also probably shortens it and just calls you “My God/Goddess”.

He doesn’t understand makeup, but he thinks you look so good and unique with your style. He sees how your jewelry ties together the whole look as well. Now, whenever Beel is in public, he keeps an eye out for any accessory he thinks you’ll like (you also have a necklace that has a red B on it, and he has one with your first initial).

Your training is completely different from a workout, and Beel doesn’t know anything about your training. He will go with you and watch as you bring out your swords and cut through solid objects with such grace. Wait… wasn’t your previous occupation slaying demons?

Belphegor

Literal opposites. You’re so energetic and cheerful and flamboyant, while he’s probably got a hoodie somewhere that says “more espresso, less depresso”. Your personalities tend to clash often, what with both of you being very dominant people.

He wouldn’t even share you with Beel. He’s been described as ‘yandere’, and it shows in your relationship. He gets insanely jealous whenever you talk to anyone else besides him and his brothers, and even then he still gets angry if it wasn’t Beel who you were talking to.

He doesn’t have the energy to workout, but he would lie if he didn’t find it hot whenever you did something like pull-ups or flex your muscles. Like Hello, sailor! He would offer to sit on your back or hold your feet down whenever you needed something more challenging.

There have been many times where Belphie just passes out and you have to carry him back to his bed so that he can sleep comfortably. You also throw him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes whenever you can.

Even though he would never admit it, he loves seeing your gentle side. He can feel you running your fingers through his hair while he’s asleep. Cuddles are necessary as well. Btw, he’s the little spoon! Anyways, he can also hear the sweet nothings you whisper into his hair.

He would not be calling you “God/Goddess of Festivals”. Don’t even try, you won’t get anywhere on this topic. This is basically stating that you are of a higher status than him, and he’s seen God. You aren’t Him, though in his mind you would be better.

He thinks your makeup probably takes a lot of effort, too much effort for him. You look good though! He might secretly add necklaces to your collection, a little dash of him here and there. Same thing with headbands.

Your training seems super difficult, and he’s proud of you and how well you do during your training sessions. He’s never seen a dual-wielder, so the technique is a bit different. You move with the grace of an archangel going to slay a beast.

[plush-rabbit]

The Brothers + Diavolo Making You Flustered

Request: Hi!hi! The aphrodisiac writing was absolutely *chefs kiss*. I have this habit of when I get embarrassed/flustered I immediately bury my face into the surface in front of me. Like if I’m sitting on the floor I’ll lean over and bury my face on the carpet, sitting at a table I’ll lean over and plant my face on the surface etc. How do you think the brothers (+diavolo if that’s okay) would react to seeing MC do that for the first time when they make them flustered? You’re so talented by the way! ily!

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: I hope you like this!! It was a bit difficult since i didn't want to make everything the same, but yeah!!

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Lucifer:

His sleeves are rolled up, flour coating the tips of his fingers and dusting across his apron, and the smell of garlic and onion fills the room. It smells lovely, it smells like a home. You stand beside Lucifer, watching as the water boils, bubbles fizzling out and steam rising. A box of noodles is held in your hands, your eyes peering over to where the bread is held in his hands. Your tongue peeks between your lips- it’s a soft pink, tinged with blue from candy and for a moment, he forgets himself, wanting to taste the candy that rests on your tongue, wishing that he were your lips to feel the gentle caress of your tongue.

“Remind me what we’re making again?” You ask, sniffing at the pot, only to scrunch your nose at the scent. “And why it’s us making it?”

“A Devildom dish,” he responds, giving a side glance. “It’s similar enough to a human cousine, so you needn’t worry about it being anything unsavory.” He turns to you, his smile almost teasing. “And we’re making it because it’s our turn on cooking duty.”

“If you wanted to spend time with me, you could always ask.” While your words are true, he tries to hold his composure, not wanting to reveal that you had hit the nail on its head. “You don’t have to assign us both to cooking duty. It’s pretty sneaky for you, dear Lucifer.��� Your hand pats at his back and he promptly turns away from you

Walking away from you, he starts the timer on the oven, the preheat button lights up as the oven begins to glow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I drew our names on a complete random.” He turns to you, his smile making you unable to see what he’s really thinking. “Do you not wish to spend time with me?” he asks cooly, walking towards you. Despite the flour on his hands that dusts over his face, and the apron wrapped around him, he still holds an aura of confidence and authority that makes you break away from his gaze first.

“You’re absolutely awful,” you mutter, giving him a grin to let him know that it was a playful insult.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he coos, his grin wicked and cool at the same time. “I must not be totally awful if you still wish to spend time with me.” You groan, shaking your head with a smile on your lips and he turns to hide his more giddy smile, smiling calmly when the oven beeps. The preheat session is done. He opens the oven, a wave of hot air making him knit his brows together for a moment. “There’s no need to be ashamed of being so fond of me. I am Pride, it’s only natural that you would gravitate towards me.” He grabs the rack of bread, carefully slipping it inside the oven and closing the door.

“Well you’re a lot more than Pride to me.” His eyes widen and he turns to you, his body facing towards the oven with his head half-turned. “You’re Lucifer. You’re someone close to me and well, I actually am glad that we got to spend time together. I would love to hear you admit that you simply wanted to spend time with me, but-” you shrug- “you’ve got that stubborn pride that I can’t help but adore.” You turn to him, a cheeky smile on your face that matches the light in your eyes.

It’s silent between the two of you. It’s comforting, one that is welcomed and isn’t making either of you awkward. He watches as you carefully stir the pot, your index skimming under the words of the cookbook. Your brows furrow as you carefully read over the direction, careful to not add the wrong ingredient or wrong measurement. You’re methodical, carefully going about everything, and in the kitchen with Lucifer, he can’t help but smile at you, his smile soft and eyes crinkled as he watches you carefully.

“I know I haven’t told you this enough- or perhaps before-” silverware clinks together as he reaches over from a baking brush, his eyes never leaving yours- “but I’m actually quite proud of you.” He tears his gaze away from you, his smile widening and his chest puffing. “You have this knack about you that makes it so easy for others to fall for you, that I have to admit that even I have fallen victim to you.” The baguettes are painted over with a mixture of garlic and spices, his words never stopping or falling to hesitation as he speaks. “You’re-” he sighs, not knowing how to put what he wants to say into words- “I’ve been Lucifer for such a long time, living and holding power, but I must say, when I’m around you, I feel more me than I ever had in my entire existence.” He turns his body to you, his hands open and knuckles brushing over your cheek, a thin line of white left against your face. “I’m glad that I’ve gotten to meet you.”

His eyes widen, his words finally registering to his ears. He looks up, eyes meeting the stone wall before he turns to you, his mouth agape and hands still holding a baguette, and the baking brush. The garlic and onion sizzle on the stove, the yellow glow of the kitchen and the buzzing sounds of the outside do everything to fill the room, not a single ounce of silence is graced to either of you.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!” You say in a hurried tone, your face hot enough that you can feel sweat start to bead. “It’s- It’s-” you can’t find the proper words, it isn’t embarrassing but it isn’t something that you hear everyday- “Ah!” You decided, burying your face further into the table, your hands cushioning the blow.

His hand claps over your back, slowly rubbing between your shoulder blades in an attempt to soothe you over. “I would have thought you would have enjoyed hearing the truth,” he teases lightly. “Was I wrong about that assumption?” he presses, his elbow nudging against your shoulder where you still lay with your head rested in your hands.

You peer upwards, your face slowly revealed to show a flushed color that makes his chest puff with pride, his smile . “You wanna know why I know that you wanted to spend time with me?” Lucifer raises his brows in confusion. “I hadn’t written down my name yet.” His smile twitches away for a moment. “You called it before I could even write my name down.” You smile at him, your smile gentle. “I still have the paper in my pocket. You really like me, huh Lucifer?”

Mammon:

Textbooks are left open, pencils and pens sprawled over the coffee table as you and Mammon rest on the couch. He talks vividly, and as he’s excited to tell you stories of his past, his mouth works faster, skipping over details and returning to them moments later. Your hands are wrapped tight around his bicep, your face hidden as you try to stifle your laughter. He can feel your hands tighten, the way that you cling to him and even try to push yourself closer to him. “So that was when I decided to just grab all the things I could carry and just book it!” Mammon exclaims, clapping his hands together and extending his right arm forward. “You should’ve seen how angry those witches were, but hell, they deserved it for thinking they could pull one over on me.” He turns to you, his grin wicked, slowly widening as he leans back cautiously to not let you move away from him. “Fuckers should’ve known to not touch my stuff.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head and leaning onto him. His smile twitches for a second, softening into a gentler smile, watching as you turn your face into his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. It’s loud, infectious and it’s something that reminds him of a spring day that he once spent in the Human Realm. He isn’t sure how to explain it- something about it that screams life and youth, something that sounds so unapologetically like you, that it makes him breathless. When you start to pull away, he lets his grin widen, eager to look at you again.

He’s so close to you, your hand within arm’s reach that if he really wanted to, he could just take it in his. His mouth goes dry, his tongue too invasive in his own mouth and he watches as you adjust your hair, his eyes fixated on how your hair slips through your fingers. There are words stuck in his throat, but no matter what he thinks of to say, he isn’t sure what he should say. He’s at a loss, wondering what would be the perfect way to bring back the mood, to continue the conversation without it being forced, but in all honesty, he’s fine, just sitting here with you. He’s more than fine with just staring at you.

“Hey, Mammon?” He jolts at his name being said, a shock running through his spine. He nods his head, swallowing what little saliva is in his mouth. “I really like hearing your stories, you know?” You smile softly at the book in your hands. He watches you with unblinking eyes, wondering what it is that you’re getting at. “I really just like listening to your voice. I know you were stuck with me at first-” internally he flinches, he doesn’t like to reminisce when you were first put under his charge- “but I’m glad that it was you.” He is left breathless, his muscles tense as you look at him, a smile stretching past your lips and gracing your lips. You look at him for a moment, your eyes darting to where his hand is clenched tightly and you nod to yourself, turning your attention back to the book.

You’re facing away from him, your fingertips tracing over the edge of a page as you try to focus on the words but he can tell from the pout on your lips that you aren’t registering anything from the book. What should he say? What can he say? He knows he has to say something. He knows that he should match your energy or at least attempt to but he can’t. There are so many things he wants to tell you, and they all seem so disorganized. You’re pretty. You’re nice to him and you always let him sneak into your bedroom late at night. You rely on him and as much as you need him, he needs you more. You have such a soft touch that it leaves him tingling all over as if some ghost were the one responsible for it. He lets out a slow breath, his lips parted slightly as he breathes out. “You know,” he says quietly, his fingers twitching and moving to clutch at the end of your shirt, “you got a real nice laugh. It’s nice to spend time with you, ya know?” Once he’s started talking, he’s unable to quiet himself, unable to register the things that he’s saying to you. “I like hanging out with other demons and all, but there’s something about you that I like more. It’s like with you-” his hand waves in the air, eyes glancing around your room- “I get to just feel safe. I get to relax and know that I can count on you. And I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be on your side. Forever and ever.” Mammon turns his head, his smile stretched wide and hand going to cover yours. “You turned me into a sap, ya know?’”

The moment is tender as he smiles down at you, only to slowly realize the weight of his words as you stop in your movements, your fingers letting the page fall back to the others, words lost upon themselves as your shoulders rise. His eyes widen and his lips thin. Heat creeps upwards from his chest and scorches its way to mar his features, his face turning into a darker shade as he flushes. His mouth goes dry, unable to produce any type of saliva as he sits beside you. Slowly, his mouth parts, and he’s unable to find the words to deny what he just said, but before he can, you curl in on yourself, burying your way into your hands, your hands spread and fingers parting to cover as much of your face as it can.

“I-” he coughs loudly into the rook of his elbow. You can tell that he wants to resort to his usual denial of feelings but he stops himself before he can even reach the middle of his sentence. “Listen, just because you-” you can feel his eyes on you- “will ya look up at me? I’m not gonna tear your head off or anything, I just don’t want you getting a bigger head than you already have.” You slowly turn to him, watching as he tries to avoid your gaze. “Let’s just go get a bite to eat. We can’t study on empty stomachs or whatever.” He rises quickly, his hand held out to you as he keeps his attention out on the door. “Come on, I’ll pay for ya and everything.”

Your lips thin and you look at his hand. You inhale a sharp breath of air, slowly letting it go. His face is still flushed, a deep color that burns against his skin. “Like a date?” You ask, hoping to see more of his reactions. He stiffens at your question, his brows furrowing to meet each other. He stammers out a response, clearly flustered. You lay your hand on his and he immediately quiets down. You smile at yourself, your heart skipping a beat as you realize that it was you who brought him to such a state. Slowly, his hand curls with yours and he gives a brief nod of his head.

Leviathan:

Leviathan sits alone in his room, a blanket pooled around his lower half, his eyes have begun to burn, tinged with red from lack of sleep as bright colors flash across his pale face. An empty bowl save for kernels that rest at the bottom of the bowl, his fingertips tinged with red and he can feel his mouth heavy with acid and past snacks.

His hands tap against his controller, his fingers already reaching toward a button before he can even register what he should press. His mind is on autopilot, reaching and stiffening when an enemy nears and even so, his character is still killed. He lets out a frustrated groan, careful to throw his controller towards his pillows and not the walls- he can’t risk losing yet another controller; least of all having to patch a hole- or in his case, covering it with a poster. His hands are thrown into the air, fingers outstretched before they are curled into a fist. He arches his back forward, the heels of his hands cushioning his eyes. He tears up slightly, wincing at the sudden realization of burning pain that lingers in his eyes. Slowly, he pulls away just in time to hear his door creak open.

“Password,” he says with a lack of conviction, turning slightly to watch as you enter with a bag in your hand. He raises his brows, his arm stretching outward as he blindly searches for his controller. “What do you have there?” He jerks his chin, returning his attention to the game in front of him.

The light clicks on- something bright that fills the room in a soft blue that stretches around him. He winces at the sudden light, the controller dropped onto his lap as he rubs his eyes vigorously. If it weren’t obvious enough that he kept himself secluded in his room, it was obvious from the way that he rubbed at his eyes, and had to blink multiple times before he could finally look at you without shielding his eyes. You end him a wicked smile that slowly grows until you reveal your teeth, the bag in your hand held slightly tighter. In response, he sticks his tongue out at you, his cheeks tinted with a pale shade of pink.

“I’m surprised it’s taken you so long to defeat the boss,” you say, walking towards the bathtub where he sits. You sit in front of the porcelain, your gaze fixated on a television system that he has set up for a more immersive gameplay experience. When you are met with a lack of response, you turn your head to see him with narrowed eyes. “What? No witty remark?” Once more, you’re met with silence. “Levi?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I- Fuck, you know?” This time, he’s met with silence. “First, I can’t get the concert tickets, then I can’t even get the new figure and now, I can’t even defeat this stupid game.” His cheeks fill with air, and he slowly lets the breath go past his lips. “And the concert was going to have passes to meet them behind the stage and the figure was signed and-” his character dies once more and the controller is tossed pitifully onto the pillow. He leans over the tub, his arms crossed under his chin, and his eyes on you. “My luck isn’t usually so bad, you know?”

You pat the floor beside you, your hand meeting the cold tile. “Come on, sit beside me,” you comment, shuffling over a few inches to give him even more space. With a huff, he rises out of the tub, small bits of crumbs falling onto the porcelain. He sits beside you, his arm brushing against yours but neither of you make an effort to move.

“I’m sitting, now what?” He asks, the television blurry as it replays his death with the words “Game Over” in bold letters.

“Well, Levi-” you hand him the bag, with fingers pinched over the handles- “since you’re having such rotten luck, why don’t you open the bag?”

He gives you a narrowed stare, slowly retrieving the bag from you and pulling out the pastel colored tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag sits a box, the words of a favorite anime of his stamped beside with the usual font. His heart skips a beat, as he slowly clasps his hand around the box, his fingers pushing against the plastic and he gaps, reality crashing onto him like a wave.

“It’s-” he doesn’t even finish saying the sentence, your nod is an answer to everything. “The figure that I wanted- I- How?” He asks, looking at the box, so worried that if he were to take his eyes away, the box would vanish.

“Ah, ah-” you wag your finger in the air- “that is a story for another time, my dear Leviathan.” You sound so smug and a smile is already evident in your words.

He bounces in his seat, his legs shaking rapidly, knees softly knocking against each other as he lets his excitement show. His hands flap eagerly, his smile wide and eyes closed. A sharp breath is sucked between his teeth, as he stares at you with bright eyes. You’re startled, your shoulders raising a few centimeters into the air with wide eyes as you stare at him. A nervous smile stretches across your face with him so close to you and looking at you with such eager eyes. If you were to be honest with yourself, you’re a bit flustered with how he looks at you. Your heart races and it beats against your chest, rattling at your ribs and echoing against your body. You nod rapidly, gulping what little moisture you have in your mouth when he grabs your hands tightly in him.

He shouts your name, enthusiasm laced into his word, his hands pulling yours close to his chest. “Ah! You’re the absolute best!” His smile is so wide that it’s almost comical, leaving you smiling both in response to and because of him. “I’m so glad that you’re here! Of course, you’d be my Henry!” He drops your hands and pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tightly around you, his head nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I don’t know what I would do without you, but I’m just glad that you’re the one that’s with me!” He pulls away, his hands now holding onto your biceps. Deep breaths exhale through him, his chest rising and dipping rhythmically. He calls your name and it’s sweet like honey on his tongue. “You really are the best. I mean,” his tone becomes softer, his smile less eager and more true, “you do so much for me. I couldn't ever imagine my life without you. You mean so much to me.”

“Levi,” you mumble, and when his hands fall from you and return to hold the box, you pull the bag towards your face, hiding away from him. Your neck grows hot, scorching your skin and making you breathless. “I’m glad that you like it,” you manage to squeak out, the bag further pressed towards you.

A few seconds pass until he finally realizes why you’ve pulled the bag to your face. Leviathan stiffens, clearing his throat and turning away, his hand covering his lower half of the face. The figurine sits beside him with a delicate smile plastered on their face. With the air so light and heavy, he reached into the tub, eager to pull out the controller. With a meek cough, he fumbles with the controller, passing it over to you, with his eyes still glued on the figurine. “Would you like a turn? Maybe you’re better than me.” He can feel his chest tighten when his fingertips brush against yours and the hundredth time, the game tune plays in the room.

Satan:

Satan’s eyes narrow unconsciously as he reads over the same page for the tenth time. No matter what, he is unable to focus on the words, the letters and lines meshing into one that nothing fully registers past the first word of the page. If he were to be honest with himself, nothing has registered since the last few pages that he’s read. With a huff, he closes the book, a small gust of air blowing at the hair that rests over his forehead. The book rests on the table beside him, nudging against the lamp that makes the room flicker for a brief moment.

The room is filled with sound, the hum of the air conditioner unit, the distant sounds of footsteps and talk across the house, the demonic animals that roam around outside. He’s sure that if he were to focus, he’d even hear the scratching of a pen. Scratch that- he can now that he thought about it. All the sounds make his skin crawl, uncomfortable and itchy and as he drags his nails across his arm, he’s only offered a second of relief before the feeling returns. He leans against the chair, his neck arched over the back of it, as he lets his eyes flutter to a close, the bright light of the library barely shining through his closed eyelids. It’s not like to be so distracted- especially when it comes to a favorite pastime of his. And yet, his mind is distracted, wandering to images of you where you were talking to others that weren’t him. He isn’t the jealous type- at least, not when he compares himself to his brother, but it seems that you brought out something different for him.

His leg twitches and there’s a burning sensation on his arm that he chooses to ignore. It only intensifies when he hears footsteps approaching. The sensation spreads and becomes sharper, insatiable as it burrows itself in the demon. There is a presence standing beside him and he already knows that it’s you. He can tell by the steps, by the breathing, by your scent. He frowns at the thought. He doesn’t know if it’s romantic or not to know such small details about you.

Something clicks- your knee, perhaps- and your hand rests above his slender one, cupping and still, there are gaps where his skin is unfortunate enough to not to be touched by you. “Satan?” You call out to him in a quiet voice- not quite a whisper but not your usual volume either. “Are you asleep?”

“Is it you wondering or someone else?” He responds, slowly opening his eyes and turning his head, meeting the top of yours. “Is there something that you need?” He makes no effort to move, stuck in his position as he is content just sitting on a chair with your hand over his.

“It’s me,” you answer him, turning your head to meet his eyes. His lips slowly turn into a smile with his eyes slowly growing heavy. “You don’t normally sleep in the library without cause. You okay?” Your hand slips from his and his eyes widen his hand closing into a fist, already missing your touch. But, he is soon reconnected with your hand as it rests on his forehead. You soon look down at him with pursed lips. “I- uh, I can’t tell if you have a fever or not.”

He smiles at you and sits up straight, holding in a moan when his back is already sore, feeling the muscles whine as they had already grown taut. “No- No I just, I have quite a few things on my mind, is all.” He gingerly goes to grab your hand in his, uncaring that your eyes are on him and that the door is open for anyone to walk in and see Wrath so tender. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

Your hand in his is turned, pulled slightly away but not enough to be taken away from his grasp. You walk from the side of the chair to stand in front of him, and when you meet his eyes, you nod down, gesturing to his lap. He smiles softly, nodding his head and leaning back, humming under his breath when you situate yourself on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re oddly touchy today,” he comments, his hand curved on your lap as the one he held is moved to behind his neck, your fingertips barely touching his collarbone. “Did I do something to deserve this?”

You give a half-hearted hum, and in the corner of his eye, he can tell that you have closed your eyes. “Think of it as a way to make you feel better.” You give him a play tap and he nods, his eyes staring straight ahead, lost against the colorful spines of the books. “So what does have you so worked up?”

Is now his chance? Is he now able to tell you the full extent of his feelings? He has you sitting on his lap, comforting him in a way that few people would ever dare to. There's feelings there, bubbling and forming on both ends and he knows that it’s both ends. It’s you that is on his mind. Filtering in when you shouldn’t, invading every space of his that he has until he’s completely overwhelmed. It’s a strong feeling, something that rivals his own wrath and for the first time, he welcomes it- he doesn’t put up a fight against it. He wants to feel whatever it is that you make him feel. He wants the intensity of it until he’s exhausted, until the wrath that has been boiling inside of him ever since he can remember, can finally evaporate, can finally be extinguished.

You call his name once more and he looks at you, his smile tight and eyes closed for a moment. “How do I tell you that I care for you in a way that says exactly what I’m trying to say without scaring you off?” His eyes close and his hand turns over on your thigh, palm open and empty. “How do I tell you that you’re the thing on my mind? That it’s you that is reducing me into a mess at the simple thought of you.” He turns his head enough, shrugging his shoulder to make sure that you’re looking back at him, your chest still and the hand that you had relaxed, is slowly crawling over to his open one. “The thought of you warps into this- this jealous demon that isn’t exactly something I’m fond of. I you to myself and yet, that I want you to myself and that the thought of you with anyone else, makes me more of wrath than I have ever been.” Your hand closes above his and he nods slowly, clasping his hand over yours. “It’s you, and it’ll always be you.”

With a jolt, his words finally register to him. He turns to face you, but you’re buried into his shoulder, your hand holding tightly onto his, as if he were your lifeline and the one over his shoulder is grasping at his sweater, bunching the knit fabric into a mess. Your heart beats over the sound of the room, the hum of the electricity erased, the steps and chatter muffled under you. He smiles softly, a slow chuckle taking over, until he’s laughing widely, his chest shaking and vibrating under you with every laugh. You moan his name and he can only say the first letters of an apology before his laughter takes over.

“Really, really- I’m not laughing at you,” he says through an attempt at laughter. “I just forgot how different you are. How you always seem to change depending on your mood.” He feels a harsh pat against him, your head shaking as you press further into him. “Please, never change,” he says with a laugh at the end, his head turning, his lips meeting against the side of yours in a quick press.

Asmodeus:

He’s flawless. He has to be. Or, maybe he’s just naturally like that. You are not the best when it comes to reading Asmodeus- too enthralled by him that you can’t seemingly tell when he’s told a joke or not that pertains to his beauty. Very little of it matters to you- you may appreciate that he is quite gorgeous, but you’ve also gotten to know the demon that embodies Lust.

Perhaps it’s because he knows who he is, that he is Lust, that he has to appear the best at all times. He can never make a mistake or it’ll be all that’s talked about- he knows as well as anyone else how easily a reputation can be damaged. However, when he looks at you, he doesn’t have to worry about that. He still wants to look his best for you, but he knows that if he were to slip, you wouldn’t see him any differently than how others see him.

You sleep beside him, nestled under his covers, the blanket pulled a little bit past your lips. Your hair is askew, small strands that stick up or curl around your face. Slowly, he takes a slender finger and softens the hair back to you, smiling when you try to lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter open, and you turn before he can see you, yawning and stretching your arms upwards, the cover crumpling above you. You lie still for a few more seconds and he sits upwards, daring to peek at your face. As if already knowing that he was going to watch you, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to make yourself look more refined, to fix your appearance before him. You rub your eyes with a knuckle, turning to him and opening your mouth only to have a yawn cut through.

“Did you have a good nap?” Asmodeus asks, watching as you stretch your limbs, your muscles pulled taut as you let out a whine of satisfaction. You nod in response to him. “I’m glad. You know, I do have to tell you that you were right. I try not to ruin my sleep schedule but that nap felt simply divine. I think I feel more rested than I usually do.”

You smile at him, turning over to rest your head on his chest. His hand immediately comes to curve over the back of your head. “I like sleeping with you. You have such a soft bed and you always give such nice hugs.” He laughs in response, his hand lowering to hold near your shoulder. “It’s true. Devildom is still-” you take a brief pause- “different. And somehow, when I’m with you, all my worries are just-” you blow out a gentle puff of air- “gone.”

“I’m here for whenever you need me. All you have to do is just call,” he comments, his hand running past the sleeve of your shirt, his index and middle fingers touching against your warm skin. “I think it’s almost time for dinner. Would you like to accompany me? I’d be more than happy to take you to that little restaurant we found the other day.”

The edge of your sleeve is toyed with, pinched between the fingers and released. His hand returns to where it lay only to be disturbed when you rise, causing his hand to rest beside him. You give him a blinding smile that makes his heart flutter as he looks at you. “I’d be more than happy to, but I would like to get ready before we go out.” He raises a brow at you, tilting his head to encourage you to continue. “I want to look my best for you.” You lean forward and he smiles, fully ready for a kiss, only to have you pull away and kiss his shoulder. He frowns, his lips pushing towards a pout as he looks at you.

“Not even a kiss?” He asks, a tease of playfulness loosely attached to his words. “I have to say that I’m hurt.” He watches as you move, curling your legs underneath you as you watch him with a hint of smile on your face. “After all that I do for you, and yet, you have the gall to deny me a simple kiss?” he lets out a huff, not trying to hide the smile that graces his features and you. “You should be ashamed of yourself. There are demons who would kiss my steps to even look at me.”

“Asmo,” you call to him and he quiets, looking at you with expectant eyes. Despite him being the demon who can be considered one of the strongest- and is- you’re still the one who holds all the power in the relationship. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Why do you want to go out with me?”

He can’t help the smile that forms, that twists the already playful one into something more bitter. It’s a question that he asked himself the first time he realized his feelings towards you. He could have it all and you’re just a human with minimal magical abilities. He’s met countless lifeforms who were and are beautiful, their beauty forever imprinted and never seeming to age. But, he still chooses you. And he’s content with that. He’s more than happy that he’s with you.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his eyes focused on your cupid’s bow. “You know, there are times when I look at you and I wonder if you see yourself the way that I see you.” He knows what to say, it all comes so natural to him when he compliments you. “Your scars and blemishes, the stretch marks around your tummy and how they pale and wrap around you. The little moles that you have are kissed along your sides and cheeks.” His thumb moves down and now his hand holds yours. “I have to be perfect- I have to be loved and admired, but then I see you and I think to myself how as long as I’m loved by you, that’s enough. You really have changed me in a way I never saw myself. Beauty means everything to me- or at least it did. But now I have you, and I have to admit, that I prefer you over anything else in the world.” He leans forward and lets his lips press against the corners of yours. “I want to go out with you, because to me, you’re the best that there will ever be.”

It all happens in a flash, seeing your face darken, feeling the hand slowly shake and then your face is hidden by the covers. He can hear you whine his name, and when his hand touches between your shoulder blades, his nimble fingers reaching above the collar of your shirt and touching your neck, he can feel how hot it is. He laughs as his arms reach around you and pull you close to him, giggling and accepting your odd human behavior.

Beelzebub:

Detention is quiet, save for the ticking of the clock, but other than that it’s silent. The room is occupied by a total of three people- you, Beelzebub, and the unfortunate professor that is stuck to watch over the two of you who scrolls through their D.D.D. while music plays loudly every now and then. You suspect they are on an app similar to one from the Human Realm, complete with word play and aesthetic from Devildom.

You turn over to Beelzebub, quirking your brows when you see him scribbling over a paper with a pen. You peer over, sitting straighter to get a closer look only to find him mindlessly doodling, similar drawings cover the paper in blue ink. As if feeling your stare, he turns to you with slightly wide eyes before relaxing them, sending you a smile and raising his paper, to show you his work. You return the smile, pleased at his cute antics and his boyish smile. You send him a thumbs up, before the professor coughs, catching the attention from the two of you.

They stand up, their tail curling around their leg and with a yawn, they expose their teeth. Their phone is stuffed into their pocket as they slowly walk to the front of the desk. “I’ll be back. I expect the two of you to still be here. You both have an hour left.” With that, they walk to the door, the heels of their shoes clicking, the door creaking before it finally closes leaving you and Beelzebub alone in a room.

Immediately, you turn to Beelzebub, your chair squeaking as you shift it hastily. “Beel,” you say excitedly, patting your hands on your thighs. He answers with a hum, tilting his head to the side to show that he is listening to you. “You have power over the professors, don't you?” You see the corner of his lip twitch upwards. “I mean you're the Avatar of Gluttony, can’t you just get us both out of here?”

The pen is set down and he leans back on his chair, his legs sliding underneath the desk until they are stretched to their full length. He turns to you, his smile lazy and eyes half-lidded. “I don’t feel like getting in trouble anymore than I already have.” His smile is crooked, teeth barely glimpsing from behind his lips.

“But we’re already in trouble,” you try to argue, pushing forward. “Please?” You lean forward, holding onto his bicep, with a pout on your lips. “If I use the pact powers, I’ll probably be the only one in trouble.”

He snickers, crossing his arms and lowering his head to side his smile. “We have an hour.” He looks up at you, a hand coming to cover yours. “Just sit and wait, okay? I’ll treat you out later.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs, pulling away from your touch and turning his own chair to face you, his hand resting over the desk, pulling on the tip of the pen until it is pulled underneath his hand. “What makes you want to go home so early anyways?”

“Why don’t you wanna go home?” You shoot back, your arm bent above the desk, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand. He shrugs in response, his attention back to the paper as he starts to bounce the pen between his index finger and thumb. “What are you drawing, anyways?” it doesn’t go unnoticed that he stiffens at your question, his lips pulling into a thin line as his leg starts to bounce. “It’s the same image, right? Like the same character that you’re drawing?” You lean closer, watching as he bounces the pen faster in his hand.

“It’s- It’s for art class,” he responds, clearing his throat. His hands grab at the paper and for a moment you think he’s about to crumble the paper, but instead he slips it between a notebook, careful to not let an edge slip out before it’s stuffed into his bag. “We have to draw-” he hesitates, squirming under your attention- “a thing.”

“I thought sports took care of your electives?” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, turning his attention to the board smeared with chalky remains. “Oh? Are you lying to me?” Your hand flutters to your heart, your voice faux hurt as your slump over in your seat. “Beelzebub, I’m actually hurt. Here I thought we were close and yet-”

“I’m drawing you,” he says, effectively making you stop in your theatrics. You turn to him, your mouth parted. “I wanted to draw you and give it to you as a gift but I can’t get your smile right.”

“Well that didn’t take much probing,” you mutter, scooting your chair closer to him, the toe of your shoe nudging against his backpack.

“I don’t like lying to you,” he states, his body becoming still and eyes returning to where you sit so close to him. Close enough where he can smell your cream. “I just didn’t want you to find out.”

There’s silence between the both of you, your lips pursed as you nod. “My smile?” He nods. “It should be simple, shouldn’t it?” Just a curve and some smaller curves for the lips and boom, you’re done.” You grab his backpack, holding it in your hands, the opening pointed towards him.

“No,” he says with a frown, pulling the same notebook out and slipping out the paper. Upon closer inspection, the images of what appears to be you are roughly scribbled. They aren’t the best but the thought of him drawing something for you and being nervous about you finding out makes the drawing much sweeter. “You have a nice smile. It’s like- like,” you look up at him to see his brows furrowed. “I don’t know how to explain it. Your smile is nice. It’s a lot more than nice. When you smile at me, it’s just nice. I like seeing you happy. You smiling at me makes me feel special and I don’t want to half-ass some drawing of you. I want to make it special because you’re special to me. Your smile makes me feel warm, like I’m being hugged and everytime you smile, it always reaches your eyes and when your eyes crinkle, it’s like you’re just looking at me and that makes me feel so-” he takes a deep sigh and releases it slowly- “so safe.” His words come to a soft close, his face a warm shade of red. He lets out a nervous chuckle. “That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” When he looks at you, you’ve curled into a ball in your seat, your face buried into his backpack. He calls your name frantically, his hands on your shoulders, only to pull away when you let out a high-pitched whine. “Did I offend you?” His name is muffled between the fabric. “Yeah?”

“You’re really sweet,” you moan pitifully, clutching the bag tighter, hoping that it effectively hides your burning face. “I think I’ll actually die from what you just said.” Your heart beats in your chest, the sweet confession echoing in your ears and when you smile, you can only hide it, not wanting him to see the wide grin that is now plastered across your face. “I’ll take any drawing that you give me.” You hold your hand out, ready to receive the unfinished work, not yet lifting your head.

His hand covers your outstretched one. “Maybe if I can see your smile right now, I’d be able to get it right,” he teases slightly. Your only response is shaking your head, giggling through the fabric as you feebly try to shake his hand away. He laughs widely, holding your hand tighter as he urges for you to look upward at him.

Belphegor:

The room is quiet, no footsteps that echo from above, no noise that travels from the stairs into the room that was once Belphegor’s prison. Beside him, you lay curled on your side, resting against him, your hand playing with a drawstring of his hoodie, playing with the frayed ends at your fingertips.

“I thought being around you would make me sleepy,” you murmur, an ill-placed yawn ruining the validity of your statement.

Even where he lays, he knows that you’re pouting, with your brows knitted together. “It seems that I am already making you quite tired. You only lasted how long?” He’d make a show of checking his nonexistent watch, but he rather not, already too comfortable in his current position to risk moving. You blow a raspberry in response and he lets out a giggle, his hand that is placed underneath you is bent to hold a strand of your hair in between his fingers. “Come on, be nice now. I can also make you unbelievably tired but unable to sleep.”

“You’re so cruel Belphegor,” you say in a whisper, your hand finally still from playing with his drawstring. “You’d take away my sleep for a simple noise? How juvenile,” you tease, nuzzling further into his side, humming when his fingers part through your hair and scratch lightly at your scalp. “Here I am, whisked away from my homework to come and nap beside you. And what do I get in return? Teasing.” The last word slowly drifted off into a simple breath of air that was tickled against his side.

It really hadn’t taken you so long to fall under his own sleeping spell. A part of him is a bit bitter, wanting to spend more time with you where the both of you were conscious and could actually talk, while the other part of him, is simply glad that you’re resting beside him, that you’ve taken time out of your day to lay next to him.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it,” he says through a smile, twisting your hair around his index. “I mean, out of all the reactions I can get, yours is possibly the best of them.”

“Thank you,” you say, sounding a bit more like a question. “You know, I’m glad that you invited me up here. I haven't been getting the best sleep as of late.”

“You can always come to me,” he’s quick to say, eager so evident in his voice that he’s drowning in it. He wants to be near you, he wants to be with you.

“I don't want to bother you,” you confess with a faint voice.

“You could never bother me.” It’s the truth. He’d crawl to you if it meant even a fraction of your attention would be given to him. He’d do what he could just to hear your voice. You’d never be a bother to him. You’d be his saving grace. It’s silent for a moment, one where he can hear the house come alive under him and feel your breath with even more vigor than before, feeling each and every pause, every gust of air a kiss against his skin that makes him yearn for more. He calls your name, and it’s thick on his tongue- foreign and light, and yet it sounds like he’s said it countless times before, as if he knew the name by heart. You hum in response and he takes a deep breath.

His finger twirls around a small piece of your hair, letting the hair curl around his finger before he releases it, only to do the same thing once more. “I’m always surprised that you let me get so close,” he says in a quiet voice, careful to not ruin the moment but a part of him knows that it might have been ruined already when it alludes to him. He can feel your eyes on him, watching him carefully as your lips part. “I know that I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor or anything and uh-” he lets the strad of your hair go, watching it bounce in freedom- “I just want you to know that I appreciate that you even let me touch you. I really like you, you know? I think you’re a much better person than I’ll ever be.” His lips stretch into a bittersweet smile that soon falls into a frown, twisting his features into something more somber. You say his name and it makes his breath hitch, a hiccup in his throat as his name fills the momentary silence. “I mean it. I think that’s why I- why you mean so much to me. I could never be like you. I can only admire you from afar and want you for myself.” He lets out a breathless puff of air that has humor etched into it. “I just wanted you to know that you mean a lot more to me than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

With every continuation of his words, you felt your body respond to him. Your stomach twists with butterflies causing a storm inside of you, your chest tight and the sweet relief of air has escaped your lungs, and you’re hot, heat flush against your face and creeping from your chest and upward. You wonder if he could hear every change in your breathing, in your heart that beats, in just you.

He looks at you through half closed eyes and for once, you don’t think that it’s sleep that’s causing his soft smile and tender eyes. You stiffen, your muscles going rigid under his stare. The pillow is cool under your face as you stay hidden from him, gripping at the edges and turning away from his gaze, unable to keep as tight face as a smile creeps across your face.

He laughs as you lower your head, hiding your face from his after the tender words that were shared. “Come on, was it that easy to make you flustered?” He teases, the bed dipping as he moves. His hand tugs on the pillow that is held tightly in your grasp. “Oh come on, just look up,” he whines, weakly tugging at the pillow. “Seriously, you’re so dramatic and for no reason. It shouldn’t be news to you that I like you.” His smile is clear in his voice, light and full of kittenish behavior. “If you don’t pay attention to me, I’m going to continue, you know.” His grin widens when you finally peek at him, and he can’t help but laugh.

Diavolo:

There is chatter in the room, accompanied by the heels of shoes that click against the tiled floor. The room is lit in an orange glow that makes the atmosphere of the room seem almost dream-like. You tug wine glass, pulling it closer to you, careful to not let a drop spill over and stain the pristine white tablecloth. You glance around the room, watching people chat amongst themselves, their own eyes glued to their partners.

You look at the prince before you who takes a sip from his glass, his tongue peeking to wipe at the taste on his lips. “Diavolo?” The glass is set down and he looks at you with slightly widened eyes. “When I said I wanted to go out for dinner, I was fine with just some Akudonalds or ya know-” you glance once more around the room, your gaze focused on the silverware set carefully in front of you- “anything.

“This is anything,” he says, his smile cool and hands resting above the table. “We hardly go out and when we do, the others tend to accompany us. While I enjoy their company, I’d also like to just enjoy yours. So I thought, since this is a rare occasion, we’d make the best of it.” He leans close to you, and you know that there is no malice or hidden intention with him. He is honest, able to tell you what he wants without finding it necessary to hide himself. “If you are uncomfortable with such a restaurant, we can always go somewhere else, next time.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-” you clear your throat, leaning against the table, lowering your voice- “I’ve never been to such a high-end place. I don’t want you to overspend because of me. I’m fine just going somewhere low-key.”

He laughs, shaking his head and his fingers drum against the table. I’m a prince. There’s no such thing as overspending and even if there were, I don’t mind it if it’s you that I’m doting on.” You nod slowly, your fingers running at the edge of the fork handle. “Really, there is no need to worry. I’m just happy that you agreed to join me on this outing.”

You do your best to not shake your legs, mindful of the wine beside you. “‘M glad I was able to join you as well. I- I like spending time with you.” You smile sweetly at him, a hint of nerves tracing against your smile. “I just have to admit that I was taken aback when you invited me out. I know you mentioned how it’s always us with the others, but I don’t know-” you fingers find themselves tracing around the base of the glass- “I guess I always figured you liked me because I was able to get you out of work since you know, I am part of your work. I never would have assumed that you actually wanted to spend time with me.”

For a moment, it’s silent, a brief moment that couldn't even be considered silent, just a short pause but it's enough for him. “May I admit something to you?” Diavolo asks, his hands fiddling with the napkin beside himself. You nod, leaning forward, urging him to continue. “I was always fascinated with humans. I loved humans- they were these beings who had free will and they all lived different lives but in the end they shared the same fate.” He chuckles softly and his hand goes to the stem of the wine glass. “It’s the same for demons, of course. Any life can be taken and for the most part, they have free will, but I think I love humans. Or at least I thought I did.” He looks up at you, his smile faltering for a moment as he struggles to keep it up. “But I think rather than love, I hold admiration for their humanity. For their tenacity, and kindness; their love and warmth that they have with each other. And when I look at you-” his hand leaves the glass and is left open towards you- “I’m reminded of how beautiful humans can be.” His smile turns bitter for a moment, falling and he makes no attempt to keep up the facade. “I’m reminded just how fragile they are. I need you to know that I admire humanity, but I think I love you. I love how you do your best to help those around you, how you adapt to your environment, and just how easily you can make others fall for you.” He lets out a short laugh through his nose. “If I have to be honest, I think I’m also jealous of you. I wish I were the only one who could have the opportunity to fall for you.” His hand is still held out towards you, vacant without yours.

Throughout his monologue your body has been on fire, pooling in your stomach and against your back. You stare at his empty hand, trying to will yourself to hold it but the most that you can do is lay your head on the table, silverware clicking together and a dull thud heard. You want to let out a whine but you’re sure you’ve already called attention to yourself and- oh dear. What will people think of when they see Lord Diavolo with a human who has planted their face against a table. Your thoughts race, clouding your mind as the silence in the room is deafening, echoing in your ears as you rest with your face down.

“Is this a human custom?” Diavolo asks, his voice full of genuine wonderment. “Should I also be doing it?”

“Dia,” you mumble, your body slowly squeezing against itself in order to make yourself smaller. “You can’t confess so nonchalant,” you say in a hushed whisper, wanting to let out any type of noise that is slowly building up inside of you. “It’s- It’s too much for me,” you whine, slowly raising your head to peer at him.

“Well, I am a prince- a demon one at that. I suppose you can say that there are different customs for us as well.” His smile is jovial, and he reaches across the table, his hand open and this time you take it. Unable to look him in the eye, you resort to watching as his hand slowly threads to intertwine himself with you. “I must say, if that’s the response I were to get, I might as well continue it. I rather liked whatever it was that you did.” He’s so honest, looking at you with a wide grin that shows his pointed teeth and you can’t help but bury your face once more, grinning when you hear him let out a small laugh, his hand closing around yours.

[koumine]

let the ruining begin 😈😏🐍 [dom!Reader x sub!Leviathan] [new fic teaser: WDYCMN] [OM!]

teaser for an upcoming fic, why don't you call my name, which will be part of my like a crown series!

content tags: dom!Reader x sub!Leviathan, GN race neutral reader, kink negotiation (a little bit), mean dom MC, bratty Levi, manhandling, MC stripping Levi, clothed dom naked sub, Sir as a gender neutral title, face slapping

[rated E below] [WIP ZONE] [-> masterlist]

“Wanna do a scene?” Levi gives a happy little shiver and presses back against you. “Yeah.” “Limits for today?” “Same as usual,” he says, putting his hands over yours. “You?” “Same as usual,” you reply, kissing the back of his neck. . . . You drag his wrists to the small of his back and march him over to the TV area of the room and the rug that he put in for you. You shove a beanbag chair out of the way and press him down, and he goes with your direction, barely resisting, until he’s on his knees on the rug. You put one hand on the back of his neck and he gasps as you press him down further, shivers when his cheek meets the coarse fibers of the rug.

He squirms as you start to undress him. You still haven’t said a word since the scene began, and maybe that’s getting to him. “H-hey – hey!” he says, squirming as your hands brush against his bare skin as you drag his pants down from his waist. You don’t say anything, smirking where he can’t see you, wondering how he’ll respond. He’s distracted as you leave his pants trapped just around his knees, sensitive to every touch as you move to start pushing his shirt up. “Hey – mmm!” he tries again, squirming even more, though he still obediently keeps his hands behind his back where you put them. “You can’t just – don’t ignore me, human!” he demands, as imperious as he ever sounds. As imperious as it’s possible to sound, with his ass bare and his shirt pushed halfway up his chest and his face pressed to the floor. “‘Human’?” you say pleasantly, in a voice that means danger in exactly the way you know he likes. He swallows, going still in apparent fear; at the edge of your vision, you see his cock twitch between his legs. “I –” he stammers, “I – I didn’t mean –” You put a firm hand on the back of his neck, and he shuts up with a squeak. “You didn’t mean to?” you say silkily. You lean slowly down to him, leaning all your weight onto his neck until it must be delightfully uncomfortable, putting yourself on the side opposite to the way he’s facing, so he can’t really look at you. “You didn’t mean to disrespect me?” you say dangerously, lips almost touching his ear. “N-no, I – that’s not –” “You know how you’re supposed to address me,” you say, tightening your already firm grip on the back of his neck, your fingers digging into his skin. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “Sir, I’m sorry…” And if this were a sweeter scene, you’d let that pass and praise him and pet him. But with the mood the two of you have created with this scene, with the way he’s practically begging you to punish him, that won’t be good enough. You sigh, as though you’re deeply disappointed, even as an anticipatory energy tingles through you all the way out to your fingertips. He clenches his fists behind his back and bites his lip against another whimper. “And here I thought I’d properly trained you,” you say, smooth as silk but with an edge like a hidden blade. “Apparently you need a little reminder.” Roughly, you yank at his clothes to strip him completely, shoving him around as needed. Pants, socks, and shoes first, throwing him so off balance that he falls to the side and has to catch himself on a forearm. “Wait,” he stammers as you strip him, and “but –”, and “Sir, please” �� never really protesting, just pretending to, just playing the game. And you play your part and steamroll right over him. Shoving him around to get his shirt off as roughly and meanly as you want leaves him falling onto his back, your knee pressed to his belly to keep him from squirming (to make him gasp) as you drag the shirt up over his head and off of his arms. Leaves him fully bare under you, with you fully clothed above him. “Sir,” he whimpers one more time, provokes you one more time as you’re tossing his shirt aside. And you turn back without pausing to admire the eager, impish glint in his eyes, put your hand right on his throat, and slap him hard across the face. His head snaps to the side, and his whole body goes stiff under you for one long moment. “You know how you’re supposed to address me,” you say again, watching him. To give him a chance to change the direction of the scene, and to give yourself a moment to look at him with his flushed cheeks and his mussed hair and softly bitten lips parting to say – Nothing. He says nothing, just slowly turns his head back to face you, and lets his whole body melt under you, and breathes shaky little whimpers. And looks up at you, and lets you see that trusting look of half fear, half yearning breaking open in his eyes, and willingly gives himself up to you and whatever sweet destruction you might wreak upon him.

[yourqueenb]

you’re not wrong at all but i guess im just used to mcs having absolutely no backstory, feelings, or definitive character traits. the plot just happens to mcs, mcs don’t make the plot happen. even though expectations are higher for blades its still choices with all the limits and misses opportunities of any other book. i cant really think of an mc that feels like their own character before the book and plot starts, besides maybe cop mc in the first book and th:m mc

Just wanna start off by saying I’m so sorry that I never actually responded to this! I could’ve sworn I had already posted, but found this fully typed up sitting in my drafts just now 😵‍💫 But yeah anyway…

See I don’t normally have a problem with “blank-slate MCs” though. I actually prefer them because I can use my imagination to create a backstory and (ideally) give them the traits I want through my choices. My main problem is that the few choices we are allowed to make usually just don’t matter beyond like a slight variation in dialogue as a result. And even bigger than that, there isn’t much diversity in the options we’re given to begin with.

I think if those problems didn’t exist, Blades MC was allowed to react to whatever happens on a deeper level, and our so-called friends showed more concern through their actions, then the story would be a bit better for me. However, I will say that I also think that’s the bare minimum, especially considering the fact that the writers already gave MC a partial backstory but decided it wasn’t important to have that affect present MC and the story for whatever reason.

Doing that worked in a series like TRR/TRH because, in the grand scheme of things, that MC’s backstory didn’t really matter and the plot was a little more cut and dried. But with Blades, the stakes are incredibly high and everyone is basically questioning the meaning of life and existence itself, what morality means in a world where things are a lot more gray than previously thought, and the roles they play in that world. So although I usually don’t mind it, I don’t think keeping Blades MC’s background from affecting anything significant really works.

Not sure where I’m going with all this though because none of it really counters your point. You’re right that it’s still Choices after all, so our expectations should be a bit lower even for a book like Blades. But it still sucks because I feel like PB really didn’t have to push too much further to make it an outstanding story. They were the ones who gave themselves all this material and then just didn’t follow through :/

[nemeseos-noctua]

Here's the other: How'd they react to their S/O who cherishes their gift given by their beloved so much, that one day the gift was destroyed by a hilichurl and they went so livid they practically fought the creatures to death and threw them to a lake somewhere, and sulked the whole how they don't deserve them anymore cuz of how careless they were. For Razor, Albedo and Xiao 👉👈

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: razor, albedo, xiao (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not proofread, mc is referenced as an alchemist/adventurer in albedo’s, one swear word in xiao’s

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: im EMBARRASSED at how long this is and how MEANINGLESS THE WRITING IS IM SO SORRY 

he made you a paw-shaped clay sculpture!

it was cute and small, fitting right into the palm of your hands

to others—it may look like some worn-down toy, but to you, it was a good luck charm from the ever-cute razor

but perhaps, it wasn’t quite the clay-shape that you held close to your heart... no, it was the strenuous effort razor put into sculpting the paw

you remember it vividly. how the boy would dig his hands into mud and sit under the burning sun, carving the dirt with his bare fingers as he hid the gift from your sight

so when a good-for-nothing hilichurl decides razor’s paw-shape charm was a nice pebble for hot potato... boy were you livid

Patting the ground beside you, [e/c] eyes widened upon the feeling of nothing but grass.

What...? Peering over, you stared blankly at the empty space, comical arrows pointing at the now-gone charm you had received from Razor. Just where was it? You swore it was right beside you...

And as if Barbatos were laughing at you, the wind blew, burning your eyes as the sight of mitachurls and hilichurls danced around the fire in the distance, tossing what looked like a rock into the air.

Ah. 

You blinked.

That was the charm Razor made.

first of all... how did the hilichurl get it? the charm was literally right beside you!

agh, whatever.

you’ll just retrieve it. easy, right?

no.

first of all, your power would literally turn the lush grass into a desolate canyon (not really). second of all, you’d probably end up destroying the paw in your rampage

hah...

—if the hilichurl didn’t destroy it first

Materializing your weapon, you couldn’t help but hope that the paw had miraculously survived the impact of a hilichurl throwing it against the floor.

Hah, what were you thinking? Of course it didn’t... physics just didn’t allow it.

But you know what physics did allow? Why, beating these enemies to a pulp, of course!

once you floored the hilichurls, you quickly scrambled as to look for signs of the paw anywhere

berating yourself as to how utterly foolish you were for letting it go and leaving it unguarded in the first place, you stared in defeat at the sight of crumbled clay and hardened dirt in the grass of the hilichurl camp

why? why were you so careless? seriously, how did this happen? if you had just kept it in your backpack like a regular person, razor’s hard-earned hours and craft would still be as grand as ever-

“[y/n]?”

Blinking, you hadn’t realized you had been sulking in the midst of this hilichurl camp. [E/C] eyes lifted up, widening once they had landed on none other than Razor, his crimson eyes like the agates that littered Dragonspine, his hair as grey as stormclouds.

“Ah... Razor...” You smiled in exasperation, staring at anywhere but said boy. How could you face him after watching his clay paw get destroyed by some measly hilichurls?

“Are you okay?” He asked, glancing around at the scene before him. The grass wilted, the camp that he remembered being obnoxiously loud and disturbing was silent and empty.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Waving off his concern, you began to walk away, your heart sinking with each step.

First, you let his gift get destroyed. Second, you walk away from him.

You were such a terrible partn—

“[Y/N]?” Razor’s voice cut through the air, a tension you had created solely on the thoughts of your own mind. Gripping your wrist with a tender touch, you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes drooped down ever so slightly.

“Did I... make lupical mad?”

Gulping, you quickly waved your hands in front of your face, eyes widened as you tried to carefully explain the series of events that had just led down to this very moment.

“I—well, you see, your uh, paw-clay-thingy... I was careless and I—“

“Break it while hunting?” Razor answered, tilting his head as his hold merely stayed still, not wavering for a second, as if you were a boar in his hands.

“Ah...” 

Razor was much better at observation than you had thought.

“It’s okay. I make more for lupical,” Razor nodded, already beginning to pace over to a pond as he dipped his gloved hands into the water, wafting around for dirt as you rushed up behind him.

“Wait! But I was careless... you don’t need to make ano—“

“It’s for lupical. Lupical close, I give lupical gift that never break.”

Everlasting—that was what he wanted to make.

And a part of you couldn’t help but agree.

albedo, in all of his alchemy prowess, made you an artificial flower

how? don’t ask him. he’ll spew some lengthy thesis and paragraph about the fundamentals, the research, the prototype, the testing, the—

ahem, anyways!

you had never intended to bring it outside. but one day, you had left your camp under the supervision of barbatos (wow go barbatos) and ventured off to fetch some materials

and when you came back? you were met with the sight of hilichurls and slimes raving around your tent

what the—

“I...I’m hallucinating,” You deadpanned, slapping your wrist at the sight of pyro slimes and masked hilichurls dancing around your tent, the inside of your humble abode moving around as if it were possessed.

And the cherry on top? A pyro abyss mage emerged, the flower floating besides it. But oh boy, it was no flower anymore... it was a flaming flower.

At that moment, you were left to ponder. Maybe, just maybe, you kinned a whopperflower at that point. Because oh boy did your temper and sanity explode on those little enemies, the way your blade sunk into their forms—

you were already planning your apology to albedo. he trusted you and loved you enough to make an artificial flower for you... and yet, it so pitifully crumbled at your touch

okay, not quite your touch. but it crumbled at the ugly pyro abyss mage’s touch

so, as any good s/o would do, you sulked while rebuilding your camp. it’s okay. as long as albedo didn’t know his creation was charred, all would be well. besides! he was quite a busy man! chances were low that he’d discover!

busy, he was, observant, he is

perhaps, you should’ve known

“Ah... hi Albedo,” You winced, opening your tent to smile at the alchemist who merely stared at you.

“You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?” He noted, remembering your absence from visiting his own camp at Dragonspine. As an alchemist, he knew what it was like being holed up in a camp. But for two weeks? Even he needed breaks.

“Well, you see... I was out... gathering materials! Yes!” You gave him a weak thumbs-up, wailing internally once his piercing azure eyes trailed around your camp, noting that nothing looked new. 

 “You don’t need to lie to me, [Y/N]. Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry!” You cut off, clapping your hands together in a prayer-like position, guilt welling up in the pit of your stomach.

“...Why?”

“Your flower—I left it unsupervised and it was set aflame and I’m so so so sor—“

“Don’t be.”

Mouth dropping, you stared up at the male, an amused expression painting his face like the canvases he dedicated to you.

“At least you were not hurt while it was set aflame. Come, I’ll show you how to make some more,” Opening your tent for you all the way, Albedo held a hand out to you, eyes flickering in mirth.

“And next time, don’t try to run away from your problems.”

“You cheeky littl—“ A blush of both embarrassment and fluster formed on your face, shocked at his sudden remark.

he made you an adepti amulet

enhanced with super-cool-adepti-no-mortal-can-have power, xiao had informed you that all you needed to do was hold up the amulet and it’d scare any kind of enemies away!

cool, right? too bad you left it unattended while fighting the irritable anemo cube! now it’s at the bottom of the sea <3

how did this happen, exactly? well... you see... when wind picks up and becomes strong... light-weight objects will fly up into the air!

and sometimes, those light weight objects will fall into the sea, and sometimes, those objects would be gifts from your adeptus boyfriend who was waiting for you back at wangshu inn—

ahem. anyways. you beat the crap out of the anemo cube (aka, beth. aka, tornado cube. aka, cube waifu)

I should just... not go back to Wangshu Inn today. Haha... I’ll go ask Katheryne for a commission... You nodded, stuffing the turquoise shards of wind into your pockets, your bags filled with mora and enhancement ores being thrown off the side of the cliff.

—Along with the adepti amulet Xiao had made for you.

Seriously... you still had to wonder just how that happened! One second, you were avoiding getting sucked up by the vent of the anemo cube... and the next, your bag was traveling the world!

Can’t have shit in Teyva—

Trekking back to Mondstadt in defeat, you were innocently oblivious to the worry of the Yaksha back in Liyue.

are they okay? do they need help? did they go to dragonspine? all these questions spun around xiao’s head as he watched the moon rise, his mask dissipating into the wind

you told him you’d return tonight... yet you hadn’t. and a part of him had wished you hadn’t left liyue, so he had at least some control over whatever dangers dared to attack you

but, he knew you were strong. why else would he love you, anyway? he does not find appeal in being the savior 24/7

so, he waits. atop the balcony of wangshu inn, across the stars and moon, he prays to his archon, wishing—no, hoping you arrive safely

And—you did. You arrived back at Wangshu Inn.

... Three weeks later.

“You’re late. Very late,” Xiao’s voice blared in your ears, a blessing and a curse all at the same time. You didn’t know how to tell him the amulet was thrown off a cliff—but at the same time, you really wanted to run your fingers through his hair.

“Haha... sorry about that,” You laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your head as Xiao merely grumbled, appearing before you with a piercing stare.

“Where were you? You did not even send me a letter.”

“I’m sorry... it’s just... eh... well...” You looked away, your heart churning against your ribs as Xiao extended his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

“What?” He asked, his tone harsh yet soft, longing yet logical.

“I uh... kind of... lost your adepti amulet... I’m sorry.”

He blinked.

“You waited three weeks to tell me that?” He asked in disbelief, almost in disappointment. Seriously, he was an adeptus! A Yaksha, at that! He could’ve just made another one for you... But nooo... you decided to wait three weeks in the land of the free (America?) and then worry him to death.

“Mortals...” Xiao muttered under his breath, crossing his arms with a huff as he turned his head away, the wind picking up.

“Hey, wait! Aren’t you going to say anything? Like a disappointed lecture or something?”

“No.”

Disappearing, you facepalmed, already pulling out some sweetflowers and milk to whip up some almond tofu.

Damn that adeptus. Who was he to tug your heartstrings like that?

You sighed, sitting beside a cooking pot as lingering yellow eyes watched your form, their irises softening at the sight.

— constellations! 💫

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

Haha, yeah Ace would absolutely do that!

I prefer a demon slayer Yuu though simply because of the angst potential. Since being a demon slayer is really dangerous, the prefect would obviously have a shit ton of scars so imagine how everyone would react to seeing them? Like in the event that the prefect is supposed to become the next pillar of a breathing technique, they’d have to be super skilled and have to fight a ton of powerful demons to reach that point so that just makes the amount of scars they have even higher!

Also during an overblot, maybe they get severely injured due to the debris flying everywhere but instead of being phased, they’re like; Tis but a scratch! But everyone else is like; No it’s not!

And the dorm heads after overblotting! Like if the prefect gets badly injured every time it happens which leaves a scar and they’re already aware of the other scars, they’d feel really bad for hurting the prefect, because they’ve already been through so much they deserve a peaceful life! Being at NRC, for the most part, has clearly given them the chance to truly act their age where they can also receive the help they need to work through their trauma and then because of the overblot, things are taking a few steps back again! Of course the prefect is like; “It’s fine, I’ve faced worse!” But that honestly just makes all of them feel worse because damn.

Knowing all this, I bet Crowley and everyone else would be reluctant to send the prefect back to their world cause they don’t want to see their friend suffer more pain.

Everyone is frankly quite horrified at the amount of scars they have on their body and how some of them are near parts of their body that could very well be fatal

They are 16! They should be going out pulling pranks and getting on the teachers’ nerves or being a good student preparing for their future not fighting in battles that could very well kill them

Crowley confiscated their sword because it’s dangerous to have in school but luckily they didn’t get through all those battles and be able to be a candidate to become a pillar only relying on their sword, they can make do with what they get

Despite Deuce’s horror at MC’s situation he’s also pretty curious on just what pillars are and about the demon slayer corps in general though of course he always goes about the topic gently despite the fact it really doesn’t MC that uncomfortable (he wants them to focus on having fun! Not fighting with their life on the line)

Ace takes it upon himself to make sure you have loads of fun in NRC and his shenanigans with MC are actually given some slack when MC is shown to be genuinely enjoying themselves (though he still gets punished, boi you thought)

Jack wants to protect them but also respects their strength so becomes more of MC’s self preservation because they don’t need to run into battle! There are magic wielded though MC can’t really be stopped when the situation escalates

Riddle would feel terrible if he scarred or injured you in any way (which considering he fought with rose bushes, I BET HAPPENED) and want to make it up to MC but MC is just dismissive of it insisting it’s okay when it’s not. (He gets Trey to teach him how to make tarts properly and gifts them to MC who accepts it cause free food!)

Leona on the outside is dismissive of the whole thing cause big whoop the kid has scars, not his problem. Inside however he does feel a little bad though considering the nature of his power they likely didn’t get too injured especially since when faced with demon blood arts that can send you flying without you even seeing (Reference: Yahaba’s demon blood art. The partner of the Temari demon), Leona’s muscles really doesn’t intimidate them

Azul feels pretty shitty about trying to take away their home after learning that they were okay with it for the most part because they didn’t really need sleep much anyway (seriously when do demon slayers sleep, they train in the day and fight demons to sunset the next day, if you think you can stay up all night become a demon slayer, they are on another level) but ultimately settles for treating them to a free treat in the Mostro Lounge and is off. He doesn’t like getting personally involved

Jamil was worried about his plans in all honesty with the fact that MC could see through him and is surprised when they approach him post overblot like he didn’t deceive them and send them flying with Grim. When MC explains he doesn’t need to feel alone, he just feels bad and mends their Haori as an apology (since he saw Riddle and Azul already apologize with food)

Vil didn’t insist on MC working with them since they had recovering wounds and scars that could possibly be aggravated by his strict training but they laugh off the idea his training is strict cause compared to demon slaying training it’s a breeze. When he accidentally injures them in his overblot (since he you know, DESTROYED THE STADIUM) as an apology he does something gets a gift personalized to something MC would actually like (since he luckily has Rook to find out what MC likes) and gets them some potions to speed up their recovery

The students would openly protest if MC was going to be sent home. They shouldn’t have to go back to such a bleak world where death is staring them at the face! They can just stay here and be a teenager!

MC however would insist on coming home because they still have precious loved ones at their home world who they wish to protect and they can’t just live a normal life here while their comrades are likely off fighting demons and possibly even the upper moons and Muzan Kibutsuji something that the students would reluctantly have to accept.

Okay so I know you prefer demon slayer! MC but Demon! MC has plenty angst potential too! I mean with some exceptions, most demons didn’t exactly want to become one because the life of a demon is not an easy one

They would be close to Malleus as a demon since they can only come out when it’s night and Malleus and his centuries of wisdom could be an interesting conversation buddy to the immortal (from everything but the sun and wisteria) demon.

Demon! MC would be way more nonchalant about taking hits than a demon slayer! MC because hey! Their arm might’ve been blown off but it’s already regenerating and since none of the guys have sun powers or Nichirin blades, they can only be killed by being pushed into the sunlight (which no one is possibly an asshole enough to do when they saw what happened to them after Crowley dragged them off to get some sunlight cause “it’s good for them”).

Demons feel the pain of their injuries (ex: Nezuko wincing when her leg was blown off by the Temari demon and the Temari demon’s death) so them using themselves as a meat shield while practical makes the NRC students feel awful when they recall them remarking on cutting themselves the other day or some other passing comment of pain cause they can feel it but take every hit.

The Pomefiore students and Crewel night even volunteer to work on a potion that could get them some form of sun resistance after a near miss after an overblot attack where the sun got exposed to them and if it wasn’t for Adeuce tackling them and hiding them under their bodies they surely would’ve been nothing but ash but MC just laughs bitterly at the idea of sun resistance as it’s after all what “that man” desires most

With demon! Mc being sent home, demon! Mc might actually accept staying in Twisted Wonderland unless they’re someone like Tamayo who’s actively making something to work against Muzan though if they’re just a demon with humanity still in them trying to survive I imagine they would actually like to stay which would make a happy ending but still full of angst potential

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[delphi-dreamin]

Downswing

So, it's been eons, but this was inspired by a prompt that boiled down to essentially "How would they comfort you?" - As my MC is a self-insert and I have bipolar disorder and SAD, so does she.

Delphi x Lucifer

Hurt/comfort (? I guess?)

Warnings: mental illness, seasonal depression, seasonal affective disorder

Getting back from RAD, Delphi waters her hell roses, changes out of her uniform, and flops face-down onto her bed. She’d been doing fine that day. Her mood had been great. She’d woken up with a smile on her face, enjoyed breakfast with the brothers, and even walked to RAD with her boys. She’d thought it was going to be a good day. But then, halfway through the day, her mood tanked. Her energy level bottomed out, all of the joy she’d been feeling that morning vacated her body, and she wanted to do nothing but take a page out of Belphie’s book and just sleep the rest of the day away.

She’d made it through the rest of the day with little involvement in the rest of her classes and a quick text to the HoL group chat letting them all know that she’d be missing the student council meeting that afternoon. It didn’t honestly matter if she was there or not, she wasn’t an official council member, but she was a regular attendee. That text got her seven individual messages asking if she was okay, if she needed anything, and if something had happened.

Something had happened, but it’s not really something she could explain in a text. She shot another text to the group chat:

>I’m physically fine, my mood just tanked about halfway through magical potions. I’m gonna go home and lay down for a bit. I’ll see you all at dinner.

She sends one more text just to Lucifer:

>I don’t want to worry you, but this is the worst downswing I’ve had since I started coming down here…If you could come home quickly, I would appreciate it.

It only takes thirty seconds for him to respond.

Lucifer

>Is there anything I can do right now

Me

>Tell Diavolo you’re taking the night off after the meeting? Then come straight home after?

Lucifer

>All right, love. I’ll see you after the meeting.

Me

>Thank you. I love you.

Lucifer

>I love you too, Delphi. Let me know if you need anything.

♡

Face down on the bed is how he finds her. If he didn’t see her chest rising and falling steadily, Lucifer might be concerned. But she’s breathing, just sleeping. He places a hand on her back, rubbing lightly between her shoulder blades and murmuring softly, “Delphi? Love? I’m home.”

She stirs slowly, rolling onto her side to face him and squinting at him with one bloodshot violet eye. Lucifer is startled to see absolutely no emotion in that eye whatsoever. There’s no reaction to seeing him, no change in expression, no sparkle in that eye. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was an empty shell staring back at him.

“Love, what happened?” he asks, brushing her curls away from her face and resting his gloved hand on her pale cheek.

She sighs, “I’ll explain in a minute…But first, can you help me to the bathroom? My legs are asleep…”

As gently as he can, he lifts her into his arms and carries her to her room’s attached bathroom. He looks down at her and raises an eyebrow. “Think you can make it from here?”

Delphi wiggles her toes with a wince, then flexes her feet, and finally straightens her knees. She nods slowly. “I think so. But I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case.”

♡

“I call it sundowning,” Delphi explains, curling up just a bit smaller in Lucifer’s lap and staring into the crackling fire. “Mostly it’s used to talk about dementia and Alzheimer’s patients, but it can happen without dementia. In dementia patients or the elderly it means that they can get confused, agitated, or disoriented in the evening or at night. For me, in the human world, my mood will suddenly tank when the sun starts to go down.  I can wake up perfectly fine and have an awesome day, then out of nowhere I’m hit with a wave of depression. It doesn’t happen every day, but it happens enough. Usually it hits in the winter.”

Lucifer frowns. “And this still happens in the Devildom? Even though there’s no sun here?”

Delphi nods with a rueful smile. “Yeah, it still happens apparently. I’ve acclimated to the day/night cycle here, so I guess my seasonal depression and sundowning are starting up again.”

She shrugs lightly, but the empty feeling in her chest still weighs on her. She continues to stare at the fire, one ear against Lucifer’s broad chest, barely registering the steady beat of his heart that’s normally so comforting to her.

“Is there something I can do to help, love?” Lucifer asks, stroking her hair.

“Could you maybe wrap me up in your wings?” she asks, turning to look up at him. “I always feel better in your wings.”

With a soft chuckle, Lucifer gathers her up in his arms again. He shifts easily into his demon form as he carries her over to his bed and lays her gently in the sheets. After changing into a soft pair of flannel sleep pants, he climbs into bed beside her, positioning her on his chest.

Held softly in his arms with his night black wings draped over her and the steady rhythm of his heart beating in her ear, Delphi finally feels warmth returning to her chest.  

[sparkbeast20]

The Hunt (Beelzebub X MC)

This a one-shot Fanfic, is part of my Halloween series "He Snaps"

short Angst/Fluff with Horror elements in them.

Tell me, which brother you want to see next (except Satan, his will be post on his birthday)

Warning: Mention of Blood, Violence, Killing, Gore, Panic attack’s, and Demonic nature

He got your scent, and he hot on your trail.

Beel is not losing you, he will never lose you.

He followed your scent into the woods outside of town, where demons grab human from the human world and place them in the woods where they let them wander aimlessly, lost in the woods. Until the horn of the hunt has been blown signaling for the hunt to begin.

Beel gone further into the wood where he spots Demons getting ready for the hunt and talking ways to stalks and kill the humans in the woods.

“This is a pain in the ass, there’s only twenty humans in there” the demon with a tail talk while sharpening his blade.

“I know, we use to have hundreds to the thousands, but after Diavolo stupid exchange program. This might be the last hunt” the demon with wings answer the tailed demon.

“So, do you think the rumors are true?”

“Yeah, its true. Somebody actually managed to grab the human was living with the seven lords. And place them here” Beel’s eyes widen and try not to gasps in fear letting the demon know that he was here to save you, prematurely start the hunt.

“Are you for real!”

“Oh yeah, and hear this. That human is in relationship with one of the lords!”

“Really” the tailed demon sounded disgusted by that “which one?”

“Those that matter?” asks the winged demon

“Yeah, what if his here in the woods right now” the tailed one sound nervous, but the winged demon laughs at him.

“don’t worry your tiny little head, their involve with none other then Beelzebub” Beel’s eyes narrowed at his name being mention with an amusing tone as if their making fun of you choosing him. Honestly, he doesn’t care if others make fun of him, as long it’s not you.

“What! And he really didn’t eat them right away”

“Who knows, ever since that human got here. They were nothing but bad influence to the lords. Even so far making pacts with them. Pathetic, you know if I find them first, I’m going to take my sweet time making them bleed and beg for mercy” Beel is holding back his anger at this point.

He decided to go, before the hunt start.

Each time he goes further, the louder the screams of human gotten.

Then he spots a human, an old human man has his leg caught in a trap.

“What? There’s already traps here. But the hunt hasn’t started yet!” Beel quickly shifted it his demon form, flew into the woods close to the ground so not to draw attention to himself.

But then the horns of the hunt are blown, and Beel’s heart start to raise, once he heard the horn.

After ten minutes of tracking, Beel smell something that cause the eyes to widen and quicken the flight. And dashes to the woods to try to get to the source of the that smell.

The smell of your BLOOD! The odor is stuck in Beel’s nose and mind, a constant reminder of what his twin has done to you. He made a promise to never let you and himself see that again.

But that promise is broken, and that pushes Beel to the edged.

Beel is never the scary demon, all they think he is, but now smelling your blood again, broke him and turning on something inside of him. The true demon within.

The quiet, gentle giant that all the brothers, the royals, the three exchange students, and you knew, was gone and replace with a cold and unforgiving monster.

As the monster looks for his mate, your scream fills the already loud woods lure him in. both instinct and his heart telling him to get to you and keep you save.

In the open field, where there’s a pit trap in the middle that has been trigger.

“SOMEBODY HELP!!!” you scream and desperately trying to get out of the trap, when all of a sudden, maniacal laugher can be heard getting closer to the trap.

You stop climbing one the walls of the trap, and hide on the corner of the trap. Scared you started to cry, not knowing what to do. You can summon the brothers; you haven’t learned it yet. And they took your D.D.D when you were unconscious.

The last thing you remember is that you when to the bathroom, while you and Beel were on a date. And then someone hit you on the head and next thing you know, you woke up in the woods and you end up in a trap not knowing where to go.

“I don’t want to die like this…...” that’s all you can say at that moment. You just want to get home, to be with the brothers, to be with Beel.

Once the laughter got so close to the point that, their right above you.

You scream in terror and instinct, when suddenly one of the laughter stop. Causing the others to stop, then you can hear bones breaking, flesh tearing, and screams of begging for mercy. But in was drown out by an animalistic roar.

You turn and face the wall on the opposite of the noise, not wanting to look.

After a minute of pure and utter killing, the noises stop with only heavy breathing, is the only thing you can hear. Then foots step start getting closer, making you whimper in fear.

The someone drop down into the trap, you started to cry again, but they start talking.

“MC….” You let out a sharp gasp to the tired voice. You quickly turn around to see Beel covered in blood, panting in his demon form, looked more scared than you.

“Beel….” Seeing him made you smile through the fear as you rush to him, as he welcomes you with open arms, you jump towards him, he catches you. And the two you wrap your arms at each other, making sure that this isn’t a dream or a nightmare.

You cried in the crooks of his neck, overwhelm with too much emotion, as he shushes you.

“Shhh… it okay, I’m here. Let’s go home” you nod and he quickly took to the sky.

“Beel…” he hums in response. “Please stay with me tonight”

“I’m not leaving your side”

[asmo-ds]

here's the headcanon lucifer has scars from the celestial war and that's why he doesn't want to show skin not really because he's insecure but mainly because he's not proud about them because whenever he looks at them he's reminded that he lost the war and his sister at the same time(i remember in the beach event everyone was talking about his body and idk how to express it properly but he gives me some kind of vibes)

Wash My Back and I’ll Wash Yours

Warnings: Battle scars, war, shame, anxiety, PTSD

Description: Lucifer has washed MC plenty of times while they were nude in the tub, but Lucifer has never actually stripped and joined them in there. MC suggests he join and discover the Avatar of Pride’s biggest and most heartbreaking insecurity

Pale fingers protected by a pair of black gloves run through short hair of a similar color in a distressed manner. The owner of all these mentioned things leaning over piles of paper, hastily being signed and moved to a second pile.

“Lucifer, are you alright, dear?” MC walked into his study after having heard his sighing and stressed muttering from the room next door where they were trying to relax in a bath. Towel wrapped around them loosely as warm droplets dripped from their body and suds of unrinsed shampoo were left in their hair. Lucifer blushed at the scene for but a moment before lowering his head to get back to his paperwork. “Are you just going to ignore me?”

“No I’m just busy, my dove,” Lucifer sighed out sadly. In his peripherals he could see MC slowly approaching him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh nothing~” they sing, continuing to slowly wander over to him, his hand still holding a pen that is now being held over a document unmoving as Lucifer tried to focus on what his lover could possibly be doing.

“MC,” He warns, abandoning all nicknames to show how serious he was being, despite knowing that he was actually looking forward to whatever his lovely human had planned for him. 

MC sits in his lap, still covered in their loose towel and they sigh, laying across his body.

“I’m tired Luciii~” they whine, with a pout on their lips. “Carry me back to my bath? Please,” Lucifer rolled his eyes as he stood, carrying the human bridal style and walking to the bathroom next door to the still filled and warmed bath. Placing MC down on their feet, he unwraps their towel and picks them up only to place them down in the tub. He turns to walk before a wet hand grabs the back of his shirt, untucking it from his pants as he turns to look at MC with an unamused face.

MC waves their hand and Lucifer crouches down thinking they just wanted a kiss.

“Hey dear, do you have anything in your pockets?” Lucifer pats his pockets feeling nothing and shaking his head. He lets himself be vulnerable for a moment while MC connects their lips. He feels MC tug him suddenly, him gasping as he landed, fully clothed in the bubbly water, right in front of the giggling human. “Since, you’re here you may as well stay for a while!”

Lucifer feels his heart swell at the sight of his happy little human, but when he realizes that he would have to be naked for that he stands up and steps out of the tub, taking their abandoned towel to try and dry his clothes, MC pouting behind him.

“You don’t want to take a bath with me, Luci?” He feels his heart break at the hurt in their voice and sighs.

“I have work to do.”

“A small break won’t hurt!”

“MC…”

“Come on just a few minutes please?”

“MC.”

“I wanna wash your back, you always wash mine!”

“MC!” MC flinches at his raised voice and sinks into the tub, avoiding looking at him and keeping quiet. 

Lucifer feels guilt weld up inside him as he sees their sad look because he knows they mean well.

“MC… It’s just that… well it just my-”

“Is it because of the scars?” Lucifer freezes and looks back at them in shock. “Simeon and your brothers have all told me about how you lost a couple of wings… it's only reasonable to assume they left scars.”

Lucifer and MC sit in silence for a minute, Lucifer trying to decide if he should agree with the human or deny the claim.

“You don’t have to be ashamed, Lucifer. You went through something hard and fought for those you love and got hurt in the process,” still facing away from MC he hears the sloshing of water followed by wet footsteps walking towards him cautiously. “When I agreed to be yours I knew ful well that you had been through some things and that you may still have mental and physical scars from it. I want all of you Lucifer, from your perfection to your scars. You fought so hard and gave it your all, and for that, I’m proud of you.”

Wet arms wrap around his torso, hugging him from behind. His heart swells and he can’t help but smile. They were proud of him. That was the highest honor he could achieve was to be told his human had pride in him and believed in him. 

He spun around and kissed MC, soft and loving and made no move to stop MC when they undid his belt to help him get out of his clothes.

Once, everything else was off, MC noticed him hesitate to take his shirt off and they kissed his shoulder, reassuring him that they loved all of him. He let out a breath and finished stripping before sitting down in the tub in front of MC. 

He stopped breathing as he felt their fingers slowly graze his back, tracing where his remaining wings would normally be. Then they went lower, and lower until they rested upon the scars he bore from his battles. He let out a shaky sigh as MC kissed between his shoulder blades, one hand remaining on his back while the other reached in front of him to the body sponge and soap.

MC poured the soap onto the sponge, rubbing it in before moving it along his upper back with one hand. Their other hand had traveled to massage his shoulder. He felt his muscles relax as the sponge moved in gently circular motions across his naked back, him sucking in deep breaths every time the sponge neared his scars, and every single time, MC placing a kiss somewhere on his body, reminding him that nobody could hurt him so long as they were there, and that he had nothing to be worried about. For the first time in a long time he felt as though he had all of his wings again, but this time two of the wings were being loaned to him by the human he loved.